#i started this at lunch today bc i had no new orders to work on

[beware-of-eels]

Rajbow AU where Bowie and Emma go ice skating during free skate hours at the rink Raj and Wayne work part time to help cover hockey costs

except instead of being bad at it, Bowie fully knowing how to skate- instead faking a minor (graceful) fall so that the cute rink employee with the eyebrows comes over to help him up and check on him. And maybe get his number

Got carried away thinking about this in detail so if you want the longer babbly almost-a-fic version it's under the cut lmao

[disclaimer: everything ik abt ice rinks is from going to the one at the mall like. maybe three times in my life bdbsbnxnd. I live in Texas] [i've also literally never written fanfic and so am not much of a writer but this kind of possessed me when i was bored at work so if the dialogue is bad or ooc and the tense is all off.... no its not lmao]

Anyways - Emma's decided she's going to invest in hobbies that she DIDN'T share with chase, something completely separate and away from him -- chase thinks its to impress him bc of course he does. someone send this boy to detention--and drags Bowie along "so she's not alone, obviously"

good friend that he is, Bowie goes with, and especially bc Bowie DOES know how to skate - pretty well actually. he's no figure skater/hockey player/etc, but if Bowies going to do anything in public he's going to do it well. he can make his way around the rink with ease, manage a little fancy footwork when he wants to, enough to pull a minor trick out of his hat. besides, what's the point of doing something if you can't show off a little bit? never hurts to catch someone's eye, or establish yourself to your peers as someone who knows what they're doing -- and really, Bowie's counting on his reputation to ensure those prom votes.

what Bowie didn't count on was the cute hockey boy that was handing off skate rentals to blush and stammer so sweetly when he flirted with him for the hell of it. and he really didn't count on said cute hockey boy having a shift change and heading onto the rink to fill in as ice monitor pretty soon after he and Emma start skating. Even in the flourescent lighting the boy is cute, and it doesn't take a genius to see how hockey has bulked him up - and he really was so endearing when he was flustered- so Bowie figures why not try his hand at a little more fun. And really, what better way to shoot his shot than to fake needing a little extra help from a buff hockey player?

Naturally Wayne and Raj work their stations together - their manager had tried to separate them once and was QUICK to never make that mistake again - so when they've switched out with their coworkers handling skate rentals, they're immediately out on the ice together, as loud and rambunctious as they can get away with without reprimand

if Raj is a little (not-so) secretly excited to maybe see the cute boy that winked at him earlier - Yknow, bc it made him feel excited! ...whatever that meant - then that's between him, Wayne, and the hockey gods. otherwise hes just pumped to be on the ice with his best bud. They're making their rounds, keeping an eye out for anything dangerous or against the rules that they might have to intervene, and otherwise yelling hockey metaphors and mutual encouragement as loudly as they can get away with

and right when Wayne has to slip away to separate a couple of kids trying to trip eachother, Bowie decides to makes his move

He gives emma the heads up that he's gonna slow down and try something, and does his best to fall as gracefully as he can - maintaining the look of competence is still important after all - while still doing so loud enough to garner the cute hockey boy's - Rajie?- attention. He sits on the ice a second longer than he strictly necessary, and by the time he's ready to stand back up Raj is there holding out a steady hand, bushy eyebrows pulled together in concern.

"oh my god are you okay - here I'll help you up" He looks so worried for a moment that Bowie almost feels bad for lying. Almost.

"well i'm much better now" Bowie throws the boy another wink, earning him the exact flustered face Raj had responded with before. Forget subtlety if that's the reaction he was going to get by being forward, "but I do think my ankle could use a little TLC - care to help me get somewhere to sit down?

"Uh yes! Yes of course, thats. thats what I'm here for!" Raj can feel his face heating up as he stammers under the gaze of the boy in front of him "I'm Raj, uh by the way"

And isn't he just too cute "I'm Bowie, it's nice to meet you"

Raj quickly signals to Wayne the general situation, and then solidifies himself into position to help Bowie up without falling himself. after that it doesn't take too much finagling to get bowie back up to his feet and leaning heavily on raj's shoulder and the two of them start to slowly make their way back off of the rink. Bowie can't help but smile a bit- he was absolutely right about Raj being buff, and he couldn't wait to see what else he had in store.

Raj, nervous about having a cute boy so close to him suddenly, does what he does best - fall into Hockey talk - or in this case, hockey adjacent. Hockey could be a dangerous sport - he'd helped teammates with ankle sprains plenty of times! It would probably help Bowie feel better to know that Raj has this handled "We'll have to check which part of your ankle hurts once we sit you down - just to make sure it's not a fracture. You can lean on me more if you need! its uh, you don't want to put too much pressure on it until we can take a look at it. I should have some extra stuff in my bag to wrap it up if its a sprain, and then I can see if we still have ice packs in the first aid kit! Hopefully it's just a sprain, but dont worry if it's worse I'll still make sure you're okay! When me and wayne - that's my buddy - were kids, I fractured my arm pretty bad at practic-"

Bowie had seen already that Raj was a little nervous talking to him, if plenty enthusiastic. But the sweetness of his scramble to comfort Bowie for an injury that hadn't even occured - not that he had to know that - was invigorating none the less. There was a genuineness to the boy that was refreshing, and he was sure if he was actually hurt, he would be feeling calmed and comforted by his babbling. If not for the talk about first aid, then for the earnestness in Raj's telling of his own past injuries on the ice.

Raj doesn't realize he's still talking until he's helping Bowie sit down on a bench outside near the skate rental area. "oh sorry if that was too much - I'm gonna go get the first aid kit then I'll be right back!"

He walked off quickly, glad for the chance to take a breather, and keep his head from being clouded by sharp eyes and quit witted flirting. Not to mention the bold choice of Bowie to wear a crop top to go ice skating. It certainly did look nice on him

Once Raj returns, he leans down and carefully begins checking Bowies ankle for anything serious - slowly pressing on the skin and rotating the foot to gauge maneuverability. Satisfied with Bowie's assessment that the pain wasn't too bad, he got to work wrapping his foot - Raj wasn't going to let shoddy first aid exacerbate the problem.

Looking down at the hockey player in front of him, Bowie gets to work on his own interests. "Thank you for all your help - usually I consider myself a pretty good skater, but oh well. I guess one person can't be fantastic at everything all the time," he punctuated with a large sigh, wiggling his toes when Raj motions for him to.

"Oh I'm sure you're always fantastic! I've been skating since I could walk and even I still take a tumble from time to time - that doesn't mean you aren't great! I guess mine usually come from bad checks though eh? Oh because I play hockey! I don't remember if I told you that-- A-anyways, I didn't really get to see you skate before you fell but I'm sure you're incredible. I mean you seem incredible. At skating! I mean"

Raj finally cuts himself off, hoping to end the awkardness of his own rambling. All he had to do was finish wrapping up Bowie's ankle and exit the interaction with minimal blushing - he could do that! He could hear Wayne's voice hyping him up in his head - was a snow owl, he'd faced goons bent on injuring and cross checks more than even made sense for a highschool league - he could handle getting through a conversation with a cute boy. Even if said cute boy had long eyelashes and a knowing smile and a pearl necklace expertly framing his neck.

Bowie of course could not be more pleased - it seems Raj was more than just fun to fluster. He was sweet and earnest and clearly passionate about hockey - enough that Bowie found himself actually looking forward to hearing more of Raj's confusing hockey lingo, if it meant seeing that focused look in his eyes when he started getting carried away.

"Well if you really think so, maybe you'd like to see how incredible I am some other time - when you're not working, of course"

"For sure dude! That sounds like loads of fun!" Raj's agreement comes out enthusiastic, until he look down at Bowies ankle in his hands, freshly wrapped and now with an ice pack to match "But not until your ankle's healed up - skating's great but you won't be able to if you hurt your ankle worse by pushing it." The sudden intensity of his expression betraying how seriously the boy takes his sport.

Bowie stifles a laugh "It really doesn't hurt that much, but deal. Maybe you can show me some of your fancy hockey moves while we're at it" he said liltingly. and theres that blush again, hard to see on his skin but clear as day to the boy who triggered it "in the meantime though -can I get your number?"

Raj answers without even taking a beat "Oh I'm number 8! On the snow owls, I'm actually alternate capt-" he's cut off by a gentle hand on his own where it's still holding the ice pack.

"I actually meant your phone number" bowie's ecpression is nothing but kind, so Raj doesn't feel quite so clueless when he manages out a

"Right! yes, right - here let me see your phone"

the two boys quickly exchange numbers, as Bowie continues his previous thought "But I'd love to hear all about your hockey team on our date"

"Yeah! ha, that sounds good."

The two of them stay a moment just to smile at one another, before the moment is broken-

"RAJIE! Are you doin okay there bud? Do you need some help?" "Don't worry Wayners! I'll be over in a sec!"

Raj turns back to Bowie, sheepish "I uh, gotta get back to work, do you have somebody that can take you home safe?"

Bowie presses a quick peck to his cheek, "I've got a friend here with me, no need to worry about little ole me. I'll see you soon though, handsome"

And again that blush. Raj manages to stammer through a goodbye before trudging back to the ice - doing a quick lap around at full speed to release some of his energy before returning to his best friends side. He'd tell Wayne all about it later, for now he was just doing his best not to smile too hard.

Eventually Emma finds her way to Bowie sat on a bench, carefully tying his shoes back over a newly bandaged ankle.

"sooo how'd it go? you didn't really hurt your ankle did you? because you know I'd feel awful for bringing you here if you got hurt and didn't even get a cute boy's number out of it"

"No on the injury, Yes on getting his number - let's head back to your house, I'll catch you up on the ride home"

"Yes! well I'm glad one of us had a good time - after you left Chase walked by - how did he even know we were here? He's so -"

Bowie tunes out the rest of his friends rant, he'd heard this before, and he was sure she'd forgive him for not listening if he told her he was thinking about his upcoming date with Raj. The boy really was too good, and Bowie hadn't even really had to work very hard to find that out. He found himself throwing in an occasional remark to keep Emma going as they walked, thinking about the intensity with which Raj clearly loved sports, about the simple sincerity in the way that he talked. This really could be the start of something special

Yep, the trip to the ice rink had gone better than imagined. He just needed to admit to Raj that he had fallen on purpose and all would be well.

After they were on their date, of course.

[yawujin]

Hello

So I don't know if you're opposed to writing for the v2 boys but if you aren't

Could you please write v2 boys x s/o who is very hard working so when they get focused they forget to eat or drink water a lot &(if you're comfy trans male reader) they forget to take their binder off and rest.

Thxxxxxxxx

ofc i'll write the sdr2 boys i love them

request | sdr2 boys x an S/O who is hard working

type | react , light hearted , non killing game , established relationship , trans male reader

hajime hinata ♡

respects you for working so hard

always reminding you to take a break

hajime's a good listener so you can go to him to talk about work troubles you have

he secretly daydreams of another life where you two can just relax 24/7 so you do not have to worry so much about work

admires and appreciates all that you do

gets really excited when you finally finish your work for the day

kazuichi souda ♡

he gets it

relates to you bc he has had to stay up late working and fixing things

he learned the hard way that he must always keep water or something to hydrate himself while working

he's lowkey the type to ask "have you eaten yet?"

he cares sm about you

even though sometimes he also forgets to pack some lunch for himself for work lol

you two look out for each other always <3

fuyuhiko kuzuryu ♡

you already know he's the type to text you constantly throughout the day

"you're going to eat right?" "there has to be something in the vending machines there you can buy."

angry texts when you say all you had so far was some crappy instant coffee

even angrier texts when you tell him you're working after hours

always insistant on you taking a break (even if you just started working on something)

"i love you so much and if somehow someday you collapse while working i'll never forgive myself"

gundham tanaka ♡

orders you to stop working and take a break

no seriously, he orders you to take some time off

"the supreme overlord of ice commands you to STOP!"

he demands you come to bed and keep him warm

but first he reminds you to take off your armor (referring to your binder)

you still had it on oops

you just laugh a little bit and change

finally, you both can get some rest after a long day

nekomaru nidai ♡

he reminds you not to push yourself too hard

"it's kind of like training, you must know your limits!"

is willing to make a list for with designated times for breaks in your schedule

gets hyped up when you have a day off so you two can finally have a date/datenight

has a whole lot of respect for you and your ability to push through especially hard days

"just keep it in the back of your mind that i'll always be here if you need me for something, got it?"

ultimate imposter ♡

brings food to you

gently urges you to take a break

hugs from behind while you work

prefers it when you work from home

picks you up from work whenever he can

teruteru hanamura ♡

when you come home, the first thing he does is feed you

he makes all your favorite dishes ofc

he can always tell if you neglected yourself during work hours

"can't fool me, as your boyfriend i know what you need!"

keeps track of your days off incase you try to get a head start in working on something new

"nope sorry! can't have that today. you and i are due for a date at the diner"

sends you positive and encouraging and rather suggestive messages while you are at work

nagito komaeda ♡

very persuasive when he's trying to get you to rest after a long work day

you finally choose rest and nagito over more paperwork you need to sort out

"tomorrow's always there" he reassures you

"oh and, make sure to take that off" he says, looking at your binder

you almost finished changing without doing so

nagito gives you some affirmations while you drift off to sleep

"you work too hard..." he sighs sadly. "goodnight~"

⋆ ˚｡⋆ my ao3

[soulwrit3s]

when i come around

A/n: no Bc i had no idea where this story was going but it’s a cute little oneshot. Lmk what y’all think!

Riri is capable of so many things, she can create suits from metal scraps and fix cars at the speed of light. She’s fit, so much so that she always grabs you to move you instead of speaking. She’s a great cook, an outstanding mother but you don’t seem to be the only one impressed with her abilities.

You don’t know how to manage being a hero, a mother, and working as a mechanic. But you do your best to help and to do so, you always try to drop Riri off some lunch at her garage. Once you do get there, you can tell she’s been busy.

You watch Riri lean back against the detailed Honda Accord, you can tell by the grease on her overalls and the towel over her shoulder that she just finished it up. She’s chatting up a customer with a look that you’re trying to put your finger on. She’s never been flirtatious and you can tell by the genuine smile on her face that she’s interested in the topic of the conversation.

You feel a tug at the sleeve of your hoodie rather, Riri’s MIT hoodie on you before looking down.

“Who’s that mama?” Amira questions, big wide eyes meeting yours. You look back at the woman your wife is speaking to, she’s dressed in a black pencil skirt and a blouse, and all you can see is long black hair cascading down her back.

“Ion know, a customer.” You shrug. It’s been a long day and you wanted to see Riri since you were bored at home today.

You watch her stretch mid-convo, revealing a strip of her toned abdomen. Oh, she doesn’t put in any effort to be a flirt but she somehow does anyway.

As you get closer you hear more of their conversation.

“Yeah no, this was lightweight, she’s as good as new.” Riri compliments, smoothing a hand over the top of the car.

Her and her detailing.

“Thank you, I’ll definitely be here more often.” The woman’s voice is sultry and her vowels drag out for longer than they should.

“Right.” Riri mumbles, the smile slowly fading off her face as she turns around to begin working on another car. You watch the woman call her again and slip a card in her hand, Riri begins squinting at her and the corner of her lip curls up in irritation.

“I’m cool, I’m married.” She shrugs, her voice monotone as she hands the card back.

You don’t want to admit it but it gives you the ego boost of a fucking lifetime. That doesn’t stop the woman though and you watch her reach for Riri’s shoulder all for your wife to clutch her wrist.

“I said I’m cool, I have a wife…You ain’t welcome here anymore, aight? Get in your car,” She orders. You can’t see the woman’s face at all but she slips into her car quickly and drives off.

You watch Riri sigh in irritation and roll her eyes before turning back around and working on the car she was working on before being interrupted. While she’s underneath it, Amira’s little red crocs catch her eye and she slides out with a tired smile on her face and immediately greets your daughter.

“Hi, Mira baby.” She smiles as she lifts Amira up into a hug. She spends some time asking about your daughter about her day which makes Amira begin to babble and go from one subject to another. While your daughter is off talking about school, Riri sneaks in a kiss on your cheek.

“Good day?” You question as she holds Amira in one arm and uses the other to squeeze your hand.

You ponder on bringing up the previous client. You’re nowhere near bothered by it, if anything you’re amused. But you can’t possibly ruin the moment when Riri’s watching Amira so attentively.

“Yeah, great day.” You smile. You watch Riri put your daughter down.

“Get started on your math work, so we can knock it out before your mom gets on you.” She says as Amira aims for the corner of the garage. It used to belong to you, at first I was just a hangout spot for you and Riri when you first became a couple. It had a simple carpet, a grey but large beanbag, and a mini fridge. Then you added more of your own stuff to pass time with Riri while she worked on her suit. You added posters of your favorite bands and artists, a small table, and a couple of books.

Over time, it’s transformed and the space went from what it previously was to two pink beanbags since they were Amira’s favorite color, the smallest mini fridge so she can reach it, and a table full of toys for her to play with.

“What’s up with you?” Riri questions, noticing that you’ve zoned out. You look into big curious eyes that happen to match your daughters.

“Nothing’s up,” You shrug still holding onto her food in one hand. She puts a hand on your waist beneath her hoodie to pull you in for a kiss to the jaw.

“Girl, you told me you don’t steal my clothes.” She murmurs, mocking your words from earlier this week.

“I lied.” You admit. Despite her smelling like motor oil and her body being slick with the sheer heat of being beneath a car, you wrap your arms around her broad shoulders.

“I missed you today.” She confesses as she kisses your jaw again.

“Yeah, I did too.” You pull up the container of food you’ve brought for her. The mere thought of food makes her lick her lips.

“I need to eat-“ She begins.

“Mama, does six plus five equal twelve?” Amira hollers from her corner of the garage. Riri turns around, doing her best not to laugh at her daughter’s genuine frustration before looking back at you.

“It’s fine, I didn’t know that shit till I was like five.” Riri shrugs, kissing your lips and tending to your daughter. You watch Riri lift her up into her lap and gently kiss her temple to aid in calming her frustration.

“Listen, baby. Count with your fingers when you’re stuck, you’re real smart but don’t try to do it in your head.” Riri suggests. She’s always been so good at calming a person down, whether it’s you, her mother, or your daughter.

“Or, we can do the tally marks like your mom taught you. She’s real smart too.” Riri continues, briefly looking up only to find that you’ve been gazing at her this whole time.

“I wanna do the tally marks.” Amira sighs. She looks just like you when she huffs like that.

“Yeah, that’s a good pick. Put five down and then do another six.”

You walk over to the plushy pink beanbag that’s across from them and continue to watch them. Her food will be cold by the time she’s done but it’s worth it.

@xchoxix @pvnks0ul

[wonwooslibrary]

in other words, i love you | ksy

member: soonyoung x gn!reader genre: fluff, light angst, roommates!au, 4+1 things, dance student!soonyoung, student!reader, technically college!au but it's not mentioned word count: 2009 summary: four times you jokingly confess to soonyoung, and the one time he seriously confesses to you. warnings: swearing, an argument, a couple loving shoulder smacks bc i think they're cute, mentions of food/eating, y/n bullies soonyoung but it's all loving don't worry! author's note: i finished this after months instead of writing the wonwoo birthday thing that i'm supposed to post in like ten days lmao oops but a big shout out to @kthpurplesyou for beta reading this for me!! bee, i love u sm you've become such a good friend of mine over the past couple months !! i love all your writing and aaaa ur just amazing thank you !!! i am now on my way to work so have a wonderful day everyone & enjoy some short soonyoung fluff <3

The First. 

What is one thing that everyone wishes was free all the time? Of course, it’s food, and you were definitely someone who loved free food. So, when you saw the new ramen and boba place in the local mall was open, you were convinced. Your goal for today: get Soonyoung to pay for your lunch..

“Soonie, you love me, don’t you?” you questioned your best friend, tugging a bit on his sleeve. 

“I cannot believe you even had to ask that! Of course I do!” He wrapped his arms around your shoulders in a quick, but meaningful hug. 

“Okay so, if you love me like you say you do…” your voice droned on. “You should totally take me to the new boba shop. Please!” you held out the end of the word, begging the man.

Soonyoung looked away from you and moved his gaze to the ceiling of the store before he sighed. 

Exhaling loudly, he grabbed your hand and walked with you towards the restaurant. You quickly cheered with the hand that wasn’t in Soonyoung's. 

After arriving and ordering, you picked an empty booth to sit in as you both waited for your order number to be called.

"Thanks for paying, Soonie." 

Soonyoung smiled, his teeth showing. "You're welcome, I-" He was interrupted by the sound of their order number being called. 

Soonyoung stood up. "I'll grab them." 

“Are you sure? It might be a lot for you to carry by yourself,” you tried to stand up to help. “Let me help you.” 

Soonyoung put his hand on your right shoulder and lightly pushed you to sit down again. “It’s fine, I got it.” 

Coming back to the table from the second (and last) trip to get their food, Soonyoung sat back down across from you, making quick work of taking his wooden chopsticks apart. 

Immediately picking up your boba, you began swinging your legs a bit before speaking with a bright smile. 

"Soonieee!" 

Lifting his head up from his rice to look at you, Soonyoung smiled brightly. "Yeah?" 

"I love you," you took another sip of your tea. "And boba. I think I love boba more though." 

Soonyoung laughed. "I'm starting to think that you like the boba more than my friendship."

The Second. 

“Hey Y/N, do you want to do something today?” 

Looking up from your novel, you focused your gaze on Soonyoung. “It depends. Where do you want to go?” 

“They opened a new arcade down the street from that bookstore you really like. I wanted to check it out sometime, so I was just thinking that you could  join me.” 

You smiled. “Of course I’ll go with you Soon! Give me like ten minutes to get ready?” You gestured to the pajamas that you were currently lounging in. 

“Of course! I’m so excited!” Soonyoung sprinted off back to his room, most likely preparing the most ridiculous outfit imaginable. 

You shook your head and got up from the couch after placing the receipt-bookmark on the page before closing the novel. 

After getting dressed and grabbing a quick snack from the kitchen, you sat and waited patiently for Soonyoung, who sprinted down the stairs and stumbled about half way through, tripping a bit and catching himself on the wall. 

Of course, as one does when their best friend almost faceplants, you laugh. “Good going. You should do that again so I can record it.” 

Soonyoung, peeling himself from the wall, gave you an exasperated look. “Ha ha ha,” he walked into the kitchen. “Very funny.” 

You looked up at him. “You’re right. It was.” 

Soonyoung smacked your shoulder lightly before grabbing his keys off the counter. “You ready to go?” 

“Yeah, I’m good. Let’s go.” 

About twenty minutes later, you learned that you should never agree to going to an arcade with Soonyoung. You watched from the sidelines, sweating, as he absolutely demolished the DDR machine he found in the corner of the small inner-city arcade. 

Winning another round (and yet again breaking the highest score), Soonyoung got off the arrow-covered platform and walked to where you were sitting. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to challenge me again? I can go easy on you!” Soonyoung smiled, his gums showing. 

Laughing loudly, you argued with the man. “If you think I’m getting back on that,” you looked at the platform in disgust. “Thing, you’re absolutely insane. I love you so damn much Soonyoung, but you can’t pay me to get back on that.” 

Soonyoung scoffed. “It’s not that hard!”  “I’m sure you don’t think it is!”

The Third. 

The first thing you noticed after the countless minutes of sitting in this brightly lit room was that it was hot. You were leaning against the wall, phone on a tripod focused on Soonyoung’s movements in the wall-length mirror. 

“Soonyoung!” you whined. Across the large room, Soonyoung looked up from the ground, his thoughts interrupted. 

“Yeah?” 

“Is there no air conditioning here? Like come on, it’s a dance practice room! Do they expect their dancers to die from heat every day?” 

Soonyoung smiled, “They’re working on fixing it right now. Something broke somewhere in the building so now the whole floor is not getting AC.” 

“That’s awful. Terrible. A crime to humanity!”

“Yeah, tell me about it. I'm here every day. Though, they said it should be done within the next couple of days, so don’t worry about it.” 

Soonyoung begins the music again, and he begins dancing his routine, movements sharp and well crafted. But, as Soonyoung dances, the temperature of the room increases, and there is only so much a couple of revolving fans can do. 

When Soonyoung is done dancing, he turns to face you. “How was that?” 

You nodded and clapped. “It was amazing! Though, I’m dying. You’re lucky I love you, otherwise I would have left an hour ago.” 

Soonyoung smiled. “But you like the dance? I’ve been working on it for a while and I really just want to be done with it.” 

“Yeah! It’s amazing. You know that every dance you do is going to be perfect by the end of it! You’re incredibly talented!” 

“Thanks, Y/N. Let’s go back before you melt into a puddle that I have to mop up off the floor.” 

“We both know if that happened, you’d be making Chan mop the floor. There’s no way you’d do it yourself.”

The Fourth. 

The movie that was playing at full volume on Soonyoung’s TV was not your first choice, and you made that extremely clear to Soonyoung as you both sat next to each other on the couch for your weekly movie night. 

“I just don’t understand why you’d want to watch a horror movie when you know that you’re going to be more scared than the characters on the damn TV!” you argued to your best friend. 

“Oh, come on you scaredy cat! It’s not going to be too bad! Jihoon said this one wasn’t that bad!” 

Wrapping yourself in the blanket Soonyoung kept on the couch, you refuted the statement. “There is a 99 percent chance that Jihoon was saying that just to fuck with you in hopes you get so scared you call him crying so he can laugh at you.” 

Soonyoung thought about your statement for a second before wrapping his arm around you. “Okay, while you do have a point there,” he began, “I don’t think Jihoon hates me that much!” 

“While he might not hate you that much, he doesn’t love you like I do---of course he’d pull a useless prank on you like that.” Once the words came out of your mouth, you could feel your heart start beating faster at the words you just said. It feels…different, somehow. 

“Of course! He can’t love me nearly as much as you do!” Soonyoung yays, hugging you and rubbing his hair into your cheek.

Grimacing, you complain, “Okay, okay, please get your greasy hair off of my face.” Placing one of your hands on Soonyoung’s hairline, you push him away. 

Soonyoung lets go of the hug and leans to the other direction, pouting. “Y/N doesn’t love me anymore!”

The One. 

“Soonyoung! Did you seriously?” you mutter to yourself. After a long day in classes and stressing about the endless amount of assignments you have to do, the last thing you wanted was to come home to the shared apartment and see piles of dirty dishes by the sink. Of course, it wasn’t only the dishes that upset you: the living room was a mess of snack wrappers and empty water bottles and the TV was still on, the sleep screen lighting up the living room. The couch and coffee table were both pushed out of the way to create Soonyoung’s mini dance studio in the living room. 

“Kwon Soonyoung! Where are you?” you yelled up the stairs. 

Soonyoung peeked his head out of his bedroom door to see you halfway up the stairs. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Did you forget to do something?” Soonyoung tilted his head, thinking. 

“I don’t think I forgot to do anything? Why?”

“The sink is filled with dishes! Didn’t you say you were going to stop doing that? And the living room is a mess! None of the furniture is put back and there are wrappers everywhere! You promised that you wouldn’t leave stuff around all the time!” you angrily tell your best friend off. 

“I’m sorry! I forgot about it, I’ll go clean everything right now!” Soonyoung came out of his room and headed towards the stairs. 

“No, it's fine. I got it, just-” you sighed heavily. “Actually remember to do your chores next time, and put the living room back together.” With that, you walked back down the stairs to the kitchen, but Soonyoung was hot on your tail. 

“It’s not fine! The dishes were my chore and it’s my mess in the living room, just- move and I’ll do it.” Soonyoung began cleaning the dishes out of the sink in order to fill it with water. 

You tilted your head down to the floor, eyes watering. The angry reaction you had was finally hitting you, making you feel terrible about yelling at your best friend. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you, Soon.” You wiped a tear off your face. “I really d-didn’t mean to. I've just had an awful day and I didn’t think about what I was doing or saying.” 

Soonyoung turned to face you, hands covered in suds. “Y/N, it’s fine. Please don’t cry,” he wiped his hands on the closest towel to him before wrapping his hands around your upper arms and making eye contact. 

“I promise everything is fine -- you were right to yell at me, because I did promise you I would stop doing these things. I love you, Y/N, more than anything, and that doesn’t stop just because you told me off for something.” 

Your eyes widened as Soonyoung kept talking. This action led Soonyoung to make a similar face, finally realizing what he said. 

“You…love me? That much?” you questioned in a meek voice, still wide-eyed. 

Soonyoung’s cheeks turned red and he looked away before whispering a small, “Yeah, I do.” 

When he finally looked back at you, he smiled. “Yeah,” he spoke louder. “I didn’t mean to say it in this context,” He looked around quickly. “But I guess now is better than never.” 

The dried tears on your cheeks begin to stiffen, but it doesn’t stop you from smiling as widely as physically possible. “I love you too, Soonie.” 

You wrapped your arms around your best friend newfound lover, tightly squeezing. Of course, Soonyoung hugged you back. 

You both quickly pulled apart when two voices scared you. 

“Soonyoung? Are you guys done making out in the middle of the kitchen?” 

“Hi, Y/N!” 

Turning around, you saw Soonyoung’s friends, Seungkwan and Seokmin. 

“Hi guys,” you began. “I guess that explains the living room being a mess?” you ask Soonyoung. 

He nods, laughing a bit. “Yeah.”

You smile. Of course. 

[and-claudia]

His Heir pt 23 (Darth Maul x pregnant! reader)

Taglist Here

Masterlist Here

Word count: 3457

Warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, public-ish sex, P in V, Qi'ra bc she's a warning, GASLIGHTING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, masturbation, fingering... I think that's it let me know if I missed something

image not mine

It was hard to imagine I was already 15 weeks pregnant. If I’m being honest, not much felt different from the past few weeks except my stomach had gotten bigger.  At my last appointment, we were told that the baby was measuring about 2.5 weeks ahead of where they actually were which I already knew to expect. Luckily Maul had already helped me order practically a whole new wardrobe that would last me hopefully through the whole pregnancy. 

The only new symptom was I constantly wanted Maul. I had never been or felt this needy ever in my life. Maul didn’t seem to mind this one bit though and had asked me over every night for the past week. I had never actually asked to come over for that purpose until about a week ago. I had tried to take care of my neediness on my own but it just was not working at all. At the moment it felt nice but afterward, I was just left wishing it were Maul. 

I was finally fed up so after the weekly meeting last week I hung back after Qi’ra left. 

“Is everything alright?” Maul asked. 

“Yeah.” I sighed, eyeing the tattoos on his exposed chest. 

Focus, Yn. Focus. 

Maul tilted his head slightly in confusion. 

“You said you would help me with anything during this pregnancy, right?” I asked. 

“Of course.” He answered immediately. 

I took a deep breath, now or never. 

“Okay, I’m just going to be honest with you, Maul. I’ve been like unexplainably horny for the past week. Nothing I’ve tried has helped either. Can I please come over tonight?” I hated the way it came out all whiny. 

“Why didn’t you say something sooner, darling?” He asked, with nothing but pure concern, “Of course you can. I’ll make us dinner and take care of you.” 

I wasn’t sure why but I had partly expected him to tease me, even just the slightest bit. But he wasn’t. He was just concerned and understanding. I felt tears prick my eyes.

“Thank you.” I said, fanning my eyes to keep from crying. 

“Of course…” He said sincerely before smirking, “Will you be able to make it through the day? We could always leave early.” 

“Tempting.” I smiled, “I’ll let you know at lunch how I’m feeling.” 

Luckily I made it through the day that day, but today didn’t look as promising. Hell, the day hadn’t even started and I wasn’t doing too well. Maul had already gone to his office, leaving me to sleep for another hour before I needed to get up and get ready as well. However, I wasn’t asleep. I was laying in Maul’s bed, hand between my legs, trying to convince myself that it was Maul down there. It was no use. I needed him.  

I got up, got ready for work and hurried to Maul’s office. I knew he wasn’t doing anything that was technically important, he was just preparing for the day. Upon hearing his door open he looked up. 

“Yn? Why are you here so early?” He asked. 

I shrugged and walked over to his side of the desk. I sat on it and looked down at him. 

“We have at least an hour before anyone else comes in for work…” I said, suggestivly. 

He quirked up one of the ridges on his browbone. 

“That’s true… Any ideas on how to fill that time?” He asked, setting down his holopad and standing up. 

“Yeah, I got a few.” 

He stepped between my legs and I reached up pulled his face down to mine to press a kiss to his lips. He kissed back without hesitation, immediately taking control. A smal moan left my lips. I rolled my hips agaisnt his desk, searching for some type of friction, but untimatle I just ended up nudging my bump against Maul’s torso. 

“Someone’s needy.” He commented, hands coming to grip my hips. 

“Shut up.” I mumbled. 

With my mouth open to speak, he slipped his tongue in and explored my mouth. The taste of his mouth never got old. I could get drunk off of it. It was intoxicating. I felt his warm hand travel up my thigh and under my dress. Higher. Higher. Higher. Finally he reached where I needed him the most. My legs parted without him having to ask. Just as his finger tips grazed over my folds he pulled away. 

“Are you not wearing anything under this?” He asked.

I shook my head. 

“Naughty girl.” He tsked. 

I shrugged and pulled him back to me. He continued to kiss me as his hand returned to where it was. 

“So wet.” He commented. 

“Maul, please.” I begged as his lips moved from my lips to my neck. 

His fingers began pumping in and out of my entrance as his thumb rubbed tight circles on my clit. I leaned back out my hands, pushing my hips as close to the edge of the desk as I could. My head tilted back, giving him more space to leave his mark. It felt amazing but I wanted more. 

I sat up more and reached blindly until they found the waist of his pants. I tugged him forward a bit by my grip on his pants, clearly trying to show him what I wanted. 

“Please.” I asked. 

He pulled away from my neck and brought one of his hands to cup my cheek. 

“I would love to, darling, but there’s not really a good place to do that in here. At least not now that we have to watch out for this one.” He said as his hand came to rest on my bump. 

I usually love and relish in the moments that he talks about our baby but right now I had other things on my mind. 

“There’s a couch in my office.” I said. 

“Your shared office.” He corrected. 

I rolled my eyes, “She never comes in early. Please.”  

I pouted my lip and gave him my best pleading eyes to really drive it home. 

“I can’t say no to you.” He mumbled before pressing a kiss to my lips. 

It was short and sweet before he stepped away and allowed me to get off the desk. I took his hand in mine and lead him through the door that connects the two offices together. 

Once we had crossed the threshold I turned around and began kissing him again. He guided me back to the couch as his hand traveled up to the top of the zipper of my dress, undoing it with one swift motion. I reached and grabbed the bottom of the tunic he was wearing.

“Fair is fair. You get to see my tits, I get to see you.” I said. 

He laughed against my lips slightly. 

“I don’t have breasts, dear.”

“You know what I fucking mean.” I mumbled, leaning back in to kiss him again but he pulled away. 

“You’ve got such a mouth on you when you’re all worked up.” He teased as he pulled off his shirt and dropped it to the ground. 

“Yeah I know, but you love it.” I shot back. 

He undressed the rest of the way, leaving us both naked as he ushered me to sit down on the lavish couch. As he went to kiss me again, it felt like he was crowding my personal space, causing me to shrink under him slightly. He used this to guide me to lay back as he came to hover over me gently. 

While supporting his weight on one hand, he used his other hand to line himself up. After a quick nod from me he began to slide into me. 

My eyes clenched shut. One hand gripped Maul’s upper arm while the other one dug into the fabric of the couch. 

“Fuuuck.” I moaned out and he eased himself in further and further until he was completely in. 

“How the hell are you still so tight? I’ve fucked you every night this week.” Maul mumbled. 

My walls clenched slightly at his words, causing him to be squeezed even more. 

“Shit.” He dropped his head back, chest visibly rising and falling as he tried to breathe deeply. 

“Please tell me that you’re okay for me to move now. If you keep squeezing me like that, I won’t last long.” He said. 

My brain was already fuzzy and all I could do was nod. He pulled back before sliding back in. We’d had sex enough during the past week that he didn’t even have to remember where that sweet spot was. It was all instinctual at this point. 

My high pitched moans felt like they were echoing off the walls along with Maul’s occasional grunt. 

With one hand still supporting himself over me, he brought his other hand to work on my clit again.

My back began to arch slightly and my eyes screwed shut. 

“Maul.” His name left my lips in breathy moans. 

I was walking the line between absolute pure bliss and overwhelming overstimulation and it was sending me to my climax at an almost alarmingly fast rate. 

Then suddenly, Maul stopped mid thrust as the door to the office opened suddenly. My eyes snapped open and my head turned to the door where Qi’ra stood, looking down at her holopad. 

When she stepped in, she glanced up and let out a scream, dropping the device in her hands as she saw both of us naked, fucking on the couch. Her eyes shifted from Maul, then to me, then back to Maul before she locked eyes with me. 

"Don't you know how to knock? Get out!" Maul snapped as he breathed heavily. 

She was clearly too stunned to speak. I smirked as I reached up to cup Maul’s cheek to get him to face me again before I pulled him down to meet my lips with his. That was all it took for Maul to get the hint. He smirked against my lips then rolled his hips to continue his trust into me that had been so rudely interrupted. I moaned against his lips as Qi'ra continued to stand there. 

When I pulled back Maul turned his head to look over to the side at Qi’ra who’s eyes were still locked onto me. 

"Okay, well don't just stand there! Either get to work or get out!" Maul snapped, causing her to suddenly return to the moment. 

She shook her head and screwed her eyes shut before rushing out of the room, nearly tripping over her own feet. 

Maul looked back down to me. 

"Well your work day just got a bit more interesting." He teased, dropping his head down to kiss my neck. 

"Shut up and keep fucking me." I said, strteching my head back to give him more acesss to my neck.

I felt his warm breath dance across my skin as he let out a small, amused laugh at my request. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He mumbled before moving on to work on a new marking. 

He began rubbing tight circles on my clit again as the pace of his hips quickened. I was once again racing to my climax. 

“Maul, ‘m close.” I mumbled. 

He continued on, not letting up for even a split second. It wasn’t long until my walls clamped tightly around him, causing him to falter slightly. He finally lessened the pressure on my clit, but continued to pump his hips, helping me ride out my high as long as possible. The increase of friction had him racing to his own climax. I felt him twitch slightly, knoiwng what was to come. On his next thrust he buried himself seemiingly impossibnly deeper before he came. The feeling of his release had me a moaning mess beneath him. 

“Maul.” His name came out as an almost choked moan. 

“I know, I know.” He said gently as he continued to rock his hips as he empty out every last bit of his release deep within my walls. 

My eyes fluttered shut as i laid there trying to catch my breath, chest heaving. Maul slowly pulled out then shift my seemingly weightless body so he could laydown behind me as he turned me to lay on my side. I kept my eyes closed but brought one arm to tuck un my head. Maul did the same then brought his free arm to wrap around my waist as his hand rested on my bump. 

He pressed a gentle kiss to the skin just beanth my ear. 

“I wish we could, but we can’t stay like this for long. We do have work that needs to be done.” He whispered. 

I gave a small nod, “Just 5 minutes.” 

He hummed in response and relaxed a bit more behind me. His body radiated warmth and it was nearly impossible to not feel completely relaxed. I wasn’t sure how long we laid there but now, Maul was gently waking me back up. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep completely.” I said, blinking in the bright light of the room. 

“It’s alright. It wasn’t very long. We need to get moving though, the housekeeping droids will be here soon to clean up.” 

I nodded and slowly sat up with him following close behind. Their was a robe sitting on the foot of the couch. 

“I figured you would probably want to go get cleaned up a bit before returning for work.” Maul said as he reached for it and handed it to me. 

I took with a smile before leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek, “Thank you.” 

I stood with it and began to slip it on, “I’ll probably just run to my quarters real quick since it’s closer.” 

I said and he nodded as he stood to collect his own clothes from the ground and redressed. Once he was I stepped in front of him to give him one last kiss. 

“I’ll be back in a little bit.” I said. 

“Take your time.” He said before we both went our separate ways. 

Instead of just rinsing off quickly, I decided to actually take my time. About an hour later, the housekeeping droids had cleaned the office. And I was returning to the office to actually start my day. 

"Good morning, Qi'ra." I said as I walked into our shared space. 

She looked up at me blankly.

"You okay? You seem a bit pale." I commented. 

Quickly her face heated up and turned red as anger was set ablaze in her eyes. 

"It was Lord Maul this whole time!?" She asked. 

"What?" I cocked my head to the side in mock innocence. 

"You've been fucking Lord Maul all this time! I don’t know how I didn’t put two and two together before. Back when we were ordering the supplies for the compound, the pregnancy tests. You said you were seeing someone, why didn’t you say it was Lord Maul?" She yelled. 

"Qi'ra, I have no idea what you're talking about. Maul and I are not hooking up. I’m carrying his heir. That’s all." I said, I knew denying it would piss her off even more than me just admitting to it. 

I had been waiting for this moment, I was going to have some fun with it. 

"Yes you do! I saw you two!" 

"What? Saw who?" I asked, I looked at her like she had gone crazy. 

"You and Lord Maul were having sec right there on that couch!" She said.

"What couch?" I said. 

“That one!” She said, pointing to where the piece of furniture should have been.

I wasn’t aware that the housekeeping droids removed it from the office which was making this whole thing 10 times better on my end. 

“Qi’ra, did you like drink or something before coming into work? I’m not going to rat you out or anything, but damn. You’re seeing shit, maybe take the day off.” I said, walkign over to sit down at my desk. 

“I know what I saw.” She insisted. 

“Look I don’t know what you saw. But I can asure you that I wasn’t having sex with anyone this morning. Unless sex is slang for puking your brains out. I spent my morning in the refresher with morning sickness.” I said. 

"Oh yeah? Then who did I see?" She crossed her arms over her chest. 

"I don't know, wasn't me, though." 

"Yes it was and you are so going to get fired for it." She said. 

"Okay, I’ll humor you for a moment. Let’s say I did have sex with Maul, on a couch in here that ahs since mysteriously diapereared, I’m not hooking up with him, but just this one time, let’s pretend I had sex with him. Please explain to me how telling Maul that him and I had sex would work, Qi'ra?" I asked trying to get her to ralize how stupid she sounded. 

"It’s clearly an unprofessional work relationship." She said smugly. 

I couldn’t help myself, a loud lush left my lips and I looked at her from where I sat.

"Okay, for starters, in case you hadn’t noticed, we don’t work in a typical work enviroment, Qi’ra. This is a crime syndacate. Normal work protocol doesn’t really exist here. Two, I just want to make sure I’m tracking corectly. You're going to go tell Maul that you caught him and me fucking in this office. Right, that’s your plan?" 

I was desperately trying to get her to relize the major flaw in her plan. 

"Exactly! When he sees how unprofessional you've been, you'll be gone." 

"So, I just want to clarify, you think you saw Maul and I having sex in here this morning, you know think that I've been ducking him for sometime now. So, you're going to go tattle on me to Maul, and you expect him to fire me?" I asked.

She nodded. 

“Qi’ra, let me ask you this. If Maul is the one I’m having sex with, so in other words, he’s been fuck me, why would he fire me if he’s apart of it too?” 

I could see the moment the lightbulb flipped on her head. She stuttered, trying to formulate an answer but failed miserably, "I know what I saw." She snapped finally. 

I threw my hands up in surrender. 

“You know what, Qi’ra, I won’t argue with you. If that’s what you think you saw, then so be it. All I know is that I wasn’t in here this morning. I don’t know what Maul was up to, maybe he has someone.”

I had honestly expected to feel a little hurt by even just saying that, but I was surprised to find it had no effect over me. Perhaps it’s because I knew that despite the fact that we weren’t officially together, Maul and I were much more than just two friends having a baby. Did I want a relationship with him? Of course I did, but I wasn’t sure how to tell him. 

“Why would he be fucking in our office?” She asked quietly. 

I wasn’t sure if she actually meant for me to hear her or not, but I was going to answer regardless. 

“Maybe you finally messed up enough and he’s replacing you.” I said. 

“Or you.” She shot back. 

“Qi’ra my spot here is secure. I’m having his baby, rember?” 

“How could I forget? You flaunt it around constantly…” She mumbled the last bit but once again I heard her. 

“I’m not flaunting it. Just because I’m no longer hiding it, doesn’t mean I’m suddenly flaunting it around. And it’s not my fault that literally everyone else besides you is excited about the future of Crimson Dawn.” I shot back. 

“Whatever, Yn… Just know, if I find out that you’re lying to me and you are hooking up with Maul, and trust me I will find out the truth, I will make you regret it.” She said. 

“Careful. Maul said to report anyone who threatens me or our child. That sounded like a threat to me. I’ll give you one last chance. But if you threaten me again, I’ll let Maul take care of you. And you know by now that there won’t be any coming back from that.” 

My last comment seemed to have gotten her to shut up. She didn’t have anything to say back to me after that. I picked up and began working on my datapad. Focussing on my work was hard though, my mind kept wandering to Maul. It wasn’t like earlier though… no, now I couldn’t help but think about how I was in love with him and how I was finally going to tell him. 

A/N: Remember to always GASLIGHT Qi'ra, Girlboss as Maul's head advisor, and Gatekeep Lord Maul

Taglist: @fan-g0rl @mxkyrie @onceuponanightmareisawme @lothiriel9 @wordsfromshona @kgbtardis @wondermia69 @mh073099 @ktrivia @fifithexeno @perseny @justalittletomato @pomiotszatana @ameliachastain @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @its-me-meg @kbarnes-2001@bluusugar @happyheartsss @clairebear1621 @rljart @xxxqueenlaufeysonxxxxo @lilallybug @ghoulishjester

@kizzyxren if this was/is your tag it does NOT work!!

[lesbiantabes]

on a day like today 1 year ago me and my friend arge went to this little anime con and downtown to have some lunch on a maid cafe, we talked about random stuff like we always did and it was the 1st time i ordered ramen instead of takoyakis like i always did, i sang a bit to a cringe song and she looked weird at me and i laughed. We walked a bit and i told her i was starting demon slayer, she told me she liked it and her guess was that i wan gonna like tanjiro (right) , and that o was gonna ship him w someone that will be killed right away (not so right) , on the line to the event i saw some of my coworkers, they were Chinese girls and recognized me and to this day idk how i was supposed to react tbh

We went there, i asked her who jimin was out of the Kpop merch and she told me to pick something for my sister, we walked 3 times in the small place watching all the merch and she took pictures of the chinese show whose name i still don't know bc she anf her gf liked it so much

I bought an deltarune mask that i wear to this day, we spent the afternoon trying to reach our other friend but she couldn't made it, so we walked some more, i was actually out of money but she offered me an starbucks and we sat there for a while while we talked about stuff im trying to remember, then her parents called and we had to walk back to the pig pigeon statue that was our regular meeting place. We watched a Christmas parade on the way there and i asked her about how she felt about work, i remember she said that she was struggling and stressed trying to do something new, and i also asked about her girlfriend mitj and if her family suspected about them dating since it she was in the closet and it was a long distance relationship, but she said she just wanted to tell them about her when its serious or she had the opportunity to travel and meet her, we joked about how her homophobic aunt was talking about how everyone should be like her, no bf until old enough and that she was definitely not invited to her wedding

Then her parents picked her up and i hugged her, and i honestly can't remember if i told her that i loved her, i hope she knew, i hope she does

That's the last time i saw her, i couldn't have known, no one could ever guess she will leave her loved ones the very next month, she's not longer here and i miss her so much, i haven't had the courage to visit her family bc in my mind she's just unable to reach us online or she's busy, i feel stupid for being still in denial while her family is aware of her absence everyday

idk, i will cherish that day a lot, and it's that conversation we had,i hope she knew how much people loved her too

[iamyelling]

update on all the to-dos from a couple days ago:

emailed all the people i needed to respond to. sent out invoice for the poster project a couple minutes ago. got voting done just in time to get it to the drop box yesterday woo. annah ordered me a lunch box from amazon which arrived yesterday before i even got home from work it was waiting for me so i used it today. annah worked late today so got home after me so i took solea on a little walk which was nice and i scooped the litter boxes.

haven't roasted the brussel sprouts yet, gotta do that soon. gotta pack my lunch either tonight or in the morning. tomorrow after work we have a semi-casual dinner at my parents house with my uncle and cousin and his fiance. this is the republican uncle who reportedly voted for trump which everyone in the family greatly dislikes he is just 'obnoxious' and also rich. anyways. my cousin and his fiance live in nyc and the fiance is irish and their wedding is in ireland next summer and we are invited and so we are going to meet her. my cousin did NOT attend MY wedding though bc ..his friend had a wedding. so he came out for gramma's birthday then dipped and flew back to new york. weird! anyways. so that's dinner tomorrow night lol we will see how it goes.

this saturday we are gonna have dinner with our friends in seattle and then sunday is gramma birthday with some of the cousins and aunt and uncle down in oly. hopefully i get design assets and contract before then so that i can start on the project even a little bit.

gotta decide what to wear to work / this dinner since i'm gonna go straight there from work.

also i need to do some laundry. and dishes. the kitchen is a mess.

also gotta remember to put solea in her kennel when i leave in the morning bc theyre doing fire alarm checks tomorrow during the day.

i'm eating pizza that annah brought home from her lady carpenter's meeting on monday. it's called sisters something i can't remember exactly the name.

still need to do dentist recs review from fb, cut hair diy. schedule car fixed with my brother. gotta do my eyebrows too theyre weirdly shaped rn.

the weeks are starting to go by faster. it was very scary the last bit .. i kept going negative and having to ask for a couple hundred bucks. so many bills i pay!! and i don't even do the rent bill i just do a bunch of other random stuff! i haven't even been doing groceries bc i literally had no moneys. i do utilities and pet food and my own gas and bus fare. i was doing groceries almost always up until maybe a month or two before i started this job. but i was running out so i had to rely on annah more and more. anyways that's not what this post is about!!!

[hedonianow]

really did have the most amazing weekend. went out for a fancy rooftop bar with some new friends then to a regular dancey bar for dancing then to a karaoke bar then lyfted home & found a blue gatorade in the lyft then i barely remember ordering a chicken cutlet gyro at the bodega. saturday i woke up sooo nice and late and got some work done and also made it to the gym which was huge bc normally it's really hard for me to get up enough energy to go thank you levothyroxine! & then i just chilled i think, took bean on an extra long walk. then sunday was my big social day, i was supposed to meet corrina and some other folks for lunch but her bus up to new york was delayed so i just went to magnolia bakery bc it was right by the american folk art museum which is where i was about to go with my new friend emma and it was really cool honestly!! and then i went home and ordered hartbreakers and laid down in preparation for the frankie cosmos show which i showed up to at seven like an idiot but because i was in line so early i posted about it and elisheba saw my story about it and came thru so we basically ignored the 2nd opener and frankie made me super emo like that girl is the only person who i think really understands me tbh. soo then kept talking with elisheba and went home and walked bean (all these days ofc start and end with walking bean). oh also saturday is when my debit card came so i got that activated and today i was FINALLY able to withdraw cash and do laundry and then i just got stuff done i went grocery shopping and knocked out some extra work so i'm gonna get paaaaaiiiid & i took a lovely shower & i made vegetable stock & used that to make a cauliflower soup that my fav coworker posted on slack the other day and it was soooo tasty and hearty. i'm really just astonished & proud to see how much i got done this weekend i've really come a long way from my days of just lying in bed doing nothing for hours and not being able to start any projects. there were def some ups and downs, i had a kind of triggering conversation with indra on thursday where she was like very sympathetic to me but also is still remaining friends with the old friendgroup that pushed me out and it's like ok so what is the truth. but i havent let it take me over or really even take over my conversations. anyway tomorrow is my last day at my current position at work and i get to go to therapy too! and tell melissa about all my progress. overall im really proud of io!!!!

[sluttyten]

Work bs below the cut, I just need to complain

I love when a customer willingly spends $18 on a heavily modified mac n cheese, comes back a week later and modifies it even more to be $20 then calls and complains after that to say that we only gave her a small portion of mac and not the large she ordered, so our manager promised her a free meal next time she comes in. She comes in today and orders it from me, I make it for her exactly as she ordered it, double-checked with her at the window that it’s what she wanted, and she still comes back to the store like 20 minutes later to tell me that she ordered the large mac but we only gave her a small and I’m like lol no ma’am I made that myself and I made it a large mac not a small, and I argued with her about it but I kept a smile on my face trying to be nice about it. She then orders another small mac, like damn lady you want 3x portion of mac n cheese with double chicken (4 portions) and double avocado (a whole avocado) for lunch?? You wanna spend $30 on mac n cheese for your lunch?? I hope she’s sharing at least and splitting that cost with someone else

Also lowkey pissed because at one point I was considered a delivery driver for our store but I’m basically not anymore, and now we have a new guy who just got promoted to that position but his info isn’t in the system to be a driver yet so when he goes on drives they have to put it under my name which means his mileage is going in my paycheck which means I’m getting taxed for his mileage which I’m then probably gonna have to give to him which is also absolute and total bullshit because they’ve known for 3 weeks that he was gonna be a driver and didn’t get the form for his info.

And ALSO!! unrelated to work on this one, but I just want to hang out with my best friend and pet some cats and go to a local bookstore, but every time I try to make those plans with her she tells me no because she’s tired/in a bad mood bc of work/needs to clean and do laundry and like I’m starting to think she just doesn’t want to drive across town because doing those things would require like a 15-20 minute drive across town for her. Nevermind that anytime we do hang out I have to drive 30ish minutes from my house to her side of town. I could just be reading it wrong but I do keep asking and she’s like “yeah we should go do those things!” and then the day of when I ask if we’re going to do them she says no. And it’s probably because the part of town that she lives in is like where most of all the good stuff in our city is, and she lives and works within a five-ten minute radius of like the mall, movie theatre, all the good restaurants, other big stores so she doesn’t ever have to come out to this side of town or even down town anymore. And it’s also just annoying because she has 1 day a work-week where she gets off at a reasonable hour instead of late, and it seems like a lot of weekends she’s going out of town to hang out with her ex or to meet up with other friends potentially. Plus she almost forgot about the plans we had the other day that we made like a month ago. Like damn, I really just want to see and pet some cats and go to this bookstore and since she never has time/wants to go, maybe I’ll just have to go with one of my coworkers or my mom

And finally (this has been so long I’m sorry) this one isn’t a complaint, but last weekend I went to a birthday party of a friend’s daughter, and one of my friend’s friends was there and y’all…. She was cute, and I don’t know what it is right now but I’m definitely in a period of time where I feel like I’m crushing on girls a lot harder than guys lmao. And no I didn’t talk to the pretty friend.

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.  WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide  RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif  of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all. 

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms. 

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization. 

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him? 

You’re not so sure. 

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows. 

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed. 

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did. 

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?” 

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that. 

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you. 

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes. 

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise. 

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well. 

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows. 

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments. 

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary. 

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight. 

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise. 

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s. 

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face. 

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.  

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth. 

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self. 

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups. 

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features. 

Oh, you loved this man. 

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane. 

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway. 

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. 

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself? 

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on. 

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.” 

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car. 

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant. 

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you. 

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass. 

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass. 

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit. 

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks. 

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe. 

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear. 

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs. 

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck. 

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush. 

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river. 

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river. 

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!” 

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is. 

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.” 

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.” 

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song. 

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off. 

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign. 

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device. 

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen. 

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line. 

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?” 

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?” 

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.” 

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred? 

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend? 

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate. 

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell. 

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird! 

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at. 

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?” 

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words. 

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?” 

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.” 

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut. 

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead. 

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again. 

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account. 

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?” 

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now. 

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook. 

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“ 

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.” 

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” 

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms. 

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing. 

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes. 

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.” 

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat. 

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment. 

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze. 

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river. 

“I thought he was cool before.” 

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you. 

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth. 

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor. 

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?” 

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?” 

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own. 

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.” 

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.” 

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling. 

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen. 

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud. 

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief. 

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship. 

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man. 

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot. 

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim. 

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either. 

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.” 

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”) 

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes. 

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.” 

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement. 

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.” 

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes. 

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself. 

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone. 

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura. 

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.” 

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end. 

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.” 

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly. 

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is. 

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead. 

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them. 

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.” 

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.” 

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr. 

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet. 

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again. 

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue. 

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey. 

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see. 

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck. 

Of course. 

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss. 

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it. 

And you’re all too ready to act on it. 

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy. 

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw. 

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare. 

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him. 

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds. 

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair. 

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips. 

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit. 

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders. 

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you. 

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull. 

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around. 

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you. 

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up. 

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view. 

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings. 

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you. 

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely. 

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise. 

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth. 

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness. 

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest. 

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor. 

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes. 

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air. 

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead. 

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions. 

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been. 

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table. 

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt. 

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again. 

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs. 

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true. 

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low. 

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you. 

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you. 

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix. 

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin. 

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction. 

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper. 

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust. 

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly. 

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface. 

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed. 

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy. 

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why. 

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home. 

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you. 

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad. 

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying. 

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses. 

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes. 

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside. 

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds. 

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly. 

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?” 

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder. 

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you. 

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit. 

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you. 

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different. 

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap. 

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out. 

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds. 

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.” 

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly. 

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic. 

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom. 

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet. 

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums. 

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?” 

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?” 

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you. 

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house. 

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise. 

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors. 

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.” 

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag. 

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[hansolmates]

a hero’s journey (m)

summary; jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story pairing; jungkook x editor!reader (f) genre/warnings; best friend’s boyfriend au, slice of life, angst with a happy ending because im weak, pining pINING, everyone’s kind of a mess in their own sweet special way, alcohol use, mentions of ze weed, toxic relationships, mean friends, sex—slight dom!kook, food play, fingering, squirting, heavy use of the petname “pretty girl” bc im weak, strength kink, manhandling (oop!) w.c; 22.2k a/n; woof! my first fic for @goldenclosetnetwork​ 23 | jungkook’s birthday project! this goes out to all the closet romantics *ahem me cough* who doesn’t love pining between a cutie koo? a huge thank u for vivi @eerieedits​ for making this bbbBEAUTIFUL fic banner!  

prompt used: “I should’ve known.”

if you like this fic pls consider giving a like n’share🥺💜🥺💜

It’s so easy to ignore the world. 

Maybe it’s a young-adult thing, but it gets difficult fitting into the 9-to-5 and playing to satisfy bosses that don’t entirely understand your work ethic. Maybe it’s out of complacency, or fear. But you prefer to let the world flow around you and when you’re needed, you’ll act. You’ve reached that point in your life where you enjoy the little things, satisfied by an extra hour of overtime tacked onto your paycheck, a new fabric softener, or finding the perfectly squishy yoga mat. 

You’ve finally started feeling comfortable in your shoes, uncaring as to whether you’re single or drowning in college debt, happy to live a relatively stable life. You’re grateful. There’s nothing more than you need than your happiness, and the love of your friends and family. 

Namely, your best friend from college. Jisoo always joked about how you two “won the lottery” as dorm rooms in freshman year were determined by lottery. Pulling numbers 883 and 884, you and Jisoo snagged a corner spot of the dormitory, leaving you two utterly cramped but utterly close as the years went by. Six years later and it’s still the case, the two of you have grown into talented working ladies. While you may not be able to spend time with each other the same way you did in school, you still care for each other. 

So when Jisoo shows up teary with a rumpled dress shirt and her hair waterfalling out of this morning’s bun, you break out the good alcohol and season three of Jane the Virgin for her. 

After the liquid is warm in your cheeks and you’ve fawned enough over Micheal and Rafael’s love triangle, you let Jisoo ramble. 

Jisoo has downed a whole bottle of soju on her own, while you’ve decided to have a tasteful glass of wine. You’d rather be tired wine drunk than wasted on soju. 

“Jungkook and I had a fight,” she warbles, stuffing a handful of popcorn in her mouth, “it was totally stupid.” 

Your eyes flash, picturing Jisoo and Jungkook in quarrel. They’re the epitome of an Instagram-worthy couple, beautiful and deathly charming to a fault. They show nothing but kindness and sweetness to you whenever you third-wheel, not a lick of anger between them when you’re all together.

So a fight is something surprising. Jisoo and Jungkook, J-squared are a power couple. Saying their names next to each other just emits a sort of energy you can only akin to famous small screen couples like Troy and Gabriella or Cory and Topanga. Jisoo’s Instagram is belly full with sweet selfies of them together, the doe-eyed man always looking completely sweet and gentle to the woman in his arms.

You never piqued Jungkook as the type of guy who would pick a “stupid fight.” And you know Jungkook pretty well. 

Maybe a little too well. 

“He surprised me during my lunch break and he caught me talking to Doyoung and he thought I was flirting,” Jisoo is practically eating her sweater, her head falling between her flannel pyjama sleeves. 

“Doyoung, as in your ex Doyoung?” you raise a brow. 

She groans, glaring at you in earnest. “Not you, too! I told him it was ridiculous to get jealous, and then I told him how jealous I get when he’s around girls and I don’t need to tell him that,” she rolls her eyes, twisting her feet petulantly in her fuzzy socks, “but then you know what he says back?” 

You wince, swirling your wine glass, “That you’re crazy?” 

“That I’m crazy, exactly! How did you—” her bloodshot eyes zero in on you, where you’ve tucked yourself in the corner of the couch. You swirl the ruby liquid in your cup, watching the feet web around the cheap crystal, “you think I’m crazy too, don’t you?” 

You swallow your sigh, taking your time to finish your liquid in languid sips. Uneasy, you wish you could just sink through the couch in order to avoid this conversation. Jisoo’s heart is generally in the right direction, but in terms of emotions she has the kind of sensitivity that you prefer to ignore rather than tread. Jungkook is also equally emotional, but in a different way. He wears his heart on his sleeve, preferring to keep things straight as opposed to bottling it up like Jisoo. 

However the theoretic bottle has reached it’s brim and Jisoo’s tipping, fast. 

“I need to tell you something,” Jisoo is swerving, crawling like an infant on wobbly limbs to reach your corner of the couch. You almost stop her, tell her you can continue this conversation in the morning, it’s what you normally do when she drinks into a stupor. But tears are swimming in her glassy caramel eyes and she’s grappling onto your blanket, resting her head in her lap. 

Her glossy russet strands curtain her head, so you don’t see the expression on her face when she says her next words: 

“Jungkook told me he liked you senior year, and I told him you weren’t interested so I’d have a chance.” 

Wow. So that explains everything.

The memories that you’ve tried so hard to brush away, the feelings you’ve tried so hard and continue to try to suppress, are laid out in front of you on a rusted platter. You could laugh, you could fling the rest of the Pinot Grigio down your throat like fresh water on a hot day and call it a night. 

But instead you choke back your tears, and push her off because you’re hurt.  

Deep down you know you would’ve been less upset if she told you the week after Jisoo and Jungkook called it official. If you knew from the beginning, it would’ve been easier on your heart. But it's been over two years since the past, thinking you’ve been needlessly, stupidly, delusional in thinking that you could’ve possibly had a chance with Jungkook.

Because it could’ve been you. And the reason why Jisoo and Jungkook fought today? Now you know it’s because deep down, they know they’re each other’s second choice. 

You can’t even recall a time where Jungkook and Jisoo were together alone before they suddenly started dating, remembering how it used to be you and Jungkook before Jisoo found him one day in your shared apartment, utterly smitten. And now you know you weren’t delusional, because the feelings and the signals you two were exchanging in senior year was real. 

But it doesn’t stop the fact that over two years have passed. Two years of a serious relationship between Jisoo and Jungkook, and two years of you secretly loving him from an arm’s length. 

“You hate me,” Jisoo removes herself from you, voice trembling. The quick, dark part of your mind wants you to snap back of course I hate you. You’ve trusted Jisoo with your life all these years, she was the reason you got through college so gracefully, why you enjoyed the past seven years of your life. 

But the sentiment is stained, and all you can do is deliver a tired smile and stand up. “I don’t hate you,” you say, “I’m just, really overwhelmed. I can’t lie and say that I’m not hurt,” your fingers clutch the fake crystal in your grasp, and for once you’re thankful you’re not strong enough to break it, “but you two love each other now and there’s no point in dwelling in the ‘what-ifs’.” 

Now that you think about it, when was the last time Jisoo treated you like a best friend? You stare at your wine glass, thinking that the only time comfort is provided in this apartment is when Jisoo is upset, never when you’re upset. 

Jisoo bobs her head senselessly, agreeing to every word. It’s pathetic, seeing her on her knees and her eyes glimmering with the hope that you’d forgive her straightaway. She must feel awful. That’s good.  

You sigh, needing to be the bigger person. “You need to call Jungkook and tell him he has nothing to worry about though, after all, you two have history now. As much, if not more than Doyoung.” 

“Right,” she replies, biting her lip. It suddenly feels like you're talking to a wall, carrying a conversation that's long ended.

“As for us,” you have half a mind to slam your glass on the counter, but instead you give it a heavy hand, letting slowly thump to the coffee table, “I don’t think I want to see you two, for a while.” 

“Understandable.” 

“And I don’t want to help you move out anymore,” I just want you gone.  

“Right,” she whispers. The both of you will be completed with your lease in two months, and Jisoo and Jungkook have decided to move into Jungkook’s apartment. As for you, you haven’t decided as to whether you want to go through the whole process of moving out or looking for a new roommate. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so so fucking sorry. I just was insecure as fuck in college and Jungkook was the first person I met in a long time that helped me feel more… like me.”

You want to say that she's right, she’s selfish. Her excuses aren’t palpable anymore. It’s too late. But if you were in Jisoo’s shoes, you’d think this apology is mere crumbs in comparison to your friendship. Why isn't she trying harder? Maybe because she doesn't know any better. After all, you never told her what you felt for him has morphed into love. 

You don’t even have to ask as to whether she’ll tell Jungkook this or not, you now know honesty is not her style. 

Jisoo doesn’t get a goodnight and a drunken kiss on the forehead like she usually does whenever you two have your late night talks. Instead, she seals herself to her own demise as you slam the door to your bedroom, effectively shutting each other out. 

Work is a bitch the following morning. You’re like molasses, rolling out of bed despite the whole world and its mother telling you to go back to sleep. 

Your feet are killing you as you make your walk to work, deciding to wear a pair of red-backed heels so you can stomp your way through your day. 

Your Wusband (Work-Husband) Kim Namjoon matches you step-for-step, eyes glued to his phone as he catches you on the sidewalk. “Woman on a mission,” he comments absentmindedly, eyes glued to his phone as he follows the click of your shoes to your favorite cafe. 

You spare a glance to your right hand-man, eyeing him appreciatively at his dedication to your morning routine. He’s your favorite co-worker, one who keeps you on time to your meetings and keeps you sane when you want to pull your hair out and dig out a coffin in your little cubicle. Namjoon’s long legs always seem to catch up with you during your workweek, whether it’s to get coffee in the morning or to talk shit about the latest gossip in the breakroom. 

The bell of the glass door tinkles in your ears as you enter the café, relatively busy for the morning rush. While you wait in line, Namjoon ticks off your activity list for today. 

“Meeting with Victoria is cancelled this morning,” you groan in relief, your supervisor Victoria always scares the shit out of you even when she’s not doing anything, “and just the usual proofing and whatever we have to do on the third floor today—can I get a large iced Americano with a pump of caramel? Thanks,” Namjoon moves aside so you can throw your order in as well, “and after work could you stop by Vernon’s? He took a sick day today and he has most of the manuscripts for the next issue.” 

“Done and done,” you swipe your card in the dip, tucking your card away in your zippered pouch. “So like, do Americanos taste any good? Like it’s literally watered down espresso how do you pay to drink watered down tar—” 

Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter. Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter swirling stray sugar crystals with his thumb and putting them in his napkin. What an impeccable display of Virgo energy, absentmindedly cleaning things he has no business doing. You scoff to yourself, recalling this morning that Jisoo got off the phone this morning with a stupid smile on her face. From the mirror image that Jungkook is excluding while he’s smiling on his cellphone like a smitten teenager, it seems like they’ve made up. 

Nevertheless the hurt from last night is still fresh in your bones, and you force yourself to look away despite the fact that your morning pick-me-ups are almost done and are sitting tauntingly next to Jungkook’s elbow. Does he really need to learn against the counter like he owns it? Hair slightly damp from the shower, your heart beats a little faster at the fresh image.His biceps are straining against his charcoal lycra long sleeve, which is slightly damp from his morning run. Snap out of it! You are a mature, working woman who does not swoon in the view of bulgy muscles, especially when the man who owns those muscles is taken. Suddenly there’s a call of your name, and two cups and a paper bag are put in front of Jungkook. 

He blinks, and you immediately pale when you see his eyes flit over your name surrounded by your favorite coral pink beverage. You feel struck as his head perks up at the name and he narrowly makes eye-contact—

“The fuck you’re doing,” Namjoon gripes, shoving your guava iced tea and croissant in your chest, “standing there like a moron as if we don’t got shit to do today.” 

“Sorry,” you mumble, pulling at the brown paper bag to tug a piece of croissant between your teeth. The warmth, buttery pastry melts in your tastebuds. Ah, bread. Nothing like a little bit of carb to make you feel better. 

You’re suddenly thankful for Namjoon’s gargantuan torso from effectively blocking you from Jungkook, hauling you out of the coffee shop like a petulant toddler. He doesn’t even give you a chance to catch another secret look at the object of your affections, making sure you’re back in your work game before you enter the building. Even if he doesn’t know it, Kim Namjoon’s always got your back. 

Or in today’s case, breathing down your back. 

Without your third editor and a hard deadline coming up by the end of the week, you and Namjoon are working in tandem throughout your 9-5 to complete drafts for Big Hit Publishings Arts & Media section. Both of you take turns to bring snacks and feed each other, feeling like reading zombies and slaves to your desk as you remind each other to breathe throughout the whole ordeal. 

In complete honesty you don’t totally mind. Namjoon is a great partner-in-crime, and you both love what you do and do a damn good job at it. You call it “Buzzfeed but with Benefits.” 

And at least for today, you could quell the feelings in your chest from last night and this morning. Sure, you’ve always been okay with the pining you’ve had for Jungkook. The feeling comes and goes whenever it pleases, and since yesterday you’ve been okay with just admiring from afar and being their third wheel. 

However, now the feelings are acutely comparable to a third-degree burn with the help of Jisoo playing with fire. 

With a quiet exhale, you concede in your gaming chair (because it’s just so damn comfy to keep in the office.) You’re an adult and not a petty child, and you will not let this piece of information derail you from your calm, stable lifestyle. 

But honestly? Fuck Jisoo. 

“Let’s go, buckaroo,” Namjoon logs off for you, the cinnamon-y smell of his shampoo effectively waking up your senses, “it’s already 5:30. And you said you’d stop by Vern’s to get his drafts.” 

“Right,” you blurt, mindlessly putting away your papers and snack wrappers in your bag. You can’t believe the whole day’s gone already. 

“Maybe you don’t even have to go to his apartment. Just text him or whatever.” 

“Sounds good, thanks Joonie.” 

“And y/n?” Namjoon gives you a look that causes you to force a terse smile, one you give one too many times to higher-ups at work. It isn’t to insult Namjoon by any means, but you guys are partners, the kind that tell way too much but hide just enough to remain close from afar. “Take it easy, will you?” 

“I will,” you concede, stretching your arms, “I’m def overdue for a massage.” 

“You don’t look sick,” you scoff, taking in the casual look your co-editor boasts as he leans casually against the doorway. 

Hansol Vernon Chwe is the epitome of fluffy, decked out in large electric blue sweats and his russet brown hair curling softly above his porcelain skin. Not only is he your co-editor, but also a friend from college. Not to the extent that you were with Jisoo and Jungkook, but you operated in the same publishing club and managed to get partnering internships that made you the co-workers you are today. You see a little bit of that collegiate youth in Vernon right now, as he looks well-rested and fresh faced despite the fact he probably didn’t apply moisturizer or drink enough water today.

“But you kinda do,” he tilts his head, noting the heels that adorn your feet, “you’re wearing your sexy shoes today, that means something’s going on.” 

“Gee, ever the ladies’ man,” you scoff, getting under his arm to invite yourself inside, “all I want is the completed interviews so we can pick out the best parts and draft them. Then I’ll be on my merry way.” 

“Oh c’mon, we’ve been talking nothing but work this whole damn month. What happened to college when we’d talk hours about House Hunters, the safeness of library sex, that little furry thing in Lincoln Hall’s urinal? That was prime conversation.” 

“Vern, I’m just here for the drafts,” you sit at his tiny kitchen table, glaring at his open laptop.  

“You could’ve just emailed me,” he teases, twisting around his chair so he can rest his arms against the back. “But since you’re here, that means you probably wanna spill some tea but you’re too upset to admit it.” 

“If I talk will you stop talking like that?” 

“Yes. Give me the juicy details. Need some juicy juice.” 

“Nevermind, get out of my apartment.” 

“Uh, this is my apartment.” 

“My point still stands,” you make another face at his outfit, “you look like the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.”  

Vernon purses his lips, scooting his chair closer to yours. He’s unfazed by your insult, far used to your defenses being higher up than Fort Knox. He looks up at you with his pretty lashes and deceivingly sweet caramel eyes, leaning his head along the backrest. “C’mon, tell me what’s bothering you,” he says in a gentle tone, coaxing you open. 

He always knew how to do it for you, a little bit of sweet talking and that clear open gaze always reduced you to shreds in university. For him, it always took a good meal and some sci-fi movies to get him to talk. That must be why you’ve stayed friends for so long, you two knew how to connect. 

Finally you crack, kicking off your shoes and hoping the sharp end doesn’t land on his cat. You hear Luna meow in protest but she’s got great reflexes. Unbuttoning the first three buttons of your stuffy blazer, you air out your cleavage, not caring about Vernon’s gaze. He’s seen worse. 

“Remember Jeon Jungkook? Majored in graphic design.”

“Ah, yeah. The guy who like, lived at the gym and the dining hall? Haven’t seen him in a minute,” his eyes seem to glaze over the glory days, reminiscing in the simultaneous safetynet and stressor that made up your early twenties, “didn’t you guys hit it off real well? Like I remember you ditched like—three sci-fi nights to study with him. Who even studies at 1AM?” 

“Yeah, we did,” and you can’t help but frown at as you remember the 7-Eleven runs, the utter warmth you felt when he would wipe a stray rice grain off your cheek, and how happy you felt to laugh so much with him it hurt, “but uh. Jisoo got drunk last night, because they had a fight. And she sort of admitted to me that she sabotaged our relationship and told Jungkook I wasn’t interested in him so they could start dating. Two years later and here we are.” 

A pause. And then, “Want a beer?” 

Vernon doesn’t even wait for a response when he gets up, bare feet slapping against the tile as he prepares some drinks and snacks for you. 

“That’s pretty fucked up,” he practically sing-songs among the cacophony of popcorn pop-pop-popping in the microwave. The aroma of buttery kernels is all but a relief, reminding you of movie matinees, “and like, she knew you liked him! It was totally obvious, even if you didn’t spell it out for her.” 

“Yeah,” you practically gushed to Jisoo those past two months, every waking moment with heart-eyes over the talented graphic designer Jeon Jungkook. 

“I can’t believe Jisoo would keep that a secret from you for so long. Like, can you even trust her anymore?” 

“Don’t know, was she even my bestfriend or was I just a good roommate to her?” you ask. Vernon is holding two beers in one hand and a bag of popcorn by the tips of his fingers in the other, careful to not burn himself. Opening the beer for you, you thank him and take a long swig.

“Well, good thing you’re still not in love with him or whatever. That would really suck. Unless—”

The look on your face says it all. You’re practically snotting into your bottle, your face tucked into your chin as you fight hard to stop the tears you’ve been suppressing for the last two years. “Don’t give me your pity,” you garble, turning away from the sad look Vernon gives you as he wraps his arms around you. 

The tears are soft and gentle, flowing freely onto the cotton of Vernon’s arms as you let it out. 

“‘M’not,” he concedes, rubbing his chin into your neck. He really is a lot like Luna, just like his  cat ready to give you affection. “Let’s just, get some take-out and watch Hamilton or something.” 

He lets you wear his matching sweat suit, lime green, as you order Thai food and rap along to Hamilton’s sick beats. Vernon does a better job keeping the flow, but you’re having a good time being his hype man as he parades around the living room like it’s 1776. 

You go home that night around ten o’clock, feeling noticeably lighter and more relaxed. Be that it may you are still wearing the sweatpants and heels ensemble, you feel comforted. 

The apartment is quiet when you walk in, not a single light turned on. You get a slice of the city lights bleeding in from the organza curtains, which allow you to kick off your heels and hobble to where you think the kitchen counter is. 

Today is Jisoo’s day to cook dinner. You can tell she decided to cook today from the faint smell of Japanese curry and a small unwashed plate in the sink. Whenever it was someone’s turn, they usually left an extra bowl or serving in it for the other roommate when they got home. Unsurprisingly, you find no such thing on the counter or in the fridge. 

You’re not upset, but rather decided. If Jisoo is going to let your friendship fade off with no intention of redeeming herself, then you should give her the same amount of energy back. You realize now the apology she gave last night wasn’t for you, but empty words to make her feel better and mend whatever toxicity she’s created in her own relationships. People like Namjoon and Vernon reminded you that you didn’t need to try and earn other people’s friendships. 

It’s disappointing, but the feeling is all but too familiar. 

If you could describe Jisoo as anything, it would be the color pink. Blushing, beautiful, beguiling pink. The way she flushes when Jungkook does an uncalled for grandiose gesture of romance, or when she wears a hot magenta number when she’s hosting a fashion show. Jisoo is the personification of La vie en rose, unbothered and unabashed.  

But now all you see when you think of Jisoo? Nothing but red. 

With that, you go in your room and untack the polaroid of you and Jisoo at the carnival last month, putting it away in your junk drawer to be forgotten. 

“You’re running away.” 

“Am not.” 

“Are too,” that interjection comes from Vernon’s roommate, Jung Hoseok. He’s been watching you two bicker over work for the past hour while he plays GTA5, failing to get a good hard carry because you and Vernon are too busy discussing whatever finishing touches you need on your final draft. 

“No one asked for your opinion, Jung,” you throw over your shoulder. 

“I’m just saying,” Hoseok flicks his wrist and nabs a tank, “you never wanna go home, you eat all our food, and I found your pyjamas in my laundry basket.” 

“You said your basket was the blue one,” you hiss under your breath. 

“The navy blue one,” Vernon chirps unhelpfully, “not the electric blue one.” 

Hoseok hits “save” on his campaign, disconnecting from his PS4 and stretching his lean limbs. “I mean, we could use a third roommate,” Hoseok jokes, getting up from the couch and grabbing a handful of M&Ms from your bowl, “you do make a bomb mac n’cheese.” 

“Appreciated,” you relent when Hoseok presses a kiss to your cheek and tells Vernon he’ll be back late working, leaving you and Vernon alone in their shared apartment. When Hoseok is gone, you stare at the door, tilting your head, “y’know,” you remark, “Hoseok’s a cool guy, why did I never hang out with him in college?” 

“Because he was stoned the majority of senior year and you just didn’t vibe with that crowd.” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“But, you’re trying to change the subject,” Vernon carefully untacks your hands from your keyboard, knowing that you two have already been done with this month's issue and you’re now just mindlessly re-reading emails. “You’ve been here since Thursday, and now it’s Saturday. And as much as Hoseok and I like having you around so you can wake me up before we go to work, it’d be nice to throw me a bone and let me in on what you’re thinking right now.” 

You frown, noting Vernon’s large hand covering your laptop closed. He isn’t going to remove his hand anytime soon unless you talk. “Jungkook’s helping Jisoo pack up her half of the apartment this weekend and I don’t want to be there,” you say, short and simple. 

“You miss her?” 

“Yeah,” you admit honestly. You hate this version of yourself, unable to even look at Jisoo nowadays despite the fact you’re under the same roof for the remainder of the month. It’s hard to believe that the roommate from six years ago finally got under your skin, cancelling out all the years of friendship because of one silly relationship, “sad she doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.” 

“Did you talk about it?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you reply despondently, “if she cared at all she would’ve to apologize again by now.”

Vernon figures, and his neutral expression doesn’t change as he leads you to the couch, brushing away Hoseok’s things so you two can get comfy. You busy yourself with the remote, exiting the PS4 homepage to scroll Netflix. 

“And are you trying to get over him?” 

“I mean, yeah,” you have been, but it’s a little hard when you’ve been contentedly pining. It was easy to keep your feelings bottled up because you originally thought Jisoo and Jungkook were meant to be for each other for the past two years. Now you're still pining but ruefully bitter at Jisoo.

“It’s not fair, y’know. She broke girl code, bros before hoes. Or is it chicks before dicks?” Vernon shakes his head at his lame attempt to get you to smile, which works anyway because Vernon’s silly and his sense of humor always gets you a little loose. “It’s your house too, you shouldn’t feel like you don’t belong there.” 

“Well I was supposed to help her move out this weekend, and I’d prefer it if Jungkook didn’t know what was going on.” 

“What?” your friend furrows his thick brows together, tucking his hands under his knees as he leans into your stubborn expression. “You’re gonna let Jungkook go on with his life not knowing that his relationship is based on a lie. That’s not cool. Even if you’re into him, he’s still your friend.” 

Damn, when did Vernon get so good at giving advice? Truth is Vernon’s always been good at dishing advice, you’ve just been privy to what you wanted to reveal to him. The first year or so being together outside of college was always about work, saving each other’s asses to ensure you two got that promotion and aim higher and higher. Now that goal is out of the way, and what better way to reconnect over some shoddy romance straight out of a Degrassi special? 

“I know,” you hug your knees tight to your chest, “when I’m ready, okay?” 

“Okay,” he agrees, because he’s not a pusher, “do you know the best way to get over someone?” 

“What?” 

“The best way to get over someone, is to get under someone," he emphasizes that point with his hands, sliding one under the other with a wiggle of his thick brows.

You slap him on the shoulder, “Vern, you disgust me.” 

“But it works!” 

“I’m not going on Tinder to find a fuckbuddy.” 

“You don’t have to look on Tinder or Tumble.” 

“Bumble.” 

“Whatever,” and his eyes flicker to his lap, where his pale fingertips turn red as he grips the edge of a throw pillow. "If you really don't wanna find someone, I can help." 

Is Vernon offering himself up? He is offering to fuck your brains out in the hope that you could inevitably fuck out your interest in Jungkook? Your eyes flicker over to Vernon's form on the couch, who's tucked in the couch just as you are. 

It’s true that you find Vernon attractive, and to some extent he definitely finds you attractive as well otherwise he wouldn’t have suggested the idea. It’s just that in college you never viewed him in that kind of light, probably because you were always so caught up in Jungkook. But tonight you can’t seem to ignore the eagerness hidden in Vernon’s carmine gaze, and how shiny and touchable his chocolate locks look under the setting sun. 

“I don’t want our friendship to change,” you reply slowly, furrowing your brows. “I appreciate it, but I don’t know. It sounds like a temporary fix.” 

“Can’t knock it if you don’t try it,” and out of curiosity, you don’t shy away when Vernon leans over to you, squeezing himself between the couch so he can tuck you in his arms. “I want to help you, but only if you want to.” 

Maybe it’s the frustration you feel with Jisoo, Jungkook’s ignorance, or the fact that you haven’t felt physical pleasure in such a long time, but you soften into Vernon’s hold. He’s relaxed, nothing betraying him as he waits patiently for your answer. You’ve always admired how much he kept up his “cool as a cucumber” demeanor. He isn’t the type of guy to let life pass him by, but he’s the kind of person who walks along life, embracing the ups and downs like old friends. He’s the ocean waves that crest along the shore, pushing and pulling along without a care in the world. 

He’s the textbook opposite of Jeon Jungkook, which is why you give Vernon the okay to lean in and press his lips against yours. 

His kisses are soft, and he takes great care in making sure you’re comfortable with this new step in your relationship. It almost feels as if you’re cutting corners, and you can’t help but feel a little guilty that you revel in the way Vernon’s hands trail under your too-large t-shirt. 

The pleasure you’ve ached for is there, bubbling low in the pit of your belly. It’s hard to get you out of your mind however, because this man isn’t the one you love. His kisses hold no power, only brief reprieve. Your heart doesn’t palpitate and your palms don’t sweat, you’re just languid. 

You’re greedy and selfish, but you remind yourself that it’s okay to allow yourself of these freedoms, even for a little bit. As Vernon finds your sweet spot that has you rolling your hips against his, you find that temporary fix isn’t a bad start at all. 

When you trudge back to your apartment that night after much reluctance, your face is still flushed and you think you smell a little too much like Vernon’s cologne. But the fact that still stands is that you're satiated, and you feel a tiny percent closer to moving on. 

The television is glowing with a terrible reality TV show, angry brides upset over cake layers or whatever. Jungkook and Jisoo have fallen asleep on the couch, surrounded by half-empty boxes. Jungkook has his arm lazily over Jisoo, her petite body fitting perfectly between his chest and the crook of his neck. 

You scoff when you spy Jisoo's bedazzled manicure digging into Jungkook's bicep, as if someone's going to take him away if she doesn't hold tight.

With stiff muscles you spare one look at Jungkook, ignoring the pang in your chest as you weave between boxes to turn the TV off. Barely an iota of your feelings have dissipated since your previous tryst with Vernon not an hour ago. Looking at Jungkook brings it all back, unfortunately. You suppose the feelings will pass with time. The soft hum of the television ceases, and you’re bathed in a room that feels dark and empty, despite the apparent life in the room. 

There’s some bleary talk coming from the couch as you walk to your bedroom, and if Jungkook is sleepily mumbling your name in question, you pretend you don’t hear. 

“So, where’s y/n? I thought she was going to help us pack.” 

It’s an innocent enough question, as Jungkook scans the corner of the living room hallway that leads to the bedrooms. You haven’t come out yet. He knows that you love sleeping in on the weekends, but he hopes the smell of fresh food will coax you to the table. His pan is sizzling in protest, telling Jungkook to quit talking and flip the hashbrowns. He's fried up three, in the hopes you’d be up for some crispy potatoes. He knows how much you love potatoes, especially at 2AM when you’re craving fries and a McFlurry combo. 

Instead Jisoo mutters, “You toasted too much bread, you know I don’t eat bread like this,” she’s pulling slice by slice out of the toaster, until there’s a stack of six golden toasts in the middle of the kitchen table. 

A little part of him wishes to quell the precursor to the argument there. It would be so easy for Jungkook to say, “the extras are for me” because he’s trying to gain weight, and that would be that. 

Instead he continues with his unanswered question and replies honestly, “I made extra toast for y/n, babe. She was supposed to help us pack but I haven’t seen her all weekend.” But he’s pretty sure you came home last night, unless that was his imagination. 

Jisoo pulls a carafé of apple juice out of the fridge, pouring the amber liquid into two glass cups. “Ah, she said she had some last minute things to do for work. Y’know, Big Hit always wants a big hit.” 

He chuckles, tilting his head as Jisoo gives him a small smile from the kitchen table. Jisoo is always good at cheesy jokes. “She must love her job, huh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Her articles are really good, too,” the air smells like butter and Italian seasoning, as he places one hash brown on Jisoo’s plate, and two on his. He knows you edit in the Arts & Media section, and loves how you make it a point to include video games and modern graphics when it’s deemed appropriate. “She did a piece on the evolution of RPG and I thought her commentary was really spot-on.” 

He brings breakfast over to the table, while Jisoo places two slices of toast on his plate, one buttered and one with strawberry preserves. Breakfast is a quiet, but peaceful affair. Jungkook takes note of how Jisoo takes extra long to complete her meal, her fork creating ribbons in her little blob of magenta jam. He allows himself to complete his first hashbrown and a slice of toast before asking the difficult question. 

“Are you and y/n okay?” and he also takes note when Jisoo’s ministrations on her jelly stop, as she looks up at him with her big brown eyes. 

“We’re fine,” she insists, “just normal roommate issues, I promise.” 

“Maybe I should text y/n,” Jungkook says, pulling out his phone. “Lemme help you fix this, wouldn’t want you and her in a bad place when you’re about to move out.” 

“Baby, why are you so concerned about y/n?” Jisoo croons while his thumb hovers over your contact, his screen showing a two-year old selfie you two took during a study session early on in your friendship. He can’t remember the last time you two took a picture together out of spite, one without Jisoo. Jisoo’s hand pulls him away from his phone, rubbing small circles between his palm. 

He wants to ask, why aren’t you? But he sees the terseness in Jisoo’s smile, as her eyes fix between the interlocked fingers. He has a feeling he’s hovering somewhere he isn’t allowed to be in. Maybe it really is roommate stuff and it’s none of his business, but he feels a little insulted being left out because you and Jungkook are just as much best friends as you were in college. 

Or are you? 

This question plagues him throughout the day, and when Jungkook packs enough boxes for the weekend and says he needs to go home, Jisoo for once doesn’t argue. Normally Jisoo would cling to him like a koala, murmur simultaneously adorable and dirty things in his ear and lead him to her bedroom to coop up for hours on end. But Jisoo says she’s tired and needs some alone time, which is also fine. 

He doesn’t feel like going home, and instead heads straight to the gym. A couple pumps wouldn’t hurt, and it would clear his head. It’s nearly five in the evening when his body is thrumming with the afterglow of his post-workout, and he decides to take a little cool down in the mall and treat himself to a smoothie. 

It must be kismet when he sees you coming out of the bookstore, looking a little winded but no less professional in your beige blazer set and rose gold iPad. Whenever he hung around your apartment with Jisoo and you’d come home from work, he’d make it a point to acknowledge your plethora of multicolored skirt-suits. He never needs to be professional in his place of work, and admires how much effort you put in. 

“Hey!” he jogs up to you, and he catches the way your shoulders jump at his voice. “We missed you today.”

Your smile curls into something dry, and you twist your spine like rusty hinges to face him. In turn, his smile dims a little, wondering if he’s doing something wrong. Maybe you’re tired? He catches the line of sweat that glistens your baby hairs, and how your hair is done up but has fallen a few centimeters with some pieces falling out. 

“Jungkook,” you exhale, “lifting boxes wasn’t enough of a workout?” 

“You know me,” he replies stiffly, hiking his backpack higher upon his shoulder. Why does this conversation feel so awkward? “So, finishing up work? Sucks you have to work on a Sunday.” 

“Ah, it wasn’t so bad,” you face relaxes a little as you explain your work, “it was children’s day at the bookstore and they were watching Disney movies. I’m writing a piece on how I believe Ratatouille is Pixar’s magnum opus. Interviewed some kids, I wanted an expert opinion.”  

“Ratatouille is the superior film,” he declares with a firm nod, “after all, anyone can cook.” He revels in the small smile he manages to retrieve from you, immediately understanding the inside joke. If he came out of the gym five minutes earlier, he probably would’ve been able to catch you in the bookstore. What a shame, he would’ve loved to see you play around with the kids. 

At the mention of food, the mall manages to silence itself enough for him to catch the grumbling coming from your stomach. He laughs when your cheeks heat. 

“I was on my way to get some smoothies,” he jabs a thumb in the direction of the food court, “wanna catch up and get a bite?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, I have a lot of work to edit,” disappointment pangs in his chest at your easy rejection, but he ignores it, “I kinda wanna save some money too, still not sure if I’m staying in the apartment after Jisoo moves.” 

He doesn’t know what compels him to take your shoulders and wheel you in the direction of the food court, much to your protest and whines. “C’mon, explain to me why Ratatouille is the magnum opus—I need to defend why The Incredibles is superior. I’ll treat you to dinner.” 

“What? I can pay for my own food—” 

“And I can’t treat my best friend to a nice meal once in a while?” 

That has you stopping in your tracks, and Jungkook nearly barrels his chest into your head if not for the grippy soles of his Adidas Ultraboosts. He can’t see your face, but his hands note how your muscles cord tightly between the cotton of your blazer. 

He doesn’t understand why you’re so tense. Was it because he called you his best friend? Well, you are? At one point he felt that way, early on in college. The position just stuck with you. And when Jisoo told him you weren’t interested, he was perfectly fine with the platonic relationship. It was nice to have someone to talk media and video games to, someone not as chaotic as Jimin and someone not as deterred as Yoongi. 

Although, maybe as of late he hasn’t been so much of a friend. It’s no one’s fault, he’s been caught up with work and Jisoo’s move, he hasn’t said so much as a “hey how are you” when you’re around. He can’t blame you. 

Suddenly his mind blanks, the mall fading away as he focuses on how small you look as your eyes dart between the parking lot and the food court. Jisoo and Jungkook have been so caught up on each other lately, that he fears you’re starting to separate yourself.

“Um, this place is good,” you tug him by the elbow and lead him to a fast food joint. 

When he picks up both your orders and comes over to your saved table, you’re talking animatedly on the phone. You’re laughing, looking at Jungkook as if he’s the one intruding and you’re muttering a hushed “sorry” as you continue the tail end of the conversation. 

“Yes, Joonie. Go with section two, I know my shit. I’m your Work Wife for a reason, Umji in PR could never compare,” you’re giggling like you’re five years younger, and Jungkook feels stuck in a timelapse. 

He watches you go, throwing around names and terms that he’s so lost on but so desperate to understand. He knows nothing about your life other than the one that’s tied with Jisoo, which is a damn shame. Since when did he inevitably downgrade you from “best friend” to “his girlfriend’s roommate?” 

“I’m sorry,” you turn your phone over and push it to the side, giving Jungkook a smile as well, albeit weaker, “let’s dig in!” 

To his relief the dinner goes as good as it should be. You have your tray practically overflowing at the seams, all on Jungkook’s dime. It has his heart swelling with pride, he hasn’t seen you eat in a long time. There’s fries spilling out from the corners, and two sandwiches because you couldn’t decide between a chicken sandwich and a burger. 

Food gets you amicable, and he doesn’t mind when he does most of the talking. You’re engrossed in his talk, lettuce hanging out of your mouth as you’re rapt with attention as he recalls a story that happened at work recently with Mingyu. You ask questions in all the right places and he sucks up all your attention like a happy pill, and it feels nice to be able to lead a conversation for once. 

“Jeez, I’m getting the burger sweats,” you giggle to yourself, and his smile brightens at your positive change in attitude. Food always helps. 

When you remove your thick high-collar blazer, that’s when he sees it. 

“Seeing someone?” he asks, eyes flickering curiously towards the violet bruises that bloom across your neck. 

“What–oh,” you have the audacity to look embarrassed, hands clutching your neck like a shield, “no, just a hookup.” 

A messy hookup, too. Unless you had a thing for showing off marks, which doesn’t seem to be the case. “Didn’t peg you for someone who hooks up,” he says more to himself than you, but you catch him on his impulse jab. 

Your eyes narrow and your defenses go up, “I’m trying to get over someone,” you snip back, busying your hands by crushing up your greasy sandwich wrappers. 

“Am I allowed to state my opinion?” 

“Since you asked so politely, no.” 

He sighs, “I just don’t think that’s the best way to get over someone,” heck, Jungkook doesn’t even know who exactly you’re trying to get over. He just knows that you’re far too smart and independent to let yourself resort to such matters. 

“It isn’t, but it’s really the best option as of now,” you reply curtly. 

And his gaze saddens as he sees you fold your blazer over your arm, indicating that your time is up. Jungkook is aware the comment he made is out of line, and it weakens him knowing that you don’t even want to pick a fight with him. He can’t even find it in himself to apologize properly. 

He doesn’t know if he’s more sad that you’re pining over someone unattainable or upset at himself for not knowing you’ve been harboring feelings for someone. If you really think hooking up is your only option, you must be really hung about whoever you’re into as of late. 

“If it’s worth anything,” Jungkook adds, wanting to leave on a high note, “fuck that guy. He clearly doesn’t deserve you.” 

A small, secret smile plays on your lips, “Yeah, I like to believe that.” 

“I’m anxious,” Namjoon’s mantra makes the whole energy in the room wobbly, paired with the fact the two of you are squished between cardboard boxes as Jungkook aimlessly moves things around like a Tetris screen. 

The only time you feel remotely comfortable basking in your home is when Jisoo is gone. Oh-so conveniently is the Big Hit building undergoing maintenance today, so you and Namjoon have decided to work from home in your apartment. Although you thought by now that Jisoo’s boxes would be long gone and tucked away in Jungkook’s place, instead you’re living in an episode of Ed, Edd and Eddy and the cardboard is practically wall-to-wall. You also thought by now that Jungkook would have no reason to show up unannounced anymore, but apparently that’s not the case. 

“I have, anxiety,” Namjoon adjusts his glasses for the nth time this afternoon, brain not fixed enough to focus on the screen of his chrome MacBook, “anxiety, anxiety. I can’t right now. I need my weighted blanket and a pillow.” 

“Namjoon, I can get both of those for you if we just send in this last spread,” you coo gently, as if placating a baby. You make brief eye contact with Jungkook from the other side of the room, his lips quirking in amusement as he stacks a box of clothes by the kitchen. 

“Do you feel my palms? My palms, they’re like a fucking fountain you need to feel them—” your Wusband approaches you like a zombie, leaning over you and tripping over his criss-crossed legs before he topples over you. 

“Blegh, get off of me you sweat giant!” you cry with a good-natured laugh, although the grip of Namjoon’s palms under your shoulders are damp and slimy, “Joon, I can’t get you your blanket if you’re crushing my boobs.” 

Namjoon finally relents, untacking himself to rest his chin on your glass coffee table. “Fine.” 

“Look over the last column and I’ll bring your blanket, okay?” 

Pushing yourself off the ground, you shuffle your way out of the living room through the maze of boxes and into the hallway. It feels like your apartment is less of an apartment and more of a storage space when you’re trapped in-between two lines of boxes, and Jungkook effectively blocking you from entering your room. He was just in the living room but now he’s come from the linen closet, standing between the entrance of your room. 

“Sorry,” he pops his head out from a smaller box, one filled with designer costume jewelry. 

“It’s fine,” you chirp, barely making eye contact as you shuffle over the boxes. 

Your toe drags over the lid of one of the open boxes in an attempt to move diagonally. You nearly crash your face into the hardwood if not for Jungkook’s arm stretching out to catch you. In seconds he manages to catch all your weight in one hand, pulling you to him with your hip pressed against his. Your breath traps itself in your neck. Your subconscious fears that if you speak now, you’ll babble about how attractive it is that he’s able to catch you as easily as grabbing a light sheet of paper. 

“Careful,” his voice rumbles in his throat as he regards you with a wan smile. 

Your “thanks” is barely uttered as you slip into your room, heaving your weighted blanket and a pillow in your arms to let Namjoon borrow. 

The burgundy quilted fabric is hunched over your shoulder, draped around your body so it’s easier for you to carry on your back. You try to eradicate the memory of Jungkook’s arms, lean and strong as he held you to him moments before.

Ugh, you thought messing around with Vernon would stop your silly pining. It seems that it’ll take more than a couple rounds to satiate your curiosity. For such a kind guy, Jungkook seems like a wolf in sheep’s clothing when it comes to the bedroom. 

You can imagine him being so kind in the beginning, coaxing you to wan and bend to his every wish and command. And then when you keen a little too hard at the attention, you bet a switch would flip and he’d grab you—

The blanket flops around your back, and you’re sorely reminded that you’re thirsting over a taken man, yet again.  

Jungkook makes it extremely difficult for him to be hateable. It’s by nature that he’s just so damn likeable. Heck, he’s pretty much packed seventy percent of the things Jisoo should be packing right now. 

Making sure not to trip again, on your feelings and your blanket, you successfully reach a tired Namjoon. You tuck your koala-shaped pillow under your co-editor’s arms, and drape the heavy blanket over him like a cape. He’s giving you a thumbs up and a toothless smile, the previous meltdown overcome as he focuses on finishing the last of today’s work. He’s slipped on some noise-cancelling earphones, presumably filled with generic coffee-house music or rain playlists. 

Wordlessly you go to your nook to prepare some tea. It’s getting late and a warm cup would distract you from the impending deadline. Despite the fact that you and Namjoon are 99% of the way done, his previous freak-out has you on live-wire and you could use a little caffeine. 

Placing three mugs on the counter you call, “Jungkook, tea?” 

“Yes please,” you stiffen when you feel Jungkook magically appear right behind you, his head peering over your shoulder, “with milk and honey.” 

Deciding to give Jungkook the beehive-shaped mug because it’s very on-brand for him, you begin to steep the leaves in your kettle while he spoons the honey. 

“So,” his words are slow as the drip of honey, the amber goo taking its time to descend into his mug as it falls from the dipper. “Is that the guy you’re trying to get over?” 

Jungkook lifts his brows towards Namjoon, who is softcore jamming to his white noise playlist. It’s cute as to how curious Jungkook is about Namjoon. While you try to keep your work life separate, there really isn’t much backstory to your personal life to warrant that kind of divide. 

“Namjoon,” you state aloud, watching Namjoon sing badly to himself, “why, are you gonna beat him up for me?” 

“I can take him,” you can practically hear Jungkook’s chest pop out. 

With a roll of your eyes, you reach to kill the heat off the tea kettle, “No need. He isn’t the guy I’m trying to get over.” 

“Oh, he’s your fuck buddy then?” 

“Shit!” being caught off guard, you grab at the handle of your kettle without a pot holder, burning your fingertips. In seconds Jungkook’s larger hand encases your own, pulling you over to the sink to soak your fingers in cool running water.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jungkook is chanting like a sinner at church, searching for any sign of pain in your visage, “I shouldn’t have asked while you’re working with a hot stove.” 

You suppress a sigh, relaxing your fingers as Jungkook soothes the burn with his gentle hold, “Shouldn’t have asked in the first place,” you mumble. 

“I know,” he replies, “guess I’m just feeling a little left out. We don’t talk like we used to. I guess I’m getting a little too nosy for my own good, aren’t I?” 

You don’t understand what’s going on with his incessant babbling as of late, but you chalk it up to work stress and Jisoo’s move. Having no answers to his honest reply, you gently untack your red palm from his grip, assuring him that you’re fine. 

Namjoon steps into your kitchenette, being surprisingly careful as he takes your potholder to pour himself a cup of tea. If the tea is oversteeped and bitter he doesn’t say anything, only leans against the counter as he regards you two with slow sips. “You alright?” 

“M’fine,” you reply stubbornly, avoiding Jungkook’s worried stare. 

Namjoon holds out his hand, “Hand.” 

“No—”

“Hand.” 

His deep voice coerces you, and you immediately slap the back of your palm onto Namjoon’s. Your partner brushes his golden hands over the tiny blister that’s forming over your fingertips. “Can’t have my Work Wife outta commission.” 

“Your Work Wife is fine,” you gripe back. 

Your co-worker’s eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s for a brief second, Jungkook regarding him in curiosity as he stares at your connected palms. “I have some aloe in my bag for sunburns,” Namjoon offers helpfully, ignoring the weird glances, “I’ll give it to you in a bit. Also, I’ve overcome my sudden bout of stress and I’m ready to email our progress to Victoria. We’re done for the day.” 

“Awesome, thanks Joonie,” you exhale, relaxing against the sink, “wanna go eat somewhere?” 

“There’s a niche place in Itaewon if you wanna check it out?” Namjoon offers.

Jungkook interjects, “Jisoo ordered pizza if you guys wanna share with us?” 

“Pizza also sounds good—” 

“We don’t wanna interrupt your alone time,” you gracefully cut in, stepping in front of Namjoon despite the fact that he’s easily towering over you. 

Jungkook snorts, “I’ll have enough alone time with her when she moves in, don’t worry. Besides, I ordered three pies because I wanted to try three different flavor combos. I need two additional judges.” 

“Thanks Jungkook but,” you stifle a cry when Namjoon jabs you in the back with his thumb. It’s pressing, digging into the small of your back as if he’s trying to telepathically tell you that you’re being rude, “but… I don’t know if I can eat three slices! Namjoon on the other hand, can probably eat enough to fairly judge.” 

“Great,” Jungkook’s smile is blinding, causing your grin to stiffen as he looks for his phone to shoot Jisoo a quick text that they’re having dinner for four. 

Once Jungkook’s out of earshot, Namjoon tugs you by the sleeve, “The hell was that?” he hisses in your ear, “you look like you’re about to shit and piss your pants at the same time.” 

“I just don’t feel comfortable eating with them,” you cross your arms in defiance. You think back to just a week ago where you and Jisoo reluctantly attempted to eat breakfast together one morning. You provided minimal small talk while Jisoo clinged to her phone, replying to you in non-committal clipped tones. 

“Do I want to know?”

“No.” 

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” you retort, “you got me into this mess, you’re gonna stay with me ‘till the end.”

“I don’t know what you want from me, woman,” Namjoon throws his arms out exasperatedly, oolong tea nearly sloshing onto his hand, “just suck it up or I revoke your bragging rights to that snag you got on our spread next Monday.” 

“Not my fault you couldn’t get Kim Taeyeon on the spread,” you smirk. 

“Well I didn’t so happen to stalk the Sephora she frequents for the past two weeks—” 

“I didn’t stalk her I just so happened to need a new Fenty Gloss Bomb every other day—”

“I’m home, Jungkookie!” 

Your face contorts, your playful energy melting to the hardwood as your previous banter with Namjoon evaporates into thin air. Work bags in one hand and three boxes of pizza balancing in the other, Jisoo kicks off her heels somewhere across the door and places the pizza on the dining table. 

Jungkook immediately appears by her side, and you look away and Jisoo plants a heavy kiss on his lips. She cracks open one eye as she notices you and Namjoon hanging by the kitchenette, “Oh,” she mumbles at her audience, “you’re here?” 

Yes, you bimbo. I’m here in my own apartment. 

“I guess you didn’t read my text that they’ll be joining us for dinner,” Jungkook cuts in good-naturedly, “we have way too much pizza anyway. Have a seat, guys.” 

Jungkook navigates the kitchen as easily as your own, and you slump in your chair while Namjoon exchanges pleasantries with Jisoo. She looks impeccable, hair in a tight chignon and a tight navy dress as she converses with your co-editor. 

“I’m starving,” Jungkook announces, making sure to place a slice on Jisoo’s plate. He shuffles through the other boxes, making brief eye contact with you when he decides to put a slice on yours as well, “you like these toppings, right?” 

You regard the greasy, hearty piece of cheese and bread with a curt nod. You feel Jisoo’s eyes laser on your skin, “Yeah, thanks Kook.” 

Namjoon, Jisoo and Jungkook mostly stir up the conversation, you opting to eat as slow as possible to avoid any conversation. It’s easy to blend back and let them take over, as Jisoo loves to talk about her fashion firm and Namjoon is a great listener. 

Jungkook and Namjoon make it a point to direct the conversation to you from time to time, and you let the ball leave your court as soon as it lands. You prefer to keep your responses short and simple, especially when Jisoo is so eager to talk about the new silk drapes she’s installing for Jungkook’s windows.

Your phone buzzes in your lap, and you discreetly look under the table to read the incoming text message. 

vernie bernie: would u like to do the devil’s dance tonight

vernie bernie: or a tickle to my pickle? 

vernie bernie: beatin ya bean? 

You: ohmyGOD 

vernie bernie: or y’know, u could just come ovr and chill. Hobi made some bomb tres leches

You: call. Ill come after dinner

“Are you okay, y/n?” your head bounces up to meet Jungkook’s gaze, “you’ve barely eaten and you haven’t talked much.” 

“Oh you know, she’s just stressed about the upcoming spread,” Namjoon steps in for you, and you send him a discrete, but grateful smile. He’s always impeccable at reading the room, “she’s just nervous about her interview with Kim Taeyeon, but I think you did her interview justice.” 

“No way, the singer Kim Taeyeon?” Jungkook gushes, regarding you with stars in his eyes, “your interviews are always so great, y/n. You ask really good questions. Like that one spread about  Lee Yonghwa’s art gallery? Really cool.” 

You notice the way Jisoo presses her lips together, a thin line as if she’s trying to seal away words that she’ll regret saying. She’s jealous, and you can’t help the blush of pride that fills your veins as you raise a secret brow at her. 

“Right, you got nothing to worry about,” Namjoon squeezes your shoulder encouragingly, as if you’d get his double-meaning. 

“Thanks,” you reply, pushing your plate away and standing up, “I’m actually gonna go head to Vernon’s for a bit, though. He wants to double check his work before we email Victoria.” 

It’s a bald-faced lie, Namjoon sent the files to Victoria right before dinner, but he isn’t going to argue. 

“Okay,” Namjoon thanks Jungkook and Jisoo for the meal, stacking his plate atop yours, “I’ll walk out with you.” 

“It’s only been twenty minutes, though,” you see the slight panic in Jungkook’s gaze as he watches you quickly clean up for you and Namjoon. You can’t quite pin why he’s so concerned, after all he has been acting strange as of late. 

“Yeah, I’m full,” you reply curtly, licking your lips and avoiding his gaze. You already know what he wants to say, that he’s been in your apartment all day and all he’s seen you eat is stale chips and tea, “but we can do this again.” But hopefully not. 

“If you’re coming home late again,” it’s the first time Jisoo has spoken to you directly. You tilt your head to her slowly, watching the plastic smile carefully carved onto her expression. You see the contrived care and concern between her brows, “please try to be quieter next time, the last time you came home late you woke Jungkookie up.” 

Snapping your gaze to Jungkook you plaster on a thick smile, “Sorry Jungkook—” 

“What? No, it’s fine!” he furrows his brows in confusion, finally able to detect the strange tension between the two housemates, “I barely heard you—” 

“Maybe I’ll just stay the night at Vernon’s,” your eyes trail over to the pajama set you immediately switched into when you got home today, “wouldn’t want to disturb you two.” 

“Good,” Jisoo’s tone is saccharine and clipped as she tacks on a, “have fun.” 

It’s laudable, how much Jisoo wants to make a fool out of you but you won’t have it. You revel in the perplexed expression as Jungkook’s gaze darts back and forth between the two of you, wanting to butt in but unsure of how to approach it. Not giving him the time to, you bid the couple a goodnight and make a fast getaway. Heck, you don’t even take your work stuff with you. 

Once you’re out the door, Namjoon wordlessly gives you a hug. You sigh gratefully into his embrace. 

The next time Jungkook sees you, he reads the room before anything. You and Jisoo’s apartment is scarily empty, almost clinical. He’s tried texting you a few times after his failed-not-failed attempt at catching up at the mall and his awkward conversation concerning Namjoon, but you always reply back with vague replies and an unpromised promise of meeting up sometime soon. 

It dulls him to think that you’ve given up on him as a friend. But can you blame him? He needs to keep an appropriate distance for Jisoo, after all, she doesn’t like it when he gets too close to other women unless it’s strictly professional. Usually Jisoo’s jealousy inevitably works itself out and Jungkook doesn’t pose any problems because he has very few girl friends, but for some reason your friendship with him specifically gets Jisoo stiff in the face. Is it because you and Jisoo are so close? Possibly. 

But it doesn’t mean you can’t join the same Valorant server with him at 2AM and accidentally bomb each other, or argue over the magnum opus of each film company. Is that not enough? 

Jisoo’s working overtime, and Jungkook suggested last night that he move the boxes to the front of the door for easy pick-up when the moving truck arrives. Jisoo promises to buy Thai food in return, and with a kiss emoji she leaves him to audit fabric budgets. 

As he glides down to Jisoo’s room he notes that the pictures along the wall have disappeared, and there’s double the amount of boxes in the hallway. It seems that you’re moving out too. To where, he doesn’t know but he hopes it isn’t too far. 

He chides Jisoo remotely when he sees that her room is completely intact, and he makes moves to pack up her things. 

That’s when he finds his letter. Not a love letter to Jisoo, but a love letter to you. Deep in the recesses of Jisoo’s junk drawer, is a faded lavender envelope with a pressed cream colored baby’s breath taped up in plastic. The glue is yellow and old, clearly served its purpose due to the fact that the letter is already opened and the contents rumpled. 

Hey Pretty Girl–

He immediately stuffs the letter back in its holder, stricken at his messy handwriting from two years ago. It feels like he found a time capsule, another version of Jungkook confessing to you. He used to call you Pretty Girl, not enough for you to catch on to his feelings, but enough for you to understand that he did find you attractive. It was early on in your friendship. 

When you first asked him to be study partners for some silly class that had nothing to do with each other’s majors, he gaped like a guppy and pointed to himself. That day he went to class in last night’s clothes and a nest of fluffy strands. “Me?” he felt like absolute trash, and you were probably desperate due to the fact you two were the only seniors in this class, “but you’re a pretty girl… and I’m pretty dumb when it comes to this subject.” 

But instead you scoffed and pulled him from his slumped figure, dragging him to the library, with a wink and a “you’re pretty, too.” Those words have burned in his brain since then, as he wasn’t used to getting such off-handed compliments, especially from intelligent girls that wanted more than one night. 

For whatever reason you continued seeing his dumb self, even after the semester ended and together registered for one more class for spring. 

Whenever you’d go out for ice cream you wouldn’t hesitate to stuff your face and add for extra Oreos and fries, you’d assure Jungkook you’re not normally this much of a slob. 

Jungkook would just smile and offer you a napkin and say, “You’re still a pretty girl.” 

He fell for you gracefully. There was no regret, no walk of shame, no cliché late night party where you or him could’ve instigated it into the physical. It was all by feel. 

However the two of you took your time with your relationship, languidly enjoying the hushed conversations in the library at 2AM, the late night McFlurry runs, the integration of each other’s friends like it was natural. Ergo the lavender love letter. It was a gentle declaration, one he felt pretty confident in. 

So color him stupid when you passed him in class with a happy wave, Jungkook dumbfounded at how well you handled his confession. You weren’t oblivious, you just never read it. 

But now he knows the declaration was for whatever reason, lost in transit. “I should’ve known,” he whispers in the air, the letter crumpling in his grip. Composing himself, he pinches his brows.  

There’s an electronic buzz and a sharp slam of the front door. Judging by the time, you’re home. 

You flop onto your mattress, folding an arm over your head to stop the sun from seeping to your eyes. Vernon’s exhausted you, and you barely got away before he could have any say in it. You need a little space, and some time to think. 

Just as you close the door to your bedroom, it swings open. 

You gape as Jungkook thrusts himself into your bedroom like a deer with horns, looking pale. You follow his gaze, darkened eyes that linger a little too long on your neck again, and you narrow your eyes at him to avert. He looks a little red in the cheeks despite his pallidness, looking like he just got out of bed with messy wavy locks and his signature sweats. Is Jungkook packing for Jisoo again? 

Acutely aware that you smell like sweat and sex, you clutch the blankets closer to your body. “Uh, rude.” 

He looks uncharastically frantic, waving a letter in his hand, “Did you ever read this?” 

“Read what?” you ask, hands reaching out for the envelope. 

“My confession letter,” he blurts, having no shame now that all the gears are running through his head. “I wrote you a letter asking you out, because you said you wanted to collect notes like in Letters to Juliet. But I just found it in Jisoo’s drawer, why would it be there?” 

And all the pent up frustration that never seemed to escape under Vernon’s sheets, the feelings that never seem to subside, all bubble back to the surface. Now that Jungkook knows, there’s no hiding. 

You’re in shock, hands reaching for the letter despite the burn that seeps through your fingertips. Jungkook’s shoulders slump when you do indeed look like it’s your first time seeing this, as if a missing puzzle piece in your timeline has finally been revealed.

“I, I didn’t think you’d write me a letter,” you take the lavender envelope, clutching the letter by your chest like it’s something precious, “that’s so sweet,” you say to yourself.  

It dawns on him, “Wait, you knew about this? I knew something weird was going on.” 

“Only recently,” you frown. 

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” he nearly shouts, causing you to flinch, “no wonder why you were being so weird all this time. How could you let me live the rest of my life knowing this? That my relationship is built on a lie? ” 

“I don’t know,” you suddenly feel very small in your mattress as Jungkook rounds up on you, pulling your desk chair closer to your bed, “because you love Jisoo, of course.” 

“Well obviously that’s not possible,” and while yes a two-year realtionship ending like this is going to hit him hard tonight, he’s focused on you and the fact that you failed to tell him, “somehow I’d find out. Why wait for me to find out on my own?” 

“Because I wanted to protect you!” 

“Protect me,” he scoffs, crossing his arms and sneering at you. It causes you to tense up, feeling the telltale signs of tears bubbling to the surface, “you don’t even want to be friends anymore, y/n. I’ve tried to catch up to you so many times, but you keep leaving me hanging. I know I’ve been a pretty bad friend and I get it if you just feel awkward that I liked you, then that’s a shitty reason.” 

“Have you ever considered that it’s too late to tell you?” you shoot back, sitting up straight, “yes, I admit I should’ve told you earlier and I’m sorry, but it was a lot for me to process to y’know? Jisoo and I haven’t talked properly in weeks!” 

“Oh, so you’ve stopped trying to be friends with Jisoo too, huh? Just like you’re trying to stop being friends with me.” 

“No,” you pinch your brows, “she stopped being friends with me! She doesn’t care about me because she has you,” conflict burns in Jungkook’s gaze, and you only serve to fuel the fire, “she’s tried so hard to not involve me in your relationship.” 

“Just tell me why you’ve really kept this secret instead of saying you want to protect me like a baby—” 

“It’s because I’m in love with you, idiot!” 

You blink and back up against the wall of your bedroom, as if you can’t believe that the words came out of your mouth. 

It’s quiet again. The sour look evaporates from Jungkook’s face as he watches you suppress your sobs on your mattress. The room seems devoid, sucked out of its color as you’ve cleaned up most of your things, the only thing left being some plain grey sheets and a pillow. 

Jungkook’s mind is absolutely reeling, playing back memories from a different point of view. 

“When Jisoo told me she sabotaged our relationship so she could date you, I was so upset and didn’t know what to think,” you manage to place the lavender note on your wooden desk, making sure no tears could mar it. “And I thought I could move on and eventually stay friends with the both of you, but the next day Jisoo put all her attention on you and completely ignored me or any attempt to salvage our friendship. She only told me to forgive herself,” you’re hugging yourself, wrapping the blankets around you like a weak embrace, “so I thought if I cut myself out of the picture and forced myself to move on like I should’ve, everything would’ve been okay.” 

“So, you would’ve rather kept all this pain to yourself?” 

“Yeah,” you give him a teary smile, “because I wanted you to be happy.” 

And with an equally sad smile he murmurs, “But I’m not happy.” 

 Your face falls, and you really look at Jungkook. He’s exhausted as well, slumped in his chair. Has he been trying to grapple along the threads of his relationships, while you’ve been trying to loosen them? 

“What a waste of two years,” he slumps in your chair, letting the pieces click into place, “a relationship built on fake love. I was really trying, y’know. I thought I was going crazy.” 

The three of you have unknowingly been playing a futile game of Cat’s Cradle, a game that no one wins. 

Jungkook looks wistfully out the window, noting the pleasant day that fails to present itself in your tiny room. It feels simultaneously satisfying and bitter when it falls into place, your thoughts finally fitting together for the first time in months. “We could’ve loved each other. For real,” he says, and you silently agree. 

You’re still crying, shaking like a leaf in autumn. Jungkook’s arms hover awkwardly over yours, his warmth palpable despite the fact that he hasn’t touched you yet. With a timid smile you allow consent, and you melt like putty in his arms. 

“Kookie, ‘m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you murmur into his shoulder, not caring if it hurts when you press your chin into his skin. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” 

It’s been so long to have him close like this, the friend you’ve always wanted but never needed. Since college you’ve always imagined a life without him doing just fine, but that doesn’t mean you want to live without him, roommate’s boyfriend or not. 

“I’m sorry too,” he sighs back, “this sucks right now, but we’ll be alright.” 

The two of you sit in your room until it turns dark and the sky muddles into shades of twilight and egg yolk orange. There’s lulls in the conversation, the two of you filling in the gaps and making sense of the mumbo-jumbo that’s been going on in your consciousness up until this point. Your insantities turn sane, and by the time Jisoo’s making her way back inside with the smell of pad thai, Jungkook is ready. With a squeeze to each other and a press of your lips because you don’t know what to say, you tuck yourself in and pretend to fall asleep. 

“Messy, messy, messy,” Vernon sing-songs, knocking his heels against the wall. 

The both of you are sitting upside-down, butts attached to the wall connecting to his mattress and your feet hanging in the air. Your mint floral organza socks pad against his Pink Floyd poster, while his yellow tube socks are heeling against some old Polaroids from college. There’s no prospect of sex today, not when shit just hit the fan. 

Today you and Vernon are just two old friends and very close co-workers. 

“Tell me about it,” you bemoan, frowning at the beige wall, “this whole week’s just been a whole mess. It’s like, warm tuna salad.”

“Gross,” Vernon grimaces at the apt comparison, “so what happens now?” 

You sit up on your elbows, looking down at Vernon’s peaceful expression, “What do you mean?” 

“Like, are you gonna get together with him?”

You snort, flopping back down on his bed. The blankets fluff around you and you inhale the pine scented sheets. “After all that? No.” 

“But you still love him?” 

It must sound dumb to still love him after all this time. You wouldn’t be surprised if Vernon thought you’re silly to still hold a place in your heart for someone who has fifteen million things on their plate now. After all the physicality and the space Vernon gave you in his home, your feelings haven’t wavered. 

Your companion doesn’t bother waiting for your answer, hearing your answer somewhere in the air as he gets up and throws on his denim jacket. Rolling over your stomach you ask, “Where are you going?” 

“Some friends down in printing want to meet up for drinks,” Vernon messes up his hair, making the waves part in that little coiff that makes his jawline look sharp. “I heard Yerin really wanted me to come, so.” 

You can’t help the little middle school coo that comes from your lips, causing Vernon to giggle and throw a pillow at you. “Yerin’s cute!” you declare, remembering the petite girl in overalls who’s all about pops of yellow and violet, “you're into her?” 

“Nah,” Vernon holds up two hats in his hands, gesturing for you to pick one. “Just figured it was a push in the right direction.” 

Crawling out of his bed you stumble in your oversized t-shirt, tucking a finger under your chin as you decide between the emerald bucket hat and the red Ralph Lauren baseball cap. You pull out both hats from his hands and set it down on his vanity, opting to smooth out the flyaways and ringing your fingers through his soft curls. “And what direction would my free-flowing friend be going today?” you ask aloud, “you look better with your hair out,” you declare firmly, “makes you look like a fluffy CEO.” 

He laughs at your silly comparison, and he gently moves your hand away from his hair when you linger a little too close to him. His gaze is solemn as he regards you with a gentle smile, “Keep your distance, I’m tryna get over someone,” he says simply, and your arm falls limp at your sides. 

Your heart thuds in a different direction, your mouth parting but no words coming to the surface. When was the last time you asked about Vernon’s needs, wondered if he was doing alright, making sure you two were on the same page—

“You’re spiraling,” he reads you like a playbook, smoothing down your hair to press a kiss to the crown. Suddenly you feel guilty for not having sparks in your belly, shaming your conscience for not even considering his sacrifices in your self-absorption these past few weeks. “Like I said, I wanted to help you. Stop looking like a kicked puppy, it’s okay to be selfish.” 

With transparent tears the two of you pack up and head to your next destination. Hands ghosting between each other you make your way to the exit of Vernon’s apartment, him to meet up with his friends while you have to unpack your new apartment. With a hug you tell each other you’ll see them on Monday, and as easy as that you go your separate ways.

Hey Pretty Girl—

I kinda wanted to tell you this in person but I know how much you liked Mamma Mia and all those other movies that have grand gestures in writing so I thought hey, might as well shoot my shot on paper. 

Not gonna tell you all the details, because you deserve to hear it in-person. But mayhaps this letter has something to do with how much I like studying with you, watching movies with you, doing absolutely nothing with you and all of that in-between. 

There’s a gift card to our spot attached. Meet me at McDonalds @12 tonight, so I know it’s real 😎

Hopefully yours, Jungkook

P.S. if you haven’t noticed already, I sprayed a little cologne and stole Taehyung’s fancy paper from Muji. That’s how serious I am about you. 

“Joon, we live in a bonsai garden. We’re like giants in a forest.” 

“Can you—can you stop spitting at them? Let them breathe, dammit.” 

“Not my fault they’re so tiny! I literally have to zoom 200% just to get a good look at ‘em.” 

The two of you are huddled in what used to be Namjoon’s balcony, now a sunroom for his succulents and bonsais. Your heart feels pink and swollen with affection as you regard Namjoon with interest, absorbing every bit of information you can as he teaches you how to care for his plants. After all, you’re co-parenting now. 

Having your Wusband co-sign as your roommate for the next year is probably the best decision you have made this year. Everyday is like a breath of fresh air. With Seokjin gone for the year to tour his restaurant franchises, his room is yours for the taking. The two of you are easy going roommates, filling the apartment with color and vigour whether it be in the form of baking sweets or watching Netflix documentaries. 

The only drama you ever have is when you two are having a meltdown over the same work-related issue, as if you two somehow share the same brain cell. It’s significantly less stressful, no need for unnecessary anger when  you have someone as mediating as Namjoon.

After today’s plant lesson, you two go back to the living room to finish up your work for the evening. Another perk of living together is that you can go home at normal work times and continue where you left off with the comfort of your couch and eating a whole pizza pie with no shame. 

Namjoon’s phone pings with a new email from corporate. “We got the new concept for next month’s spread,” he gestures to you with a grandiose wave of his arm, “drumroll please.” 

He pulls up the newsletter from corporate with a flick of his thumb. Your company put out every month’s concept out in an Evite, like every month was a themed party. A stressful, month long work party. In seconds, the page loaded and you’re met with next month’s title bathed in electronic glitter. 

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth

The two of you say silent, absorbing the concept like a cookie to milk. It’s a personal spread this month, a real treat for the team to show off their normal non-professional life. A spread that reveals the masters behind the ink and text. Last year’s personal spread was about the staff’s vacation destinations, but this year’s is much more intimate. You can imagine all the ideas that will be thrown around on Monday’s meeting: pinning down shared ideas like Throwback Thursdays, late night munchie runs, drunk stories, and all the crazy college nostalgia that you’ve been trying to avoid as of late. 

But now it’s presented to you in a gold chalice, and while you’re sick of the past you think it’s about time to face it. You’re excited to tackle the dark monster you’ve suppressed since Jungkook and Jisoo’s breakup. 

“Did I ever tell you I was president of my university’s Mock Trial?” 

“No, I always thought you’d be president of the Comparative Literature Club or whatever. But Mock Trial is equally as nerdy.” 

“I’ll have you know Mock Trial got me tons of action,” he winked, “made me very convincing.” 

“Gross,” you sneer, “so that’s what your spread will be about? How the co-editor of the Arts & Entertainment section managed to bag with his skills from Mock Trial?” 

“Nah, I went on a penniless journey with Jin during spring break. Six days around Malta.” 

“That does sound so you,” you sigh, fingers slipping between the cracked screen as you mull over the overly happy Evite, “sounds like a cool story.” 

“I know that look,” Namjoon quips, snatching his phone under his nose, “don’t overthink your spread just yet, it’s still the weekend. Now to more important things, what do you want from Taco Bell?”

And because you can’t refuse the combined efforts of nachos and Namjoon’s dimples, you relent for the night and tack the unmade idea to the next workday. 

Unfortunately the next workday is just as disheartening. Today’s work meeting is the antithesis of icing on the cake. While your college life isn’t anything remarkable, you didn’t think it was a painfully dull time. With every passing moment and every excited co-worker throwing memories back and forth like ping pong balls, the more you felt inferior by competing with their amazing memories. 

“Who can even afford Aruba at twenty-one,” you mutter under your breath, stalking back to your cubicle. 

Filling up a whole spread is daunting to you, the thought of Victoria popping her head in your cubicle to ask what you’ve got for the day is practically eating you from the inside out. Maybe your college life was in actuality, super boring? You have no crazy drug trips to tell, any vacations that gave you a life-changing perspective, or an epic love story. 

“What’cha got there, partner?” 

The third musketeer of your editing team’s caramel eyes peer into your cubicle, causing you to jump in your chair. Vernon wheels around, chair and all to push you into your already cramped space. His gold button up gleams in the sunlight, effectively blinding you. 

“If by something you mean nothing, then yeah I got nothing,” you frown, spinning around your chair. “What are you writing about?” 

A fond smile melts onto your friend’s face, and you can’t help returning a smile that mirrors his own. You two have fallen back into a good place, as far as you know. He’s still easy, simple, sweet Vernon. When you dropped some boxes off in coloring, you heard that Vernon and Yerin have recently started seeing each other. 

“Thought of the idea as soon as the Evite came out. It’s more of a photo spread, but I’m gonna write about my study abroad in NYU,” Vernon ticks a pencil on his forehead, “a self-identity piece talking about how I felt like, not-white around my family n’stuff. And then felt not-Asian at the same time, s’complicated but I think I can make it work.” 

“Deep,” you pat his shoulder caringly, knowing that Big Hit is a good outlet for these kinds of subjects, “alright City Slicker, since you’re so full of ideas then tell me what to write about.” 

Vernon sits up straight, regarding you with narrowed eyes, “Aren’t you gonna write about your little love triangle with Jisoo and Jungkook?” and it seems like he’s already storyboarded the idea in his head, gesturing to the air as if he’s writing down a timeline, “I can see the headline now: How to Steal a Heart,” he’s grinning, nodding fervently as you cross your arms in distaste. 

“Vern, are you suggesting that I exploit Jisoo and Jungkook’s personal lives?” while the journalism business didn’t pride itself on sincerity, it did feel wrong to drag in your personal life to that extent. 

“Babe, you don’t understand. You have the perfect slice of life story. Everyone’s writing about expensive vacations and that one time they got cross-faded and ended up in Busan,” he squeezes your hand, “but your story, it’s relatable. It’s romantic. It’s angsty. It has closure. No one’s gonna be able to relate to an impulse spending on daddy’s money to Aruba. But first loves? Unrequited romance and all that ish? Everyone can speak to that. And you’re a beautiful writer, they’ll eat up that story like honey.” 

“I don’t know, it still doesn’t feel right.” 

“Change up the names, twist the story,” he offers easily, knowing you’d put up a fight, “besides, it’s not like you’re planning on talking to Jisoo or Jungkook ever again,” you open your mouth to retort, but Vernon’s phone beeps to the Star Wars theme song and he’s flying out of his chair. “Shoot, gotta go help Joon upstairs. Just think about it, okay? Good luck!” and he’s kicking his chair out with a brown loafer, leaving you with breathing room in your cubicle. 

Five seconds later Vernon is jogging back, pointing a finger at you, “And if you do choose to write it, you have to add that Jisoo copped your McDonalds gift card. Like, who does that shit? Couldn’t she have just given it to you and say it was from her and not Jungkook? Seriously fucked up.” 

For the next ten or so minutes you mull. Out of all the memorable college events you’ve participated in, the largest one by far is your (now defunct and debatable) friendship with Jisoo, and your (un)requited love for Jungkook. Reluctantly, you must admit Vernon has a sharp idea, busting in like a hero and offering you the most writable piece on a silver platter. 

It doesn’t feel morally right just to start writing, because ultimately you can’t feel comfortable until you get the consent of Jungkook. While you don’t want to touch Jisoo with a ten-meter pole, you do want to start talking to Jungkook again now that the waters have calmed.

Your life has moved gracefully up until this point, and you’d like to start being friends with him again. Decision made, you pull out your phone and make an important call.

“Hey Yoongi,” you say nervously. Min Yoongi is Kim Namjoon’s equivalent, Jungkook’s Wusband and former upperclassmen in college. 

Said man hums noncommittally on the other line, “Whaddya want, it’s been awhile.” 

You stifle a giggle at his apathetic attitude, knowing he’s someone who wastes no time in getting straight to the point. “I just wanna make sure Jungkook’s address is still the same? I know it’s been a couple months, but I need to send him something and I wanna make sure it gets to him ASAP because—”

“Because last time something was sent, your crazy roommate intervened and Jungkook ended up in a two-year half-toxic relationship? Yeah, let’s make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“Yoongi,” you say slowly, “where are you?” 

“Working in the studio,” he tuts, “Jungkook says hi, by the way.” 

Typical, cat’s out of the bag. With a roll of our eyes you reply, “Thanks for outing me, Yoongi. Talk to you later.” 

“And y/n? Jungkook says he’s waiting.” 

With a stupid smile slapped onto your face, you hang up the phone and pull out your stationary kit from under your desk. You pluck out a vermillion red envelope, a color so bold and begging to be seen, you know it can’t possibly get lost in transit. Feeling a little bit like a high schooler as you pull out a glitter jelly pen, you get to writing. 

Hey Pretty Boy...

Jungkook and Jisoo are no longer together, evidently. 

Their social media runs in different directions, with Jisoo sporting absolute elegance in her work at her family-owned boutique. Her posts are full of shiny outfits and soulless gazes, betraying any pinch of emotion she may have felt over these past few months. Her profile is wiped of any personal posts, all traces of you and Jungkook evaporated from her page. You must admit that she looks good, like a real fashion mogul, but only at the surface level. 

Conversely, Jungkook is thriving. It’s evident. Normally he isn’t the type of guy to post so frequently, his habits being often sporadic and limited to sweaty gym stories. But whenever you scroll, it’s pictures of him smiling. Big bunny teeth broken into a genuine, full-bellied laugh. Cute selfies of him and his co-workers. You notice two familiar co-workers in those posts, Irene and Seulgi, two beautiful women Jisoo always felt intimidated by whenever she ranted to you. You conclude positively that Jungkook doesn’t feel tethered and can hang out with all the friends he wants, female and male alike. Jungkook looks free, and you’re happy for him. 

It’s another Instagram-worthy moment tonight at McDonalds, where you and Jungkook proposed to meet each other at 12AM. 

This time, the letter makes it to its desired destination. You make sure of that because this time you hand-deliver it, slipping under his apartment door knowing he lives alone and no one would be able to access it except him. 

You’re parked in an obscure corner, but you can see that Jungkook is currently having a great time with his co-workers for an after work meal. Yoongi is unbothered on his phone, while Jimin and Seulgi are taking turns throwing fries into each other’s mouth. Jungkook is squished between them, scrunching his nose cutely as he tries not to get in the fray of their fry-war. 

Your phone pings, and you laugh at what pops up on the screen.

Yoongi: come inside, u loser. 

You: can’t ur friend group makes me nervous stop being so dang cute

You: dw i’ll wait, it’s only 11:50

Instead of replying, Yoongi puts his phone down and resumes eating. In turn you pick a playlist, deciding that “summer time high mix✨✨✨” is a theme you need to subscribe to for the rest of the weekend. 

Busying yourself by sending some texts to Namjoon and checking some emails, you relax in your seat as you let your brain turn to sludge for the weekend. You’re tired, eyes glazing over as you watch Yoongi elbow Jungkook harshly, forcing him to look out the foggy window. 

Jungkook’s eyes light up like it’s Christmas Eve, but instead of Christmas lights it's your car’s lowlights. The graphic designer  pays no mind to his friends as they wish him goodbye and goodluck, throwing on his jacket with a wave. 

The night air whizzes by, Jungkook’s floppy black strands bouncing with each step as he bounds to your car. He throws your door open, bringing in the cold air as he regards you as easily as an old friend would. 

“Hi,” he chirps, placing his tattooed palms by the air vent, “c’mon, let’s order.” 

“You know, you could’ve ordered inside and brought it in here.” 

“Yeah but then it would take longer to get to you,” the cheeky grin that Jungkook throws at you is unmistakable, “c’mon, get out the car and let’s switch.” 

“Huh?” 

“You look tired, you didn’t come back from the office again, did you?” 

“I did tonight,” you say, “I just really wanted to get the soft copy of the article done and—” 

“Out, out!” Jungkook clicks your seatbelt off and he’s coming out of the passenger side, opening your car and pulling you out by the hand, “c’mon, I’ll drive.” 

You shake your head, hiding your smile in your hand as you let Jungkook do what he wants. Normally you’d be insulted that anyone suggests they should drive your car but Jungkook would always drive you around, saying he loved long rides. Above all, if you could trust anyone to drive your car, Jungkook is at the top of the list. 

Buckling in, you bite the inside of your cheek as Jungkook easily pulls out of the parking spot one-handed. His jacket is pulled up to his elbows, exposing his veins as he expertly whirls the wheel in the direction of the drive-thru. Since college he’s always looked very attractive driving.  

Doesn’t mean you have to act like you’re still in college. You tamp those feelings down, knowing that your article probably has you feeling stuck in time. 

“—coming along?” 

“Wha?” 

“I said, how’s the spread coming along?” 

“It’s pretty much done, I think. I’ll send you the hard copy when it’s ready,” you tap your fingers against the dashboard, “but are you sure you’re okay with me writing it? I know I’m using a pseudonym and everything for you two but I still feel weird—” 

“It’s fine, I think it’s a good thing,” and you still squirm in your seat when he flashes you a genuine smile, “I mean, it kinda is a funny story and I think it’s good for both of us. Like closure, y’know? Moving on and—hi, can I get two Oreo McFlurrys and a large fry? Thanks!” he pulls out his wallet to scan the total on the e-reader.  “I mean, didn’t it feel good writing it?”

“Yeah,” you replied honestly, relaxing in your seat, “like, college was fun and all, but when Jisoo kinda ruined all that… after awhile I didn’t think it was ruined after all, y’know? I still made amazing friends and ended up where I wanted to be. I want to show the readers that shit happens, and that’s okay. And if things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.” 

The summer playlist hums in the background as Jungkook pulls up to the pick-up window. He thanks the worker and hands you the tray, and you make quick work to put the fries in the first cup holder for optimal sharing. He doesn’t park at McDonalds, but instead smoothly pulls out of the restaurant into the direction of his apartment. It isn’t a particularly long drive, but you figure it would be easier for Jungkook to go home first if you’re already parked at his complex. 

“What do you mean by that?” Jungkook parks in the driveway of his apartment, taking his McFlurry from your hands. 

“Mean by what?” 

“If things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.” 

“Well, we’re here now, right?” 

Jungkook pops his spoon in, swallowing vanilla and a silly smile through his coral pink lips, “We’re here now,” he repeats. 

The night air is cool and your conversation is warm. You promise Jungkook that you’ll send him the final copy of your spread as soon as it’s done, and you two eagerly deviate away from the past and focus on the present. 

You can’t help the eagerness that flows between you, as if you’ve never spent time apart like this and it’s only now that you’re reuniting. It must be absence that makes the heart grow fonder, because you swell with affection and you find Jungkook’s presence sweeter than any kind of ice cream. 

Are you dating now? Maybe. You and Jungkook are going on dates, everything without the title. McFlurry runs, marathons of HGTV’s Design on a Dime, having lunch at each other’s respective buildings with the Wusbands. Whether these dates are exclusive or not is unknown, but you figure the question will present yourself one way or another. 

You’re in a good place right now, potential relationship or not. After all, your priorities are simultaneously positive and in order: family, work, friends, and any potential romantic trysts are at the very bottom. You could kiss the cover of this month’s issue (and trust, you have kissed your own copy multiple times) if it is not for the fact that this specific issue is for Jungkook. 

So, romantic trysts and friends have a tendency to flip-flop on your priority list, but only because it’s Jungkook. 

Unsurprisingly, there’s no guilt knowing that you’re dating your former best friend's ex-boyfriend. 

After a much deserved early work day, Namjoon and the crew arrange a hearty happy-hour filled with good food and enough relaxation to last the weekend. With your combined successes, your team felt like they made the best issue yet. At the heart of it, The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth became a reckoning of each other’s young life. Despite the love and the growth that occurred from your college years up until this point, you’re glad to close that chapter and move forward. 

You did not tell Jungkook when the issue would come out, so you think it’ll be a fun surprise for him when he sees it magically show up at his apartment. Bending down you move to slip the issue under his door, one hand pushing it under while one hand braces against the frame to steady your balance. 

Just as the shiny cover glides under the door it swings open, and you fall flat on Jungkook’s feet. 

Being the little shit he is, he simply giggles at the blunder, looking at you with excited eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he says. 

“Creepy as hell, Jeon,” you mutter under your breath, brushing the dirt off your aqua pencil skirt. Looking at him from your spot on the floor and his large height, you grimace. “You look like a middle-aged serial killer looking outside your peephole.” 

“Now, we know that’s not true.” he finally offers his hand, easily pulling you up to your feet. You follow him into his kitchen, where he’s cutting up fresh fruit. He throws your issue on the counter, gentle enough so it doesn’t slide off the granite. He gestures to himself with both hands, “me, a dashingly handsome late twenty-something in Nike sweats who can bench-press two of you? Totally not a middle-aged serial killer.” 

“It’s in the eyes,” you chastise, “you look crazy.” 

“Maybe I’m just crazy excited to see you,” he says with a cheeky grin. 

You try your best not to choke on your spit at the cheeseball comment, throwing a blackberry in your mouth. Savoring the burst of tart flavor that fills your mouth, you wait for Jungkook to plate the fruit before meeting him on the couch. He’s holding a prettily arranged plate of berries, bananas, and mango with a huge dollop of whipped cream in the middle. In his other hand is Big Hit’s magazine. 

Throwing your blazer on the couch’s arm you don’t hesitate to cuddle up next to him, eagerly waiting for him to read your spread. 

The cover gazes back at the two of you like a reflection. The entirety of the staff is posed on the cover, made to look like a class photo. Some of you are holding balloons in your respective school colors, many of you grouping up with whoever happened to go to college together. You and Vernon are wearing matching university sweaters with silly grins on your faces. In the middle of the issue is the editor-in-chief, Victoria Song holding a placard that reads: Class of Youth. 

Jungkook spares you a glance from the corner of his eye, your head naturally tucked into his shoulder. With an exaggerated sigh, he fiddles through the glossy pages, “Hmm, which one should I read first?” 

“Of course you’ll read mine first,” you pout. 

“Ah, Namjoon’s looks really fun. Or Vernon’s? New York looks pretty cool,” he flips to a random page, “wait, Yerin’s spread is a Korean cookbook! I definitely want to make some tuna rice...”  

“Jungkook,” you whine, “read mine.” 

“I don’t know,” he taps his finger on his lip, “I mean, I pretty much know your spread because I’m already in it. It would be kind of redundant to read it.” 

“Kook, you’re being mean,” you glower, rubbing your cheek against his soft sweater. He’s just so damn comfy. 

“I’m kidding,” he tugs at your cheek, “where’s the table of contents, first page?”

“I’m on page eighty-three.” 

You speed up the process like an impatient child, leaning over to brush the pages to the desired spread. You even dog-earred it, a habit that drives Jungkook crazy as he immediately fiddles to iron out the crease. 

“Are you gonna read it to me too, mom?” he teases. 

“Okay fine! I’ll be quiet, but don’t take too long.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Eyes fluttering, you let Jungkook take his time to absorb your piece. A roommate by any other (rude) name: the lost letter. A cheesy, gimmicky title that Victoria insisted upon that you had no choice but relent to. The rest of the spread thankfully has a very authentic edge to it, your story laced with photos of you and Jungkook, your internship with Vernon, and most importantly, a scan of the lavender letter that got left in the past. 

Jungkook’s not silent through his read-through, either. He laughs at all the right parts, fueling your ego as his smile grows at your favorite lines. While he doesn’t directly engage in conversation, his positive energy is enough for you to make you feel like you’ve done your job right. It’s one thing to write about unknown celebrities and unnamed artists, but for people like Jungkook, the validation is personal. 

“It’s beautiful,” Jungkook says when he’s read it thrice through, running his thumb over a picture of you. “Really organic. Really, real.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he chuckles, having run out of adverbs. “It’s funny, too. I liked your little internal monologue. I wish I knew how you felt back then.” 

“I wish you did, too.” 

You’re quietly munching on a strawberry, looking over a polaroid Jungkook took. It was  sometime in the beginning of senior year, where you’ve fallen asleep on his mattress, drool drying on your mouth. Normally you’d be opposed to having such unflattering, grainy pictures amongst your writing, but it encapsulates the youth you’ve tried so hard to chase away. 

“How do you feel?” Jungkook says, switching out the magazine for the plate of fruit, placing it on his side. 

“Feel great, actually,” you muse, smiling to yourself. By no means are you a hero writing some grand gesture in an entertainment magazine, but you feel like you’ve saved yourself. You’ve savored your youth in four thousand words, cutting out the poison and keeping the moment as sweet as it can be. 

“I’m proud of you,” he reaches to ruffle your hair, and you don’t even get mad when it tousles out of your pinned style. 

Reveling in the attention, you simply close your eyes and feed yourself a handful of blueberries. 

“Love that I make money, but I definitely miss college from time to time,” Jungkook stretches, jostling you out of your comfortable position. “Like I remember Taehyung and I would take turns bringing backpacks to the dining hall so we could stuff fruit in it for later.”

“Yeah, but as much as I loved college I wouldn’t go back,” you nod to yourself, “I’m happy where I am now.” 

“What about when we stayed up for midnight breakfast? The dining hall was filled to the brim with food. Remember when I tried to eat a whole stack of pancakes?” 

“Jungkook…” 

“Or when our classes got cancelled and we went to Lotte World? You ate way too much funnel cake and I had to carry you to the car!” 

“Jungkook—” 

“And that one time we snuck out to the music hall’s rooftop?” words gush out of Jungkook’s mouth like a waterfall, unable to relent, “that’s when I realized I liked you. I liked you so much, I tried to tell you that night but choked—”

“Jungkook!” and he immediately zips up, frowning. You straighten up, on your knees as you reach over to run your hands through his onyx tresses, moving the styled strands to the back of his pierced ears, “Jungkook,” you repeat softly, “I’ve heard all these stories, I was there for most of them. As much as I love the past… can we talk about something else?” you give him a small, tentative smile to show him you’re not mad, but a little uncomfortable at his reminiscing. 

He leans into your touch, pressing your palm against the soft swell of his warm cheek. “Okay,” he agrees, resting one hand on your thigh. 

You’re roped in his gaze, and you have to force yourself to breathe when Jungkook moves closer to you. He hooks a leg behind his back, and another across his lap. A cool breeze kisses your inner thighs when your skirt exposes your cotton underwear. You should be embarrassed but instead you’re fixated, unable to understand what he’s trying to accomplish. 

“Then I’m gonna talk about the future,” Jungkook traps you between the couch, his thumb running hot circles to where your skirt has hiked up. It exposes a slip of the thigh that Jungkook has seen a million times. He’s seen you walking around your apartment in a large shirt, ridden up to your boyshorts. It’s different now, you feel exposed and tingly, thrumming with excitement. “I like you, obviously anticipated news and old news. I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to go on dates with you, re-watch Avatar, grumble when I force you to come to the gym with me,” he bumps noses with you when you scrunch yours, “I wanna be with you. Heck, I’ve even cleared space in my spare room so you’d have closet space for all your fancy designer suits if you ever need it.”

“You cleared space?” you manage to choke out. Visions of a shared apartment roll through your brain. Cooking meals together, having two toothbrushes side by side, and waking up to his face. 

“Of course I did. Do you know how financially attractive you are?” he says lightheartedly, “you’re a sexy working woman and it’s crazy to imagine you’d want to settle for me and my little apartment. But I have to try now because if I don’t, it’ll be too late.” 

“That’s not true,” you retort, “you’re not someone I’d settle for. I want you, and no one else.” 

He chuckles, running a thumb over your cheek. “Then what are we waiting for? Your key’s hiding under the mat.” 

“Jungkook…” on the tip of your tongue lays the words you’re going too fast but it doesn’t make its way to the air. 

“But do you really think it’s too fast?” he reads your face clearly, “these feelings never went anywhere. They were locked away, sure. And I loved her,” he can’t even say the name, not when you’re warm and flush against him, “but I loved our friendship more.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you breathe, letting the cogs in your brain roll until sparks develop. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he concedes, “I just wanted to let you know. Could’ve done the letter thing all over again and let the past repeat itself. I know Namjoon wouldn’t hide a love letter for two years, but if I left another damn letter he’d definitely make a copy and tease me about it.” 

You snort, pressing your forehead to his. You’re practically buried in the couch now, tingly and vibrating with happiness. “And I’m not going to leave you hanging. I do want to say something,” and he looks at you expectantly, licking the leftover berry juice on his lips, nearly making you miss your train of thought, “I like you too,” you say, the other L-word is also applicable, but you feel like that phrase is reserved for another time, “I want to show you off on work vacations, bring you along as my date and show them you’re my muse,” you confess, “I wanna play video games with you ‘till 2AM, and eat ice cream in the comfort of our apartment instead of our cars because we’re too stubborn to admit we don’t wanna go home without each other.” 

Jungkook absolutely preens at the affection, sending you a heart melting smile that has your stomach doing backflips.

“Jungkook, I want to fall in love with you again.” 

Your squeal of surprise is swallowed by Jungkook’s lips, tasting of mangoes and berries as strong hands cup your backside, easily lifting you onto his lap. You plop under his strong thighs, feeling them flex against yours. The both of you are pouring in this kiss, raining with promises and hopes for a future with each other. His taste is concentrated, and you can feel the devotion practically injected in his embrace. 

When he pulls away his lips are cherry-red and shiny, looking up at you through clear coffee eyes. “This isn’t a dream, right?” he looks at you up and down, unable to decipher fact from fiction, “because I distinctly remember two wet dreams that involve you looking like this.” 

Looking down, you heat at the disarray you’re in. Hair wild and parted in different wavelengths, tired of the day’s efforts. Your slightly sheer dress-shirt is rumpled, the lace collar opened with two popped buttons revealing your cleavage, and your skirt is stretched so tight that it’s ruched all the way up your thighs. Sprawled across Jungkook’s lap, you’re dangerously close to something long and hard. 

Emboldened, you clutch at Jungkook’s collar, pulling him closer. 

“Show me what happens in your dream,” you whisper into his ear, barely brushing your clothed core against his crotch, “maybe we can make it come true tonight.” 

You can’t see his face, but you feel something dark and sensual overtake him. The grip on your ass tightens, a delicious pain that has you pressing your breasts against him and nipping on his ear, your tongue darting sensually through the cold silver hoops that dart through his skin. 

Within seconds, he rips you away from his neck and demands, “Open.” 

Dazed, you barely get a centimeter of your mouth open when Jungkook presses something cold and sugary against your lips. Whipped cream. You manage to take a small bite of the tart strawberry that he holds by the viridian stem, rolling the flavor between your mouth as Jungkook paints the leftover whipped cream over your lips. Once he’s satisfied he then creates a white trail that leads to your cleavage. 

Better than any dream, his eyes drink you in like the last glass of water in a desert. Your lips are swollen and parted like a baby kitten, covered in the creamy confection. “So pretty,” he exhales, his hot tongue licking from your cleavage to your lips, swallowing the flavor of you and strawberry juice, “such a pretty girl you are, and all mine.” 

“Yours,” you submit easily, rolling your hips against his. 

At that moment you think you’re meant to fall in love this way. You can’t imagine the shy, fumbly Jungkook and your equally confused self waltzing around a relationship when you barely had your lives together. The two of you still had growing to do. The wait is certainly worth it, because as you feel his arms tighten around you, you’re sure this love will stay strong.

It’s difficult for you to find a rhythm at first, what with Jungkook’s strength and need to be satiated, both of you are sloppy but the friction is nothing less than delicious. Your finger reaches over to swipe at the leftover cream on the plate, and you press your finger to Jungkook’s mouth, and he immediately complies. A dollop of sweet cream leaks out of his lips and your panties dampen further when you feel his tongue lick you clean, imagaining how good it would feel if it was your pussy he was licking. 

Your mouth waters at the feeling of his dick lining up against your core, as sticky as the strawberry juice that clings to your bodies. 

“C-can I make a confession? I—oh, Jungkook…” your mind is all fuzzed up when he snaps his hips against yours, causing you to shamelessly bounce on his length. 

“Yeah?” 

“I… I like it when you use all your strength like that,” his hips slow as your words sink in, but you don’t mind as it gives you time to make a long drag along the entirety of his member. “Everytime you pull me up when I trip, or you come back from a workout, I like it when you carry me around like I weigh nothing.” 

“Do—do you think about it a lot?” he grunts, and you stifle a moan when he does a slow, hard drag against your wet folds. “Tell the truth.” 

“It’s, it’s embarrassing,” you whimper, unable to think straight with the amount of stimuli you’re receiving.  

“Please, baby.” 

“Yes mm—oh! I do,” you try to get the words out as quickly as you can. He stops moving, and you groan in frustration so you just lay it all out on the table. “I, I love it when you hold me in your strong arms. And, ah, uh w-henever you come back from the gym you just look so sexy fresh from the shower. Sometimes I think about how you’re too damn nice for your own good but I bet you’d be so rough in bed.” 

“Really?” and then he’s shoving you onto the couch, air brushing against your bare thighs as your back hits the beige throw pillows. He’s hovering, dark eyes starting from the tip of your toes to your damp lips. “You like it when I manhandle you? Throw you around like a little doll?” 

“All that strength, and for what?” you try to keep your snappy remarks in check, but it’s hard when he’s pressing his straining dick against your thigh, weeping and needy. 

“You’re not gonna be joking about my strength anytime soon, baby,” emblazoned, he easily throws your leg over his shoulder, pushing your panties to the side to let your wetness leak out and onto his fingers, “are you gonna complain or be a good girl?” 

“Yes, I’m ah—” you wince when he inserts a finger, “I’ll be good for you,” 

“My good girl,” he revels in the way you melt under his touch, your previous sarcasm quickly dissolving into a puddle. You always had an inkling that Jungkook would be a sneaky fox in bed, all that muscle hidden behind a kind smile and a penchant for tea with milk and honey. 

Jungkook slips in another finger, stretching you and preparing you for what’s to come. He’s scissoring you at a sensible pace that has you squirming and wanting more. To prevent you from shimmying off the couch he holds you down with his free hand, and you love the way he practically feeds you to the couch, hands dancing over your neck as he shoves you further into the furniture. 

“You look so gorgeous,” he says, causing you to moan and keen at his attention, “you’re such a strong, gorgeous woman. Having you sprawled out like this, ready to do whatever I want to you is so fucking hot.” 

“I’m—I’m only weak for you Jungkook,” you say honestly, tears pricking when he dips another finger. The stretch burns deliciously, and your folds eagerly swallow him up until you’re filled to the brim. Your fingers or toys cannot compare to flesh, and you sigh in relief when you see his inked fingers pick up the pace once more. 

“You’re damn right,” Jungkook husks, and with a grain of love he murmurs in your ear, “I’m only weak for you, too.” 

And that’s when he snaps, thumb rolling against your bud as he slams his other fingers against you, going at a brutal pace. You cry out, not caring whether his neighbors hear as he pulls you back and forth through pleasure and pain. 

“T-too much, Kookie,” you mewl, your hand warbling to find his, “I, ah, ‘m gonna cum!” 

“That’s the plan,” he only goes faster, stretching your band further and further before your desired high is reached. His hand trails up to force your chin straight, looking up at him, “let go for me, baby. Wanna feel your pussy clench around my fingers.” 

In seconds, you gush. It has you in a slight panic, drunk on endorphins as you try to lift your head up but Jungkook’s hand is firmly pressing you on your shoulder as he fingers you efficiently through your high, the wet squelching sounds only increasing with your cries. His lap is drenched in your arousal, along with his chin and lips glistening with your essence. 

He finally releases you when you’re practically shaking, his hands sticky and creamy. You moan when he shamelessly licks them within your view, making sure to wrap his tongue around his ink-stained digits. 

“I,” your mouth is dry when you feel the dampness that hits your bottom, “I’ve never, I don’t remember ever—” 

Your babbles are lost between your throat and Jungkook’s tongue, shoved deep into your mouth. Tasting your arousal has you practically vibrating in your place, as you two rut against each other like hungry bunnies. 

“God, you’re amazing,” he says between pecks, kissing away your face of any tears you may have pricked, “Amazing, adorable, absolutely beautifulIadoreyousoso—” 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you press your hips up, wiggling for more attention, “please fuck me, Jungkook.” 

You can’t help the witchy, satisfied smile when Jungkook’s eyes darken to a thick coal, “Anything for you,” he murmurs, swinging your legs between his arms as he lifts you like a feather. 

On his lap again, you soon accept that the way you two mesh like puzzle pieces is one of your favorite positions as it gives you both equal space to ravish each other. 

Just when your hand trails to the waistband of his boxer briefs and you’re rolling your thumb over its collected moisture, the moment is shattered when the doorbell rings. You jump in his arms, unprepared for your moment to be interrupted. 

He groans into the crown of your hair, and you soften in his relaxed hold, “I ordered us pizza,” he nearly forgot. 

Perking your head up to look at him you regard him innocently, as if you didn’t release a waterfall on his sweats two seconds ago. “You got us pizza?” 

“I knew you’d be coming over tonight,” he’s pouting into your neck, regretting ever having called the pizza guy if he knew this would happen, “Victoria posted the publish date on Twitter. I just didn’t think,” he gestures vaguely to the mess on his pants, “this would happen.”  

“Damn, and here I thought I was being sneaky,” you chuckle, flicking his ear playfully. 

He gives you an uncharacteristically subby whine, shamelessly upset he has to let you go so fast after he’s given you your first of many highs. Before he weakens further under your beauty, he unceremoniously shoves you off. “Sorry, pretty girl,” you melt at the easy way his pet name rolls off his lips, “can you wait in my room for a bit so I can pay the delivery guy? I don’t want them to see you like this.” 

“But I want to eat pizza,” you declare stubbornly, standing up to button your blouse and pull down your skirt. 

Before you could fasten one button or pull down one centimeter, his hand darts out to snatch your wrist away from your body. It doesn’t hurt much, but it causes your body to heat in more places than one. He’s sexy like this, demanding your attention. “No,” he rumbles definitively, “my room. Now.” 

“Why?” you throw your hands in the air, yelping when he slaps your ass. He makes sure to make it sting, cupping you fully. 

“Because,” he says firmly, “you don’t get to eat until I eat,” you whimper when his hand reaches to cup your sex, panties wet and cold without his warmth as he pushes you in the direction of his bedroom. 

Oh, you can’t wait for both of you to eat tonight. 

some time later.

“Ohmygod the view is beautiful!” Krystal, who works in advertisement, squeals. “No filter needed!” 

“Alright alright, make room Princess,” Namjoon teases. With a bump to Krystal’s tiny hips Namjoon shoves you two across the pavilion, putting his arm around you once he finds the perfect angle, “Umji, can you get a pic of me and my Work Wife? I want this on the Big Hit Instagram!” 

You hold your straw sunhat down from the salty wind, smiling beautifully as Umji takes multiple pictures of you and Namjoon from her Nikon. Another successful year under your notch, ending with a successful work retreat. 

“Namjoon, can I take a picture with my actual wife now?” 

“We’re not married, Jungkook,” you chastise, patting the chest of Namjoon’s floral printed Hawaiian shirt so he can switch. Instantly, Jungkook slides up next to you like a picture perfect stock model piece, and you wrap your arms around his trim waist, “we’re not even engaged.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he pouts, looking over the pavilion and adjusting the both of you so there’s a good amount of you and the resort in the background. The sun may be scathingly hot, but it looks beautiful perched over the crystal clear waters. “Namjoon, you got it easy,” Jungkook says when he hands him your phone, “every angle is our good angle, so you can’t mess it up.” 

Being the honest man he is, Namjoon knows better and doesn’t say anything to that. Instead he shoots down whatever pineapple-flavored concoction is offered to him on a silver platter, and starts shooting. 

“Is this swimsuit new?” Jungkook murmurs into your ear between shots, flicking your little red number by the strap connecting the back, “because I didn’t see this in the luggage.” 

You smile big, pearly whites as Namjoon demands to pop out your butt and work it, pressing your body closer to Jungkook’s. “Tiny enough so I could hide it in my purse,” you reply proudly, voice low for only each other’s ears, “why, surprised?” 

“Definitely not prepared,” his fingers dig deliciously in your bare flesh, “would Victoria fire you if she catches us doing it in the cabana?” 

Amused that your boyfriend now shares your combined awe and fear of your boss, you twist his nipple lightly. He yelps, and from Namjoon’s guaff he’s definitely got that on camera. “We didn’t come to Boracay to fuck in the cabana.” 

“Then the hotel room?” 

Namjoon hands you back your phone when he considers his job done, letting you and Jungkook have some alone time. You wave your phone in his face, trying to get him to focus on the task at hand. You wanted to post some cute pictures of you and your boyfriend, one to impress the family back home and the Big Hit interns back in Seoul who are absolutely pining for your position. 

“Jungkook, they have the water ski thing where you can flip in the water mid air! Doesn’t that sound fun? Or we can go scuba diving, have Filipino food, or get massages. LIterally, we’re on Big Hit’s dime, and the first thing you want to do is go back to the room?” 

“Yes,” he pouts petulantly, leaning into the hollow of your ear and whispering, “got a chub on.” 

Discreetly so, your hands brush against his navy trunks and you note yes, he’s half hard. “No!” you shake your head definitively, pushing him out of your arms. You’re not letting sex get in the way of your hard-earned vacation, you’re on company dime and you intend to milk every peso of it. “Namjoon, take him away!” 

You blow him a kiss and follow another group who’s decided to go eat, watching your boyfriend get dragged away by Namjoon’s long arms. Krystal, who’s been mildly watching the whole ordeal in-between taking selfies, looks at you in awe, “You got it good, bosslady,” she says, and you happily link arms with her in the direction of the restaurants. 

You and Jungkook definitely have it good. You don’t see him until dinnertime, looking utterly relaxed as he sips on a mango-muddled concoction. He must’ve gotten a couples massage with Namjoon, cute. Splitting up was definitely a good idea, by the time your meal arrives the two of you are practically leaning against each other, telling each other what events you need to do tomorrow and events you think will be fun to do together. 

“Joon,” Jungkook is throwing an arm over your Wusband’s shoulder, mildly tipsy. The image is adorable, as Jungkook long ago previously confessed that he felt a little jealous of Namjoon’s work relationship with you before you were dating. Now, it feels like they’re best friends and you’re third-wheeling. “What do you think about having halo-halo tomorrow? It’s like bingsu but with a bunch of other good stuffs. There’s red bean, mango, ube, ice cream…” 

Just as Jungkook begins his tirade of dessert ingredients, you pull up your phone to check on your social media. You smile back at your profile, seeing your latest Instagram post at the very top of the feed. Not to flex, but the two of you look pretty smokin’ since you’ve been keeping up with Jungkook’s insistence to join him at the gym. Jungkook and you are leaning against the pristine veranda, overlooking the clear blue water and a cloudless sky. The smiles you two sport are genuine and utterly in love. 

You scroll down the comments, most of them filled with sweet messages but one of them has you doing a double take. 

@sooyaaa__: 😒😒😒 knew something was goin on behind my back… good riddance

The smell of Jungkook’s detergent overtakes your nostrils, and you turn to him. He’s stopped talking, now immersed in whatever’s going on in your phone. 

“The nerve of her,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, disgusted at her latest comment. “As if anyone would believe her.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, “I feel bad for her, though. She’s probably lonely.” 

“Her loss, she put this upon herself. Not us.” 

You pout, “I know, but she was my friend at one point.” 

He frowns, putting an arm behind your backrest. It would be easy for him to say yeah, and she was my girlfriend and one-up you, leaving it at that. But now he knows better, and that friendship is a much better value than an ill-fated relationship. “Sorry baby,” it’s not his fault, but he sees your disappointment in putting out hope for an old friend. He gives you a little smooch on your temple, “do you miss her?” 

“The old her, yeah,” you sigh, clicking on her profile, “but now? I can do without her negativity.” 

“Okay,” he takes your phone from your hand, “have you ever blocked a person before?”

“No.”

“Well, today’s the day,” he says it so coolly, you barely have time to think when he clicks the ‘block’ button on Jisoo’s profile, then clicking off his phone to put in his pocket. “No more phone for today,” he proceeds to take your plate that was recently served, taking the time to cut your large vegetables into smaller portions. “Like you said, we shouldn’t waste your vacation time.” 

Your heart swells with butterflies for Jeon Jungkook, who’s meticulously cutting your food and telling you to relax and stop dwelling on the past. He’s right, if Jisoo’s not going to stick around for the future and continue to cause negativity in your life, why not keep the positives in the past while it lasted? 

“You know I love you, right?” 

He ceases cutting, and looks at you to pop a sweet potato in his mouth. “Love me enough to do it in the cabana?” 

He’s still on that? “Jungkook,” you warn, pretending to get up, “forget I said anything. I’m gonna go karaoke with Umji.” 

“Kiddingggg,” he whines, pulling you back down with an outstretched hand, “you know I love you too.” 

“You’re terrible.” 

“Only this way because I’d know you’d totally be into cabana sex if we were vacationing by ourselves.” 

“Yes, but you’re still terrible,” you giggle when Jungkook steals a kiss, just as easy as he’s stolen your heart.  

[matsur1]

A Kokonoi fanfiction penned by Matsur1

Warnings: A tiny bit of swearing

Word Count: 1.3k

A/n: Not proofread yet so some things may sound stupid, I don't have the time to proof read this yet but I will one day (hopefully) [Edit: this was posted mins ago but I alr proofread it bc I dont wanna embarrass myself- ASDHHSJSS sorry to the early people who read this and read dumb shit teehee pls read it again if you saw the post without this edit:')]

There was this guy at work that you found attractive. His name was Kokonoi. Kokonoi Hajime. He was very kind despite the rumors spreading around the company you both worked in. He was very generous, caring, and funny. Not the “thirsty for money” guy everyone talked about. 

When you were still new, you weren’t yet aware of these rumors about him. He first approached you at lunch break at the very first day of working. “Hey rookie!,” he shouted in the whole office. You flinched, looking at the direction where the shout came from. It was an attractive guy waving his hands at you asking for you to wait for him. He ran towards you and spoke, “Come with me, I’ll treat you lunch just for today.” He lightly smiled.

The whole walk on your way to the cafeteria was silent and awkward but when you both reached the cafeteria and ordered food, he started his introductions and you both started to get to know each other.

After your first day at work, you felt more at ease since you made a friend at work on the very first day. You only had hoped your friendship would last even if it’s just until tomorrow. 

The next day, he again treated you at lunch. He kept insisting and bugging you so, how could you say no? And so, he did that again the next day, the next, the next, and honestly, he did that every single day. But it wasn’t just to you, he also treated rookies on their first days at work. Not every day like you though. You heard tons of whispering about him but you paid it no mind because in your point of view, he was so much more different than what the rumors say. You found it strange but at the same time, you felt a bit of “special treatment. You weren’t complaining though. I mean, who wouldn’t want a lifetime of free lunch, am I right? 

But after a few weeks, you finally had the courage to ask why he was only treating you every single workday to lunch. You both went to a coffee shop near the building you both work in. After he grabbed your coffee from the counter, he walked towards your table and passed your coffee to you. “Thanks,” you told him as he hummed in response. “Koko, would you mind telling me why you treat me lunch every day?” you politely asked. He looked at you in a way as if he’s telling you, ‘Are you seriously asking this?’ and he lightly laughed resting his coffee down on the table. “It’s ‘cause I like you, dummy. Ain’t that obvious?” he grabbed his coffee and drank while you. You paused and blushed. He glanced at you and understood what that face of yours that you were making meant. He laughed so loud it brought you back to earth. “Not in that way, idiot. I platonically like you, that’s why. Besides, you’re the only one sticking by my side even after you heard those rumors about me. And plus, I like someone else” He told you. In embarrassment of assuming it was something else, you avoided that part and focused on the last thing he said. “Oh? Who is this lucky person that Mr. Koko fancies,” you teased him, smirking. “She’s in the hospital,” his tone suddenly lowered down a bit. “Oh,” you had no words to say, nervous that you may have touched a sensitive topic. “But it’s alright, she’s been getting better nowadays,” he continued, bringing back his normal tone. “I see. That’s good to hear.” You smiled in relief. “Sooo, did you already give her your first kiss?” you once again teased him. “Bitch no,” he laughed. “What about you? You already gave it to someone?” he asked you. “No, a first kiss should be saved for someone you truly love… I believe.” You hesitantly spoke, afraid that he’ll laugh at your words. But he just gave you a hum.

After that day, you felt a bit of spark disappear. Perhaps you were a bit… jealous? Disappointed? But that’s not what matters right now. Right now, you have tons of work due 10 pm. 

Months passed by, you and Koko ended up getting more closer each month. You were very happy to have a friend like him. Yeah, just friends though. He would often talk about the girl ever since you touched that topic. You discovered her name was Akane.

“Their house got caught on fire. I rushed in to save her, ended up saving her brother instead. It’s all because that asshole looks like her.” He laughed it off. “Soon, she was brought to the hospital after rescues came. She looked like roasted bread got into coma. But like I said, she’s been getting better nowadays, so the doctor says.” He explained. “I’m so sorry you went through that. You must love her so much. I mean waiting for years, damn, you’re one of a kind.” You complimented him. “Yeah? I promised myself I wouldn’t ever fall in love again unless it was her.” He spoke with such confidence. And talks about Akane happened for many many days. You couldn’t even count the amount of times Koko has brought Akane into a conversation. You had no problems with it though, it’s just, you kinda wished it was you he was talking about that way. But it was no use, he was so in love. Everyone could see it easily once he starts talking about Akane. Plus, you didn’t wanna act so selfish towards a person you knew you absolutely had no chance with. What a lucky girl Akane was. She has a loyal man waiting for her once she wakes up. 

For about a year later, you received news. Kokonoi asked you if he could talk to you after work. You were confused but you thought of it as nothing. Hours passed by and it was finally time to go home. You stretched as soon as you got up from your seat but then you remembered that Koko wanted to talk to you. You both decided to talk at the front of the building. And when you arrived, Koko looked anxious.

“So, what’s up?” you paused, You look anxious, what’s wrong?” you continue. “Well uhm, good news, bad news. Good news coming first.” He spoke. “Drop it now then,” you responded. “Akane woke up a week ago-“ you cut him off and spoke happily, “Oh really??? I’m happy for you! Did you tell her ab-“ he cut you off this time, “Y/N, let me finish please.” He spoke in a tone of... guilt? You quickly changed into your poker face, letting him continue. “Yes, me and Akane talked now. And we decided it was better if I quit this job and start building our life.” He put so much pressure on the word “our” that for a millisecond, you felt sad but you remembered you had to feel happy for them. I mean, a week of talking and they're already talking about building their life? Oh how much trust they have in each other. Your trust was nothing compared to theirs.

“Yeah?? That’s really great!!! I’m seriously happy for you. You both better invite me at your wedding.” You playfully hit him using your elbow and kept on a smile. “Y/N… you don’t have to filter your words you know,” he held your shoulders, making you look at him in the eye. “What do you mean? I’m seriously happy for you. You don’t think I’m that kind of person, do you?” you lightly laughed.  “But-“ you shushed him, “no buts, so is she in your car? You probably shouldn't keep her waiting, Mr. Gentleman.” You grinned. “Yeah,” he took a deep sigh of relief. You gave a wave at the car, in case she was watching you two. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. But I’ll probably be too busy packing my stuff.” 

“Mhm, I’ll see ya.” You watched as he went off to go to Akane in the car. Taking one last look at you, giving you a smile. Perhaps the last smile he'll ever offer to you. You turned to look away. Suddenly rain started to pour heavily. Did the news say it was going to be rainy today? No. It was really an unfortunate day for you. And that’s when it hit you. Tears started to flood on your cheeks. 

I guess in the midst of your friendship with Koko, he was just trying to find Akane’s shadow in you.

© Matsuri

[noritoshiikamo]

When you get time coul you do sickingly cute domestic hcs with a character of your choice, you can just straight up delete this is you don't feel like it. ~ embarrassed dragon asks

days of nanami kento, hc:

void, i know u asked for sickly cute domestic hc and i did but i cant help but twisted something at the end bcs i'm me and only pain is allowed ((jkjk void i'll write something pure sickingly cute later for you :* ) warning: 18+ minor dni, sexual content, public, eating out and thigh riding (mention of word daddy) if you read past the addendum, well uh mention of main character's death listen to beach bunny cloud 9 (slowed acoustic) for vibezz

i feel like who ever gets nanami’s heart wins at life

he would bring you flowers every time he gets home

“hello, i’m home,” you could hear his tired voice but when your face come in the view if him, he started to smile and he held the flowers to you, he wasn’t tired anymore

morning with him would be peaceful despite it being monday. you’ll wake up early, he would be sprawled on his belly, comforter wrapped around his waist with his face mushed into the pillow. your cat would be somewhere in bed, sometimes between his legs and sometimes on the same pillow as him; he loves your cat

he likes his coffee black, breakfast is just two toasted breads with spread of butter

when he kissed you, he tasted like toothpaste. you can smell his lingering fragrance from yesterday and his voice was still deep from the slumber

“good morning love.”

“coffee smells good today, did you do anything to em?”

he was shirtless you could see his back with his pants hung loose you could see his happy trails, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose with his messy hair as he took a bite of the toast

he leaned against the counter, his lidded eyes on you and suddenly you felt conscious, but you were in his tshirt and shorts and those adorable socks that looks like animal he secret loves

“you have work today?” he asked washing his hand

you shook your head, pointing to the laptop and sprawling paper works on the table, “working for home.” your body shuddered when you felt the shirt hiked up, his bare hand pressing against your waist, “good,” his voiced echoed on your ear as he pressed a kiss on your shoulder

how did it get here again? your back arching on the counter while his head mewling between your legs. his tongue is mean, it left burning trails wherever it touches, kitten licks along the sensitive slits before his lips enveloped the bundle of nerves

“kento, meetin-ahh,”

“meeting can wait.” yes it can wait until you were trembling, his arms around your waist and you were just begging him to cum and when you did he had no problem cleaning you up, eyes on you as he wiped his chin, sucking the thumb with a small smile

“thank you for breakfast, it’s delicious,” waltzing out of the kitchen with a wink like he hadn't started his day by eating you out while you sat there struggling to catch a breath

on tuesday, he took you for lunch, you went to his favourite bakery and he told the cashier that his girlfriend loves the sourdough bread their bakery made to explain why there's 4 loaves in his basket

he’ll get the same order everyday while you decided to go to the convenient store across the street because you felt like bread was too heavy for today's meal

“i’ll have another one of the croissant, she’s picky, she won’t find anything there,” he explained, pulling out his wallet

like he expected you came out empty handed, but your eyes lightened up when he held another croissant

“how did you know i won’t buy anything?”

“because i’m your boyfriend.”

on wednesday you would take him out for dinner, to that one sushi conveyor shop where they have happy hours for their sushi, its that type of night where you both get slightly wasted on beer, shoveling half priced sushis like tomorrow is the end

to nanami, money is priceless with you, no monetary value could compare to your smile as you feed him a slice of sashimi and the way i love you rolled out of your tongue when he grabbed your favourite sushi from the conveyor if she missed it

on thursday nanami looked restless. you sat at the sofa, him with a book on his lap and you going through your laptop with a cup of tea. “we have a mission coming, i’m escorting a couple of satoru’s students for their grading.”

you stared at him, cup barely got to your mouth, “you’re great, i don’t see any issues.”

“they are kids,”

you reached for his face, his face softened to your touch, nuzzling gently against your palm

“they’ll be alright.”

you squealed when he tossed the book aside, laptop forgotten on the carpeted floor and the cup carefully placed on the coffee table

your shirt slipped off your head easily while his lips never left yours

"you come back home to me alright?" you threatened, "or i'll murder you myself."

"i will, love."

on friday, nanami took you out on a date

he held your hands in the train, shielding you away from the leering men

he took you to a fancy cafe for lunch, he barely touched his food, eyes on you as you stared happily on your choice of meal

"what? is it my mascara? is it messy?" you wondered

"you look pretty today," he said, leaning to brush a thumb across your cheek

he took you to a bookstore, he followed you as you ventured through the long dimmed hallways, the smell of books overwhelmed him as his eyes burned on your back as you looked around for books, the loose material of your dress swaying around

well you did find your book, but he would hold it up high, a small smirk on his face as his fingers tapped on his lips; you got his point

so you held him against the bookshelf as you kissed him, books long forgotten, his hands under your dress as you mewled against his thighs

"let's go home," you begged but he held your waist tightly, bouncing his legs to encourage you to bounce against his thighs

"you can do it here," his lips traced kisses along your jaw, ears as you clutched his shirt, desperately rubbing yourself against his thigh. your eyes drowsy in lust, lips torn from biting too hard as you held your moans and the flexing of his thigh against your clit got your belly in knots

"can you cum for me?"

"yes, daddy,"

he smiled, "good. cum then."

you didn't get caught, but it was hard to stop people from leering at the weird wet patch on his pants as he swiped his card at the counter

you went groceries shopping, his head on your shoulder, arms around you and the trolley as you went down the isle looking for dinner idea

"what do you want, love?" his voice deep against your ears sending shudders down your spine

"anything you want."

he smiled, "well i want to marry you."

"is that a proposal in the middle of a cereal isle?" he laughed, but you can't stop the way your heart beating at the words he said. his lips pressed against the side of your face as he slipped a box of flakes in the trolley

you stopped the trolley, turned around to face him

he looked puzzled, brows up in question

"i want to marry you too."

"good, how about next monday?"

"deal."

but you woke up alone, the next day on saturday, nanami was long gone away for his mission

he left the coffee running, toasted bread and scrambled eggs in the pan and a note on a cup that said i love you, nk , his initial signed

you made yourself a cup of coffee, looking for the remote to turn on the tv

"we had lost contact with the shibuya train station, trapping approximately hundreds of people with no cell phone connection inside,"

the news anchor's word went in her one ear and another

where was nanami being sent to again?

you held his note to your heart, the coffee tasted too bitter for you today, and you leaned against the sofa

how's nanami doing?

on sunday, your ears perked up when you heard a knocking on the door

leaving the pancakes you planed to make, you wondered if it's nanami returning home from his mission

you felt slightly uneased, another set of knocking barged in, you said hold on and closed your eyes, telling yourself it's just your mind fucking with you

you smiled, feeling slightly relief as you twisted the door handle

"welcome home."

"hello, y/n?"

addendum

it was just not fair that the one time you decided to bring flower home to him, he wasn’t there to receive it.

but you’re used to it. it has been a year

all you’ll have to do is just remove the old one from the vase, add more water before arranging the bright flowers in the vase, before placing it back on his tombstone. your hand touched the cold stone, a small smile on your face as you kneeled on the grass

“hi, nanamin, i’m home.”

[caravelmp3]

UNDER THE CANYON MOON

pairing: josh kiszka x female!reader warning(s): mostly fluff, just brief mentions of alcohol and sex  word(s): 2k note: hi hi hi !! this is just a little something i wrote up the last couple of days with the inspiration of light my love, canyon moon by harry styles, and the interview where josh talked about road-tripping the u.s. last summer <3 i don’t write one shots often but let me know what you all think bc i might shuffle some more out soon lol. hope you all enjoy !! :) 

The Los Angeles sun was hot, beating down onto the city basking in its late-summer hues. You parked your car on the street in Silver Lake and carried a bag of food and drink tray to the door of a recording studio, more than prepared to be swarmed by hungry boys who had been cooped up in the studio since five a.m. on the dot that morning. They had a breakthrough the night before with a new song, and after getting home and going to bed for a few hours, the creative juices started flowing again and they were back in the booth. 

A windchime on the door sang as you pulled the door open and walked inside, greeting their manager who was at a table by the door. 

“The boys here?” 

“Down the hall,” he nodded, pointing a finger in the direction of the hallway. “They’re more rowdy than usual so be prepared,” 

You laughed and turned down the hall, walking towards the studio. The walls were decorated with memorabilia of rock and roll greats and record plaques, and among them, you spotted a picture of the four boys with their Grammy award. It seemed like time had passed so quickly. They won the award for the first album and they were already working on their third, shooting them further into stardom. 

“Coffee’s here!” You shouted in a really bad New England accent when you noticed the recording light was flipped off above the door. 

You stepped into the room to a chorus of cheers and “thank god you're here”’s that made you laugh while sitting the food and drinks down on the table and they all rushed over. You handed out the specific orders and pointed to which drinks was theirs when they got handsy and tried to grab everything from her out of both excitement and some desperation for caffeine. 

“Our savior,” Jake said, reaching out and grabbing your shoulders to give them a gentle shake before taking the coffee you were holding out to him, and then you handed Danny’s to him, too. 

“Just the coffee girl here,” 

“Well, you’re a little bit more than that,” Josh said, walking over to the table to grab his full cup. 

You pressed a hand against the table, leaning over to him. “Just a little?” 

“A little bit,” he shot you a wink before swiftly pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

You were more than just a “little more” than the coffee girl, you were typically their designated drunk driver, the one who took all of their candid photos, the mediator in times of need, and well, the girlfriend of the lead singer, too. 

Everyone in the studio took their food and drinks and scattered among the seating area in a break from recording. Instead of one tiny room with all of them cramped together, they had a wide open space with booths for the different instruments and bean bag chairs and big comfy, velvet sofas, and there was dim lighting with deep toned rugs that gave off the vibe of a more relaxed feel rather than the fluorescent-light, tiled-floor feeling that made them feel rushed and confined by rules they didn’t set themselves. 

You liked the studio, too, and often took naps on the sofa while listening to them play instruments individually in the recording booths and while they were writing. One night they had found you at two a.m., bundled up with a blanket on the bean bag chair after they spent the night writing in the front room on the piano, but it wasn’t the first time as you often napped in their Nashville recording offices, too. 

“You guys been busy today?” You asked jokingly while lowering onto the sofa armrest, receiving nothing but glares shot in your direction. “Okay, okay, touchy subject,” 

With a mouthful of bread, Sam pointed to Josh, “Josh finished a song, didn’t you?” He was grinning. 

You hummed in joy and surprise, grabbing Josh’s knee as he sat next to you. “Really?” 

It had been a rough few days for all of them as they tried to shuffle out a few more additions to the new album. It felt incomplete with something missing, but they couldn’t quite put their finger on what it was exactly, so they attempted to bring back and revamp old songs, write and record new ones, but nothing seemed to stick, until now. 

“Yeah, wanted to wait and show you later, but someone can’t keep his trap shut.” Josh said, pretending to be serious before cracking a smile and taking a sip of his coffee. “Just wanted it to be a surprise,” 

“Well it can still be a surprise, I’m surprised now,” you said. “Can I hear it? Or read what you got?” 

Josh nodded and stood, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him. There was a little recording room fit with a piano inside, his writing journal placed on the music stand where he had scribbled notes and keys and melodies in pen. He picked it up and handed it to you. 

“Nothing seemed to click until last night, when I started putting it together.” He said. 

“Is that why you wouldn’t tell me what it was when you all got back to the house?” 

Josh shrugged, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. “Yeah, yeah, I wanted it to be special when you first heard it.”

You sat the coffee cup down onto the floor while lowering into the small chair in the corner, holding the journal like it was the most delicate piece of art in the world. In silence, while Josh watched on anxiously, you read the words he had splayed across the blank page. 

     Can you light my love?      Flames glowing bright as the sun      Deeper than oceans you run      Watch as our world has begun 

     Your mind is a stream of colors      Extending beyond our sky      A land of infinite wonders      A billion lightyears from here now

You felt your throat tighten, tears tempted your eyes. 

It was a love song. 

“Josh-” 

“Oh god you hate it don’t you, you dread it, despise it,” 

“Oh shut up, I’m in tears right now, you know I love it.” You looked up at him with a smile and a sniffle. 

His words across the page were sloppy, some cursive, written in different pens of different colors, some lines crossed and scribbled out, others underlined. 

“Your mind is something I will never fully understand.” You told him as he sat down on the chair next to you. “How the fuck did you come up with this-” 

“I was thinking about our trip out here, the week we spent driving out and all of the stuff we did… and how I think I fell more in love with you.” His voice softened. 

You reached out, placing your arm on his shoulder, fingers playing with his curls. “I can’t put it into words how much I love it, how much I love you,” you said, “and you make me sound so lovely when in reality I know I was a pain in the ass that entire trip.” 

“Yeah, but my pain in the ass,” he kissed the inside of your arm. 

Two weeks before the boys left Nashville to head to Los Angeles, Josh called you at midnight with an idea in mind – the two of you renting a camper to drive out to L.A., falling into all of the tourist traps along the way and stopping in random small towns to sleep while exploring the in between, which would definitely beat the boring four-hour flight. And you, half asleep and across the country, agreed. 

It would be fun. Right? 

And it was. Every time someone asked how it went, you called it “the most magical week of my life.” 

While the others waited behind for their flights the next week, you and Josh set off from Nashville, heading west with only the destination in mind and a trusty map in hand. Everything else just came to you both. 

The first stop was three hours in the trip, in Memphis. You and Josh roamed Graceland on Elvis Presley Boulevard and had lunch near Sun Studio before taking in the mementos and relics at the Blues Hall of Fame where Josh talked your ear off, rattling off more details about each band and singer than was on the info-cards on the wall. 

Then it was two hours to Little Rock, falling asleep in the back of the camper after a take-out dinner outside of a random supermarket. Sitting in lawn chairs in the middle of a parking lot, you held Josh’s hand under a blanket and watched the pink sunrise over the hills, and then it was back on the road again. 

From Oklahoma City to Amarillo, you fiddled with the map when Josh got lost after a wrong turn in a small town where he insisted on seeing the giant 66-foot LED soda bottle sculpture, and in the middle of northern Texas, he made it up to you by cooking your favorite dinner. You thanked him in a quiet whisper as you crawled into the bed with him that night, sliding under the covers where he greeted you with warm hands and kisses against your neck that made you squeal with the tickle of his mustache and he grinned against your lips. 

Josh got to choose the music all the way through New Mexico – Neil Young and Crazy Horse to John Denver’s Thank God I’m A Country Boy, and you were only able to squeeze in Joan Baez every hour when you stopped to stretch your legs on the side of the road, belting the words to him while he laughed at your voice cracks. 

And after you both pitched the tent in the Petrified Forest in Arizona, Josh hummed the tune to some new song while you two sat under the midnight stars in the canyon with a roaring fire, his arm around you, his sweatshirt draped over your shoulders. When he tried to start telling you a scary story after you heard a weird noise outside the tent, you blindly hit him in the dark and accidentally hit his nose, causing you both to burst into laughter after the initial panic left. He laughed loudly into your shoulder as you held his face in shock, catching the scent of your lavender lotion, and his body relaxed when the laughter died down, feeling so at peace in his life with you there. 

It was the tail end of the trip, but the excitement hadn’t died down yet. After showers in the camper in the middle-of-nowhere-Arizona and five hours west, you and Josh found a bar outside of Las Vegas that resembled Coyote Ugly, so you both had a round of tequila sodas and margaritas before walking around the small town that evening and sleeping off the tipsy-headaches in the air conditioning. On top of the covers, you looked at Josh napping in the sunshine, cheeks flushed red, curls poofy from the wind, and you felt your heart grow in your chest before falling asleep next to him. 

And then came Los Angeles, the final stop, the dreaded one. But you and Josh didn’t tell anyone that either of you were sad to be back with them in L.A. when they asked, and instead, you two smiled and hugged everyone after piling out of the camper in the drive-way of the Silver Lake house. 

Cleaning out the camper, tossing cheesy novelty t-shirts at each other and laughing at how many socks you two managed to lose along the way and how many bug bites were added, watching the developed clips Josh had filmed of scenes in the desert and you asleep in the passenger seat, you both were nostalgic about a trip that just ended. 

It was so easy, so freeing to just be together on the road, with only the destination in mind. It revealed a part of them that the other didn’t see often, like your tendencies to get your lefts and rights mixed up while giving directions, and Josh’s equally awful sense of direction didn’t exactly pair with the fact that he was a maniac while driving in the first place. 

But those parts were just added to the long list of why you and him loved each other in the first place. So you became the designated driver after Amarillo and Josh stuck to telling you “left or right” for the rest of the time. It was a compromise, another reason why you two worked so well together. 

It was a form of love in itself. 

“We’ll have to drive all the way back to Nashville then, so you can write more songs about me.” You teased. 

Josh rolled his eyes but cracked into a grin a second later. “Let’s not get too carried away,” but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t always mentally reliving the night under the canyon moon.

[sunfish-studies]

Addition

✄・・・ Patterns [Haikyuu!! Military Police AU]

➜ Pairing: Oikawa x Reader | Iwaizumi x Reader | Kageyama x Reader | Hinata x Reader | Kuroo x Reader | Bokuto x Reader | Akaashi x Reader | Sawamura x Reader

➜ Warning: violence (sparring and missions), possible mentions of blood and bleeding, guns, knives, possible descriptive/mentions of injuries

➜ Notes: this short series is inspired by Gusari’s HQ 3rd Fanbook | you can assume everyone’s aged up | the reader is a female and the same age as the third years of HQ | this will be mostly platonic (bcs I suck at writing romance)

[Art by Gusari]

↷ SUMMARY ↶

Being acknowledged as one of the best in your division is an honor and led you to take a higher step towards being number one. Maybe after seeing your ambition and skill despite your gender, Mr. Irihata and Mr. Nekomata decided to moved you to the special squad.

“Wow, a new recruit!?”

“A girl!?”

Your first impression would be ‘too much testosterone in one room’–exactly as you describe in the sentence, only male population occupied the space whereas you’re the only female there was. Mr. Irihata and Mr. Nekomata deemed it would be a great time to introduce you to the squad you’ll be working with so here you were, standing near the door and trying so hard not to squirm on your toes.

Instantly, pairs of eyes focused on your figure once you stepped in their line of sight–surely, your appearance is similar to a sore thumb.

“Today, she will be working with you as a part of the team,” Mr. Irihata announced, gesturing his hand to you. “Introduce yourself, soldier.”

Automatically, you took a step forward and saluted with neutral gaze. “Otohaku [Name] from Miyagi’s Female Division, pleased to meet you.”

That’s how your adventure started.

You’ve known Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and Kageyama the longest. Oikawa and Iwaizumi have been your best friends ever since you three were still freshmen–often trained together, discussing about strategies, and many more other than just talking about work in general. You’re thankful for them because in your personal training, they didn’t pull their punches which resulting you have more strength than your peers.

Even after you’re being separated because of divisions, your friendship didn’t waver even for a bit.

When they found out, you’re joining the squad they were more delighted than any other. Oikawa cheered and immediately jumped onto you out of excitement, rubbing his cheek against yours as you patted his back. Iwaizumi threw an arm around you and grinned widely. It’s nice to finally work together with your boys. Most of the time, you spend your time with the two in the base or when you’re free.

Meanwhile, Kageyama is your junior. During his time as a freshman, you’re chosen to be his mentor and trying his best to guide him. He’s extremely talented, towering over his peers when it came to skill in sniping and gun wielding. However, he was second to none when socializing suddenly involved. You tried your best to help him getting used, coaxed him into simple conversations, inviting him to eat with you during lunch or dinner. Your kindness is like no other and that’s why Kageyama is attached to you.

After knowing you will be working together with him, happiness is an understatement. He congratulated you in a lot of stutters and stiffened once you pulled him into a hug. Although it’s only a few seconds before he completely melted into your warmth. Kageyama found himself constantly trailing over you and tried his best to be around you as often as possible–which you found cute.

Kuroo, Bokuto, and you were placed in the same team–the mobility team. The three of you have the highest score when it comes to movements, parkours, and close combat. Kuroo was a polite gentleman at first, but once you’re close with each other he turned into a menace–teasing you endlessly, poking your cheek just to annoy you, and many more.

Bokuto is a beaming ball of energy which seemed to never ran out. He was an outspoken person who doesn’t afraid to ask straightforwardly if something’s nagging his mind. You were the person he would go to if he wanted to hear praises because he knew you always give it to him. He didn’t hesitate to be touchy or clingy towards you–physical contact is something he loves and you always let him hug you whenever he wanted.

Being in the same team with the same field, you three practices together more often than any other. While Kuroo is an expert in hand-to-hand, Bokuto and you are intense in using your legs–especially you who learned gymnastics once, your flexibility is challenging for them because it makes your moves even more unpredictable.

Hinata is a ball of sunshine, bright and warm and always lightened up your day. He looked up to you because he himself is rather amateur, but with his amazing stamina and reflexes he became the part of the team. He often seeks directions and advises from you and you didn’t mind teaching him or having extra practice with him. Who were you to deny his eagerness? When he did a good job, you never forgot to award him with head pats, something he enjoyed the most.

Akaashi is a rather quiet person, which makes him your safe place. He lets you pour out whatever seemed to frustrated you in a private conversation shared between just the two of you–in return, you did the same for him, listening to what’s nagging him. You two comfort each other. Akaashi sometimes helped you in practicing your sniping skills, he’s a great teacher and you found yourself improved tremendously from his help. When Akaashi needs a relieve, he will go to you, sitting beside you and just drops his head on your shoulder–you will stroke his hair and he will calm down from the simple gesture.

Sawamura is your hard-working-and-overly-stressed captain. Your existence is a blessing to him because in between the menaces of the team deprived of logic and normality, you’re a fresh air. You listen, pay attention, and obeying his orders–something he forgot how it supposed to feel. In return, he tried his best to assist you in anyway possible. Engaging a conversation with him is easy–he’s extremely wise for his age, whenever you need advices or encouragements, he’s the one you will go to.

Despite being the only female there is, the team never once disrespects you. They set you in high regards, acknowledging your skills, including you in discussions–gender is already passed their mind. They treated you equally, could be seen when they never pulled out their punches when it came to sparring with you–they went all out every single time, the same for you.

They didn’t see you as someone who needs to be placed in the back–you’re never given a minor role in missions, all of them were given to you because they knew you’re capable. Not once they thought you’re fragile or need protection, you could defend yourself well.

Still, they had unspoken boundaries–averting their gaze when practice shirt clung to your figure and literally shaped it (Kuroo pointed out that your chest is huge and he received a painful smack on the head by Iwaizumi along with withering glares from the rest), draping a jacket or clothing over you so you could cover up, never burst into your room without permission, requesting to build a separate room and laundry room just for you to respect your privacy, and many more.

(They consumed respect women juice 25/8)

Safe to say, you weren’t complaining about anything in this team and living you’re life the fullest as a part of it.

[ackerfics]

Hi can i please request a soft coffe date with Levi and after the date reader and Levi go in the park sit on a bench reader falls asleep on Levi’s lap or shoulder (u choose) and he caries her bridal style to home he just slips in bed beside her but he wakes her up accidentally and like he says sorry like so many times but she just kisses him and snuggles in his chest.After that they are both asleep.Love your works so so much!💕

best part  — levi ackerman

— levi ackerman x female reader (modern au)

— warnings: none, just fluff <3

— summary: it’s your first anniversary with levi and he made it a day to look forward to in the coming years.

— word count: 2.8k

— author’s notes: aaaaa thank you so much for loving my works, that means so much to me !! i slightly altered the request and made it a picnic date with some coffee on the side. i had fun writing this bc it screamed single in my face. [sighs] i feel like i’m torturing myself by writing these scenarios sksklfjwe anyways happy reading !!

reblogs are greatly appreciated !! 

Feelings were something that Levi couldn’t get a grasp on since he could remember. He was a stoic and reserved man, even among his peers — that was until he met the woman who made him weak in the knees. The first time he met her, he had to regain his composure when she gave him a small smile. The two of them were in front of the counter in the nearby café, with him ordering his daily dose of tea while she told the barista her favored blend of coffee. Levi remembered shaking his head at the unnecessary love for coffee — tea will always remain superior in his opinion. He apparently murmured that out loud, with the most beautiful pair of eyes shifting to meet his caught his heart and took his breath away.

Who knew that being regulars of that café and by visiting the establishment at the same time could make their fates align as if they were woven together.

Today was one of the rare times he had free time from university and the best part is that today marks their first anniversary as a couple.

Levi had no idea what to do. Since he was an absolute goner in the feats of romance, he tried consulting his friends. It was something he mildly regretted. Erwin was the same as him, always focused on academics that he doesn’t have any time for relationships. The fucking giant suggested he should stay true as possible in his intentions, planning just a small date that can fit their little world together — not grandeur at all, to which Levi slightly took note of. Next, asking Hange was an absolute disaster. Knowing that you shared a major with this buffoon, they announced to the whole lab that Levi’s taking you on a date on your anniversary. It was a good thing they don’t know what he was planning.

So Levi decided on a small picnic date, with food and drinks from the café you two frequented.

Everything was packed safely and securely in a basket on the front seat of his car. To be honest, this was the first time he stood the longest in front of his closet. Planning what to wear was a total waste of time but he wasn’t complaining about his outfit for the day even though it was similar to the outfits he donned every day. He kept stretching his turtleneck in the anticipation of seeing you after your lab. While he waited in the parking lot closest to your department building, Levi was scrolling through his social media accounts.

It always warmed his heart every time he visited his feed on Instagram, every single post featuring you. Hange said it was simp behavior and Levi didn’t talk to them for an entire week. (Well, after having a reflection at one of your dates, staring at you like you were his salvation, he concluded that Hange was right.)

A message appeared on his screen, making his lips quirk up in the smallest yet endearing way possible.

i’m going out of the lab now, i’m so excited for our date

Levi looked up from his phone, seeing your bubbly smile lighting up the parking lot. Even though the windows are tinted, he reciprocated your wave. He unlocked the door of the passenger seat and suddenly, the fruity scent of your perfume enveloped him in a warm blanket of comfort. The next thing he knew, his shoulders relaxed in a droop, meeting your eyes as you lit up at the sight of the basket.

“Hi,” you greeted him, taking the basket and putting it on your lap as you made yourself comfortable on the front seat.

Levi turned to face you and leaned forward, hands pulling on the seatbelt and securing you beside him. He stopped with only a few inches separating your faces, his half-lidded silver gaze going back and forth between your lips and eyes. After a few seconds, uttered so softly against your lips, “Hi, beautiful.” The feeling of your lips moving against his always gave him a torpedo of butterflies, today’s occasion only spurring the insects to flutter their wings that it felt so electrifyingly good. With a little swipe of his tongue on your bottom lip, he hummed as he pulled away with red cheeks and a small smirk on his now shiny lips. “You put on blueberry.”

“Yeah,” you agreed with a small laugh, kissing him again quickly that he pouted.

“You know I can’t stop when you have that flavor of lip balm.”

You playfully narrowed your eyes. “I thought we have a date to go to.”

“Just one more?”

You grinned at how clingy Levi was becoming. It was rare for him to be like this and every time he acts like a touch-starved partner, it was too much for your weak heart. You held yourself back from pushing his cheeks together and marveling how adorable this side of him is. Leaning to fit your lips against his, you gave him what he wanted. “There. Now, let’s go on this date you’ve been planning.”

Levi chuckled as he straightened on his seat. He placed a hand on the back of your seat, looking behind him as he steered the car out of the parking lot and into the cityscape. The whole ride, his other hand was covering one of yours on top of the basket, his thumb rubbing soothingly across the back of your hand. You hummed along with the song playing on the radio, missing the adoring glances Levi gave you every once in a while. Fifteen minutes flew by so quickly and the car stopped in the small parking area of the local park. The two of you got out of the car, Levi pulling your hand in his, and leading you to a nice spot in the emerald plains.

With both ends held between you two, the picnic blanket was carefully draped on the grass, then making yourselves comfortable on the laid-out blanket. Levi took out everything nestling inside the basket — some wrapped sandwiches, a container of berries, shawarma wraps, and a small tin of oatmeal cookies. You were starving since you ate a salad from the university’s convenience store early in the morning for your lab meeting. As each container was revealed by Levi, you were anticipating the moment you will have your fill. Your stomach seemed to agree with your line of thought, interrupting the comfortable silence with a low gurgle. Levi looked up from tidying everything, eyebrow raised in slight amusement.

You felt your face become warm. “Oh, shut up. I haven’t eaten anything since nine in the morning. I’m bound to be hungry after not eating lunch.”

Levi clicked his tongue, pushing the sandwiches in front of you. “Who told you to skip lunch anyway?”

You leaned forward, fluttering your eyelashes with an innocent smile. “I have you to bring me my go-to order in the café anyway.” You bit down on a clubhouse sandwich. Everything became light when your palate was immediately satisfied. You couldn’t help but eat the sandwich as quickly as possible because being hungry enhances the taste of food.

“Hey, slow down,” Levi lightly scolded you. “You might choke.” The next second, you were coughing after gobbling the sandwich in a new record. Levi turned to the basket and took out a large cup of iced coffee, handing it to you to wash down whatever was lodged in your throat. “Here, drink it off.”

You would’ve cooed at the sight of your favorite blend of coffee if not for your life on the line with all your coughing. Slurping the cold liquid until you felt your cough subsiding, you let out a contented sigh as you slumped against Levi’s side. You smiled when you felt a pair of lips brushing on your head. You took a drink of your coffee before muttering, “What would I do without you?”

“Probably die of choking. I told you to slow down every time you’re hungry but it will always end with you having food down the wrong pipe.”

You laughed. “I still have you to remind me that.” You looked up at him, catching the adoring look Levi was giving you. You took it as a moment to admire him as well. His eyes will always remind you of the stars, their silvery glow so bright against any source of light. A lot has happened in the year you were together and you were starting to wish you could paint your love in the most vibrant hues. Leaning up, you pressed a kiss on the corner of Levi’s lips. “I’m so happy it’s you,” you murmured on his cheek, forehead pressed on his temple.

Levi stared at you with half-lidded eyes, hand lifting to brush a thumb on the apple of your cheek. Your name dripping from his lips made your heart flutter. His throat bobbed, his mouth opening and closing as if he wanted to say something. Just as you were about to ask him what was bothering him, Levi dipped his head until his lips stopped beside your ear. He always did this whenever he has to say something that was meant for your ears only. You patiently waited for him to muster his courage, rubbing the hand cradling your jaw. However, you breathed out a gasp when he finally said the words that you were never afraid to tell him.

“I love you. So fucking much.”

You could only stare at his embarrassed face, surprise taking away your voice. On normal days, you would’ve teased him for the blush creeping his face, reaching his ears that had you swooning. But now, the sight of his reddened cheeks and restless eyes made your face heat up. Your heartbeat was so loud in your ears, the effect of your lover’s confession spurring your senses in overdrive. You felt so many things at the moment, you felt proud of Levi for voicing out his feelings to you and you felt all the love dedicated to him gathering in your chest.

“I know it took me a whole year to say these words to you and I’m not that great with feelings unlike some people you know,” Levi rambled, silver irises flicking at anything but you. “B-But,” he cursed at his stutter, “I really do love you. I’m so fucking happy that it’s you, too. You are so patient with me and I’m starting to think that I don’t deserve you.” He said your name again in that fluttering way that made your heart clench. “Happy anniversary to us finding home in each other. I want this to last and I hope you won’t get tired of me.”

“I would never,” you reassured him, cupping his cheeks in your hands. “You took the words right out of my mouth, Levi. I love you, too. Everything in my life involving you is the best part of it.”

Levi planted his lips on yours, kissing you like it was the last time he could ever do so. “You’re making me weak and I don’t mind if you do it for the rest of my life.”

You suddenly perked up; eyes bright as you remembered the gift you tucked in your bag. “I got something for you.” You took out a small black box and handed it to a wide-eyed Levi. “I know it’s not much but it reminded me of you.”

A silver simple bracelet was placed on top of a small cushion, a thin plate connecting the two ends of the bracelet. Levi didn’t buy any gifts for you except for planning the date and it made him feel guilty. His eyebrows were furrowed as he stared at the piece of jewelry, his apology clear in his eyes. “I didn’t buy any gift for this day. Fuck.”

You chuckled, unclasping the bracelet and putting it on Levi’s wrist. Your fingers touched the bracelet gingerly, a wistful painted on your lips. “This date and you saying you love me for the first time couldn’t amount to what I just gave you.” You kissed him on the cheek. “You’re already the best gift I could ask for, a simple bracelet is nothing compared to you.”

Levi smiled breathtakingly before nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, eliciting a series of giggles from you.

“Okay, now let’s dig in. I’m still hungry, you know.”

“You’re always hungry, love.”

“Thank you for the coffee, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now eat some more.”

-

You look so peaceful sleeping with your head on his lap.

It was nearing sunset by the time you were getting drowsy. The food was already finished half an hour ago but that didn’t stop you two from continuing the picnic date by exchanging stories. You were in the middle of telling Levi your encounter with your juniors when you yawned. Levi suggested you try to get some rest after a busy week in your major, taking his advice with a hum as you laid down on the blanket. The cups and containers were all tidied up in the basket beside him and Levi thought that it will be getting late the more time you spend in the park.

He decided against waking you up so he put on your backpack, tucked the basket on the crook of his elbow, and slid his arm on your back and under your knees. He carried you carefully until he reached his car, slowly placing you in the front seat, and buckling your seatbelt. He kissed your forehead before putting the basket and bag in the backseat. The drive to your shared apartment was spent with Levi glancing at your sleeping form and the bracelet that reflected against the sunset.

Entering the apartment building after parking the car in the basement lot, carrying everything, including you, proved to be quite difficult until he reached the door to your apartment. Levi had to stick to the wall to prevent you from falling to the floor as he pressed the passcode to your and Levi’s living space. Leaving his shoes in the rack by the entrance, Levi padded to your room.

As he placed you on the covers, he realized he was staring too much with your bag on his back and the basket still tucked in his elbow. After taking off your backpack, he hastily returned to the kitchen to leave the basket on the counter. The events of the day suddenly entered his mind and a smile instantly pulled on the corners of his mouth. You were the best thing that happened in his life. You encouraged him to pick himself up after finding himself stuck in limbo. Your smile was one of the prettiest things he ever saw on the planet, which says something because Levi never described anything as pretty in all his life. (Except for his mom but that’s already a given since he would get a scolding whenever he visits home.) Sure, he was bummed that he didn’t give you anything for your anniversary but today will be one of the days he will look forward to celebrating.

That’s all that matters.

Going back to your room, Levi changed into his pajamas and slipped into bed with you.

Levi froze for a moment when you shifted your position, humming as you opened your eyes drowsily. You smiled at him but that didn’t stop Levi from feeling guilty about waking you up. He knew how much you needed sleep. He was a witness to your sleepless nights and caffeinated rushes so taking away the one thing you find solace in was shitty.

“Are we home?” you murmured in a voice painted with sleep.

“Shit, baby, I’m sorry for waking you up,” Levi fussed. “Yeah, we’re home but I didn’t wake you up because you’re sleeping so well. I’m really sorry.”

You only laughed, leaning up to kiss your lover. Levi poured everything in the kiss, opening his eyes slowly to the feeling of your body snuggling in his side. “I love you, Levi.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

He didn’t mean to wake you up so Levi laid on his back and pulled you closer until your head nuzzled his chest. His eyes never looked away from you, roaming and soaking in your peaceful features. You were easily the most beautiful person in Levi’s mind. How your eyelashes touched the top of your cheeks, how your eyebrows relaxed at the physical contact with him, how your lips quirked in a small smile at the feeling of him enveloping you. He could admire you all evening but his eyelids were already tugging downwards. Maybe it was the way your saccharine scent calmed his senses or maybe it could be the way you felt so right fitted to him like this.

It could be so many reasons but all Levi knew was that he had never felt so comfortable in his life, pulling him in a dreamless sleep filled solely with your warmth.