#i knew a sad thing was going to happen and then it happened and now it's over

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 10

Part 10:

Art wanted to die. There’s no other way to describe what he had been feeling for the last three days. He hadn’t seen Liana anywhere. Not in the cafeteria, not outside her lectures, not outside the dorms.

He considered entering her room with the key he had, but he knew she would demand it back, and he clung to that key like it was his lifeline. He knew it was his last access to her life at the moment.

Art knew everything he said was a mistake from the second he said those things. To be honest, Art doesn’t remember what he said exactly. He just knows that Liana’s expression changed in minutes from humiliated, to sad, to disgusted, to angry. He knows he made her cry. He made her sob. Liana. The same Liana who, when she entered his room, he asked if she had been crying. When she left his room, he was the reason she cried.

He didn’t know how to come back from this. He didn’t know what to do or who to call or how to start breathing regularly again.

“You’re playing like shit,” he heard Tashi’s voice from afar and lifted his head. “Bad day,” he mumbled and forced a smile. “A bad day isn’t four balls in a row hitting the net. What happened?” she approached him, examining him.

“Nothing, Tash,” he sighed, “Can’t I have a bad day with a few balls not making it over the net?” he rolled his eyes. He said something to Liana about Tashi. And now, looking at her, trying to remember what he said; It couldn’t be anything good. It must have been something awful because the speed at which she distanced herself from him and the look she had would be etched in his mind forever. Why doesn’t he remember what he said? How is she supposed to believe he’s sorry if he doesn’t remember what he said?

“Do you want to play a set?” she asked, and usually, he would jump at the chance to play with Tashi, but it was already the time Liana was supposed to go to her lecture, and maybe today she would leave her room. “No, I think I’m done for today. It can't get any better from here. I need to shower. Good to see you.” He gave her a light touch on the shoulder and headed to the locker rooms. Liana would've definitely noticed that his smile was fake. He stood in front of her room as the door opened. If he thought he looked awful, Liana looked devastating. She looked like she hadn't slept for a month, like she had cried half her life. Her face was swollen, her eyes were red, and dark circles surrounded them.

Her mouth was half open as she looked at him. Both of them tensed, standing in place, unable to speak. “Li…” he started, seeing her begin to breathe heavily in response. “Can we tal-” he needs to make it right. He knows he can make her feel better if she lets him. “You have some nerve,” she mumbled, turning to lock the door, but he knew it was an excuse not to look at him. He knew if he could make her look at him long enough, he could get her to talk to him. He could manage to apologize. “Liana, please.” His voice was weak, begging for attention.

She started walking quickly, and he followed her, keeping pace. “I need us to talk, Liana. Please. It’s me. Give me five minutes. Li-” he spoke, and she stopped abruptly. “Did I stutter when I said you’re the worst person I know, and I never want to see you again?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears that would fall if she just blinked. He knew it was from anger and frustration. Art closed his eyes and swallowed, taking a breath. Her words cut him like a knife. “I know-” he started again.

“Arthur,” she paused for a moment, studying him. He hoped she saw the immense suffering he was in. How sorry he was. That he didn’t mean it. That he needed her in his life. That he might lose himself entirely if she wasn’t a part of him. “Right now, I’m in mourning. As far as I’m concerned, I’m sitting Shiva for you because you’re dead.” She looked at him, still not blinking, not allowing herself to be vulnerable in front of him again. “Do you want me to beg? I can beg.” His voice was weak again. He felt the tightness that comes before tears start to flow. “Unlike someone I know, I don’t get off on humiliating others. Enjoy your life, Art. I hope you get everything you want as long as I’m not part of it.” She concluded the conversation and walked away. He didn’t continue following her, feeling all his internal organs shrink at the sight of her moving away. And maybe she’s right; Maybe he’s really already dead, and this is hell.

The month since the phone call with Liana passed slowly for Patrick. He wasn’t functioning properly. There was a tournament he only made it through two rounds of, and Liana wasn’t answering his calls. For his part, he wasn’t answering Art’s calls. Not that Art called much. About three times, then he probably got the hint. Patrick had nothing to say to him.

Liana called that night and sounded in the worst state he had ever heard her. Worse than that time she broke her arm in the summer at age 15 when they were riding bikes. And that says a lot because her pain threshold is quite high, and if Art managed to make her react like that, he must have done something terrible.

Liana didn’t tell him in that call what Art did, and when Patrick asked if she wanted him to come to her (he really meant dropping everything and going to Stanford), she said she’d rather he didn’t.

So, a month later, with a free weekend, Patrick found himself wandering around Stanford with a bag containing a racket and some clothes. 'If you arrive early, ask Art for the key he has; maybe he’ll give it to you,' she texted him, and he could almost hear her voice through the screen. Broken. Art Donaldson, his best friend, broke her. He wasn’t sure he could look him in the eyes again.

“What are you doing here?” Tashi’s voice sounded from behind him. They hadn’t talked since the fight in her room a few months ago. “Looking for Art, actually…” he mumbled, lowering his gaze to her knee, “Sorry about the injury.” He didn’t know what to say, and she just shrugged.

She looked small and almost fragile. Something in her gaze was shattered. “Yeah, bad move.” She swallowed. Tried to be strong about it. The truth is, he read about it in a sports magazine and wanted to call but didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to help from afar, and he didn’t know if Tashi wanted his help. “What do the doctors say?” he asked as she sat on the bench in the stands, looking at him and expecting him to do the same. “That time will tell? And we need to see how the physiotherapy goes.” She smiled, but her smile was fake; he saw the sadness in her eyes. She wasn’t trying to hide it much.

“I’m sorry, Tash.” Patrick sighed. He really didn’t know how to help. “Art was amazing through all of this. He really helped me.” She examined Patrick and his reaction. “I’m glad he was here.” He said sincerely. He knew that when Art wanted to dedicate himself to someone, he did it in the best possible way.

“I’m sorry for how it ended between us, you know that, right?” he asked after a few seconds of silence. “Yeah, Patrick, I know.” She almost rolled her eyes. “Are you going to fix what he broke?” she asked, and he looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “There’s a shift in his behavior. I don’t know what happened, but something in him changed. He doesn’t talk about you or Liana anymore. It’s a bit weird considering how much time he used to dedicate to both of you.” She said, as if reading his confusion.

“I don’t know if it’s possible to fix what he did, Tash.” He sighed. “Time will tell?” she asked, repeating what her physiotherapist said, and they both knew it probably wasn’t true.

Art waved hesitantly from afar, causing Patrick to nod and get up. “I’m sorry, Tashi. Really. You can call me if you need anything, you know that, right?” he asked. “I won’t do that.” She rolled her eyes, “But thanks,” she concluded the conversation for him.

“Hey.” Art said and quickly ran a hand over his neck. “What’s up?” Patrick asked relatively coldly. They hadn’t talked for a month, the longest they hadn’t spoken since they were 12. For a moment, it felt like talking to a stranger. “Why are you here?” Art asked, skipping the small talk and looking at him with a scrutinizing gaze. Trying to figure out if this was a friendly visit or if he needed to prepare for a battle he didn’t get an advance invitation to.

“I don’t know how to say this, Art,” Patrick mumbled. “Then don’t say it, Patrick,” Art rolled his eyes in response. He felt his heart racing. He realized he was about to lose Patrick.

“Art, come on,” “This is between me and her, Patrick. It doesn’t have to be between us too.” Art said, almost begging. “I need the key to Liana’s room.” Patrick sighed quietly. “Fuck off.” Art started to walk away, showing him a middle finger and laughing a laugh that sounded almost deranged. “Tell Liana if she wants the key her father gave me, all she has to do is come to me and ask.” With that, he left the court, leaving Patrick alone. Well, with Tashi as an audience in the stands.

"So, I guess the key thing didn't work out?" Patrick was sitting in the hallway across from Liana's room, absorbed in his phone, when he heard her voice. Almost amused. Almost like he remembered her. He stood up quickly, scrutinizing her, wanting to see every part of the girl he remembered. To see that she was whole. To see that she wasn't broken.

"I'm fine, Patrick. You can hug me," she rolled her eyes, and he did just that. He hugged her and refused to let go, closing his eyes and inhaling her intoxicating scent. He hadn't realized how much he missed her in the month she barely communicated with him. He didn't understand how much he worried about her until he laid eyes on her.

"Do you want to come in, or are we going to stand like weirdos in the hallway a bit longer?" she asked. "You're mean," he responded and pulled away from her. Not too much. Just enough so they could enter, and he could hug her again.

"Hey," he said once they were inside and he pulled away from her for the second time. He examined her again. She looked tired. Not different from how she looked the last time he saw her. But that time, she had a spark. That time, Art's hand was on her thigh in front of him. That time, he played a part in breaking her. She would never know, but Patrick did it. Patrick caused Art to behave like a wounded animal. Patrick knew exactly what he was doing. He threw him a bone, and Art couldn't resist; he had to ruin everything.

"We have to go to his game tomorrow," she said after they sat quietly on her bed for a few minutes. "What?" he asked, looking at her. "His parents will be there. They know there was something between us, but they don't know we're not talking. And it's already too many changes with me leaving and all. I have to be there, and now that you're here, you have to come with me." She smiled at him. He knew it wasn't a genuine smile. He knew if he didn't go with her, she'd feel even more fragile.

Patrick knew Art. Patrick knew Art even better than Liana. He knew Art lived for opportunities like the one he'd have tomorrow. Liana had to come to his game, sit with his parents, be disciplined, and meet the standards their families held for her. Art was born to exploit opportunities like these.

"Okay. We'll go, and at the end of his game, we'll come up with an excuse. Something about you having an exam, and we have to leave." His arm was around her as she leaned on his shoulder. "What did he say when you asked him for the key?" Liana asked. "Amanda," Patrick sighed. "Just tell me." "That if you want it, you should ask him yourself," he told the truth and felt her nod. "Do you want that key so badly?" he asked, looking at her again. "No. He can choke on it for all I care," she shrugged, but the smile she gave him was fake.

"Can I tell you something without you thinking I'm crazy and a stalker?" Patrick began the conversation for which he came. He moved away from her a bit, sitting across from her. He needed to see every expression. Every facial change. He needed to understand if she was telling him the truth. "You're scaring me, Patrick Zwieg. Come on, say what you have to say. Did you put a camera in the Stanford bathrooms?" she joked, making him give her a light slap on the shoulder. "Be serious," he commanded, and she nodded in response, removing any hint of humor from her face.

"My parents changed their minds about tennis," he said, and her eyes widened. "Really?" she asked, her smile starting to widen. She was happy for him. She knew that to succeed, he needed their support. "They gave me a five-year plan. They said I need to take some business courses twice a week. The rest of the days, they’ll fund an apartment, a coach, and tournaments," he continued explaining to her.

"Patrick, that's wonderful. That's great news. I'm so happy for you." She was ecstatic. He saw it on her. It was a joy that couldn't be faked. The kind that made him smile too. "Now for the creepy part. Don't hate me, okay, Li? Because I see how you get when you hate Art, and I don't want to be that person-" he started rambling. "You would never treat me the way Art treated me," she interrupted him. He saw her jaw tighten. Realizing that was a bad example. "They know someone who knows Kirk Morcich, and he saw videos of me and said I have potential..." He saw she was losing him, not understanding what he was talking about and why he was rambling incoherently, "It's in London. I'll be in London." He concluded. Watching her expression.

You can say many things about Liana, but she doesn't know how to hide what she feels. Her emotions always go a step ahead of her. She wears them on her face like a parade of shame. Blushing too easily, shaking when angry, crying immediately when hurt. She can't lie about feelings. Either she feels them, or they're not there. "Are you serious?" she asked, her eyes starting to sparkle. She wouldn't be alone. Patrick would be with her. So many possibilities. "Tell me it's a good thing and you don't hate me," he said, completely nervous. "Pat, this is the best news I've heard in the past month. I could kiss you," she said and jumped on him in a hug. For the first time in a month, Liana was happy.

Art’s parents recognized them in the middle of their conversation with, well, Art. "Liana, you even look more grown-up. I can't believe you're leaving us like this," Christine, his mother, pulled her into a hug without a second thought. "Mom, let her breathe..." Art said. There was no visible discomfort on him. He was acting as usual. "How are you, sweetheart? Are you eating properly? You look thinner!" she examined her from all angles. "Are you taking care of her?" she turned to her son, who swallowed nervously, unsure how to approach the situation. "Everything's great, Christine. I'm eating all the time," she smiled. Both Art and Patrick knew it was a fake smile. A smile that looked like she had practiced it in front of a mirror. One that revealed teeth but didn't characterize her.

"Unfortunately, we probably won't be able to stay for the game. I just wanted to say hello and wish you good luck," Liana didn't look at Art at all, just glanced at him and saw his fingers moving uncontrollably. "Why, honey? We wanted you both to have dinner with us afterward. To catch up. I'll tell you about all the places in London where you can go and feel surrounded by Americans, so you won't be alone for a moment," his mother was lovely. She really loved Liana as if she were her daughter. It warmed Liana's heart and at the same time made her so angry. How could Art take and destroy such a relationship for a momentary whim?

"I already told Art earlier that I have some project due tomorrow, and Patrick said that if he's already here, he could help me. I hope that's okay." She still didn't look at him. Patrick, on the other hand, looked at him. Art changed colors. He didn't know how to handle the current situation. Throughout it, Liana was better than him at maneuvering the situation. "And besides, I won't feel alone in London. Patrick will be with me." This time she looked directly at Art, and her smile was genuine. It was unmistakable. "Really? How did that happen?" Art's father, Tim, intervened in the conversation. "Long story, something about a coach whose name I can't remember, but it's so great that everything worked out like this, and I won't have to start from scratch." She spoke quickly, lowering her gaze from Art just to give her attention to his mother, who nodded with a smile of her own, not understanding everything happening beneath the surface in this conversation.

"It's a shame you can't stay for the game; after all, you're his lucky charm," she said after a few more exchanged words. "Maybe it's time to find a new lucky charm," Liana replied, and everyone laughed. Some genuine, some fake.

Patrick, at that moment, observed Art, whose gaze was already fixed on him and didn’t let go for a second. Art didn’t laugh. Hello there!!! How are we doing? Patrick is really stepping up his game for our girl! As usual, I'd like to hear any thouths you have. I really love talking to you and getting to know what you want for the story.  you can always ask to be part of the taglist :) taglist: @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

[kpop---scenarios]

Reckless (7)

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Genre: Brothers Best Friend

Warnings: Mentions of depression, heartbreak, lying etc

Word Count: 2.2k

Taglist: @hyunjinhoexxx @ovulatingrn @jisunglyricist @guiltycoco @fawnpeaks @purple-bell @caught-in-the-afterglow @ana-marais98 @rylea08 @astraystayastayastray @partyparty-yah @skzswife @sillyhal @feellikecinderella @asphalstead @minh0scat @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @gabriellamariee @hyun-hwanj @zerefdragn33l @stelle-aka-simp @chanbahng29 @blackbluerose666 @mmarusa

@glitter-z @seungminsapuppy

Previous Chapters

Minho sits in his room, the silence was deafening. He tried anything and everything to distract himself, but there was only one thing his mind kept wandering to, and it was the conversation he had with Jisung after you had gone upstairs,yesterday. His stomach twisted with anxiety as his mind raced, he knew he needed to make a decision that was best for him, but he knew, whatever decision he made was going to hurt someone he loved. He gets up, walking downstairs into the kitchen, where he sees you and Jisung, and his heart hurts instantly.

“Are you going out tonight?” Jisung asks you.

“I'm not sure. I don't have any plans yet, but I might see what Hyunjin is doing.” You say, glancing over to Minho. He completely avoids eye contact with you, making your heart sink. He hadn't said a word to you since the whole confrontation yesterday, and to be completely honest, you had thought that he would have been groveling and begging on his knees for you right now. But he wasn't. He looked stressed and sad. It made you want to hug him and tell him it was going to be okay, but you couldn't. You needed to remain strong and if he wanted you then he would show you.

At least you hoped he would.

Day after day after day you waited for Minho to say something to you, to acknowledge you but day after day he left a room if you walked in, with his head down. If you called out for him, he'd give you a sympathetic half smile before walking away from you. It left you feeling confused and hurt, wondering what the fuck was actually happening.

“I don't get it.” You sigh to Jisung. “He said he loved me.”

Jisung looks at you, trying to be sympathetic but you could tell he wasn't sincere and it made you wonder if he had done something. But you didn't ask, you left it alone. You wanted to talk to Minho, but Jisung didn't seem to think that was such a good idea.

“If he's avoiding you, it might just be for the best, yeah?” He says. “Obviously he doesn't want to talk to you, I don't think he's going to do what you expected him to do, Y/N.”

“It just doesn't make sense. Why say all those things if he knew he wasn't gonna try? Why would he get my hopes up? I really think I should talk to him.” You decide, standing up from the couch.

“No, Y/N. I'm telling you right now, leave it alone.” Jisung snaps.

You're taken aback, why was he snapping at you?

“I'm sorry. I just don't want you to get hurt more than you already have.” He says, pulling out his wallet. “Here, take this, go out with Hyunjin, or better yet, go out with Chan. On me.” He smiles.

You hesitantly take the money, where was your actual brother, cause this guy was not it.

“Okay..” you murmur, grabbing your phone.

“That's good. Chan is the better option, I think.” He smiles, turning back towards the TV continuing to watch his show.

You walk up the stairs replaying what Jisung said to you. He wouldn't do anything to keep you apart, right?

That night, you're sitting with Chan, laughing and smiling at his stories, trying to be fully invested but you cannot stop thinking about Minho. You felt like he owed you at least a little bit of an explanation. If he didn't want to be with you, then tell you so you could move on but it felt like he had played nothing but games with you for months. And there was a partial love confession, until you finally told Jisung, and then there was a full on love confession. But since then it's been radio silence.

“You okay?” Chan asks. You look at him, slightly embarrassed.

“Yeah, sorry, I got caught up in my head.” You laughed.

“Everything okay?” He asks. You nod your, smiling at him as you finish your drink. Chan slides two shots towards you, wiggling his eyebrows as he glances from the shots to you, back and forth. You laugh, taking them both back to back. “Now get out of your head, and come back to me.” He smiles.

“I'm just gonna go to the bathroom quick.” You tell him, grabbing your purse, stumbling away. You can feel the drinks hit you like a ton of bricks. You sit down on the toilet, fully clothed and pull out your phone.

[11:57pm To: Minho] Why are you doing this to me?

[11:59pm From: Minho] I'm not doing anything. Please Y/N, stop.

[12:00am To Minho] Stop what? Stop loving you? I can't. I need closure. Please.

[12:02am From: Minho] Y/N. I can't love you. Leave me alone. Move on. Be happy. Just stay away from me. Don't talk to me, don't text me, don't think about me, and please stop loving me.

You can feel the tears welling in your eyes as you read his text again, over and over. Why was life so fucking cruel? All you ever wanted was to be happy, and it seemed like you weren't even allowed to have that. But fine, if he wanted you to move on then that's what you would do, after you confronted him in person. You had too. You needed to hear him say those words to your face, you needed to watch him tell you to stay away from him, even if it ended up breaking you.

That night, Chan dropped you off and you drunkenly rushed into the house. You stomped up the stairs and stood in front of the door of Minho's room. You stood with your fist raised to bang on the door for a few seconds, trying to catch your breath while also trying to muster up the courage to actually knock. Part of you didn't want to hear him say those words because you really didn't want them to be true, but the other part of you, well you knew that you needed to hear them or you just wouldn't fully believe him.

Knock

Knock

Knock

You press your ear to the door, there's no sound of movement. Maybe he was sleeping? You place your hand on the door, twisting the knob before pushing the door open, only to find an empty room. The drawers in the dresser were open and empty, the closet where his clothes hung was empty. There were no sheets, pillows or blankets on his bed, all of his things were gone.

You rush out of the room, down to Jisung's room. You busted in, scared the shit out of him.

“He's gone.” You whisper.

“I know.” Jisung says.

“Why?” You ask.

“I don't know.” Jisung sighs. “He said it was time. He felt guilty for everything he did to you I guess.”

“No, I need to talk to him. He can't just move out without a word.” You whimper, fumbling with your phone.

“What did I say about talking to him, Y/N.” Jisung yells. “Christ, you don't listen. Don't make me tell you what he told me. Just believe me when I say, leave him alone.”

“What do you mean what he told you? What did he tell you?” You ask.

“You don't want to know.” Jisung says, avoiding your eyes.

“Tell me. Or I'll track him the fuck down.” You snap.

“He said you were nothing but a game to him. Just another notch on his belt. That you were just my little sister and nothing more.” Jisung tells you. You swore, in that moment, you could actually feel your heart shattering into a million little pieces.

“Oh.” Jisung watched as your face sank, the color completely draining from it. You said nothing else, just shuffled out of his room and went into yours. You closed the door quietly behind you, crawling into bed without the will to even get changed. Maybe if you slept, you'd feel better in the morning.

You didn't.

Over the next few weeks, It was like depression had fully taken over you. You looked in the mirror and saw a shell of the person you used to be. The bags under your eyes were heavy, your face was pale, hair was matted. You looked sick, and honestly you felt sick. You still couldn't get over the fact that he had said that about you. You'd never hurt this much over some man before and you hated yourself for letting him have this kind of effect on you but at this point you didn't know how to get out of it. You had charged your phone in weeks, not that you'd answer if anyone called or texted anyways. Hyunjin and Jisoo tried to see you, but you wouldn't even roll over to say hi. Instead you hid under your covers and silently wept until they left.

And Jisung. He tried to get you to eat anything, drink anything but you wouldn't. You had no interest in fueling your body. Until it had been just over a month and Jisoo and Hyunjin had enough. They busted into your room as you stared at yourself in the mirror.

“Shower time!” Jisoo yells. Hyunjin marches past you, turning on your shower before throwing you over his shoulder and sitting you in the tub fully clothed, despite your weak protests.

“Why!” You yell out as Jisoo takes your hair from its bun. She sits with you, washing your hair, rinsing it, conditioning it and rinsing it again. She helps you brush your teeth before helping you into clean, dry clothes. And then she sits with you, brushing out your hair as you listen to her talk. A lot of what she was saying were things you knew were true and things you had told yourself, but it was different hearing it from someone else. A few hours later, she had fully brushed out your hair, took your hand and took you downstairs to make you something to eat. Luckily Hyunjin was already finishing up making some of your favorite food. You hadn't realized how hungry you actually were until you smelt it. Your stomach growled as your mouth drooled. You sat down, eating, talking and finally smiling for the first time in a while.

Every day after that, Jisoo and Hyunjin were over, and every day, you were becoming yourself a little bit more and more. You were finally starting to move on and move forward. It felt good. You were feeling good. You still missed Minho, and you honestly weren't sure if you would ever stop.

A few weeks later, you decided to meet up with Chan for coffee. He had you laughing until your stomach hurt, and it felt so fucking good to be out again and feel like yourself again, especially with someone who was genuinely interested in you and being with you. He had asked you out again that night, wanting to take you for dinner and out of drinks after. You accepted, excited for the night. You walked down the street after your coffee, telling Chan you had wanted to do a little window shopping before going home. Of course he offered to go with you but you politely declined, wanting to be alone and take your time. As you're walking down the street, you're looking at a beautiful silver ring in the window. You sigh before you continue walking, accidentally bumping into someone. You look up and your breath hitches. It was the last person you had expected to see out.

“Minho.” You whisper. He was thin, thinner than usual. The bags under his eyes looked almost exactly how yours had, along with his sunken face.

“Y/N.” He responds, staring at you, looking you up and down. “You look good.” He half smiles.

“You should have seen me a few weeks ago. I was a mess after you left.. after you said that shit about me.” You half yell, remembering you were in public.

“What?” He asks. “What stuff did I say?”

“Don't play dumb, Minho. I was just another notch on your belt. Just Jisung’s little sister. A game.” You say.

“Who said I said that about you? I never fucking said that.”

“Jisung. He kept telling me to stop talking to you because you didn't want to talk to me.” You explain.

“That motherfucker.” Minho snaps. “Don't go home for a while, unless you wanna see your brother's ass beat.” He yells, storming off. You follow him, sliding into the passenger seat of his car.

“I deserve to know what's going on.” You deadpan, buckling your belt. Good thing you did, because you and Minho managed to get to your house in record time.

“HAN FUCKING JISUNG.” Minho screams, storming into the house.

Jisung jumps up off the couch, looking absolutely fucking terrified.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, looking between Minho and you.

“I happened to run into Y/N on the street, where she started screaming at me about why I would say such shitty things about her. She doesn't know, does she?” Minho yells, pointing to you. “She doesn't know you told me that I had to choose between staying friends with you, or being with the one that I fucking fell in love with.”

“You did what?” You whisper, staring at your brother.

Jisung stands there, his eyes darting between you and Minho, unable to utter a sentence, not even a word. Turns out Jisung would do whatever he could to keep you apart.

[btsgotjams27]

perfect palette | jjk

vegas isn’t your first choice, but you love your best friend and are willing to do anything for her, including planning her bachelorette party. everything is all set, ready to go for the last day, until you receive a text from the model you’ve hired. he’s out sick but have no fear, he’s sent the next best thing to replace him for the night.

✨ title: perfect palette

✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader (nicknamed Ro)

✨ genre/au: slice of life, light angst | model!jk, las vegas setting

✨ rating: m/18+ | ✨ word count: 7.5k

✨ warnings: language, drinking, mild nudity, jungkook + reader are tipsy, kissing, reader is nicknamed Ro but is only called by her name a handful of times.

✨ a/n: hi again! so this idea came to me when i was in vegas lmao, and the painting idea is from 'this is us' (the show). i just thought it was a fun premise. i hope you enjoy it.

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

Your head is pounding, and your stomach is growling. As you pop your head up, you notice the hotel room is a complete mess: furniture has been knocked over, empty tequila and champagne bottles litter the room, and clothes and money are scattered across the floor.

A low, muffled groan startles you, making you cover up with the duvet. You definitely don’t remember sleeping with someone. Your mind races, attempting to recall last night’s shenanigans.

Whoever is next to you mumbles under their breath and turns over on their stomach. The silver chain that’s adorning their neck glimmers from the sunlight peeking through the blinds. You can’t help but notice their broad chiseled back and the markings on it. No, they’re not scratches from nails—they’re purple lines, going from one beauty mark to the next, and each mark is surrounded by a pair of red lips. Turning your hand over, you see it’s stained with purple, matching the color on their back.

What the fuck happened last night, you think.

You lean over, peering at the mysterious person. A scalloped tattoo delicately covers their shoulder and the rest of their arm is covered in ink. You giggle when you discover the tattoos are colored an array of hues—blue, red, green, and orange. It looks almost like a child was told to have fun and went wild with coloring.

The person groans again, switching to lay on their back side. You pull back, holding the duvet up to your chin. A small gasp comes out when you recognize the mystery person—it’s Jeon Jungkook, your old college buddy. Five years have passed since you last saw him at graduation. Last you heard, he was in Los Angeles, taking a jab at modeling and acting. Well, with his perfect face and body (your eyes quickly scanned over him), who would say no to him?

The real question now was, how did he end up in Vegas, and specifically in your hotel room?

—

The day before.

“Ro, cheer up please. We’re in Vegas, not a funeral,” Lottie says, swiping on a pink lip stain. “You’re only gonna feel like shit if you keep scrolling through those photos.”

Lottie’s right because looking through your ex-college sweetheart’s wedding photos is not doing anything for you. Four years of committing to a man who said he never wanted to get married, but there he was with a ring on his finger.

Your phone is swiped from your hand. “Hey!” you protest, standing to snatch it back. “Give it to me!”

“No! I will not let my maid-of-honor mope around like a sad puppy. Forget Jimin! He’s a married man now and a Libra—an October Libra too, I might add. That should’ve been a red flag right off the bat!”

She’s been your work wife for the past three years, and the two of you bonded over talking shit about your boss and colleagues. The only anecdotes she knew of Jimin were the ones you spilled on drunken nights.

“Lottie, give me my phone. I have to make sure everything is ready for tonight. It has to be perfect,” you explain, holding out your hand, insisting she gives it to you. But it was an excuse to keep lurking.

The itinerary for today consisted of: brunch, pool and cocktails, dinner at Hell’s Kitchen, then a night of painting–naked painting you should add. As if the Magic Mike show wasn't enough skin for Lottie and the rest of the crew. You somehow stumbled upon a small business, ‘Perfect Palette’ combining models and painting into one. This would be the next closest thing to being with a fully naked man. It's been a hot minute since you've seen one.

The bride-to-be reluctantly hands over the phone and you're scrolling through emails, switching apps to confirm everything.

“Take a chill pill, babe. Everything doesn't have to be perfect, but I am excited about painting tonight!” Lottie smiles and claps, then leans over to give you a hug. “Okay! Time to get ready for brunch.” She runs off to the restroom. “And no more pining over Jimin, please!” She yells back.

It's hard not to look through the photos of your ex-boyfriend because it was supposed to be you, not the woman he's kissing and holding. If only you could go back to graduation and fix things between you and Jimin…maybe life would've turned out differently for you.

As you open up Instagram (your burner account, obviously), you see a new post of him and his wife on a plane with the caption, “Can't wait to honeymoon in Bali.”

Bali was your dream honeymoon location.

With a heavy sigh, flinging yourself onto the bed, you turn off your phone. Lottie’s always right—this is depressing.

A ding goes off and you're hoping it's just one of the girls confirming the schedule for today. Grabbing your phone, you hold it above you, the screen illuminating your face.

The notification reads:

Namjoon 8:30 AM

Hey. I came down with the stomach bug so I can't make it tonight, but don't worry, I'm sending the next best thing to replace me. I promise the bride and your girls will love him. He's a newbie but he's just as beefy if not more than me. Have fun tonight.

You turn the phone over and rub your hand over your face. Great, just my luck, you think.

Well, whoever this person is, you hope he’s worth what you’re paying for.

–

The Primrose restaurant is the perfect spot to finish off a weekend in Vegas. It’s bustling with groups similar to yours—probably other brides and bridesmaids celebrating a last hoorah before committing yourself to one person for the rest of your life. At this point it seems silly, doesn’t it? Being with someone, choosing them on a daily basis, loving them for all their faults, but who are you kidding? You’re a hopeless romantic now waiting for your charming prince.

Gwen and Ivy sit across from you and Lottie, whispering and pointing to their phone like two high school girls. You don’t doubt they’re plotting something. You just hope it doesn’t involve more naked men, minus the one you’ll see tonight. There are only so many ripped abs you can take.

“What are you two whispering about?” Lottie asks while narrowing her eyes. She holds her glass of mango mimosa, taking a sip.

“Nothing!” They both speak in tandem and Lottie makes a face at the two.

“No surprises,” you plead with your friends. “The rest of the day is already planned.”

“Don’t worry, babe! We’re not planning anything else,” Gwen reassures.

“It’s just that—” Ivy is cut off when Gwen jabs her in the ribs. “Ow!”

Gwen puts her phone down, hiding it under her thigh. “It’s nothing that concerns you.”

“But it does—kind of—” Ivy interjects. “Jimin and his wife—they’re pregnant.” She grabs Gwen’s phone, showing a photo of Jimin kissing his wife’s belly.

“Oh,” you say softly. “That’s great. I’m really happy for him.”

You hate to admit it, but it stings. He’s living the life you dreamed of with him. The big house, big cars, but someone else got the big ring. And now they’re starting a family? Everyone seems to be moving forward, but it feels like you’re at standstill. It’d be amazing to have a man plop in your lap, but life just doesn’t seem to be going your way.

Clearing your throat, “Should we get ready for the pool?”

—

It doesn’t matter how many times you tug down your swimsuit, it keeps riding up in all the wrong places. The white linen shorts and tie top aren’t doing you any favors either by being paper thin.

The pool is bustling with hoards of party-goers. They’re laughing, drinking, and having the time of their life. An ex-boyfriend’s current life shouldn’t be affecting yours—but it is. You wish you could let go, let loose, forget everything related to Park Jimin. You’d rather be consumed by anything, anyone other than him.

Lottie’s at the bar, ordering a round of drinks. Gwen and Ivy are grabbing the attention of four guys. And it’s the last night before returning to reality, so you should be having fun, flirting, and making a fool of yourself to someone whom you’ll never see again. That’s what Vegas is for, right?

As a maid of honor, you’re definitely not living up to the hype and you know Lottie’s disappointed expression like the back of your hand, and yet you can’t unbunch your panties that are in a twist. The effects of the morning mimosas have worn off, and maybe you need something stronger. Hell—even a gummy sounds tempting at this point. Anything to forget how miserable your love life is.

“You’re still thinking about him, aren’t you?” Lottie asks. You shake your head no, but she knows you. She sits down, taking your hands. “Look, I’m sorry about Jimin. It sucks that he got married even though he said he never wanted to—” You’re ready to interrupt but she stops you, placing her index finger on your lips.

“Bup-bup-bup. I know what you’re going to say, but don’t,” Lottie implores, pleading with her eyes. She knows how much you torment yourself with lowly thoughts.

You want to say that there’s definitely something wrong with you. Why else would Jimin say one thing to you about marriage and then do the complete opposite?

“You’re more than enough, so please don’t think otherwise. Don’t let this one guy determine the course of your future relationships. He’s not worth your time and energy.”

Tears began to well behind your eyes as she continued, “You deserve to have some fun. So please, can we enjoy this last night together before we have to go back to our real lives?” Lottie pouts along with puppy eyes.

Lottie’s always right and that’s what you love about her. You hate that you’ve been a poor sport this weekend when you’re supposed to be celebrating your friend and having fun. You’ve been busy moping over a man who is now married with a child on the way. It’s a pathetic way to spend your last night in Vegas.

You let out a deep breath, expelling all the bad energy you’ve harnessed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve been the worst maid of honor, but have no fear!” A server brings over the drinks that Lottie ordered, you pick up your Paloma cocktail and an oversized margarita, handing it to the bride-to-be. “Let’s have the best night. Cheers!” you say, clinking your glass against hers.

—

Tequila is one of your worst enemies, but also the best way for you to loosen up your limbs and lips.

By the time the four of you arrive at the hotel room, you’re unsure if you can even pick up a paintbrush, let alone even get paint on a canvas.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sorry that you love me! Change my mind up like it’s origami!”

The trio of you, Ivy, and Gwen are linked arm in arm trying to fit through the door while singing at the top of your lungs.

“Ugh—I swear Tate McRae is my spirit animal,” you say, turning to Gwen. “You know, she just gets it. Always gets me in my sad girl hours and then has me dancing the next.”

“I’m a-I’m a-I’m a wild ride that never stops!” Ivy continues singing, letting go of the two of you while Lottie trails behind. Someone has to be the semi-sober one.

“Hey Ro—they’re bringing everything right?” Lottie asks you.

“Yeah, the guy will bring the supplies. There’s an area cleared out for him. I’m gonna freshen up then I’ll be out.”

“I’m ready for a man to bare it all and ask nothing of me in return,” Gwen comments, taking a seat on the couch.

You chuckle, shaking your head at your friend. Hopefully, it’ll be the last naked man you’ll see this weekend. But either way, you’re sure you’ll enjoy this last activity.

The powder puff pats against your skin, making dust fly everywhere. Taking a step back, you give yourself the once-over in the mirror, but not before swiping a red stain on your lips. You don’t want to look disheveled for this naked guest. Apparently, he’s the ‘next best thing’ next to Namjoon, and you saw Namjoon’s photo on the website. You’re curious to see this mystery man and how this evening will end up.

As the door is ajar, you can hear the girls talking amongst themselves along with giggles. Whoever this guy is, he must be living up to their standards.

You’re unsure what to expect, how everything will turn out. Is this model fully naked? Are they covered? Do you keep your art piece? How are you supposed to bring a canvas of a naked man on a plane without receiving a few stares? You definitely didn’t think this part through.

“Ro! Get your butt out here. We’re gonna start painting soon!” Gwen yells, making you sprint out the door and into a curious situation.

Four canvases on easels and paint palettes on stools surround the model. His back is turned to you and he’s already half-naked with only a towel wrapped around his waist. One arm is completely inked from the top of his shoulder to his wrist. When he turns around and your jaw drops, not because he’s built like a Greek god (well, yeah he is), but because you recognize the half-naked man.

“Jeon Jungkook?” 

“Ro?” His eyes light up and he secures his towel, tucking it in his waist. “What are you doing here?”

You step toward him and the girls. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here?”

Jungkook rubs the back of his neck. “Err—”

Lottie clears her throat, blinking at you and then Jungkook. “Um, excuse me. How do you two know each other?”

The pair of you give each other a look and chuckle before you answer. “Oh, we went to college together.”

“Just went to college together? Nothing more?” Ivy narrows her eyes at you, trying to figure out if you’re lying.

“What? No! We’re just friends. I was with Jimin, remember?” A pathetic reminder of your past relationship and now non-existent one.

“Uh huh,” Lottie remarks, taking a stride to you, pulling you in. “I wanna hear all the details about that one later.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” you whisper. “We’re friends—nothing more.” Catching Jungkook’s gaze, you smile softly before taking your seat on the stool.

“Are you ladies ready?” Jungkook asks, ripping off his towel, only to reveal another small hand towel covering his crotch.

The girls are yelping and hollering. You can’t help but cover your eyes, giggling at the fact that you’ll be painting one of your friends—naked.

—

Jungkook’s surrounded by the four of you. His pose is simple, straight forward. Literally straight forward because he’s facing you, knees slightly bent as he’s sitting on the stool. Your eyes have caught his every now and again, but he's focused on something past you.

Every inch of him is chiseled like a statue right out of Ancient Greece. From his jawline, to his collarbone, to his sculpted chest and not one, two, three, four, but eight pack abs. How is it that some people are just born to look like a Greek god? You didn’t think God had favorites, but Jeon Jungkook definitely proves you wrong.

Studying Jungkook’s physique for the past hour has made you realize how intimate this feels. Although the pair of you were friends in school, this is the most time you’ve spent with him outside of it, and the most time you’ve spent just looking at him. He is definitely a pretty boy with a soft, sweet energy.

Your brows are knitted, biting your bottom lip, trying to figure out how to paint his inked arm. It’s looking more and more like a glob than anything distinguishable. It’s when your eyes catch his and he’s doing that smile, the one where one side curves up, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

Jungkook’s eyes flick to the large clock in the living area. “Okay, ladies. It looks like time is up. How did everyone’s painting turn out?” There are groans and grumbles coming from the four of you. Jungkook chuckles, “Aw, come on. It can’t be that bad.”

He turns, fetching a robe behind him, slipping it on to cover himself. Jungkook takes it upon himself to check out everyone’s canvases, and you’re dreading the moment when he approaches yours.

You clutch it, holding it close to your body, and you have no intention of Jungkook ever seeing it.

He tilts his head, giving you a look. “Ro—it can’t be that bad.”

“Trust me, it is!” You turn, hoping to somehow destroy it before leaving tomorrow morning. It’s not that Jungkook looks horrible—it’s that you’re a horrible painter. But your death grip isn’t as strong as he is. With a sigh, you hand it over to him.

Jungkook nods with a pout on his lips. “It’s…”

“Horrible—I know.”

“No, no. I’d say it has an abstract feeling to it. I like it.” He gives a bright smile, returning the canvas to you.

You give him a thin smile, knowing that he’s just saying it because it’s his job. “By the way, you’re really good at this gig, but are you still pursuing the whole modeling thing?”

“I’m still doing that. I just do this gig for fun on the weekends. I mean, I get to meet cool, and sometimes crazy people and the money isn’t bad either.”

“Alright, ladies and gentleman. Tequila, anyone?” Gwen suggests as she wiggles her eyebrows, holding up the bottle. No one answers which makes her frown. “Aw, come on!”

“I’m game. What about you Ro?” Jungkook’s eyebrows are raised, eyes practically pleading for you to say yes. “One for me?”

You know it’s never ‘just one’ with Jungkook. You’ve seen first hand what that one line does to people, but you take the risk. “Okay, Jeon—just one.”

Everyone else gives in, raising and clinking their glasses to toast the bachelorette. Expelled breaths come from everyone after knocking back the clear liquor.

“Round two?” Jungkook asks, extending his glass toward Gwen in which she happily obliges.

You smirk, shaking your head as you catch Jungkook’s gaze.

—

It didn’t take long until you were feeling euphoric from the alcohol coursing through your veins. You’re always on cloud nine when you drink Tequila.

Lottie called it quits after her fifth shot. Gwen and Ivy are also well on their way to sleeping like babies. But you and Jungkook? You both have caught a second wind of energy.

“Ugh, I’m so hungry!” you exclaim, rubbing your belly as it growls. Jungkook’s trying to hold in a laugh. With a gasp, you turn to him, slapping his back, which is firm to the touch. “Shut up! Drinking makes me hungry.”

“Okay then, let’s get some room service. What are you craving?” 

You tap your cheek with your index finger, combing through the many options. “Pizza. No—wait, chicken wings.” Jungkook closes his eyes and hums. “No, nope! I want a juicy, juicy hamburger…with…with…��� Your brain is obviously short-circuiting.

“Fries?” Jungkook answers.

“Yes! Fries! And a milkshake!”

“We can do that. I’ll call it in.”

An hour has passed and you and Jungkook are sprawled out on the bed, bellies full and minds are swirling.

“Oh man, I haven’t done anything like this in such a long time,” you admit, turning over onto your belly. You lay your head in the crook of your arm, facing Jungkook.

“What? Eating?” he teases.

You giggle. “No—getting tipsy and I don’t know, just being free.”

“This is you being free?” Jungkook raises a brow. “I gotta get some more tequila in you then.” He proceeds to get up, but you pull him back.

“No, no, no. Trust me, this is good. I don’t wanna black-out.”

“Okay, how about some champagne then? Just to celebrate your last night here,” Jungkook suggests.

You know you’ll regret it, but you agree. “Just one bottle.” Besides you already paid for it, you wouldn’t want it to go to waste.

He sprints out of the bedroom to the bar area to grab a bottle and two glasses. You can’t help but notice how his biceps flex as he pours the two of you a glass.

“To—”

“Lottie,” you finish his sentence.

“To Lottie.” He clinks his glass with yours before chugging down his bubbly.

You stare blankly at the Greek god himself. “You’re trying to get me drunk, aren’t you?”

His lips thin into a smile. “I’m not doing anything…”

“Mmhm.” You take a gulp of your glass. You’re sure that if Jungkook were to ask you to do something, you’d say yes in a heartbeat. He made being around him comfortable and you always felt at ease.

“So, what should we do now?”

Your lips turn into a pout, peering around the room before a lightbulb goes off. “Ah! I have just the thing.” You rush over to your luggage, rummaging through it. Turning around, you wave a box of double tipped markers.

Jungkook knits his brows together. “And what do you think you’re going to do with those?”

You giggle. “You’ll see!”

—

Your tongue is out, concentrating on the purple line connecting from one beauty mark to the next. You’ve forced Jungkook to lie on his belly as you’re hunched over, straddling his legs.

“Don’t move!”

He relaxes, letting you continue on. Capping the purple marker, you set it aside. You’re giggling, tracing the line across his back and you can feel him squirm under your touch.

“You finished or what?” He peers over his shoulder but you turn him away.

"Just need to add the finishing touches." Leaning forward, you press your lips to the first beauty mark on his mid back, leaving a lipstick stain. Then you move to the next one beneath his shoulder blade, and continue on. His skin is smooth and warm under your lips, and though it's faint, you think you hear a low groan from him.

You sit up, adjusting your position, staring at the artwork you’ve created on Jungkook’s back. “Done—with your back at least. Now onto your arms.”

—

Jungkook turns his head to see what you’re coloring, flexing his bicep, making you color outside the lines.

“Oh my god! You made me mess up!” You try wiping the color, but it doesn’t budge. “You did it on purpose.”

“I did not! Why do you need to color inside the lines anyway?” he asks before returning to his previous position, resting his head on his arm.

“Because…that’s the way you’re supposed to color.” Taking an orange marker, you continue shading in his cloud tattoo.

“You don’t always have to follow the rules,” he breathed, gazing up at you.

“I know…” you mumble. Your eyes flick to his then back to the tattoo. You hate when things are not in your control. There were a handful of moments in your life when shit hit the fan and chaos ensued—Jimin being one of them.

You clear your throat, grabbing a yellow marker to color in a gradient effect. “And are you the type to not follow the rules?”

Jungkook chuckles, “I guess we don’t know each other well huh?”

“Well, I was practically glued to Jimin when we were in school.”

“What happened with you guys anyway? I thought you guys were like soulmates or something.”

“We just wanted different things,” you mumble, not wanting to elaborate. “What about you, hmm? Being a model in LA and Vegas? I’m sure you have women wanting to crawl into bed all the time.”

His gaze catches yours. “Exhibit A.”

You scoff. “Hey! We’re friends—that’s the only reason why you’re in my bed.”

“Uh huh. I saw the way you were eyeing me during the painting session. Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking about it,” Jungkook teases, making you stop coloring, and pinch his underarm. “Ow, ow, ow! Okay, just kidding!” He moves away, but you pull him back.

“Hey! I’m almost done coloring,” you say, gripping tighter onto his arm.

“That’s not fair. Only you get to color me?”

You sigh, tilting your head. “I’ll let you draw one thing on me.”

“Can I pick the location of where to draw it?”

“As long as it’s not my tits or ass.”

Jungkook lets out a hearty laugh. “Alright, how about your—”

Your hand flies to cover his mouth, knowing exactly what he’s going to say. “Jeon Jungkook! That’s a hard no!”

“You practically saw my junk and I can’t see yours?”

“Well, I paid for it.”

“I can pay you too.”

You gasp. “You can’t just buy me.”

“Fine. Give me a few options and I’ll choose the placement.”

It would be easy to choose a place more visible, but you’re feeling frisky. “My hip or my back.”

Jungkook lips his licks, eyes flicking to your hips then back up at you. “And I can draw anything I want?”

You hum with a nervous tremble. You’re sure he wouldn’t draw anything ridiculous. “I trust you.”

“‘Kay then, turn over on your belly. Top off.”

Sitting up, facing Jungkook, your hands fall to the first button on your linen vest. Your eyes never leave his as you continue to unfasten the rest, then you toss it aside, revealing a blush pink see-through bra with floral detailing. Jungkook is trying his best to not let his eyes wander lower and you’re trying to do the same. Yes, you’ve stared at his half-naked body for an hour tonight, but you didn’t have the chance to explore it up close.

“Is this okay?” You know it is, but you’d like confirmation.

“Mmm.” He gestures for you to lie down, and you do as he asks.

Jungkook reaches for a black marker, the tip is thinner than the others. He shifts his position a few times before lying comfortably next to you. The warmth from his body radiates, heating up against your skin. You lie on top of your crossed arms, facing him, wondering what he’s planning to draw. Maybe some flowers or stars.

His brows are knitted as he’s concentrated on where to begin. He starts on the middle of your back, drawing circular shapes from what you can tell. The tip of the marker grazes back and forth, and his hand and fingers emanate a gentle touch upon your skin.

He’s quite handsome, you think. Even the scar etched on his cheek has a certain beauty, and his nose must be a butterflies favorite place to land on.

“Is it okay if I unhook this?”

“Hmm?”

“Your um,” he clears his throat. “Your bra.”

You’ve been too focused on Jungkook’s face, you hadn’t realized he was halfway down your back. “Yeah, um, go for it.”

He unhooks your bra in one fell swoop and the sides of your bra fall to the side. Continuing with his design, he concentrates on the smallest details going down your spine. Your eyes flutter shut as his warm breath softly fans the wet ink on your skin.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Jungkook asks, trying to make conversation, realizing he doesn’t know you well, besides when you were with Jimin.

“Single as can be. What about you? A girlfriend? Friends with benefits? Situationship?”

Jungkook laughs. “What kind of life do you think I lead here, hm? That’s a lot of assumptions about me.”

“I don’t know. I just assume that someone that looks like you would have someone is all.”

“Well, I’m also single, and I’m a more monogamous kinda guy.”

“You are?” you question with a dramatic gasp. “That comes as a nice surprise. Maybe we should go get married tonight in a chapel,” you joke.

“With a few more drinks in me, I’m sure I’d say yes to anything.”

“Stop—don’t tempt me.”

“I’m serious. I’m ready to meet someone and do the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing, but a lot of the people I meet just want sex.”

“I’m sorry, did I just meet a guy who doesn’t want sex?”

Jungkook deadpans. “I didn’t say I don’t want sex. I do—I just wanna be a romantic and spoil someone.”

“Oh, well, you can always wine and dine me. I won’t object,” you tease.

As Jungkook continues drawing, the pads of his fingers create a light buzz of electricity, from one end to the other. Your eyes flutter shut, relishing from his soft touch. You almost let out a low moan but catch yourself when he gets to a ticklish spot near your ribs.

“Jungkook?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think the right person will come along for you?”

A beat passes before he answers. “Yeah, I think so. Whoever they are, I just know that I'm probably not ready to meet them yet, but the right time will come.”

“But what if the right person came at the wrong time?”

“Or…you were the right person in the wrong place,” he suggests. “Are you talking about Jimin?”

“Yeah, I've been trying to avoid talking about him. He recently got married and his wife is pregnant too.”

“Ah, don't tell me you're feeling shitty? ‘Cause you shouldn't.”

A sad chuckle leaves your lips. “I'm pretty sure I fumbled it.”

Jungkook stops drawing on your back, softly calling your name, in which you hesitate to look at him for fear of bursting into tears.

“Hey…you didn't fumble anything. Pretty sure it's Jimin’s loss.”

“You're sweet, Kook. Thanks.”

Jungkook continues on his quest to finish his drawing.

“Is it almost finished?” you ask, clearing your throat. The tequila and champagne are starting to wear off and tomorrow’s reality is beginning to settle in. Tonight feels like a dream and you don’t want to wake up.

He hums. “Almost. Just a few more details then we’ll be good to go.” Short strokes lightly mark across your back and he doesn’t break his concentration. He continues for a few minutes before closing the cap. “Done. Wanna see?”

“I’m not gonna lie. I’m low-key scared to see what it is.”

Jungkook straightens his posture then reaches for his phone. “You have nothing to be scared of. It’s pretty. I promise.” He takes a photo, showing it to you.

Though the drawing session didn’t feel long, you could see the intricate detailing he went into drawing the moon phases down your back.

Sitting up then turning away from Jungkook, you use your arm to cover your breasts and secure your bra. “Are you always good at everything?” you ask, standing and walking over to the dresser, you pull out an oversized shirt, slipping it on, then you grab the tequila bottle and two shot glasses. There’s just enough to end the night.

Jungkook shifts to the edge of the bed, legs spread, and you slot yourself right in between. “Nah, I’m not good at everything.”

“Oh yeah? What are you not good at?” you ask, making him hold a glass while you pour his then yours.

He chuckles, looking away, then back up at you. “For starters, I’m not good at flirting.”

“You’re lying.” Your eyes lock in on his as you set the empty bottle down on the floor.

“I’m not.”

“Okay, practice on me then,” you say, trying to persuade him.

“A bit of liquid courage might help.”

You raise your glass and clink it against his. “Bottoms up.” The both of you wince as you knock them back, tossing the glasses on the carpeted flooring.

“Better?” you inquire, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, playing with the hair along the nape of his neck. Jungkook’s fingers delicately trace up and down your thighs, sending tingles across every inch of skin. His eyes are so starry, you’ll gladly get lost in them.

“You’re pretty.”

“Could say the same about you,” you giggle, twirling his hair in your fingers. “You’re right.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, reveling at your touch against his skin. “Mm, about what?”

“That you’re bad at flirting.” Your eyes linger on his lips, wondering what they taste like and how much you’d like to kiss the chocolate chip mole right underneath his bottom lip.

He lets out a soft chuckle, looking down at his feet then back at you. “Told you,” he says as he pulls away, propping himself up on the bed. He scans you from head to toe, loving the fact that you’re in between his legs. Hasn't seen you in years, but he’s intrigued.

Letting out a yawn, you cover your mouth then apologize.

“Damn, didn’t think my non-flirting would put you to sleep.”

You laugh. “It’s been a long day and it’ll be an even longer one tomorrow.”

“Right, I should head out too.” Jungkook shifts, scooting to the edge of the bed but you don’t budge.

“Do you wanna stay? Since it’s pretty late already.” Nearly 3 AM and you know you’ll regret this but right now, you’ll indulge in whatever’s left of this trip.

Jungkook’s silent for a moment before answering, “Sure. I’ll stay.”

You crawl over him, slipping under the covers that have been calling your name for the past few hours. The plush, fluffy pillows are like a cloud as you lay your head down. Jungkook follows your lead, doing the same, facing you. His fringe gently falls, covering his eyes, and you find yourself moving them out of his face.

“You’re cute,” you whisper, letting your finger trace his cheeks to his jawline.

“I don’t really like being cute,” he hums.

“Well, that’s just too damn bad, isn’t it?” You inch closer to him, and can feel the warmth radiating off his body. It feels nice to be in close proximity to another human being again. And you like that there are no expectations. You can just be with Jungkook. The two of you run in the same circle of friends, and he makes you feel safe—like if anything were to happen to you tonight, he’d take care of you.

Your eyes flick to his lips, lingering longer than expected, and your cheeks are warming up, ridding the last bit of alcohol coursing through your veins.

Jungkook moves in, closing the distance. The tip of his nose brushes against yours, lips ghosting each other in a delicate dance before finally meeting in a tender kiss. Time seems to stand still as you melt into each other. Hearts beating in perfect harmony, lost in the sweetness of the moment.

With your breaths mingled, it creates a cocoon of intimacy as you savor the softness of each other's lips. Your fingers entwined in his hair, drawing him closer, bodies pressed together in a silent declaration of desire.

The last leg of this trip was fate trying to make you forget about your worries, and Jungkook was the perfect color to paint over your monochrome palette. 

There’s a longing deep inside you wanting to escape, and as much as you want to release it, you’d rather have him when you’re sober and in the right mindframe.

“Ro…” Jungkook moans as he pulls away, your hands splayed on his taut chest, forehead resting against his.

“Yeah?” you reply, leaning in for another kiss.

“I don’t want you like this,” he says, taking you by surprise, almost like he could read your mind.

Letting out a chuckle, you answer, “No—yeah, makes sense.”

“It’s not that ‘I don’t want you’, I do! I just—don’t want this to turn out like other flings I’ve had in the past because I don’t consider you ‘a fling’ or someone to just toss the next day because we’re friends and I would never do that to—“

You interrupt him with a peck on his lips. “Jungkook. I understand. I feel the same way.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I had a lot of fun tonight and that’s all thanks to you.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“No, you did! You helped me loosen up.”

“I’m sure it was just the champagne and tequila doing all the work.”

“They helped, but it was mostly you.” You smile, letting a beat pass before speaking again. “Should we try to get some sleep?”

He hums, leaning in for a kiss, in which you willingly give. You tug on his silver chain, asking for a few more kisses before letting him go.

Not even three minutes in and Jungkook is already snoring. His chest rising and falling, rumbling like a mountain. It’s cute, you think. Could get used to listening to this, almost like white noise.

You admire how Jungkook lives his life without worries, letting the wind guide him. It might not happen right away, but maybe when you return to reality, you should consider not always staying within the lines. That it’s okay to go out of bounds and live a little. Life shouldn’t be so serious all the time.

—

There’s a light sound of pitter patter sweeping across the floor with shushed ‘Ows’ and ‘shut up’. You weakly open your eyes to see what the commotion is. Your body wants to get up, but the pounding migraine is saying otherwise.

A loud thump makes you blink your eyes open and pop your head up. There’s furniture knocked over, tequila and champagne bottles are scattered everywhere, along with clothes and money.

The low, muffled groan startles you, making you cover yourself with the duvet. They’re facing away and you can’t make out who this mystery person is. You peer over to find a man covered in tattoos, and it looks like a child tried to color inside the tattoo lines but failed miserably.

He mumbles gibberish under his breath and turns over onto his stomach. Great, now you can’t even get a good look at him, you think.

His silver necklace glimmers from the sun peeking through the blinds. And holy shit—his shoulders?

Broad.

Chiseled.

For all you know, he could be some kind of athlete. Then you notice the purple lines on his back, and no—they aren’t scratches from nails, the lines connect from one beauty mark to the next across his back. It’s like one of those connect the dot pictures, except the finished drawing wasn’t anything recognizable. But surrounding each beauty mark is a pair of red lips, and as you look down at your hands, you find that you’re the culprit who must’ve drawn on this man.

What the fuck happened last night, you think.

Another groan escapes the man’s lips and he turns over again. You pull up your side of the duvet, further covering yourself, and the smallest gasp comes out. It’s none other than Jeon Jungkook, an old college buddy.

The duvet is pulled down, covering his bottom half, revealing his taut chest and not one, two, three, four—but an eight pack set of abs. Is it humanly possible to even have more than six?

How did he end up in Vegas? And specifically in your room?

“Jungkook?” you whisper. “Are you awake?”

“Mmm…”

You move closer, feeling the warmth from his body. “Jungkook, it’s time to get up.”

Still half asleep, he wraps his arm around your waist, bringing you flush against him. “Just five more minutes, Ro,” he says, nuzzling into you.

“Jeon Jungkook! What are you doing?”

He chuckles, smiling, finally peeking his eyes open. “You don’t remember anything from last night, do you?”

“I…remember things…” you say, lying through your teeth.

“Oh yeah?” Jungkook moves into a sitting position, turning to you. “So you know we got married, right?”

Your jaw drops and eyes widen. “Oh my god, please tell me you’re lying.”

“You’re the one who suggested it!”

How could you let yourself get married in Las Vegas? And at your best friend’s bachelorette party? It’s not like you’re trying to steal her thunder, quite the opposite, really. This was supposed to be about her, not you. Fuck—Lottie’s going to hate you, isn’t she?

Jungkook quietly watches you freak out. Wonders how long he can let this continue before telling the truth. He thinks you’re cute when you’re all flustered.

“No, we can't be married! I don't even know you and how would this even work? We live like 3000 miles away from each other? And would you move to New York? Or would I move to LA? What if your family doesn't like me? Your friends even? Wait–do you even like me? Oh–Jungkook, how did we let this happen?” you ask, burying your hands in your face.

Question after question runs through your mind and Jungkook is sitting there with a smirk on his face.

“Why aren't you freaking out?” you question, raising an eyebrow.

Jungkook chuckles, leaning over toward you. “You're really cute, you know that?” he says.

Your eyes follow his finger as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Clearing your throat, it's time to get down to the important things. “Kook–please! This isn't the time to tell me I'm cute. We have bigger things to worry about. We're married!”

He sucks in his lips, trying to hold in a laugh.

You knit your brows and narrow your eyes. “Unless…we’re not married…”

Jungkook lets out a soft laugh, his finger gently caresses your cheek. “Maybe one day, pretty girl. If we ever get to that stage of course.”

A smack against his arm reverberates throughout the room. “Aye! I'm gonna kill you. You really had me worried.”

He rubs the ruby red spot that's imprinted on his arm. “Why? Because marrying me would've been horrible?”

No, you think, quite the opposite.

“Of course not. It's just, we don't know each other and I wouldn't want you to feel trapped in a marriage,” you explain.

You'd at least wanna go on a real date and get to know him before strapping him down forever.

He nods in agreement. “Well, I had fun last night. Hence all the things I let you do to me.” Jungkook points out the badly colored arm and connect-the-dots on his back.

“Oh, I'm so sorry about that.”

“I'm not. I'm glad you had fun even though you don't remember it.”

“Please tell me I didn't act like an idiot.”

Jungkook laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, you're fine, but uh, I should get going since you have a flight to catch.”

“Oh, shit. My flight.” You reach over to find your phone. It's already 9 AM, and thankfully the airport isn't far away and TSA Pre-check has been a lifesaver.

With another glance, you see your clothes and Jungkook's scattered on the ground. He reaches to grab his shirt and sweats.

“I, um, I was pretty bold last night. Wasn't I?” you were referring to the pair of lips covering his back.

Jungkook snickers. “Yeah, just a bit, but I didn't mind it at all,” he says, slipping his shirt on. He stands, putting his sweats on and you can't help but stare at his peachy ass in his black Calvin Klein–the tight kind. “Do you remember anything else from last night?”

Your mind thinks back to the whirlwind of last night. There was definitely alcohol involved because you only act with confidence under the influence of Tequila.

But a recollection of soft lips and entangled hair between your fingers flutter back into the present just for a fleeting moment.

You shake your head, wanting to keep this memory to yourself.

Jungkook's lips thin into a smile as he ruffles his bed head hair. “Call me next time you're in town?”

You stand to meet him. “Or you can call me when you're in the Big Apple,” you reply, handing him your phone.

He dials your number, so you can have his. “Mm, looks like that confidence hasn't left yet.”

“Mm, I have a smidge of it left.”

“Yeah?” He draws closer, and you nod in agreement.

“Yeah,” you whisper, taking in his warmth and scent.

Last night was hazy but bits and pieces are coming back. You're not sure if a lot of these moments with Jungkook are real or just a dream. You'd like to hope he enjoyed spending time with you as much as you did with him.

“It was really good to see you, Kook.”

“Good to see you too, Ro. Don't be a stranger, okay?” He turns on his heel to open the bedroom door, but turns around to say one last thing. “Oh, and don't worry too much about the right person. Who knows, maybe you’ve met them already.”

You wonder if he's referring to himself. You have to admit, he's been making you smile and laugh more than usual, even making you blush.

“Mm, I'll keep that in mind.”

He flashes a smile, opening the door.

“Jungkook?”

He hums, turning to you again.

You reach up to kiss him on the cheek. “What happened in Vegas, can it not stay in Vegas?”

[riordanness]

i wish you would — [p.jackson]

wordcount: 0.9K

warnings: nightmare mention

requested: no

I hesitate for a second before I knock on his door. I don’t want to wake him, but I’ve come this far already, and I know deep down he won’t mind.

I knock, and there’s a clattering sound inside the Poseidon cabin, like Percy has tripped over a chair or something on his way to the door.

The door swings open, and there he stands, in flannel pyjama pants and a navy blue hoodie. His dark hair is messed up, and he looks both alert and half asleep.

“Y/n, hey,” he says. “It’s the middle of the night. What happened?”

I shrug one shoulder, suddenly nervous. Which is ridiculous. Percy is my best friend. Why am I nervous to talk to him?

“I’m sorry,” I apologise. “I had a really bad nightmare and—“

I don’t get the time to finish. Percy immediately pulls me inside and closes his door, and then envelopes me in a hug. I melt instantly into his familiar embrace, burying my face in his hoodie. He smells like sea salt and oreos.

“Hey, trouble?” he asks softly.

I pull my head away from the hug, leaning back just enough to look into his eyes. “Yeah?” I kind of whisper in response.

“What was your nightmare about?”

I take a second to answer. “You. Being in pain. I don’t really know why or what was happening to you but I knew you weren’t okay at all and it was somehow my fault. And…” My voice doesn’t have the strength to continue.

Percy’s sea green eyes are so full of differing emotions I can’t even tell them all apart. “Y/n,” he says quietly, and the sadness in his voice makes my heart break. “You don’t need to worry about me, you know.”

“I know,” I try to protest weakly, “but—“

“No buts,” he shushes me, his index finger on my mouth. “Just hush, trouble.” He unravels his arms from the hug, takes my hand by the fingers, and leads me to his bunk. “Sleep in here tonight, okay?”

“With you?” I mean to think it, but I’m sleepy enough that my brain sends the words through my mouth instead.

Percy kind of coughs and kind of laughs at the same time. “Yeah, with me. If that’s, like, okay with you and everything. I just figured it would help.”

“Yes. Yes yes, it would help,” I say quickly, smiling finally.

“Okay.” Percy grins.

Once I’m comfortably in his arms and under his navy blue sheets, my head on his chest and my fingers intertwined with the strings on his hoodie, I finally relax. I’m warm all through, and I don’t know if it’s because of Percy… or because of Percy.

“Hey, Perce?” I whisper into the darkness.

“Yeah?” he whispers back, just as quiet.

“You know how sometimes people fall in love, and they don’t even know it at all?”

“Like Silena and Beckendorf?”

“Yeah,” I laugh. “Like them. And like—“

“If you’re gonna say Katie and Travis, I’ve already bet twenty bucks on them getting together by the end of this summer.”

“Percy, shush, I’m trying to say something important,” I whack him gently on the chest. “But yeah, they’re totally and a hundred percent in love. Like, the rivals-to-lovers thing they’ve got going on is so cute.”

“Personally I like best-friends-to-lovers a lot more,” Percy admits softly, and I go quiet.

“Me too.”

Even though it’s pitch dark in his cabin right now, I can feel his smile.

“Hey, trouble?”

“Why do you call me that?” I ask, instead of answering.

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer,” I protest.

“That is totally an answer. You asked a question and I answered it. That makes it an answer.”

I roll my eyes, then remember he can’t see me. “Well, I want an actual answer.”

“Okay.” He reaches up and ruffles my hair, and instead of shoving his hand away like I usually would, I let him. “I call you trouble because no matter how much you try to be good and perfect and sweet all the time, trouble always finds you, and that’s adorable funny.”

I roll my eyes again. “Oh really,” I say flatly.

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

There’s silence for long enough for me to wonder if Percy has fallen asleep, and then he speaks again.

“So, trouble,” he says.

“Mhm?”

“You know I’m like, in love with you.”

I take a moment to even process that. “Huh?”

“I’m in love with you, trouble.” The arm that’s around me is suddenly a little tense. “Have been for a while. Uh, hopefully you don’t find that weird. Sorry.”

“Percy,” I half laugh. “I’m in love with you too, idiot.”

“Oh. Wait. Really? You are?”

“Of course.” Even though it’s dark, I know his face better than anyone’s, and I sit up just enough to kiss him. If it’s even possible, I get even more warm. “And just for the record, I like best-friends-to-lovers best too.”

[firelordsfirelady]

XVII. The List

Author: @firelordsfirelady

Imagine: When Y/N—a princess of one of the Water Tribes—is told she’s leaving her tribe, she never expects that she’s to be betrothed to the Fire Lord’s son, nor was she prepared to be exiled the very day she arrived at the Fire Nation. With her life in the hands of her new fiancée, how will life change for the princess? 

Pairing: Zuko x F!Reader

Trigger warnings: arranged marriage, feelings of fear, banishment, mentions of burns/abuse, frustration, violence, betrayal, language

Word Count: 1639

Destined to be Yin and Yang 

I own no rights to Avatar the Last Airbender or any of the characters/story. 

Author’s Notes

The characters as all aged up so Zuko’s banishment happens when he’s 16 

Keep in mind I am bringing a unique world with inspiration from ATLA in their characters, some of the events that happen, bending, etc. Not many things may align or occur with what happened in the show. It’s intended that way, so I hope you enjoy it regardless.

See Y/N’s look this chapter here. 

Destined to be Yin and Yang Soundtrack (YouTube)

I had just pulled the undershirt over my head to expose my wound when a gentle set of knocks sounded at my door.

“It’s me.” Zuko’s voice was quiet from the other side of the door. “Can I come in?” Sighing as I looked down at the undergarments that kept my chest covered, I debated telling the Prince to buzz off. 

Why do you need to check on your distraction? I thought sarcastically before I granted him permission to enter. I turned my back to the door before I could see Zuko walk in. 

“Where are we off to next?” I asked as I finished taking the shirt off of me. “I know you saw the sky bison flying away too.” The last words I whispered were soft as I held my shirt in my hands. The sound of a door closing then water sloshing in a bucket brought my attention to the Prince as he set down a bucket before he looked at the wound on my left shoulder. The area around it was slightly red as the cells within worked hard to repair the damage caused by the rock, and it was slightly oozing a bit of clear liquid now. Zuko took a seat on the edge my bed as he rolled up his sleeves.

“We must wait for news of anything unusual.” Zuko’s voice sounded defeated as he grabbed a rag from within the bucket. “It’s a waiting game now.” He carefully wrung out the excess water from the rag before he moved to come towards me, but I grabbed his wrist lightly to stop him.

“I can handle my wounds.” I felt the rush of blood as it came to turn my cheeks red in the soft candlelight. I found it hard to look at Zuko as his eyes tried to convey whatever emotions he was feeling. Looking away from him, I tried to grab the rag, but Zuko tightened his grip on the cloth.

“I know you can handle your wound.” Zuko’s words were barely above a whisper. “Please, just let me help.” I bit back any hurt remark I would’ve thrown at him as I nodded my head and allowed Zuko to tend to the wound. His touch was gentle as he cleaned the area around the wound, and we sat in silence as neither of us made eye contact with the other. I wondered if he could feel how rapid my heart was beating with his proximity, or if he knew how messed up he had my heart, mind, and feelings. 

“You shouldn’t have done that.” He whispered as he dipped the rag back in the bucket. 

“There’s a long list of things I shouldn’t do.” I said just as quietly as the Firebender had. “So, I’m going to need you to elaborate.” 

“You should have gone back to the boat.” Zuko said as he brought the rag back to clean my wound. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, but his gaze was focused on the wound in my shoulder. The golden orbs held a deep sadness as he paused his action when he noticed my gaze on his face.

Gently taking the rag from Zuko, I levitated a small ball of water to me before maneuvering it to occupy the small deep hole in my shoulder. Closing my eyes, I focused on the flow of water in my body as I willed the wound to close. Bringing my hands back down, I heard Zuko’s sharp intake of air as he saw the faint scar that replaced the open wound.

“If I had, then Iroh would be the one with the injury.” My eyes remained closed as I spoke softly. “Staying on the boat is on the list of something I shouldn’t have done.” A moment of silence passed between us before Zuko quietly asked.

“What else is on the list?” I felt my heart stop briefly before it began to rapidly beat as I swallowed my nerves and decided to honestly speak with the man looking at me with golden pools for eyes.

“I probably shouldn’t have been on the boat to the Fire Nation three years ago.” I opened my eyes to look at my hands that were placed in my lap. “I probably should’ve died once I stepped foot in the Fire Nation Capital.” A joyless chuckle left me as felt a wave of emotions crash into me.

“I shouldn’t have kept my dream about the Avatar to myself, but I wouldn’t have been able to see the light leave your eyes if it was another empty lead.” I wet my lips and swallowed before I continued. “I shouldn’t have been jealous at the thought of someone waiting for you back home, and I shouldn’t have been so relieved when you didn’t.” Looking up, I found intense golden pools staring at me, and the wave of emotions hit me harder as my heart raced within my ribcage.

“I shouldn’t be in an arranged marriage with you. I mean, you’re a Firebender,” I motioned towards Zuko before I took some water from the bucket and played with it between my hands. “And I’m a Waterbender.” I guided the water to extinguish one of the lit candles nearby, and I sighed. 

Our elements themselves are yin and yang.

“I shouldn’t hate how the world treats you, and I shouldn’t see the good in you.” I could feel my heartbeat in my throat as I barely whispered my next words as I looked at Zuko again. “I shouldn’t care about you as much as I do.” The only sound in the room was the soft inhales and exhales of our breathing as the Firebender looked back at me. My eyes tried their best to memorize every detail of the man’s face in case I didn’t see him this close again.

“There’s a long list of things I shouldn’t have done.” I said in a normal tone as I leaned back into the chair. “Two things aren’t on that list: helping you rescue your uncle, and helping you regain your honor.” A yawn escaped my lips before I could stop it.

“You’ll have to forgive me, Prince Zuko, but I am exhausted after today’s events.” Zuko frowned slightly at his formal title. “I am in desperate need of a bath before bed.” I laughed a bit to help hide the heat of embarrassment in my cheeks. Zuko stood after I started to stand, but he gently grabbed my wrist as I went to walk past him, stopping me in my tracks. Turning to look at him, I felt a gentle tug before soft lips met mine and a hand cupped the left side of my face. As his other hand cupped the other side of my face, I closed my eyes and kissed the Firebender back before he pulled back to look at me.

“You shouldn’t have done that….” I whispered as I searched Zuko’s eyes for the answer to the question my heart was dying to know.

“I shouldn’t have done a lot of things.” Zuko whispered as his golden eyes steadily held my gaze. “I shouldn’t have been such an asshole to you.” Zuko’s right thumb gently stroked the left side my face as his eyes put his guilt on full display. “I shouldn’t have called you a distraction.”

“I shouldn’t act like you don’t mean anything to me.” Disbelief overtook my face as my heart leapt in my throat, and I struggled to swallow it back down.

“You shouldn’t say things you don’t mean….” I whispered while my mind raced and my heart panicked as my eyes flickered to look at Zuko’s lips before looking back to the golden pools. A soft smile was on Zuko’s lips as he looked at me before his hands left my face and he extended his right pinky to me.

“I pinky promise that I won’t say anything I don’t mean.” He whispered as his hopeful eyes searched mine. With my heart racing in my chest, I wrapped my pinky around his and squeezed.

“There’s another one more thing on my list.” Zuko whispered as he kept holding the pinky promise with reddened cheeks, and I raised an eyebrow. “I shouldn’t enjoy doing this.” Using my pinky to close the space between us, Zuko’s lips met mine in a gentle kiss. With red cheeks, we pulled away from each other and I let out a small giddy chuckle then smiled at the Firebender.

“I’m glad I wasn’t the only one.” Zuko smiled as he suddenly looked away in embarrassment before he cleared his throat and lightly rubbed the back of his head.

“I fear that I have kept you from getting to bed,” Zuko’s words were soft as he nervously shifted on his feet. “Forgive me.” He said in a teasing manner as the corner of his lip raised in a slight smile. I sucked my teeth as I slightly shook my head in a teasing manner.

“I might be incline to forgive you if there’s jasmine tea involved in the apology.” I smiled at Zuko as I rocked slightly on my heels then straightened up and stifled another yawn. “I really need to go bathe before I pass out in the water and drown.”

“There will be no drowning with me around.” Zuko said with a small laugh. “I wouldn’t want to break my pinky promise.” I smiled as Zuko walked towards the door.

“Good night, Zuko.” I said as he turned around to look at me once he was in the hall before I got on my tip toes and placed a light kiss on his lips.

“Good night, Y/N.” The Firebender’s cheeks were red as he turned around and went into his room across the hall.

Tag List @chevysstuffs @puttyly @ginger24880 @night-fall-moon @junieshohoho @0kauy @coolgirl458 @hypnoticbeing @angelruinz @preeyansha @playboygeniusphilanthropist @ssonniiu  @chi-ara @hagridshaircare @stell404 @kyo-kyo1 @herondale-lightworm @simonsbluee @nadlx33333 @nerdisthenewcool @jewelsrules @soggycrout0n @mymomsdisappointment @leeaintthere-blog @sanskritisays

[livsoulsecrets]

BuckTommy Fic - I want the luck of a quiet love

@bucktommyweek Prompt: Day 3 - Bad Weather Days (mental or literal)

Rating: Teen and up audiences

Trigger Warnings: Discussion of homophobia and homophobic slurs

Summary: Buck’s dealing with Gerrard’s presence by keeping everything bottled up. Tommy helps him unwind.

“Sometimes I feel like the whole world is trying to tell me who I should be and how I should act.”

“Not the whole world,” Tommy countered, cradling Evan’s face between his hands. “I want you to be exactly who you are, Evan Buckley.”

Read on AO3.

The thing about Buck that never failed to surprise Tommy was that he was an open book.

No emotion was guarded, not truly. It was all there, plastered across his face.

When he was happy, his eyes wrinkled, and his smile took over half his face. When he was sad, the tears trailed down his reddened cheeks without shame.

But when he was mad, it was usually quiet for a while before the dam broke.

Buck was mad a lot these days. Tommy could see it in the tense line of his shoulders—he could feel it under his fingers when he undid the knots across his back.

There was anger simmering inside him, and Tommy knew it was the only thing holding back the sadness. He was angry for Bobby’s removal from the 118 and his replacement for Gerrard, for Mara being taken away from Hen and Karen, for Chris being gone, and for the effect it had on Eddie.

Tonight, though, his anger felt different—more tangible, no longer a mere coverup for the losses Evan had faced. Not even the hot shower and Tommy’s hands dancing across his spine had dispersed it.

Tommy knew that type of anger well enough. He had been on the other side of it. He had come home after a bad shift with the feeling of failure hanging heavy on his shoulders, and Evan’s presence had been the only thing keeping him together in the aftermath.

In the darkness of Evan’s room, with his boyfriend draped over his chest, Tommy asked quietly, “Did something happen today?”

Evan remained quiet for a moment, then mumbled, “I feel like everything has been happening lately.”

Tommy didn’t take the diversion for what it was, but he also didn’t push for Evan to share more.

In the quietness that followed, Evan rolled away from his arms and sat up on the bed. Tommy followed suit, sitting cross-legged across from Evan, who was supporting himself against the headboard.

Evan tapped his fingers against his own thigh before he faced Tommy again. “It’s Gerrard.”

Tommy bristled at that, trying his best to control the anger that rose within him at the mere mention of that name.

Evan’s voice was quiet as he went on, and Tommy missed the usual enthusiasm that always laced Evan’s words. He had once ranted to Tommy about the foundation of the United States Postal Service with so much passion that Tommy had smiled every time he went to pick up his mail for weeks.

He hated Gerrard for plenty of justified reasons, and he could add one more to the list now.

“He had been treating me like I was just like him at first. Cracking his stupid jokes and bragging about the rescues he pulled when he was my age, and I just wanted to run him over with one of the trucks, but Hen had told me we needed to be at our best behavior to help Bobby get back, so I tried. I really tried, Tommy.”

Evan ran a hand through his hair, and continued, “He definitely noticed I didn’t think the sun came out of his ass after the first few days. So, at least I didn’t need to deal with him trying to take me under his wing this last week.”

“That never needs well, trust me,” Tommy agreed.

Evan chuckled and then added, “It was around the end of the shift today—which had been hell—and he told one of the probies, Morris, to clean up the trucks.”

Evan stalled for a moment, seeming to brace himself for what he was going to say next. “When Morris left, I got up and said I’d go help just so I could have some excuse to get away from that asshole. That’s when Gerrard told me to sit down, ‘cause the fairy probie was going to take care of it.”

Tommy cringed, more than capable of envisioning Gerrard’s voice spitting out the most absurd of things in its disturbingly nonchalant tone.

“I’m so sorry you had to hear that. And for the probie too,” Tommy reached out and took Evan’s hand, playing with his fingers. He hoped that could offer his boyfriend some comfort. “What happened then?”

“I told him we fairies needed to stick together,” Evan murmured, a grin pulling at the sides of his perfect mouth.

Tommy couldn’t help it. He laughed, a full-body giggle that released the tension he had been holding within himself since Evan began his tale.

“And I assume he didn’t love the response.”

“I didn’t stick around to see it, to be honest,” Evan shrugged, “but I got a good look at his face before I left. There was this disdain in his eyes—this blind hatred that I had never seen before. It’s so stupid to say it, but I felt like I was the one in the wrong there for a second.”

“You weren’t. Of course you weren’t.”

“I know that, but I don’t think I feel it yet. No one has ever looked at me like that. Not even my mom when she was furious, and, trust me, she has been furious with me a lot.”

Tommy opened his mouth, then closed it again. He wasn’t entirely sure where to start unpacking all of that, but he figured Evan needed him to listen more than he needed him to talk right now.

“It was different with Gerrard, though. He wasn’t angry at me for doing something stupid and getting hurt. He decided right there that he hated me because of who I am. I think it was the first time it happened to me. Hen had told me about how he was and what he was capable of, but it’s different when it’s happening in the present, right in front of your eyes…”

Evan stared at his lap. “I feel like an idiot. I can’t believe I let him get in my head.”

Tommy shook his head, tugging on Evan’s hand to get his full attention. “Let’s not go there. It’s not your fault Gerrard gets out of bed every day with his mind set on making everyone’s lives a living hell. You stood up for yourself, and for Morris. I’m proud of you for that. I do think, though, you need to be very careful these next few days, and not let him hurt you, because he’ll try.”

Evan hanged on to his every world, like a man adrift at sea who needed a way home. Tommy hoped he didn’t make them both sink.

His boyfriend leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth. Evan muttered against his lips, “Thank you.”

When he pulled away, Evan said, “I hate that he got under my skin. I’m still adjusting to so much, and sometimes I feel like the whole world is trying to tell me who I should be and how I should act.”

“Not the whole world,” Tommy countered, cradling Evan’s face between his hands. “I want you to be exactly who you are, Evan Buckley.”

Evan dropped his forehead against Tommy’s and let out an exhausted sigh. “And who is that, Tommy?”

“The type of man who doesn’t let people like Gerrard prey on the weak. I’d give anything to have the bravery you had today, back when I was in the 118. You fight for what you believe in, and what you believe in is kindness. How could I want you to be anything other than exactly that?”

Evan stayed very quiet for a moment and backed away a bit to take a good look at Tommy’s face.

“God, I love you,” he uttered.

Tommy’s mouth fell open in a quiet gasp, unsure if he had heard what he thought he heard.

Before he could confirm, Evan grabbed his face and kissed him.

It was a mess of hands, tongue, and teeth, as Tommy felt himself being pushed into the bed and Evan’s body covering his own.

Like that kiss Evan planted on his lips when he walked into the hospital for Chim and Maddie’s wedding, this one spelled out all the emotions Evan couldn’t put into words.

And Tommy took them in stride, like he always did and always would. He’d take anything Evan gave him because he was a miracle, and Tommy would be a fool to deny him anything he wanted.

“I love you so much,” Evan said again, and there was no room for doubt now.

When Evan’s brain caught up with what he said, his eyes widened, and he planted his hands on each side of Tommy’s head to push himself off him in a frenzy, but Tommy laced a hand through his waist and pulled him closer again.

“I love you too, Evan.”

“You do?” He asked in awe, like Tommy would ever lie about that.

“So much,” Tommy said, and kissed him again for good measure.

“I can’t believe I just said I love you to you for the first time in the middle of a rant about freaking Gerrard,” Evan grunted, dropping his head to Tommy’s shoulder.

“That might be the one good thing this man has ever done for me,” he mused, lifting Evan’s head from its hiding spot, “so I’ve got no complaints.”

Evan laughed, and it sounded more genuine this time.

“We’ll figure this out. I don’t know how, but we will. Gerrard will not be there forever. Things’ll get better,” Tommy told him, and found that he actually believed in it.

For all the things Evan had changed by coming into his life, Tommy had never expected he’d turn into an optimist.

“I know. He was kicked out once. We’ll get him again,” Evan agreed.

He then propped his head atop Tommy’s chest, his hand tracing Tommy’s chin while the other traveled down.

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and it should have looked ridiculous, but that was Evan. Tommy found everything he did endearing.

“Now, can we forget that man exists for the rest of the night? I have better ideas of what to do with our time.”

“Do tell me,” Tommy said, a bit breathless.

Evan did. And Tommy followed him easily, as he was starting to suspect he would do for the rest of his life.

[guy-writes]

CBF!König x GN!Reader (Chapter Five)

Warnings: no pronouns but 'you', König has a name, Physical punishment (on König)

You're confused on Alexander's recent behaviour.

Age: 13

Memory Six

“I’m glad you came”

You were avoiding him, which was a hard feat but you somehow managed. You couldn’t necessarily avoid him at school… but you made a point to barely talk to him. He seemed to get the memo though, since he barely peeped a word at you other than to say hi or bye. 

You’ve talked about the situation with your dad, and even he was puzzled at Alexander’s behaviour. You two were on the couch, doing your Friday movie nights. Dad said it was a way to bond even if you guys weren’t actively talking together, you looked forward to it every week (especially when it was your turn to pick the movie.)

“So… he said you were disloyal because Alina complimented your homework?” Dad asked, he pursed his lip in thought. Dad always tolerated Alexander to some degree, but he disliked how mad he got over things. Plus, the more he got to know his mom… the more uncomfortable he got around Alexander’s family in general. You got the vibe it was mostly from Albert, Alexander’s dad, your dad said he was a troubled man. Whatever that meant.

“Yeah, I’m not even sure what he means by that… How am I being disloyal? I’ve defended him from his bullies, and I hang out with him basically every day,” You explained, idly picking at the popcorn. If you had to pick a way to feel about this situation, annoyance was what came to mind first. But you also felt a little sad… because sure, Alexander got more frustrated than the average person- but he was your first friend here, and a relatively good one at that. Plus, he was fun to hang out with when it was just the two of you… especially when he wasn’t stressed about how to act around others. 

Your dad, sensing you wanted to shelve your thoughts on the matter for now, gave you silent support. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into a small hug. You got more comfortable before watching whatever action movie your dad picked for the week. 

You were out on your front porch, it was a bit chilly considering fall was back in your little neighbourhood. You have been here for one year now, though it seemed much shorter than that. A lot has happened in your short time here- like making friends with Alexander…

You groaned thinking about him, he still never explained his behaviour or apologised. It’s been a few days since then and things were still on a hi or bye basis. You shook your thoughts away and decided to go to the park where you first met Alexander. You haven’t been able to visit a lot, much to your dismay, but it was a nice place to hang out (and was away from the prying eyes.) 

You were coming up to the trees, seeing the park just in reach- when you stopped in your tracks upon what sounded like crying. It sounded like they were trying to keep quiet… but their sniffles gave them away. You crept over to where the noise was coming from. It was coming from beneath the play structure, right under the slide that housed a fake ice cream stand underneath. 

You saw his brown hair and instantly knew who it was. 

Alexander was crying.

“...What’s wrong?” You asked, Alexander squeaked when he heard you, whipping his head to look towards you. He was sitting with his knees tucked under his chin but he quickly straightened out. Alexander looked away from you once he confirmed you weren’t a threat and wiped his tears away. 

“…Nothing- I’m fine,” he huffed out, crossing his arms and trying to appear smaller. Which wasn’t something he could accomplish. You sighed, furrowing your brows at him and decided to plop yourself next to the boy. The ground was cold underneath you and the leaves were a bit damp- but you got comfortable. 

“Well… clearly something is wrong or else you wouldn’t be crying…” You were a bit curious, given Alexander never cried around you. You wanted to help. 

“Why do you care? I thought you didn't want to be friends anymore…” He argued. Alexander just stared at the leaves, never once glancing your way. 

“That doesn't mean I don't care…And I never said I didn’t wanna be friends anymore” you pointed out. He was about to protest but shut his mouth real quick. It didn't look like he had much to say on the subject anymore, so he remained quiet. He was fiddling with a piece of grass, you took some time to look him over. He never changed much, still with the same short, messy hair and chubby appearance. You did notice a few angry red marks on the back of his hands, it seems those popped up every now and then, especially when his dad was home. 

“Nothing… seems to be working out for me…” He finally mumbled out. He still didn’t look at you- but he was talking, which you were relieved about. 

“I did something stupid, Felix called me a pig when we were changing for gym, and my dad…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish as he started tearing up again. He hiccuped before he started sobbing. You didn’t know what to do, you never saw this side of him before. You hesitantly placed your hand on his shoulder as a sign of comfort, and it seemed to work as he started taking deep breaths after a moment. He calmed down just enough to talk again. 

“Honestly, I think the thing that hurt the most was you avoiding me…” he paused,, then took another deep breath before he continued.

“I’m… sorry for what I said, I didn’t think it was bad…” He sniffled. He finally looked towards you, his cheeks were covered in tear stains and he had snot running down his nose. His hair was even messier which was impressive. You gave him a small smile, you couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty at his earlier confessions.

“It’s fine, just… you know, try not to do it again in the future,” You decided to accept his apology, he visibly relaxed at that. You were impressed he apologised without having his sister push for it.

“...Can we just sit here for a while?” He asked softly. He looked exhausted from crying but he seemed more at peace now. You nodded your head, though you were starting to get a bit chilly from staying in one spot. Alexander plopped his head on your shoulder, relaxing on you as he closed his eyes. You placed your head on his, watching the sky turn a deep blue as it was getting dark out. 

.

.

.

“Could we go over to your house and play Ocarina of time?” Alexander inquired, hope in his voice that you would accept. 

You smiled, “Sure, but I’m playing first.” 

“Hmm… fine…”

"Borderline" Masterlist

Words: 1161

Chapter Six (Coming soon)

Reblogs & comments divider by @reveriesources

[starflungwaddledee]

offering three cookies 🍪🍪🍪

(<< part 1)

[tiny-tf-faces]

I hope this blog is great AI dataset poison. Of course I have 3rd party sharing turned off, but it's not like an AI company is actually gonna listen to that stuff

The majority of generated transformers imagery I've seen is already just blobs of color. Ironically, robots are hard for AI to understand. And here am I, with hundreds of scruched up little (though maybe even too little to be included in a dataset) images, selected specifically for looking weird, all tagged various transformers characters. Just imagine what all those croissant Arcees could do to an image generator!

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[ratcandy]

literallyso embarrassing having to tell nurses yeah I have a horrible phobia of needles i can faint from it . yeah you have to talk to me during it or i will have a panic attack. yeah no you can't count down. no i can't watch it happen either. do not let me look at it . please keep talking to me if you stop for any length of time i will go insane. yes i have gotten blood work done 1 million times . no i'm not normal about it sorry.

[astrxealis]

sorry to ffxivlovepost always anyway Man the way the devs & game did so good in making an mc that is Basically a blank-slate for the players, and there's so many opportunities to make your oc However you like but. the game itself adds so much story and character to that blank-slate guy. amazing

[allhappyandgay]

unfollowing byler tags is healing

[katierosefun]

i have a wip titled 'rip rachel zane pls divorce mike ross' right now--

[weskinz]

maybe if i go back on antidepressants ill ask for wellbutrin

[fleshdyke]

ahsgsjaugejwjg