#it’s why you’ll see most of my fics centered around friends to lovers

[abyssruler]

call me vanilla but friends to lovers will always remain superior to me. something abt how it’s always been the two of you against the world, the development, the experience of growing together and learning to love each other, and as i saw one person say before, that “it’s you, it’s always been you.”

[httpdabi]

Jealousy

Word count: 6,5k

Genre: Smut, romance, no quirk lol

Warnings: 18+, a little bit of choking, a little bit of daddy kink, rough sex, dom!dabi , jealousy kinda, unprotected sex, alcohol

Credit to the owner of the pic!!

✨Friends to lovers fic✨

Throwing your phone across the room, deep breath coming out of your mouth. The fact that he was coming back today made the time pass so slow it was painful. You were glancing at your phone every now and then checking what time it is, knowing he should arrive around 17PM. Rolling down on your old bed, you took a good look of your room.

Pastel pink walls, white bed, small working table in the left corner of the room. Beside your bed were photos taped on the wall. All those photos woke a memory in you. Some of the photos were of you and your friends, but most of them were of you and Dabi.

Dabi.

Your childhood best friend. You will never forget the day you first met him. Shy little Touya not wanting to play with your dolls. I’M A MAN. He screamed back then, throwing the doll away, making you cry loudly. You will never forget how scared he got in the moment you started screaming around, trying to hush you down somehow. He did everything he could hoping his parents won’t hear.

Yours and Touya’s parents were literally best friends, visiting each other almost every day. Having to face him so often, you two almost had no choice then to become friends. At the beginning none of you were impressed by each others company. But how both of you grew up, you were becoming closer and closer. At some point, you two became inseparable.

When Touya started getting piercings, you were so jealous. You wanted to get that Certilage piercing just like him, but your parents were so strict even the thought of it made their hair get up. Of course Touya being Touya, he didn’t give a two shits about their decision. Picking you up one day after school and brining you to his friend that did his piercings too. That night both families were fighting. His parents lecturing him how he is such a bad influence to you, and your parents screaming on you how you’ll never get married with piercing like that. Saying it’s not ladylike.

,, If no one marries her, I will’’ Touya said, making your heart flutter, and everyone else in the room laughed loudly, finding it cute how he was protecting you.

Of course, growing up both of you went different directions in your life. Moving out of your parents place was best thing that happened to you. Having that freedom you never had before, you were appreciating even little things.

Dabi moved out in another city, saying he never wanted to live in his hometown anyway. Of course, there wasn’t a day that he didn’t contact you. But having him so far away made things much harder for you. The only positive thing about him moving to another city was the fact that your huge crush on him would melt down, at least you hoped so.

You were so in love with him. How could you not be ? Having him around so much, such a handsome and good guy, you simply had to develop feelings toward him.

Walking downstairs, you heard Enji laughing loudly at something your father said. You visiting your parents home again, while Todoroki’s were also there, all of you waiting for Dabi to return. It made your heart warm up again, missing moments when all of you were spending time together so often.

Making your way toward kitchen, you opened the fridge looking for something to eat. Not that you were hungry, you were simply bored and something had to kill that boredom.

Taking the milk pudding, you opened it and took one spoon. You tried to multitask somehow, with one hand you were eating the pudding, while with other hand just scrolling your instagram feed.

Suddenly, a head placed on your shoulder, trying to see what you were looking at. Your parents always did that. They had to know why you were always holding that damn phone in your hands.

,, Dad, this is private, I’m not a child anymore’’ you whined, pushing your fathers head away. You hated when he does that, privacy is privacy and it has to be respected.

,, I didn’t know you were into daddy kink’’ a familiar voice whispered, making you flinch in surprise. Turning around you immediately jumped on the person standing behind you. Dabi laughed, placing his hand around your waist hugging you strongly, before he pulled you up in the air.

,, You little piece of shit, I missed you so much’’ you said hugging him back, not paying any attention to your parents in the background.

The rest of the day was all about Touya. How he was, what did he do, does he have a girlfriend and so on. Of course he liked to be the center of the attention, talking about everything. Not that you were complaining, you were sinking in every word that came out of his mouth, admiring him as always.

At the end of the day, your parents made plans that this week all of you should meet and have a super cool bbq like in the old times. Which meant one big ass sleep over, with Todoroki’s. Those nights were always amazing, so much food, so much sweets and of course so much alcohol for grown ups. That was the reason why Rei and Enji slept over after all. All of them would simply get wasted.

Dabi decided he will sleep at your place, since he never saw your new apartment, all of them agreeing, knowing that there’s a lot he probably wanted to tell you.

First both of you went to his old home, placing his suitcase and taking just few stuff to bring over. He didn’t want to waste any time, since his parents were still at your place, and he really wanted to finally see your new apartment.

Placing his bag in his hallway, he immediately went inside your living room, looking around, commenting what doesn’t look good and how he would decorate it much better. He opened the fridge, feeling like home and took one ice cream out of the freezer. Making his way toward your couch.

,, So, where’s that piece of shit called Kai’’ he asked, biting the chocolate on the ice cream. You were confused a bit, since you broke up with Kai long time ago.

,, Didn’t I already tell you? It’s been six months since we broke up’’ you laughed out. How can it be possible that you left your dear Touya uninformed about your love life.

,, Oh, that breaks my heart.’’ He said sarcastically. ,, What happened?’’ he added licking the ice cream.

,, Well, he cheated on me’’ you lied, sitting down beside him. Well, technically he did cheat on you, but the reason behind it was because he found out about your feelings about Dabi. He found out that he was only being used to forget your one sided love. Not that you didn’t like Kai, you did find him attractive, but you couldn’t force yourself to do with him stuff every couple did. Which made him cheat on you, hoping he will make you step further. But at his surprise you did something every normal person would do, broke up with him.

You did feel disappointed that you two had to part your ways like that, but you also understood him and with that you couldn’t force yourself to hate him or be that much hurt.

,, He didn’t deserve you anyway. I have no idea what did you see in him. Dude looks like he fed a whole Village in Africa, no offense ‘’ he said, making you laugh.

,, Anyway, we are invited to Mina’s birthday this Saturday’’ you said placing both of your legs on the table.

,, Aren’t we having a bbq that day?��’ Dabi asked as he placed the stick of his ice cream on the table.

,, Yeah, but we can still go tho. They’ll be really happy to see you again, I told everyone that you are back’’ you said, as he placed his head on your lap. You smiled, knowing how much he loves when you play with his hair.

,, Sure, we can do both. I am glad I’ll see them all again’’ he said making your stomach twist out of jealousy. You knew how much Yua and Akari liked Dabi. Of course you were friends, but the fact that all these two had their eyes on him made your blood boil. Even Mina was into him, until she found a boyfriend recently. They didn’t know that you liked him, but you knew very well that they weren’t happy that you had him by your side all the time.

After telling you about the city and all his experience, you two decided to go to sleep since it was already 2AM. You went to the bathroom to change into your silk pajama, coming back only to find Dabi in your bed wearing only shorts.

,, I really wanna get some tattoos too’’ you said looking the tattoos over his chest and arms, wanting to touch every single one of them.

,, Do it’’ he simply said, placing his arms under his head. You just rolled your eyes on him, he knew very well that you weren’t that brave.

,,You can sleep here, I’ll crash on the couch’’ you said ready to stand up. He was a guest after all, and for him you would sleep on the floor if he asked you to.

,, Of course you’re not’’ he said grabbing your arm and pulling you in the bed beside him. Wrapping his one arm around you.

,, Don’t get all cold with me suddenly’’ he laughed while covering both of you with your covers. Of course, you two slept together in one bed before, it wasn’t something unusual. But knowing how you feel about him, you knew that with every move like this, your feelings will grow back even stronger then they were before.

,, Touya, we aren’t children anymore’’ you said, trying to wiggle out of his grip.

,, That’s exactly what I was thinking about. Might as well do stuff adults do’’ he said jokingly, making you push him even harder. Making sure you are smiling he just held you stronger repeating that he was joking.

Once you realized that he won’t really give up, you just gave in, preparing yourself for one sleepless night with him.

Dabi placed your leg over him, slowly caressing your tight while telling you about some nonsense like he did before until you would fall asleep. Once he thought that you fall asleep, you felt his long arms around you and his lips on your head.

Having him so close to you, he didn’t know what effect he had on you. For him it was just one normal night, while for you it was something you won’t be able to keep out of your mind next upcoming weeks.

The next days it was like before. Dabi was spending more time at your place as he did home. You two would spend time together, playing games, going grocery shopping together, visiting cafes and so on. You even saw Akari in one café, and of course she was all over Dabi. You couldn’t watch it, she was touching his arm so recklessly, and the fact that he wasn’t doing anything about it didn’t’ help either.

Excusing yourself, you said that you felt sick. Dabi wanted to follow you home, but Akari was insisting how he should stay, since they didn’t see each other for such a long time. Not wanting to make any scene, you just told him to stay, not to worry and left them.

On your way home, you felt terrible. It wasn’t anything big, but yet you overacted there and had to leave. But you simply couldn’t watch or hear anything more. You were the one that was supposed to touch him like that. You wanted to touch all those tattoos, and even tho you were his best friend you couldn’t find the courage to do it. Yet, stupid Akari did it without a problem.

Knowing that Dabi will probably just come back to your place, you made your way toward your parents house, not ready to face him somehow. In that moment you wished you didn’t gave him your spare keys. You didn’t want to wait for him and think about what they were doing.

Of course your parents were more then happy to welcome you home. Since you moved out you didn’t sleep at their place that often. But they knew something was wrong, not wanting to bother you, they just let you be.

Once again the night was sleepless for you. Dabi did contact you, asking if you are ok and if he should bring something to you, but once you saw that Akari posted him on her Instagram story, you couldn’t even force yourself to text him back.

You knew that It was so childish of you, he didn’t even know how you feel about him, yet that something small would upset you so much. But your feelings were getting better of you. The whole night you were rolling around in your bed, thinking if he’s home yet, if they are fucking somewhere. You were thinking what would have happened if you just stayed. If you did, he would probably just leave home with you.

Waking up next morning, you wanted to kill yourself. The soreness in your eyes didn’t help either. You saw few messages from Dabi, asking where you are, yada yada. Seeing that it was sent around 4am, you tossed your phone across the bed. Did he stay that long with her ?

You slowly stood up and made your way toward the bathroom, brushing your teeth before leaving home. Your parents were insisting that you should stay, and spend the rest of the day with them. It was Saturday anyway, so you’ll be here later anyway.

But you didn’t want, you had to clean your apartment a bit together with your thoughts. Also it was Minas birthday today, so you had to get ready before you leave for the bbq and her birthday.

Opening the door of your apartment, you saw Dabi’s shoes placed beside yours. Slowly tip toeing, you found him in your bedroom asleep. You slowly closed the door, and started cleaning quietly, making sure not to wake him up.

You wanted to lay down beside him, and simply cuddle yourself close to his body, but because of the thought of the last night, you also wanted to grab his hair and force him out of your apartment.

Of course, once he woke up, you couldn’t be mad at him anymore. You had to act it up, and just ignore what happened, after all how could you explain to him why were you even mad ? Dabi left your place around 16PM, leaving you all alone with your thoughts once again. You whished you could tell him how you felt, you wished he would understand.

When the time came, you wore your light purple spaghetti strap dress. Since the evenings were still kidna cold, you decided to wear your oversized black cardigan that was the same length as your dress. Covering just enough.

After doing your make up and straightening your hair, you placed your small bag over your shoulder and wore your overknee lace up boots before you left. The cardigan was bothering you a bit, since you knew how hot it usually gets when you’re in club, but once the wind brushed your naked tight, you didn’t mind it anymore.

Once you got at your parents place, you helped them with all the preparing. Your mom didn’t let you prepare the food, being scared you’ll ruin your dress. But you still helped with plates and all the alcohol. Placing everything on the table outside.

When they arrived Enji and your dad immediately started with the bbq. Rei and your mom were simply enjoying the evening and sipping on their wine, waiting for their food. While both of you and Dabi were simply on your phones. Once again you were upset, all of them complimented your looks, everyone but him. Piece of shit like he looked any better, whit his simple white shirt and jeans.

Lies.

He looked so beautiful without any effort, the tattoos on his arm totally visible.

You took the wine from the table filling your glass, drinking it fast down. Just the thought of Akari and other girls being all over him was driving you crazy. You had to prepare yourself.

,, Slow down doll, I don’t want to spend the rest of my night holding your hair in the toilet’’ Dabi said taking the now empty glass away from you and laughing a bit.

,,Don’t worry about me, I’m capable of taking care of myself on my own’’ you said taking the glass back and filling it with wine again. Who does he think he is ?

When the meat was done, both of you ate and drank a bit before leaving. Dabi didn’t want to drive since he also had plans to drink. Enji was insisting on giving you a ride, but you two didn’t want to break his fun, after all the club wasn’t that far away.

,,So, who will be there tonight?’’ Dabi asked you, taking the box of cigarettes out of his pocket and lighting one cigarette.

,, Mina of course, Yua, Himari, Ryohei, Hiro, Akari and Kai’’ you said, placing your hands in the pockets of your cardigan.

,, We should make your little Kai jealous, what do you think?’’ He said, placing his arm around your shoulders.

,, Nah, no need’’ you said looking down on the floor.

When you arrived the club was already full of people. Thankfully Mina waited for you two in front of the club, not wanting for you two to waste your time looking for them. You gave her the present that you and Dabi bought few days ago and graduated her. Knowing that Mina is in relationship with Hiro, so the hug she gave Dabi didn’t bother you so much.

Once you got inside, you greeted everyone and ordered your drinks. Of course Akari was giving all of her attention to Dabi, trying to get as close as possible to him.

None of you wanted to wait, so all of you ordered your drinks. You ordered Malibu with cherry juice, you were up for something sweet. Since the sweet drinks kick in much faster and that’s exactly what you needed. Dabi ordered whisky, while Kai, Hiro and Ryohei ordered pure Vodka. Rest of the girls ordered Wine.

,, Hey’’ you heard very familiar voice close to your ear. You turned around sipping on your drink, welcoming Kai with a small smile and nodding your head.

,, How are youu?’’ he asked loud enough for you to hear. Body too close to your own in your opinion.

,, I am good and you?’’ you simply answered finishing your drink, asking yourself why is he starting this random boring chat. Realizing that your friends were eyeing you and your ex down, you smirked to yourself. If they only knew, how little shit you gave about him.

,, Let’s go get another round of drinks’’ you said, and made your way toward the bar, while Kai was following every step you made.

,, You look beautiful tonight’’ Kai pointed after you ordered what everyone was drinking. Well, at least someone appreciates your effort tonight, you thought to yourself.

,, Thank you, you look cool yourself’’ you said already trying your drink, while giving the money with your right hand to the bartender. He didn’t look bad at all, wearing black button up shirt, one part of it tucked in his jeans. His typical black convers shoes. He looked good.

Once you two got back, placing all the drinks on the table, you could feel Dabi’s eyes on you. You weren’t sure if he wanted to tell you something, so you took his Whisky and went to him.

,, What is it ?’’ you asked giving him his drink.

,, Nothing at all’’ he replied eying you down. He was about to say something more, but Akari interrupted him, saying some nonsense. Not wanting to watch them together, you just left them, making your way toward Ryohei, Himari and Kai on the dancefloor.

All of you were dancing. Jumping around and waving your body to the sound of the music. You realized that Kai was trying real hard to get you to himself, but sadly your drinks didn’t hit you that much yet. Still the only person that was on your mind was Dabi. You wanted to look at him, and see what’s he doing, but you were afraid once you turn around you’ll find Akari all over him again, or even worse making out with him. It would definitely ruin your night.

After few more drinks, you finally started getting tipsy. While Mother Mother was playing, you and Himari were jumping around, making your way back toward the table to get your other drink that was already there, you two were screaming at each other ,, My daddy’s got a gun, My daddy’s got a gun, My daddy’s got a gun, you better run’’ moving your body crazily just as the music was.

,, Cheers’’ Himari screamed, once both of you placed a bit salt on your hand. Licking the salt of your hand, both of you drank the tequila fast before sucking the lemon. Making the weird face, both of you laughed preparing another shot.

Making your way back to the others, both of you were going crazy to the beat of the song you loved. With a new drink in your hand, you didn’t think about the consequences. After all the music was just so good, you simply had to drink.

Dancing around, you felt a body pressed against your. Tilting your head to the side, you realized it’s Kai standing behind you, trying to get as much of you as he could. At that moment you didn’t give a fuck anymore, just giving in and dancing with him. You saw Himari and Mina laughing at you, thinking you two will get together.

,, I’ll go smoke one fast, wanna come?’’ Kai asked. You simply shook your head giving him a sign that you'll simply wait and found yourself once again dancing with Himari. You were glad Himari was there, since without her you wouldn’t have much fun as you had now.

,, You are fast’’ you said, feeling Kai’s body behind you again. Slow down by Chase Atlantic started playing, no better song for grinding your body against someone else. Moving your body slowly, you felt his hands holding your hips firmly.

,, Are you sure you aren‘t into daddy kink doll?“raspy and deep voice made you twitch in shock. ,, What’s wrong? Didn’t expect me ?’’ he added, holding your hips stronger, not giving you any chance to move away from him.

You felt like there was no need to answer him, since Mina bought you another drink you were already busy sipping on your drink . After all, all you wanted to do was drink and get wasted in that moment anyway. So you moved your body from the side to the side, enjoying how close his body was to yours.

Realizing that you drank your drink, Dabi took it form your hand and gave it to the bartender that was passing by anyway. Turning you around to face him, he took your arms and placed them around his neck, while his own arms found their way to your waist.

,, Wasn’t the plan to make Kai jealous?’’ he asked. You could feel his hot breath on your ear. Tilting your head a bit to the left, you closed your eyes and gave him a small nod with the biggest grin ever.

The grin was long gone once you felt his hands over your ass, squeezing it tightly. ,, Then why am I at the end the jealous one ?’’ He asked giving you one more squeeze. Drunk like that you forgot about your friends and what might they think.

,, Is this how you treat your daddy?’’ he added, not giving you a chance to even progress the last question he gave you. You were never into daddy kink, but coming from his lips, you were ready to call him daddy as much as he wanted.

,, I want.. drink.. haha’’ you said laughing, hoping he will get you another one, since you weren’t capable to do it on your own anymore.

,, We are going home’’ he said. He was already tipsy on his own, but nowhere drunk as you were. He told everyone that you two are leaving, not giving you much time to greet them. Seeing disappointed look on Akari’s face made your night. IN YOUR FACE YOU BITCH ASS HOE

Dabi helped you wear your cardigan, and placed your bag over your shoulders, before he placed his hand around your waist helping you walk a bit. Well, you could walk, but with his grip around you, it was much easier.

,, I thought you could take care of yourself’’ he said once you two were outside. He placed you on the nearest bench, just to light up his cigarette before he pulled you up once again. You placed your arm around his shoulders, bragging about how you can walk perfectly fine.

,, Stop pissing me off doll, you’re hard to hold’’ he said as his grip was getting stronger.

,,Or what ?’’ You laughed, taking the cigarette from him and placing it between your lips. You don’t smoke usually, but alcohol took over you. Dabi laughed surprised, not used at the sight of you smoking.

,, My little Touya, you weren’t even born when I started smoking’’ you managed to say, while he was just laughing at the nonsense you were telling him.

Dabi didn’t know what he should do first, hold you firmly or pull your dress down, scared it was to high up for everyone else to see what’s under it.

,,Now, behave yourself, we are almost home’’ he said pulling your dress down a little, and throwing the almost done cigarette from your lips on the floor.

At his and your surprise both of your parents were still outside enjoying their time. You threw your arm up in the air ready to greet them, but Dabi stopped you fast enough. It’s not like your parents have anything against you drinking. But he wasn’t in a mood to talk with them about anything tonight. And he knew very well that drunk like that you were more then ready for a chat with them.

,, Already home?’’ Enji screamed once he saw you two. You were ready to brag about how you wanted to party a bit longer, but Dabi once again stopped you, telling them how you didn’t feel good that much.

,,What’s your problem man ?’’ You hissed at the party breaker that was pulling you upstairs to your room. Looking how your parents prepared your room made you grin. There was a mattress beside your bed prepared for Dabi.

,, They really think you’ll sleep down there’’ you grinned.

,, Obviously’’ Dabi said, placing you slowly on your bed.

,, Now, change into your pajama while I’m brushing my teeth’’ he said slowly, making sure you understand every word.

With alcohol in your system, you just lain down to rest a bit, before getting all the power and will you had to change.

Pulling your dress over your head, you started looking for your pajamas. Seeing Dabi’s shirt on the floor, you felt satisfied and just wore it. Standing there in the room, you thought if it’s his shirt he wore today, or just the one he got himself for bed. You would rather sleep naked than in a shirt he just wore in the club. Even the thought of the smell of all the smoke and alcohol made you feel dizzy.

Taking the part of his shirt, you pulled it close enough for you to sniff it making sure it’s not his shirt from clubbing.

,,What are you doing doll? ‘’ You froze. Looking to the side, you saw him leaning on the doorframe while smirk was formed on his lips. Luckily there was enough alcohol in your system to feel embarrassed in that very moment, since the view of you sniffing his shirt was weird as fuck.

,, Can’t get enough of me ?’’ he added getting closer to you. ,, You have to wear some shorts, or I’ll really be forced sleep on the mattress tonight’’ he added looking you up and down, while you just stood there speechless.

,, Come here, let’s take off your make up’’ he said, placing his hand on your back, leading the way to the bathroom.

Once you were in the bathroom, Dabi pulled you up, making you sit on the washing machine. Slowly helping you wash your teeth. Swinging your legs playfully, Dabi almost poured the water he prepared for you on the floor. Placing the glass to the side, he took your legs and wrapped them around his waist. Even tho you weren’t sober, you could completely understand the position you were in. Taking the wet wipes he started cleaning your make up carefully. You just closed your eyes enjoying his touch on your face, while he was giving his best to do it gentle as possible.

Sudden feel of a skin brushing over your nose made you open your eyes. Seeing his face not even inches from yours, made you froze. His nose brushing against your own, before you felt his soft lips against your own.

,, You are driving me crazy’’ he said, placing his forehead against yours. Not thinking twice you placed your hands on his cheeks and pulled him in for another kiss. At first you knew that he was surprised since he just stood there, but after a short second you felt him smile into the kiss, leaning in and wanting more.

With his hands under your, or better to say his own shirt, he was moving them up and down slowly. The touch of his hands rubbing your naked skin softly made you want more of him. Pulling him closer with your legs, you placed your hands on his chest , wanting to feel everything you could.

Pulling your head back breaking the kiss, you attacked his neck, leaving wet kisses all over it. Touya pulled your body up, placing his hands on your ass, making his way toward your room. Making small breaks while pushing your body against the wall trying to kissing you like his life depended on it.

Once he placed you on the bad, he didn’t waste any time, hovering over you and kissing your neck. Wanting everyone to know to who you belong to. He wanted to make sure the next time you see Kai, he will know that Dabi is the one that’s dicking you down.

,, I know you couldn’t stand the sight of me and Akari, but grinding on Kai like a little whore, making me all jealous was really unnecessary’’ he gasped between kisses. Pulling the shirt over your head he threw it over the room, leaving you only in your panties. ,, especially in that little dress of yours” he added, as he looked over your half naked body.

,, Fuck you, what did you expect of me, I was mad’’ you moaned out once you felt his lips on your breast, sucking and biting it.

,, Well.. guess what’’ he said, still sucking your boob, while squeezing the other one.

,,What?’’ you breathed out, eyes closed while enjoying his lips on your body.

,, Daddy will punish his little naughty girl’’ he said, once again leaving wet love marks all over your chest.

,,Touya, I’m really not into daddy kink’’ you said, your hands deep inside his hair.

,, But I am’’ he said, his head in front of your, making eye contact with you. ,, And tonight I want everyone to know who your real daddy is. I want everyone to know who you belong to’’ he said, wrapping his hand around your throat. ,, Do you understand me ?’’ he added.

,,Yes’’ you whispered, not breakig the eye contact.

,,Yes what?’’ he asked as his hand started to apply pressure to your throat. Not being used to choking, you couldn’t really manage to give him the right answer. It wasn’t the kind of choking where you felt like passing out because of the lack of oxygen, but you were still new to it.

,,Yes daddy’’ you managed to say somehow. Satisfied with your answer, Dabi moved his hand away from your throat, leaving small kisses over the same spot where his hand left small marks.

,, Such a good girl’’ he said, pulling your panties down. Licking his lips, as you were exposed to him. The fact that you were so valuable to him, and knowing how much power he had over you was turning Touya even more on.

Not wasting any time, he spread your thighs further apart, his head leaning down to run his tongue through your folds. Feeling his tongue piercing on your clit, something you always wanted to feel, made you throw you head back into the pillow, while grabbing Dabi’s head pulling him closer to yourself.

Licking you around your opening, the warm and hot feeling of his tongue, mixed with cold feeling of his piercing was making you shiver. You could feel him smirk against your core as he saw how much effect he has on you. You moan as his lips and tongue move against your folds, eating you out like it’s his last meal.

,,Touya please’’ you moan out, as he sucks roughly on your bundle of nerves, causing your body to jolt up, as your fingers grab his messy hair.

Flicking his tongue roughly and tugging your clit, his hands were holding your thighs firmly, as his light blue eyes were focused on you. It doesn’t take him long to make you cum all over his mouth, his name falling from your lips shamelessly. Climbing over you, he kissed you passionately, making you taste yourself on his lips.

Pulling away from the kiss, you started kissing his tattoos, something you wanted to do long time ago. Especially since he came back. Dabi breathed heavily, his head hanging low, while you were under him kissing every little line that covered his body.

He gave you the time you needed, exploring his body as much as you wanted. But once he felt your small hands pulling down his shorts together with his boxers, and licking the tip of his already erected dick, he had to stop you. At your surprise, even his dick was pierced.

,, Another time doll’’ he said, pulling you up. ,, I’ve been dying to fuck you since forever’’ he added, slowly rubbing the tip of his dick around your core. Without any warning his slammed his whole length inside making your scream both in pleasure and pain. Wiggling a little, trying to move just a bit away from him, hoping the pain will go away. But Touya couldn’t let that happened, now when he finally had his dick deep inside you.

,,Just relax baby’’ he said not moving, letting you adjust to his size. Placing soft kisses all over your jaw, then slowly moving out of you, only for him to slide back in, so slow that you could feel every vain of his dick move, together with his piercing rubbing your walls.

Dabi was moving so slow, grinding his hips against yours, as his fingers were rubbing your clit gently. Sliding out of you only until the edge of his head remains, before moving slowly again in, repeating the same move all over again. Only God knew how much he wanted to break you.

,, Touya’’ you moan out once he wraps his fingers with yours, placing your left arm above your head, while his right fingers were still rubbing your clit in circles. Your legs shake as you wrap them around him, another orgasm hitting you hard.

Dabi moans with you, as you squeeze his dick while riding of your orgasm. With you having your second orgasm, he couldn’t hold himself any longer. Your warm walls around him coated in juices were driving him crazy. All the soft and slow moves were forgotten, making his motions now much deeper and intense. Pulling out till the end and slamming recklessly into you again. Groaning in pleasure, he was slamming into you with a speed you could only imagine.

,, Touya, slow down’’ you moaned, closing your eyes, still sensitive from your second orgasm. ,, I don’t think I can take it’’ you added, trying to catch your breath.

,,Of course you can take it. Look at you, you’re taking it right now doll’’ he groaned, holding your hips in one place while fucking you hard like no one ever has before. You were a moaning mess, with every move your moans were louder.

,, Oh God, Touya’’ you moaned, fingers still connected to his. Grabbing his back with your left hand and digging your fingers inside his skin.

,, You’re takng it so well love’’ he said, groaning as he felt the pressure of your nails digging into his back. ,, Go ahead, scratch my back as much as you want’’ he added kissing you sloppily.

Once he started rubbing your clit again, you found yourself digging your nails into his back like a wild cat, finding comfort in it. ,, Touya’’ you moaned his name out as both of you were coming closer to your highs. You could feel his dick twitching inside of you, his moves becoming more deeper and jankier. His eyes were shut, while your body started shaking once again. Once again you felt your orgasm pulsing through your stomach, and there you were again squeezing his dick not being able to control yourself as you moaned his name over and over again. Dabi continued fucking you , his groans getting louder and louder, feeling your walls getting tighter and tighter while you were milking his dick down, he released. Emptying his seeds deep into you.

Both of you stayed in the same position, trying to breath normally. His thumb gently rubbing your hand, as he placed kisses all over your bruised neck.

,, You have no idea how much I wanted to be with you’’ he said between the kisses. ,,I’m so in love with you doll’’ he breathed out, making you feel butterfly’s inside your stomach.

,, Are you?’’ you asked, tilting your head just enough to look at him.

,, Don’t act like you didn’t know already’’ he said smiling, while brushing his nose against your cheek. Of course you didn’t know.

,,Fuck you, I was dying here for you, thinking my love is just one sided’’ you said hitting his chest lightly. ,, I even dated Kai hoping I’ll forget you somehow’’ you added hitting him once again, making him laugh a bit.

,, Don’t mention his name. That’s the past. You belong to me now, only me’’ he said, grabbing your jaw and kissing you. You were always his anyway.

,, All yours, Touya’’ you said, kissing him back-

,, Are you kids awake ? ´´ Enji’s head peeked inside your room, finding his eldest son naked on top of his best friends daughter. Making him choke on the air and forgetting the actual reason he was looking for you two.

[the-amazing-simp]

The Way Our Horizons Meet | TASM!Peter Parker

📝 Title: The Way Our Horizons Meet (TFIOS!AU)

📚 Requested: Yes/No

✍ Summary: You met your greatest love at a support group. But, star-crossed lovers really do exist. | 8.1k

🧧 Warnings: cancer (this is a The Fault in our Stars au, so it's a given), death, spoilers for TFIOS

💌 This is officially the longest fic I've ever written in my life. I tried my best to follow the original timeline - I altered some scenes as well as adding in some new ones. And yes, I did copy both eulogies from the book so don't come at me for that.

Love often comes when you least expect it but need it the most. 

Having cancer was hard enough in itself especially when the expression “life is short” could quite literally apply to you.

You were currently sitting in your mom’s car while she drove you to the support group you had always hated attending.

“You don’t have to wait in the parking lot you know,” You said as the car turned a corner, “you’ll have nothing to do and it’s hot.”

Your mum shrugged, peering at you through the dashboard mirror, “I can read a book, but I think I’ll stay at the mall a block away then I’ll come pick you up afterwards.” 

“Okay.” You said, fiddling with the wire of the oxygen tank as she pulled up to the entrance.

“Do you need help with that?” She asked.

You shook your head, giving her a small smile as you got out of the car, “No thanks, I’m fine.” 

“Sure honey,” Your mom answered, “just text me if you want anything from the mall.” 

You nodded in confirmation before you headed past the church and took the stairs down to the basement where the meetings were held, as they called it, “right in the center of Jesus’ heart”.

There was an elevator, but you were fine with the stairs, because in the support group - taking the elevator meant you were close to the finish line. 

“Hey!” Your best friend from the support group, Harry, greeted you with a smile, eyes gleaming behind the shades he wore, “How’re your lungs holding up?” 

You laughed, tapping your oxygen tank, “So, far pretty well. How about you? How’re you and Monica?” 

“As usual, we still love each other till the end of forever.” Harry smiled to which you rolled your eyes at his remark.

“Hey!” He protested, making a face at you.

“It’s cheesy.” You deadpanned.

“It’s not cheesy. It’s love.” Harry said, “And you won’t understand that since you haven’t been in love yet.” 

“Oh, ha ha. Very funny.” You said sarcastically.

Harry stuck his tongue out at you, “Whatever. But don’t go gushing to me when you’re finally in love. Anyway, stay put, I’m going to get some cookies.” 

“You’re the reason why I even tolerate being here!” You called out, causing him to laugh.

Scrolling on your phone to pass the time until the session started, you looked up only for your eyes to meet the honey-colored one of a boy around your age who seemed to be staring at you intently.

The staring wasn’t anything in a creepy way, neither did it make it seem like the boy had ulterior motives. It was like he was vaguely interested in you, like he had seen you before but couldn’t quite recall where or how.

You looked back down at your phone, you just had to hope that the heat you felt on your cheeks was being reflected on your face for the boy to see.

A couple of minutes later, the session group started. With Henry, basically the mastermind behind the support group, leading the opening prayer and the supposedly inspirational talk of how he’s still alive despite his balls being taken by cancer which started the routine of you and Harry communicating via exasperated sighs. 

“Now,” Henry said, “let’s give the floor to Harry who has some news to share with us.” 

Raising a brow at him, he just shrugged in response before standing up.

“I am having eye surgery this weekend.” He started, “Which would make me totally blind. And I also brought my friend, Peter, along here for some moral support.” 

“We pray for you then, Harry, that your operation may be successful.” Henry said before adding, “Why don’t you introduce yourself to us, Peter.” 

Peter, who happened to be the one staring at you earlier, made eye contact with you, shooting you a small smile as he slowly stood up, “My name is Peter Parker. And I had a slight touch with osteosarcoma a year ago. Now, I have no evidence of cancer.” 

As he said that, he rolled up the left pants leg to reveal the metal prosthetic hidden under there.

“I also fear oblivion.” 

“Oblivion?” Henry asked with a puzzled look, “Isn’t that a rather peculiar fear?” 

“I think he fears the unknown.” You spoke up, “Especially since it's unpredictable and what happens next would, most often than not, catch us by surprise.” 

Peter smiled at you, “Exactly, What’s your name?”

“It’s Y/N.” 

“Your full name.”

“Y/N Y/M/N L/N”

–

You were currently in the parking lot, waiting for your mom to pick you up while Harry had his girlfriend pinned to the wall of the church while they made out.

The two pulled back for a moment, whispering “always” to each other before diving back in.

“At this point, I don’t know if he’s trying to arouse her to perform breast surgery.” Peter mused, suddenly appearing by your side. 

You laughed, turning to face him, “I guess he’s trying to make the most of it. Since he won’t be having any sense of sight this weekend.” 

Peter shrugged, taking out a pack from his pocket and popping a cigarette into his mouth, “Makes sense.” 

Slightly glaring at him, you deadpanned, “Are you serious? That’s absolutely disgusting. You just ruined this whole thing.”

“What’s disgusting?” 

“You’re literally standing next to someone with lung cancer and you decide to get a cigarette and smoke. Let me tell you, not being able to breathe normally sucks.” 

Peter grinned, the cigarette sitting by the corner of his mouth, “I don’t smoke.” 

You looked at him, puzzled, “If you don’t smoke, then why do you-” 

“It’s a metaphor.” He interrupted, “You put the killing thing in your mouth but you don’t give it the power to kill.” 

“That actually makes sense.” You agreed.

“See?” He chuckled, causing you to laugh. 

“Why are you staring at me like that?” You asked.

“Because you’re beautiful and I like looking at beautiful things.” He answered with a confident smile.

“Also,” Peter added, “you look like y/f/c from the movie, y/f/m - have you seen that movie?” 

You nodded, “I did, it’s actually one of my favorites. But, I don’t really think that I look like y/f/c.”

“If you want,” He said, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and fiddling with it, “you can come around to my house and we can watch the movie together so I can prove to you that you do look like y/f/c.” 

You pretended to think about it for a moment, “Sure, let me just call my mom and let her know.” 

Once you had done that, you climbed into the passenger’s seat of Peter’s car as he started driving.

“Woah.” You said, grasping your seatbelt tightly as you hit another bump, “Are you sure you have a license?” 

Peter laughed, making a u-turn, “Of course I do. Though, I did kinda fail the test twice.”

“Uh huh,” You nodded, “and no one has died while you’re the one behind the steering wheel?” 

“Very funny.” He answered sarcastically with a small smile, “So far, no one.” 

“I really don’t intend on being the first then.” 

–

“I still don’t see how I look like y/f/c.” You said once the ending credits of the movie rolled in.

“Seriously? Are you blind? You could easily pull off being her twin.” Peter protested.

After having a debate over it for the next ten minutes, your attention turned to the stack of books by his bedside table.

“You like reading?” You asked, examining the pile. 

Peter smiled, hands tucked away in the pockets of jeans, “I do. I know that I don’t look like I do though.” 

You rolled your eyes, scanning the spines, “What’s your favorite?” 

“Prince of Dawn.” Peter immediately answered, “You?” 

“An Imperial Affliction.” You said.

His eyes immediately lightened up as an idea popped into his head, “Why don’t we do a book swap? You read Prince of Dawn, and I will read An Imperial Affliction.” 

You smiled, “That’s actually not a bad idea.”

You closed the door of Peter’s car as you reached your house, “Thanks for the ride.” 

He smiled, running a hand through his hair, “No problem. Also, aren’t you going to ask for my number?” 

You giggled, gesturing to the Prince of Dawn in your hand, “I have a feeling that you already wrote it in the book.” 

Peter laughed, “We just met, Y/N, but it seems like you know so much about me.” 

“Who knows?” You shrugged with a grin, “Maybe I’ve known you my whole life and you just didn’t know.” 

“That would’ve been cool.”

You nodded, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “Well, thanks. I better get inside now.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“You know, maybe okay can be our always.” 

–

Golden-painted pieces of metal laid on the floor, remnants of the trophy smashing incident that happened mere moments ago that helped Harry feel a little better over the fact that Monica had broken up with him.

“Was it worth it?” You asked Peter as you helped him pick up what used to be his basketball trophies on display.

He just shrugged, “Kinda. I mean, it did help Harry feel a lot better. Besides, I never liked playing basketball anyway, I only did it because it made my dad happy.” 

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” You mused, running a finger through the faux velvet base, “The things we do to make the ones we love most happy.” 

“I think it’s a metaphor for humanity.” He smiled, “The instinct, the need to please others which in turn somehow pleases ourselves too.” 

“Peter Parker, do you ever run out of metaphors?” You laughed.

His smile grew even wider, “For you, m’lady, never.” 

Silence grew between the two of you before he spoke up again, 

“Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

You looked over at Harry, who had now resumed playing the game, “Do you think he’ll be fine?”

Peter shrugged, “All I know is the thing about pain is it demands to be felt.”

–

“But you have to admit it, the cliffhanger was great but it was also damn cruel.” Peter argued as the two of you walked to the park.

“Fine it is. But it just goes to show how unexpected life is that sometimes it just ends in the middle of a sentence.” You said, lugging your oxygen tank behind you, “Also, you’re steering away from my question - what’s with the basketball jersey and the orange tulips?” 

“I told you, it’s a surprise.” He shrugged, before taking the tank from your grasp and holding on to it for you as you walked. 

As soon as he said that, you suddenly saw a checkered blanket laid upon the grass, a picnic basket on top of it. 

“Surprise!” Peter said with a small smile. 

You took another bite of the sandwich, “Shame on you. You already nailed the German theme - the jersey and the tulips but, out of all things, you don’t put German tomatoes in the sandwich.” 

Peter laughed, “I’m sorry, okay, I couldn’t find any.” 

“What’s with all the German stuff anyway?” You asked, taking another bite, “Is this another metaphor?” 

He shook his head, “Nope. All the German stuff is a hint.” 

Furrowing your brows, you recalled a conversation you had with Peter two nights ago about The Imperial Affliction and the rumors that the author, Van Houten, was now living in Amsterdam. 

“Peter…” You said slowly, a slight warning tone in your voice as realization struck.

A light pink tint painted his cheeks as he scratched the back of his neck, “Well, Y/N, the thing is…”

You took a gulp of oxygen, adjusting the tubes that connected you to the tank before saying, “Peter Benjamin Parker, we talked about this, don’t tell me that you use your one and only wish for Amsterdam.” 

The guilty grin that appeared on his lips was enough reason for you to smack his arm.

“Ow!” He complained, rubbing the spot where you hit him, “You sure hit really hard. Besides, at least I’m not someone who wished for something as cliche as Disneyland and Epcot. Unlike you.” 

You assaulted his arm with another hit as you felt the temperature rise up to your cheeks, “Still, you only get one wish and I don’t want you wasting that on me.” 

“Hey,” Peter cooed softly, caressing your cheek, “I’m not wasting it, okay. It’s for us and I know that I couldn’t ask for anything better.” 

Silence grew in between the two of you for a moment with Peter slowly leaning forward towards you.

When his lips were just an inch away from yours, you pulled away, muttering a small “sorry”.

Peter gave you a smile, opting instead to place his hand on top of yours, “It’s fine. We can take it as slow as you want.” 

–

“I still can’t believe that we managed to sell that swing.” You laughed before taking a sip of coffee.

Peter smiled, cigarette dangling from the edge of his mouth, “But you have to admit that pedophilic swing set seeking the butts of children had a nice ring to it.”

It’s been a week since the doctors had deemed you ineligible to fly to Amsterdam and a couple days since you and Peter managed to sell your childhood swing set.

You laughed, “Yeah, maybe.” before reaching forward and plucking the cigarette out of his mouth and placing it inside yours.

Peter chuckled, tongue pressed to his cheek as he brought out his camera and waved it in front of you, “Looks like this is a perfect opportunity for a photo.”

–

You groaned as a throbbing pain appeared in your head. Eyes having to adjust to the bright light above you.

“Honey,” Your mother cooed, a hand gently running through your hair as relief laced her voice, “thank goodness you’re awake.” 

“How’re you feeling?” Your dad asked, appearing by your mother’s side.

Slowly sitting up, you answered, “A bit like my insides have been microwaved but otherwise I feel fine.” 

This was when you noticed the tube connecting you to a plastic bag filled with dark water, most likely sucked out of your lungs.

You flinched, “Not again.” 

“That’s why you passed out. When we brought you here, they immediately admitted you here, the ICU” Your mother gently explained, squeezing your hand as she spoke.

“Also,” your dad said, “Peter’s waiting outside, do you want to see him?” 

Staying quiet for a moment, you thought about it before nodding.

Your father went out of the room while your mom waited with you, asking if you were okay.

The door opened again, this time revealing both your father and Peter.

“Hi.” He said softly, walking to your side, shyly handing you the bouquet of your favorite flowers.

You returned the smile as you placed the flowers he brought in a vase on the table next to you, “Hi, and thanks for the flowers.”

“No problem.” Peter smiled, nervously running a hand through his hair, “How’re you feeling?” 

“I’m feeling okay.” You said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be up and running in time for our trip to Amsterdam.” 

Peter playfully rolled his eyes, “Amsterdam is the least of my worries. What’s important is that you keep on fighting.” 

“Of course I will. I’m going to stick around and annoy you for as long as I can. There’s no getting rid of me that easily, Parker.” You laughed.

Little did either of you know that your parents had been watching you and Peter the whole time, no words were said between them as they watched the young love grow. They exchanged one look and that was enough to say everything.

–

You had never been more nervous for anything in your entire life. 

You were sitting in the corner of one of the conference rooms at the hospital, while a team of doctors debated over whether you were eligible to travel to Amsterdam with Peter or not.

Hearing a small ding, you looked down at your phone to see a text from Peter.

Pete🛹: How’s it going? Are you cleared?

Y/N✨: Nope, they’re still debating.

Pete🛹: Hypothetically, in case they still don’t think you’re eligible to travel, how bad would it be if we just hopped on the plane?

Y/N✨: Well, hypothetically, you could be arrested the minute you step foot back in America for kidnapping.

Y/N✨: Murder too if I died on the flight.

Pete🛹: We better not risk it then 😂

“We have come to our decision.” The head doctor announced, causing you to look up from your phone.

Your doctor looked at you with a smile, “We have decided that we’re giving you the go signal to travel to Amsterdam. As long as your mom or someone who knows your condition well enough comes along with you.” 

You gave her a grateful smile, glancing over to your parents in excitement, “That would be great.” 

Y/N✨: I don’t think you would have to resort to kidnapping then.

– “Was the line at McDonald’s really that long?” You asked as Peter made it just in time for you to board the plane.

Peter shrugged as he gave you a small smile, “A lot of people seemed to be craving McDonald’s.” 

“Are you excited?” You asked, settling into the middle seat between your mom and Peter. 

He chuckled as he nodded, looking out of the window, “Yeah. It’s actually my first time on a plane so this is really cool.” 

Once the pilot had announced that seat belts would be fastened as the plane started to take off, Peter gripped the arm rests, looking like a little kid on Christmas day.

He glanced at the window, looking at the clouds that were seemingly shrouding the vehicle.

“Are you okay?” You giggled, seeing the look of marvel on his face.

“I couldn’t be better.” Peter laughed gleefully, glancing back out at the clouds, “Nothing has ever looked like that in all of human history!” 

–

“Okay,” you breathed out, walking out of your room to have your mom be the judge, “how do I look?” 

Your mother looked up from the brochure that she was flipping through, giving you a smile, “You look amazing.” 

Looking at the full-length mirror, you ran a hand over the creases of the baby blue dress, “You sure?” 

“I am.” She answered.

At that moment, a knock came on the door. Upon opening it, you saw Peter standing there in a suit and tie. 

Van Houten’s secretary had let you two know that you would be meeting the author the next day, but he has reserved a dinner for the two of you at a restaurant called Oranjee.

“Wow.” Peter said, jaw dropping as he drank the sight of you in, “You look beautiful.” 

“Thanks.” You muttered, smiling as you looked down at your feet, feeling the heat rise up to your cheeks, “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Shall we go mi’lady?” Peter grinned, offering an arm to you.

“We shall, my kind sir.” You giggled, taking his arm while you waved good-bye to your mother.

Once the two of you had arrived at the restaurant, Peter cleared his throat and said, “Uh, we have a reservation from Mr. Van Houten.” 

“Ah,” The waitress smiled, “The one for Mr. and Mrs. Parker. Right, come this way.” 

You and Peter exchanged a look, trying to hide a smile before following the waitress to your table.

“So, Mr. and Mrs. Parker huh?” Peter mused with a smile once your orders had been taken, causing you to laugh.

“Kinda has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” You teased.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, “It actually does.”  

“Would you like some champagne?” A waiter suddenly appeared next to you, “It’s like tasting the stars.” 

“Sure.” You grinned, “Why not.” 

The light gold liquid filled both of your glasses, the small bubbles slowly popping upon reaching the surface. 

“Cheers.” Peter grinned, clinking glasses with you before taking a sip.

“Wow.” You said, “I didn’t know the stars tasted as good as this.”

“I know right. We need to bring this home, someone tell me how to bottle up the stars.” Peter said.

“Mhm.” You hummed, taking another sip.

“Gosh, if the champagne already tastes this good, what more does the food taste like?” He said.

“I know right.” You agreed. 

“I am so in love with you.” He suddenly admitted, smiling at you with pure sincerity and lovestruckness.

You giggled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “Same here.” 

You breathed a sigh of contentment, leaning against Peter’s arm as the two of you walked out of the restaurant, “The first thing I’m doing when we get back to Queens is to search up if there are any franchises of Oranjee in America.” 

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “Sounds like a terrific idea.” 

You looked up at him, saying in a whisper, “Peter, you know that this doesn’t change the fact that I’m practically a grenade right? Like, my whole existence could blow up at any minute and I could leave you heartbroken.”

He stopped walking, turning you to face him - a look of pure adoration and affection on his features as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “It would be a privilege to have my heart broken by you.”

You sniffed, “Really?”

He nodded, “Really.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.” 

–

“What do you mean you don’t know?” You asked from the seat across the author you have been admiring since the very first time you picked up An Imperial Affliction.

Van Houten, drank the brandy in his hand while he gave a shrug, “I just don’t.” 

“You’re the author.” You deadpanned, trying to keep your composure, “How on earth do you not know?”

“Look kid,” The man said, leaning back into his chair, “I did not think about it because I had no plans of writing a sequel.” 

He then sighed, “Teenagers these days. I knew this was a bad idea.” 

“With all due respect,” Peter suddenly piped up, “don’t you see that your book has made a great impact on her and we didn’t come all the way here for nothing. So, the least you could do is give an answer to her questions.” 

The author grew silent for a moment, taking his time in pouring the brandy into his glass after his assistant walked out on him.

“Anna’s dead.” He said, quietly, “There’s no story to tell.” 

With a scoff, Peter stood up - pulling you up with him as the two of you walked out the door without so much of a glance back at the man the both of you had used to admire.

“Don’t mind about him.” Peter said, rubbing your shoulders comfortingly, “I’ll write you a sequel. I’ll write you a better sequel than that dumb idiot could ever write.” 

You laughed despite the disappointment, feeling lucky that Peter was there with you, “I’m sure of it.” 

 –

“Lean here for a moment.” Lidewij said, stopping for a bit as the three of you reached the last step of the stairs.

You were leaning against the wall, trying to catch your breath as Peter rubbed his hand up and down your back.

Lidewij, Van Houten’s former assistant, decided it would be a great idea to accompany the two of you to an Anne Frank museum nearby to make up for her boss’ rudeness.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, concern lacing his voice as you sat down on the floor, taking a gulp of oxygen, “We can take a break here if you want to.” 

You shook your head, waving him off as you stood up, “No. It’s fine. I can handle it.”  

He gave you a look, silently insisting on asking you whether you were really fine or not. 

Nodding in response, you gave him a small smile, “Don’t worry about me.” 

A shrill ring suddenly echoed through the quiet walls of the museum. Lidewij gave an apologetic smile to the people who glanced in your direction before answering the call. 

“Sorry.” She whispered, turning to you and Peter, “I have to go right now, is it okay if I leave you two here?” 

The two of you nodded, “Yeah. We’ll be alright.”

With a smile,  she dashed off, leaving the two of you in the exhibit.

Peter laced his hands into yours, the two of you walking at your own pace through the exhibit until you reached the video where Anne Frank’s father told about his daughter’s bravery and the grief from the loss of his family.

Looking at the boy next to you, you couldn’t imagine how you got so lucky. You couldn’t imagine a day wherein he wasn’t there for you. 

“Hey.” He said softly, pulling you out of your train of thought, “whatcha thinking?” 

You gave no response, instead,  you stood up on your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his.

You could feel him smile into the kiss, his hands making their way to your hips as he pulled you closer to him.

When you pulled away, silence echoed through the exhibit. You half-expected the crowd around you to start a monologue on how disgusting and inconsiderate teenagers were nowadays. But, instead, they all started cheering at the young love that blossomed right in front of them.

Making it back to the hotel, Peter was about to press the button that led to your floor when you suddenly said, “Do you want to go to your room?” 

A grin made its way to his lips as his finger moved up to press the number of his floor.

A ding told you that you had arrived at the floor, interlocking your hand in his, the two of you ran out the elevator.

Peter stopped in his tracks, leaning against the wall as he clutched his side.

“Are you okay?” You asked, immediately regretting what you suggested in the first place.

He took a deep breath, “It’s above my knee, it’s just a bit of skin then it tapers a bit.” 

Furrowing your brows, you asked, “What?” 

“My leg, or what’s left of it.” He answered, “Just wanted to prepare you before you see it.”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, pressing another kiss to his lips as you rolled your eyes, “You’re so full of yourself.” 

“Touche.” He laughed, grabbing your hand as you ran to his room.

–

You were almost in tears from laughing too much.

Peter was currently doing an impression of Van Houten as you recounted the story to your mum, making the author seem like a more idiotic, old man who had a hearing problem, an alcohol addiction and kept on insisting that there were Nazis at his door.

“Goodness,” your mother breathed out, “That old man is lucky I didn’t tag along or else I would’ve screamed at him.”

You smiled, “Yeah, but we were fine. Looking back, it is quite funny.”

“Yeah.” Peter agreed, placing his hand on top of yours above the table.

“What did you do afterwards?” Your mum asked.

Both of you exchanged a look, the previous night’s events circling back into your mind, “We went to a museum.”

“Then Y/N humored me with some venn diagram humor.” He continued the inside joke causing you to roll your eyes. 

Peter told you that he had wanted to tell you something, so while your mother was out sightseeing, the two of you were currently in his room. 

“I took a PET scan a week before you were admitted into the ICU.” 

You sat down on one of the vintage chairs, staring at the rug, heart beating in fear of what would come next.

“And?” 

He took a deep breath, trying to reassure you with a small smile, “I lit up like a Christmas tree, Y/N.” 

You gulped, trying to keep the incoming tears at bay, “No.” 

He nodded, “I did.” 

You sniffed, standing up to wrap your arms around him, “You’re going to be okay. We’re going to be okay. You already defeated it once, you can do it again.” 

“Yeah.” He agreed, pressing a kiss to your hairline as he pulled you closer, “Of course.” 

“Remember how I said that I feared oblivion when we first met?” He said as he stroked your hair.

You looked up at him, “Yeah, why?” 

“I feared the uncertainty that each day brought. But the day that I met you, I realized that life being a mystery, may not be so bad after all.”

–

“Hm,” Peter hummed, smacking his lip as he looked at you making you laugh, “Not up to the standards of Oranjee.” 

“Very true.” You smiled, taking a sip from your own red plastic cup of champagne, “The airport can afford the dimmer stars.” 

He laughed, taking a cigarette from the box and popped it into his mouth as you scrolled through the movies available.

“Excuse me sir.” A flight attendant approached, “But you’re not allowed to smoke inside the plane.” 

“Oh, he doesn’t smoke.” You said, “It’s just a metaphor.” 

“Well,” She said, “metaphor or not, let’s just put the cigarette away to be safe.” 

He nodded, plucking the cigarette out of his mouth and putting it back in the box.

“So, what’s the movie?” Peter asked once the flight attendant left.

“Titanic.” 

–

You gently knocked on the Parker’s doorstep, fiddling with the wire of your oxygen tank as you waited.

“Hello dear.” Aunt May smiled as she greeted you with a hug.

“Hi Aunt May.” You returned the smile, “How is he doing?” 

It’s been a week since the trip to Amsterdam with Peter. Once he had gotten back, the doctors had put him up for a clinical trial for something that should supposedly help in lessening the places that cancer had infected. 

“He’s okay. Peter’s over there by the couch, Harry’s also here too.” She said, letting you in.

“Hi Pete.” You greeted, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He smiled, running a hand through his hair, “Hi.” 

“I’m going to pretend that I didn’t just hear that.” Harry said, from where he was seated across from Peter.

You jokingly rolled your eyes, “Hello to you too.” 

“Hey!” Harry stuck his tongue out at you, “Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean I can't sense that eye roll in your voice.” 

You laughed, plopping down in the seat just next to the couch.

“Anyway,” Harry changed the subject, turning to Peter, “how’s the clinical trials going?” 

Peter groaned as he shifted to sit up, “I’m on a rollercoaster that only goes up, my friend.” 

“He always never gives a specific answer.” Harry teased

You shrugged, “And somehow we don’t mind.” 

“How’s Monica by the way?” You asked, turning to Harry.

The atmosphere in the room tensed up a bit as you and Peter awaited an answer.

“She, uh, we haven't really had any contact since the operation.” Harry said.

“She didn’t even visit you at the hospital?” Peter asked, to which Harry just shook his head.

After a moment of silence, Peter stood up, taking his car keys from the table and a carton of eggs from the fridge

.

“C’mon.” He nodded towards the door.

You helped Isaac up, “Where’re we going?” 

“Monica’s house.” Peter said casually.

“Here.” Peter handed the carton of eggs to Harry when the car had been parked right across from Monica's house.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Harry asked.

“Throw them at her car.” Peter smiled.

A grin made its way to Harry’s face as he felt around the carton for an egg and got ready to throw it.

“A little bit to your right.” You guided.

Following your direction, Harry launched the egg.

“What did I hit?” He asked excitedly as its contents started to drip on the car’s bumper.

“The bumper.” Peter had his own grin as he encouraged Harry to throw some more.

While the boys were having fun, you took out your phone and discreetly took a picture of the scene in front of you - the smiles of both being preserved in the moment.

Little did you know that that would be the last picture you would take of him.

–

“Peter,” you said, looking up at Peter, “can I ask you a question?” 

He nodded, combing a hand through his hair as the two of you waited for Harry to be finished with his eye check-up, “Sure.” 

“Who’s Gwen Stacy?” You licked your lips, “I remember you mentioning her before and when I looked her up on instagram, it looked like she was your girlfriend.” 

Peter nodded again, “Yeah, Gwen actually was my girlfriend.”

“What happened to her? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

“Well, she is no longer suffering from personhood.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” 

He tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear before continuing, “She had brain cancer. Towards the end, there was actually no filter between her thoughts and her speech. Once she joked about how she’s sorry that she accidentally dropped a book on my ‘leg’.”

You cringed at the thought causing him to laugh.

“It wasn’t like I had a choice. It would just be cruel to break up with someone in that state.” 

–

You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes as your ringtone continued to cut through the air.

Peeking at the caller id, you immediately picked up the phone. After all, Peter wouldn’t just randomly call you at 3 am for no important reason.

“Pete? Is everything okay?” 

You could hear him taking deep, labored breaths.

“Y/N, I’m at the gas station and I need your help.” 

You climbed out of bed, phone pressed between your ear and shoulder as you unhooked yourself from the BIPAP and to the oxygen tank, fear coursing through your body, “Pete, what happened?” 

“I just wanted to buy some cigarettes. I lost the pack a few days ago and they said they’d get some for me but I wanted to do it myself. So, I drove to the gas station and the tube that is attached to my stomach just got tangled and I tried to fix it and it may have just gotten worse.”

“Oh my gosh,” You gasped, leaving the note you hurriedly scribbled down on the dining room table as you ran to your car, “okay, just don’t go anywhere. I’m on my way. Do I need to call an ambulance?” 

“No!” He immediately said, “Please, don’t call an ambulance.”

“Okay.” You breathed out, placing your phone on the dashboard, “Just stay on the line, I’m on my way there.” 

You ran through every green light at the speed limit, praying with every inch of you that it wasn’t as worse as you imagined. 

Arriving at your destination, you ran to where Peter’s car was parked. 

“Peter.” You cooed upon opening his car door, seeing the blood soaking his shirt.

“Y/N.” He smiled, reaching for your hand.

“Peter,” You repeated, your brain now triggering your ultra-panic mode, “I can’t fix this we have to call an ambulance.” 

Peter stubbornly shook his head, grasping your hand harder, “No. Please no. I don’t want to be useless.” 

You kneeled down in front of him, pushing a few brown locks out of his eyes, “Listen to me Pete, you’re not useless okay. You’re going to be alright.” 

Holding his hand, you pulled out your phone, dialing 911 as you muttered, “I’m sorry Pete, I have to. I promise, I’ll buy you a pack, okay?” 

He sniffed, voice cracking, “Damn it! I can’t even get a pack of cigarettes anymore without asking for help.” 

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Hello?” You said, trying to keep your voice calm, “My boyfriend has a tube in his stomach and it's tangled, he’s also bleeding. Uh, I need an ambulance right now. We are at the gas station near the Empire State and he needs to get to the hospital immediately.”

“Okay,” the lady said, the clacking of keyboard keys could be heard, “an ambulance is already on its way.” 

“Thank you.” You said as the line cut off.

Turning your attention back to Peter, you pressed a kiss to his hairline, interlocking your hands together. 

“Okay?”

“Okay.” 

–

“You know,” Peter mused as you wheeled him out on his wheelchair to the backyard, “I never really saw how sunsets are really connected to romance until today.”

“And,” You smiled, encouraging him to continue, “what is your conclusion?” 

He looked at you, raising your hand up to his lips to press a small kiss to it, “Sunsets can be romantic. But, only if they’re with the right person.”

“Real charmer aren’t you, Parker.” You giggled.  

“Always am.” He smiled.

“Peter’s a nice kid and all.” Aunt May suddenly said, appearing behind the two of you, “But sometimes I wonder how he managed to get someone sweet like you.”

Peter feigned a gasp of offense before laughing, “I gotta agree with you Aunt May. There’s not a day where I don’t wonder how I managed to woo her.” 

You rolled your eyes despite the smile you had, “Cheesy.”

“You love my cheesiness.” He retorted, “Right, Uncle Ben?” 

“I don’t know about you, but that how I got your Aunt May.” Uncle Ben chuckled causing Aunt May to roll her eyes.

Uncle Ben placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you a smile while Peter and Aunt May were busy talking.

“I thank God everyday for you kid.” 

–

You sighed, staring blankly at the paper in your hands with typewritten words. 

Peter called you earlier that night, telling you that he would be having a pre-funeral so that he would be able to hear the eulogies and he wanted you to be there.

You promised that you would be there, a small part of you wishing that he was the one eulogizing you instead. 

“Mom, Dad, I’m going out for a bit. I’ll be back before 10.” You called out, taking your car keys from the table.

“Where’re you going this time?” Your mom asked.

“Just to the church where we hold the support group sessions. Peter is having a pre-funeral and he wanted me to be there.” You shrugged.

“But sweetheart you’re barely home anymore.” Your dad said.

You nodded, “I know. But Peter needs me. Who knows how much more time I have left with him? Who knows if this is the last time I’ll be seeing him? All I know is that once he’s gone, I’ll be here all the time.” 

Your parents nodded in understanding, pulling you into a short hug as their hearts softened at the sight of you trying to keep your tears in as the thought of Peter dying crossed you.

“Give Peter our regards then.” 

You stepped on the platform after helping Harry back to his seat after finishing eulogy.

Giving Peter a small smile from where he sat in his wheelchair, you glanced down at the paper in your hands and started,

“My name is Y/N. Peter Benjamin Parker was the great star-crossed love of my life. Ours was an epic love story, and I won't be able to get more than a sentence into it without disappearing into a puddle of tears. Pete knew. Pete knows. I will not tell you our love story, because like all real love stories, it will die with us. As it should. I'd hoped that he'd be eulogizing me, because there is no one I'd rather have. I can't talk about our love story, so I will talk about math. I am not a mathematician, but I know this. There is an infinite set of numbers between 0 and 1. There's 0.1 and 0.12 and 0.112 and an infinite collection of others. Of course there is a bigger infinite set of numbers between 0 and 2, or between 0 and a million.”

You could feel the tears streaming down your cheeks, giving a sniff and a small chuckle, you continued.

“Some infinities are bigger than other infinities. A writer we used to like taught us that. There are days, many days of them, when I resent the size of my unbounded set. I want more numbers than I'm likely to get, and God, I want more numbers for Peter Parker than he got. But, Pete, my love, I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinity. I wouldn't trade it for the world. You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I'm grateful. I love you so much."

Peter nodded, his own tears mirroring yours as he mouthed, I love you too.

–

It’s been eight days since Peter’s pre funeral.

Things have just gotten progressively worse. It was 11 pm when you received a call from Aunt May.

“Y/N, dear, I’m so sorry to call at this hour but can you drop by the hospital? Peter wants to see you. I told him that you’d be coming to visit him again tomorrow but he wants to see you now.” 

You licked your lips, momentarily closing your eyes to prevent you from thinking about the inevitable, “I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” 

You didn’t have to ask the front desk what room Peter was in. You had been coming in for the past 8 days, you knew where to find him.

Slowly pushing the door open, you gave a small smile as you were met with the sight of Aunt May and Uncle Ben - both who were trying hard not to burst into tears and stay strong, and the boy you loved looking weaker than when you had come to see him hours ago.

“You wanted to see me?” You asked quietly, sitting on the chair that was placed next to his bed.

“I missed you.” Peter said, pecking your cheek as he reached for your hand.

“How’re you feeling?” You asked, evne if you knew that it was dumb question considering his state.

“Like my ass has been kicked and my insides deep fried.” He smiled, making you laugh.

The two of you sat in silence, comfortable silence, no words needed to be exchanged because this was what both of you needed.

Peter licked his lips before he disrupted the silence, “There’s a red box underneath my bed back at home. When I pass, I want you to have everything inside of that box. I left it specifically for you.”

You shook your head, not even trying to hold the tears back, “Peter…”

He held a finger to your lips to shush you, giving one of his award winning smiles, “I feared oblivion. But, I guess it won’t be that bad, if I have the hope of seeing you again there.” 

You sniffed, throat tightening and voice cracking as you joked, “You better wait for me Parker.” 

“I don’t care how long it takes.” 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

An hour later, a nurse came in, telling you that visitation hours were over and that only the family can stay.

You stood up, pressing a brief kiss to Peter’s soft lip before giving Aunt May and Uncle Ben a hug.

“Hey Y/N.” Peter called out once you’ve reached the door.

“Yeah?” 

“You know you’re the best thing that ever happened to me right?” He looked at you similar to the way he did when you first met.

You smiled, “Happening, Pete. Don’t use past tense yet. You’re the best thing that is still happening to me.”

–

You wanted to scream, to cry, to just have the earth swallow you up whole,  it felt like the whole world just stopped on its axis, gravity was gone and everything everywhere is just absolute chaos.

The only thing that could be heard on the other line was Aunt May’s sobs as she told you the news. 

Once Aunt May had hung up, you called Harry who was able to do the thing you couldn’t do - scream. He cursed the world, questioning where the damn trophies were when you needed them.

You were vaguely aware of your parents standing by your bedroom door, they already knew what happened.

You took a deep breath, which was a mistake as you inhaled the scent of him since you were wearing his shirt after all. The scent that you would probably never be able to breathe in again.

Burying your face in your pillow, you screamed until your throat was hoarse and cried until you couldn’t breathe. Your parents were on either side of you, trying to console you in the best way they can.

You knew this was inevitable, you knew that this was bound to happen on any day. But that didn’t prepare you for the fact that Peter Parker’s heart had stopped beating.

That the star-crossed love of your life was dead.

–

“I am so glad he met you.” Aunt May sighed as she hugged you when you arrived at the funeral, “I’ve never seen him that happy before.” 

“I felt like I was the luckiest girl in the world when I was with him.” You smiled.

“Also,” Uncle Ben said, “If you’re okay with it, can you drop by our house after the service so you can get the box he left for you? I would’ve brought it here, but I don’t think I have the strength to go down there yet.”

You nodded, “Sure.” 

You walked up to his coffin while Aunt May was preoccupied with your parents. Looking around to see if anyone was watching you, you took the pack of cigarettes from your dress pocket and placed it next to his resting figure, hidden from view.

“You can light these.” You whispered, “I won’t mind.”

After the service, you sat in your room - the red box that Peter mentioned laid beside you while the four pieces of paper (along with the various polaroids of you and him) were cradled in your lap.

You ran a finger through his penmanship, the various colors of ink and sizes of the words showed the state of his consciousness during the last few days. You had found them in an envelope with a return letter from Van Houten’s address.

It wasn’t the sequel he promised you, but it was something better. You couldn’t help but slightly smile through the tears as you read,

Mr. Van Houten. I'm a good person, but a shitty writer. You're a shitty person, but a good writer. I think we'd make a good team. I don't wanna ask you for any favors, but if you have the time - and from what I saw you had plenty - please fix this for me: It's a eulogy for Y/N. She asked me to write one, and I'm trying, but I just... I could use a little flair. See, the thing is... we all wanna be remembered. But Y/N's different. Y/N knows the truth. She didn't want a million admirers, she just wanted one. And she got it. Maybe she wasn't loved widely, but she was loved deeply. And isn't that more than most of us get? When Y/N was sick, I knew I was dying, but I didn't wanna say so. She was in the ICU when I snuck in for ten minutes and I just sat with her before I got caught. Her eyes were closed, her skin pale, but her hands were still her hands, still warm, and her nails were painted this dark blue black color, and... I just held them. And I willed myself to imagine a world without us and what a worthless world that would be. She's so beautiful. You don't get tired of looking at her. You never worry if she's smarter than you, 'cause you know she is. She's funny without ever being mean. I love her. God, I love her, I'm so lucky to love her, Van Houten. You don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world, but you do have a say in who hurts you. And I like my choices. I hope she likes hers.

Holding the letters close to your chest, you closed your eyes and tried to imagine his smile, his voice, his laugh.

“I do, Peter, I do.”

–

It’s been a long and terrible year.

You laid down on the grass at the park where you and Peter happened to have your first date. 

Over the course of the year, your condition worsened, you could feel yourself getting weaker with every passing day.

You held the letter Peter had left you a little over your head, eyes scanning the words that were practically engraved in your heart from reading them everyday.

Once you had finished, you held them close to your heart, looking up at the twinkling night sky and the stars that shone with them.

“Okay Y/N?” His voice echoed clear as day in your mind as you looked up at his almost transparent silhouette as he smiled down at you, just like it was the very first time.

You took a deep, labored breath. A smile gracing your lips as you closed your eyes.

You could vaguely hear your parents calling out for you, screaming your name, telling you to hold on that they’re bringing you to the hospital. But this was it, there was no turning back.

Memories flashed through your mind: your first birthday, first day of school, the day you got diagnosed with cancer, the day you met Peter along with every single memory that had Peter attached to it.

You could feel your heartbeat slowing down with every minute and air getting harder to hold on to. You could see a flash of light, Peter holding his hand out to you, an unlit cigarette nestled in his mouth- keeping his promise. 

Gathering up all your remaining strength, you managed to use your last gulp of air to utter the word you couldn’t bring yourself  to say for a year before everything went dark.

“Okay.” 

Peter Parker and Andrew Garfield Taglist:

@beloved-bucky, @hunnybunimdun, @andrewgarfield2022, @jasmin7813, @andrewgarfieldsbae, @spxiiee, @shaded-echoes-recs, @holy-macncheese-balls, @mcugeekposts

[wwilloww]

point of no return | PJM

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Smut. Fluff. Friends to lovers. Roommates AU.

WC: 10.2k

Summary: Both Jimin and you are determined to never act on the feelings you hold for one another. Instead, you’d rather shove it down, somewhere deep, dark, and inaccessible. So what do you get when you mix a broken furnace, an old victorian home, a little bit of jealousy in the club, and a need to keep warm together? A mess.

Warnings & Tags: Cursing. Reader is really freakin cold. Jimin sleeps in the nude. Spooning. Grinding. Obscene daydreaming about your best friend.  Sex dreams. Mentions of alcohol. Dancing. Jimin is a little jealous. Masterbation. Unexpected visual. Super soft makeout. Fingering. Orgasm denial. Sex. Slight power play. Creampie.  

AN: Oof! Finally! A Jimin fic! Thank you to @thatlongspringnight for guiding me through the last 6k of this fic, all written in one day and for being the most brilliant, queen of queens level beta reader. A big thanks to @triviasapphic too, for letting me use their likeness! 

This is very loosely based on this ask beautifully submitted by the loveliest @jinpanman for the milestone request party! 

©wwilloww Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

point of no return 

“Fuckin’ shithead mutherfuckin cunt basket,” you hiss.

Nothing would turn it on.

You tried pressing the knob. You tried twisting it until your hand rubbed raw. You tried shaking it. You tried begging in your sweetest, most saccharine tone. You even tried giving it compliments.

“Have I ever told you how sexy you look with three coats of white paint? No?”

Fifteen minutes ago the antique radiator — so old it would probably be better in a museum of old technologies than as a functioning heat mechanism — stuttered to a halt and refused to turn back on.

When you had picked the house out with your best friend, Jimin, you’d loved it for it’s Victorian era charm. But now with the December cold creeping in through the thin window and your refusal to own more than one blanket you were shivering madly, teeth clattering cold. And wildly in doubt of your house hunting skills.

With a heavy sigh and slumped shoulders, you drag your comforter off of the mattress, wrap it tightly over your shivering shoulders, and pad barefoot down the hall. Instead of knocking, you just twist the door handle, letting the door swing open before you with a long, drawn-out squeak. You wince at the sound.

A dark figure sits up from the bed, squinting at you in the darkness.

“Is that—”

“It’s me,” you whisper. If it were anyone else, that response would be useless. But after years of friendship Jimin knows every tune and nook in your voice — the way it sounds when you’re upset, or scared, or — in this case — really fucking cold. “The heater broke.”

“What?” His voice is groggy and sleep-heavy.

“The heater broke. Can I stay here tonight?”

He scrunches his nose and wipes a hand across his face.

“Yeah, sure, uh—” He shifts a bit in bed and that’s when you realize he’s not wearing anything at all. You gulp. It’s the coldest month of the year and the fucker is naked in bed, nothing more than a top sheet thrown over his body, the rest of the duvet crumpled at the foot of the bed. Even though you know he’s one to sleep in the nude (“It invigorates your skin and keeps your body temperature regulated,” he had explained to you once) seeing it, in front of you, just the thinnest piece of fabric between you and your best friend’s junk is a whole other story.

As he moves, the sheet slips down, revealing his toned stomach, only visible by the moonlight flooding through the bay windows of his bedroom.

“Give me a minute to put something on?”

“Uh huh,” you mumble, turning around quickly to give him some semblance of privacy, your blanket whooshing out behind you.

You can hear him pad over to his dresser, just three feet behind you. You swallow hard as you imagine him, totally naked, so close to you. Literally within arms reach. If you could only—

“Turn around, I’m done.”

You peek over your shoulder before turning fully, only to see Jimin, now clothed in some pretty short black boxers, climbing back into bed. Blanket trailing, you shuffle after him, climbing into the warm bed from the other side.

You pull your comforter as tightly around you as you can, but you’re still cold. As you turn to face away from your friend, you can’t help but shiver, your shoulders shaking with the chill that’s settled deep in your bones.

“Can you stop shaking?” Jimin’s sleep-adled voice grunts from behind you.

“I’m too cold,” you whine.

“Come ‘ere—”

And before you know it, he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and dragging your body backwards until it meets his. He pulls the blanket up and slides in behind you, wrapping himself around your shivering form.

“Better?” he asks while you’re still in shock from the amount of contact he’s just put the two of you in.

“Mhmm,” you squeak out, even as your body continues to shake.

“You’re a liar,” he chuckles.

“I don’t know why you bothered to ask then,” you snap back, wrapping your arms tight around yourself.

You’re not sure if he sees this or if he’s acting on his own accord. You let out a small gasp as he tugs you even closer, his arm slipping under the blanket to press against the skin of your hip. He maneuvers you backwards, your body as limp as a puppet, while you lay there in shock (and a small bit of exhilaration). He presses the back of your body flush against his front and snakes his top arm up the front of your torso until it rests in the center of your chest, gripping your opposite shoulder.

Trapped.

You’re trapped in his arms, nowhere to move, nowhere to go. Only the sound of your combined breaths, his a little more slow and sleepy than your nervous pant. Trapped only with the idea of him so close, and the strange thing fluttering in your chest that only continues to grow bigger and bigger despite all the work you’ve done to push it away. All you can think about is the way he’s pressed up against you, only your thin flannel pajama pants and his even thinner black boxers keeping the most sensitive parts of your bodies apart.

When he shifts, nustling his nose into the crook of your shoulder, you swear you can feel something long and hard press up against your ass.

And suddenly the warmth that is flooding through you has absolutely nothing to do with the shared body heat. Instead it’s coming from someplace deep down — somewhere yearning and desperate — and also from that strange fluttering thing in your chest.

All there is is white. You know somewhere far above you is an endless sea of stars, blinking down on you. But all you know is the grass beneath you and the swimming white sheets that float above and around you.

Someone’s laughing and you turn your face to see him — Jimin — beaming and reaching out towards you.

Somewhere in your mind you know it’s night time and that everything should be dark — and yet, everything around him is lit up and glows with a sourceless light.

Joy rushes through you and as you reach out towards him, he disappears and a new kind of light — warmth — appears behind you.

“I want—” you start to say, but his hand comes up to your mouth, silencing you.

“If you speak, you’ll break the dream,” he says. “Just enjoy it. Let me be here with you.”

Eyes don’t close in dreams, but you know you drift somewhere soft, the feeling of his body so close to yours and the precious rhythm of his breath tracing your neck.

All there is warmth.

Too much of it, actually.

As your eyes blink open to the dark room, the remnants of some dream, lots of white, Jimin’s smile fall away from your consciousness. You kick your leg out into the freezing air and sigh as the coolness washes the heat from your body. Relief.

The warmth that hasn’t been erased, however, is sitting heavy in your lower belly, pooling and swirling and wanting.

You do your best to ignore it, knowing it’s probably some mix of the dream and the thing that you’ve kept hidden on the edge of your consciousness for too long.

You close your eyes again, wishing for sleep to come back and pull you away from these thoughts. Just as you feel the soft edges of another dream lapping at the edges of your mind, Jimin groans behind you and comes to press up against you again, his hand snaking down over your belly.

Eyes shoot open. There. Behind you. Right between the swell of your ass. You can feel his cock pressing into you, at full hardness. You gasp at the sensation, quickly slapping your hand over your mouth so as not to wake him. Slowly, you try to scootch away from his grip, but he holds you there, his arm only tightening when you try to move away.

It’s not that you don’t want it — you do — your body is singing with electricity at the thought of his hard cock against you, between you, inside you. God, if only. However, it’s the consequences, the unspoken question, the unanswered desires (the answer to which you may just not want to know) that push you away from him.

This is your best friend. The person you’ve always been able to rely on and trust. The man you know you can turn to at any moment and know there will never be a question dangling between the two of you.

Except for now.

As he slowly circles his hips against yours, the most delightful, breathy pants falling from his lips — so soft you can barely hear them — the question looms larger than ever.

Are you in love with your best friend?

However, here, his arm wrapped so tightly around your belly, it’s easy to sink into the desire. To equate the arrival of the question with the arousal rising in your body. To tell yourself this is just pleasure, this is natural.

Jimin’s palm is splayed out across your lower belly, pressing hard against you.

He’s rutting shallowly against you, moving for the sake of his own pleasure. A high note of satisfaction slips from his lips, before a name tumbles shortly after it into your ear.

Not any name.

Your name.

You choke on your own words as you understand it. Confusion rushes over you but it’s quickly replaced by adrenaline as his hand clenches and unclenches around your shirt and he shifts and stretches.

Jimin is waking up. Is he going to say something? Is he going to tell you he didn’t mean it at all? Will he run from you?

His body freezes as he realizes the position he’s in. Wrapped so intimately around you, his hard cock pressed against you.

“Shit,” you hear him whisper. “Shit, shit, shit.”

You squeeze your eyes closed and lay as still as possible as you feel him pull away from you. And then the bed dips just enough and you realize he’s leaning over you, checking to see if you’re asleep or not.

You smooth out your features, hoping he doesn’t catch that you’ve been awake this whole time.

The December morning light is streaming in bold and warm through the window.

Your hand goes searching for Jimin, but all you find is an empty, chilled, pillow. There’s a good chance he’s already headed out for the day to see friends or to run errands and so you assume it’s safe as you tiptoe downstairs to get some water and some much needed coffee. Not that you slept much last night.

As you enter the kitchen, the earthy smell of fresh coffee hits you and you take a deep breath, inhaling the nutty aroma. There’s a full pot of coffee already waiting for you on the counter. You smile. Jimin has always been a considerate housemate, but to leave you coffee in the morning? I’m so lucky to have a friend like him, you sigh as you turn to the cabinet to grab a mug.

“Good morning!” an almost nervous, too-cheery voice sings out from behind you.

“AGh!” you cry, nearly dropping the mug you’re holding. Jimin’s quicker than you are though, and reaches out, just as it drops below your belly button. He’s laughing, his delightful giggle filling the light-painted kitchen but all you can think about is how close he’s standing to you, the mug brushing up against your stomach.

“Got it,” he grins.

“You know you can’t jump out at me like that!” you scold, trying to take the mug back from him. But he turns and goes to fill it up for you.

“I literally said your name twice before you noticed. Someone was too lost in dreamland.”

“Pshh, no, I — you need to be a little louder.”

“Can we talk about last night?” Jimin asks as he hands you a cup of coffee. “I, uh, I think there was an accident, I had a dream you were—”

You panic.

“Last night? Oh gosh yeah! I slept like a rock! Thank you for keeping me warm. I would have frozen to death if it weren’t for you.”

You smile as sweetly as you can at him.

He blinks back.

“I mean — uh, yeah, sure, I mean, you’re welcome but that’s not what I mean —”

“Nothing to talk about!” you chirp, already scurrying towards the stairs that lead back up to your bedroom.

“Hey! I’m trying to talk to you!” he cries as you pad upstairs, making a beeline for your bedroom as the coffee you’re holding sloshes around in the mug.

“Oof, well I’m already tired again, gonna take a nap!”

You sprint up the stairs and as you do you hear him call behind you.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”

It hits harder than you want it to.

“Come on, princess. You’re taking forever!”

You’re back down on your bed, swaddled in all the blankets in the house you could find, scrolling through your phone.

“I don’t want to go!”

“Well I do!” The door finally swings open and Jimin stands there, all dolled up for the night out. He’s wearing tight leather pants that hug his toned thighs just right and a half opened black shirt that he’s still buttoning as you look on. Beneath his hands, his chest shows, the muscular planes simple and sheer perfection. A single silver earring dangles from his left ear, the other one filled with a variety of studs.

As you peek out of your blanket fort, you gulp as you take in his flawless appearance. He looks like straight sex, the darkness of his outfit highlighting every muscle and curve.

"You look nice," you manage to squeak, and Jimin blushes, his praise kink showing. "Those pants are..." Hot as fuck? More beautiful than the Mona Lisa? Just asking me to rip them off? Floundering for language, you just let your sentence trail off as he looks on, a pink tinge still dancing across his features.

"You wanna wear them?"

"Pfft, no," you lie.

“Are you planning on getting out of bed?”

“No.”

"Well then, if you're not going to get out of bed and dress yourself I'll do the honors." Jimin stomps over to the tiny door leading to your closet and swings it open. He ruffles through your set of clothes, as disparate from a full flannel collection (one that you are quite proud of) to an evening gown that never got worn. Words you can't quite hear or understand tumble from his mouth in a stream of frustrated mumbles as he seems to be looking for something very specific. "Aha!" he finally cries out. "Here it is."

What he pulls out is not what you expected.

It's a simple piece. A light tan slip dress, one with a bit of a scoop to the bust. One that hugs all of your curves just right and sits low enough the weight keeps the dress exactly where you want it to be and high enough that your upper thighs are deliciously on display - something that simultaneously excites you and scares the hell out of you. You bought it on a whim, hoping it would help you embody your inner club girl (or "inner slut" as your friend Jungkook would correct you - which, if you were being entirely honest, was really what you meant when you spoke about going to the club.)

"That one? Really?"

"What, you wanna wear this?" He turns back to the closet before pulling out a second dress, this one long and emerald green and sparkly with a full slit up the side.

"No." You pout.

"Then what's the problem?"

"Ugh!" you cry, burrowing deeper into your blanket fort. "Itsmyslutdress," you mumble.

"What?"

"Itsmyslutdress!" you mumble, but louder this time.

"Did you just call it a slut dress?"

You pop your head out of the warmth cocoon with a sigh.

"Yes."

"What does that even mean?"

"It is the dress I wear when I want to embody my slutty alter-ego. The dress I wear when I wanna get laid."

Jimin blinks a few times before turning back to you with a grin.

"Well--do you not want to get laid tonight?" he asks slowly.

You gape at him.

Even as best friends, even talking about your hookups, you never really talked about sex iteself. Everytime you brought it up, whether it was at the bar and you were ogling some tall, dark, handsome stranger as if some psychic had promised you he was your entire future, he always seemed to shut down. And yet, around your other friends, he was an open book. "Basically a sex expert," Jungkook had told you once. "A sexpert." He'd added, grinning.

But with you, sex was off the table. You were more open and vulnerable with him than you were anyone in your life - and he with you. But sex was just never on the discussion board for you two.

"Do you wanna get laid tonight?"

"Are you offering?" you shoot back teasingly.

"Of course," he says softly.

Your mouth drops.

Of course? Of course?!

"I mean! No! What? Wait? Can you repeat the question?"

"You said yes," you say slowly.

"What! No! I did not!"

Jimin is basically stomping his foot on the ground.

"You did!"

He looks almost angry and you're not sure whether to laugh at the softness with which he had agreed to fuck you - or to feel hurt by his quick change of mind.

"Did not!"

You break into giggles finally releasing yourself from your cocoon of warmth to sprawl out on the bed in a fit of laughter. Your little tirade is quickly shut down though as the silky fabric of the dress is thrown onto your face and you cough around the material.

"Get dressed. I don't want to be late," he says, his voice flat.

“It’s too cold for the slut dress,” you grumble in a last ditch effort, fabric falling into your mouth as you sleep.

“Then wear a fucking turtleneck and snow pants to the club,” Jimin says. “I don’t care, just please get dressed.”

The door slams and when you pull the dress away from your face, the room is empty again. With a sigh, you roll off the bed and begin to get ready for the night.

By the time you pulled up to the dark, sticker-plastered doors of the club, Jimin had resumed his usually joyful and peppy demeanor, all memories of his little slip up erased from the night.

You knew better than to push him about it. You knew that he shut down when you called him out on these things in the past— like the way his eyes lingered on you for too long when you showed off a new bathing suit, the cute little stutter he donned when he was flustered by you, or the way he would basically run at top speed in any direction away from you when you emerged from the shower, nothing but a towel wrapped around your body.

As you are swallowed into the sea of dancing figures and booming bass, you feel his hand come to rest on your waist. Pushing further into the crowd, his touch is reassuring. Steadying. His way of keeping a hold on you without actually holding onto you.

He sees them before you do, and quickly grabs onto your hand, tugging you forward into the mass of swaying figures. Waving and yelling their names, the two of you tumble towards your friends. Jungkook and Raven stand near the bar, their faces lighting up when they finally spot you in the mess of strangers.

Raven embraces you first, his arms pulling you in for a tight hug.

“I wanna dance!” Jungkook says before you can even step away from Raven. Drinks abandoned, Jungkook has grabbed both yours and Jimin’s hands and drags you out to the dance floor.

The bass courses through you as your friends surround you, bopping and swaying to the barely understandable lyrics.

Jimin has always been a good dancer. A great dancer, actually. His moves range from absolutely side-achingly hilarious to -- dare you say it -- undeniably sensual.

He twirls you onto the dance floor, the two of you falling into your usual routine of swinging and laughing and kicking all around.

And as the upbeat and perhaps misplaced summer hit switches to a more sensual song he matches it naturally, letting his hips sway and glide to the rhythm. He pulls you along with him, twirling you more slowly. When you twist into his grasp, he doesn’t hesitate to take you into his arms, pressing you against him.

As his arms come to wrap around your shoulders, you can’t help but press back into him.

Raven winks at you and you grin back at him, shooing him and his teasing away.

It’s easy to fall into this. Easy to fall into the sway of Jimin’s body and the safety that comes with being pressed so close against him. You fit perfectly into his body, every one of your curve the antithesis to his. Like two puzzle pieces.

You let your hand drop down to his thigh, gripping it for stability as you sway your hips against his. The muscle tenses beneath your touch and you take that as an opportunity to roll your ass against his crotch.

He meets your movements, grinding back up into you, his hand dropping to your waist where he grips you tightly and guides your movements even further back into him.  

"We shouldn't be doing this," he whispers in your ear.

His body pressed against yours feels like the most natural thing in the world. The nights the two of you have spent in your kitchen, sliding around in socks and grooving to your favorite music, springing each other around your shared house — all of those hours, all of those years make it so when he moves against you he knows exactly what he’s doing and exactly what you want him to do. You move in tandem, as if you are sharing a brain, a story, a body.

You tilt your head up to him, nuzzling into his neck.

“Why not?”

“I-I can’t mess up.” He says, but he continues to sway at your back.

“You’re not messing up. I like this.”

As you reach behind you, letting your hand trail up beneath his shirt, you can feel him press into your touch. Chasing it, searching it out. But as your hand trails back down, fingernails scraping delicately against the skin, he seems to snap out of it and steps back from you, even as he keeps his hands on your hips.

You turn, trying to pull him back to you, but you see his brow is furrowed.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Just fine!” he says, just a little to cheerfully. “I-I just think I’m done with dancing for tonight.”

Even as he says it he pulls you closer to his chest.

“I’m going to get some drinks, do you want something?”

“You don’t want to dance with me?”

“I— uh— it’s not that.” He shakes his head.

“Please, come on, it’ll be fun,” you groan, tugging on his arm. But he stands firm and stiff. “Aren’t you having fun?”

“I don’t want to dance tonight. Just go on ahead.”

You look your friend up and down. Jimin was never one to turn down an opportunity to dance.

“Okay,” you say, painting a smile on your features even as your heart aches slightly at his rejection. “I just want you to have fun. Do you want me to come with?”

“No--it’s okay. I’ll be back, alright?”

“Alright?”

You watch as he disappears back into the mass of people. You stand still, wondering What the hell just happened?

However, your thoughts are quickly interrupted as Raven reaches out to you, pulling you to him in a graceful spin.

“Distract yourself, darling,” he says with a chuckle. “He’ll come around, don’t you worry.”

Before you have a chance to process his words, Raven spins you out again in the crowd.

You stumble just a little bit, until hands come to rest on the dip of your hips, lingering there just enough to stabilize you. However, they quickly release you as soon as you are standing tall again.

“Oh, ah, thank you,” you half-yell as you turn around, attempting to raise your voice above the noise.

The man who stands behind you is undeniably gorgeous. Tall, with a dark lock of hair hanging into your forehead and the most beautiful smile.

“No worries, it happens all the time,” he grins at you. “What’s your name.”

You yell back at him, but when he can’t hear you, you step closer to him, pressing against his chest to speak your name into his ear. His hand comes down on your waist as you do, lightly.

“My name’s Hoseok. You can call me Hobi though. Care to dance?”

You grin up at him and nod. You’ve never been one to turn down a dance partner.

He takes your hand, quick to find the rhythm of the music.

Hoseok is a natural. As each song progresses, his dances become more intricate. He’s happy to lead you through them and you can’t help but laugh as he spins you around the floor while others are swaying and grinding. You’ve never had this much fun with a stranger, but as he moves against you, you can’t help but think of the way Jimin felt pressed so close to you earlier in the night. It’s just not quite the same.

It’s easy to get lost in him, in his beaming smile and witty jokes that he bends down to whisper in your ear. He compliments you freely, and you do the same in return.

As the night continues you and Hoseok dance closer and closer until he’s pressed deliciously up against your back. You find yourself lost in the sensation of being embraced by someone, even if it isn’t the person you’d want to be there.

“I hope I’m not being too forward, but do you wanna come home with me?” The man leans down, the husk of his voice brushing deliciously against your ear.

“I can’t.” You say, turning back towards him. “But thank you.”

“No problem,” he says, leaning down to chastely kiss your cheek. “Can I ask you a question before you go?”

You nod.

“Does your refusal have anything to do with the man at the bar who hasn’t taken his eyes off of us since we started dancing?”

“What?”

He nods over your shoulder, back towards the bar. Through the crowd, you can barely see your friends, but as you reach up on your tippy toes you see them all gathered around, laughing and talking. And then at the edge of them is Jimin. He stands tall and proud and with an unusually grim expression on his face. But when he sees you looking at him, he quickly averts his gaze to his drink, which he is continually swirling in his hand.

“You’re going home with him, aren’t you?”

“Well, duh, he’s my roommate, I—”

“You should go for it,” he interrupts you.

“Go for it?”

“Go for it.”

“There’s nothing there,” you state, matter of factly. “We’re just really good friends!” You’re not sure why you tell him this, but there’s something soft in his eyes that spurs you on.

“Good friends don’t eye fuck each other all night.”

“We weren’t—”

“No need to explain it to me.” He holds up his hands. “But it seems like you have some explaining to do to him. Or at least to yourself.”

You sputter. “Psh! What! No! I’m just tired, Hobi, and if I had the energy I would be fucking you right here, right now, on the dance floor. It has nothing to do with Jimin. Nothing at all!” You realize you’ve got your finger poking into his chest and you quickly draw it back. “Sorry.”

“Okay…”

“Well.” You put your hands on your hips, wiping the frustrated look off of your face. “I should go, I guess. It was nice dancing with you, partner. I’ll be the first to admit you got great hips.”

He’s laughing, and you’re not sure if it’s at you or with you, but when you extend you hand for a friendly fistbump, he meets it with all the enthusiasm in the world, pulls you into a hug, and is off on his merry way, off to find a new dancing partner.

Left alone in the middle of the floor, you kind of just stand there, mulling over what the stranger had said to you. Soon though, you feel a hand on your shoulder and you spin around to see a blank faced Jimin.

“I, uh, just wanted to check in on you.”

“I’m all good!” you chirp, perhaps too cheerfully. As you begin to make your way back to the bar, his hand comes to rest on your lower back and you shiver at the touch.

“So you’re not going home with him?” He nods back in the direction of the disappearing stranger.

“Why would I?”

“Well, you wore your slut dress, so I figured he was a contender.” He doesn’t meet your eye.

“I didn’t want to fuck him.” You stop, and turn to him.

He laughs, almost nervously. “Well I guess that’s an important factor.”

“Yeah, just a minor detail,” you shoot back, grinning.

“I guess it’s all for the best. Didn’t like the looks of him much anyways.

You giggle. “What? Are you jealous?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I can’t be jealous.”

“Can’t be? Or aren’t?”

Jimin blinks back at you, an expression of utter surprise on his face. You know his answer in that moment, and yet — there is a kind of doubt that sits in you. That until he says it, it just won’t be real.

And still, he avoids your question.

“I think I’m gonna head home, do you wanna come with or head back with Tae and Raven?”

“I’ll come back with you, there’s nothing left here for me.”

“Great,” he says, a small smile on his lips. “Let’s go.”

“My heat is still out,” you call.

You’re standing at the door to his room in nothing but your pajama shirt. When you’d gotten home Jimin was quick to wish you goodnight and sweet dreams and book it up to his bedroom. You had gone to your own room and changed into sleep clothes, only to climb into bed and realize just how fucking freezing your blankets still were.

But as you stand outside his bedroom, when you press down on the handle, the door is unusually locked. He never locks the door, you think.

“Jimin!”

You push down on the handle, jiggling it obnoxiously as you hope your best friend can hear you from the other side, and isn’t just ignoring you. As you rattle the metal handle, something seems to come loose within the door and all of a sudden the door is swinging open inwards and there’s Jimin, leaning against the backboard of his bed, legs spread, and--

“Oh no—”

Even as your hands flash up to cover your eyes, you know it’s too late.

You’ve already seen it.

It’s imprinted on your brain. The image of Jimin with his head thrown back, hand wrapped around his throbbing cock hastily pulled out of his jeans. He must have been in such a rush he didn’t even bother to pull his pants down. Instead, the leather pants are simply tugged down just enough from him to slip his cock out of them.

“What the fuck!” he yelps.

“Did I—interrupt?” You can’t help but burst into giggles, even as you keep your hands firmly clamped to your face.

“Yes! Yes, you did!” he says, scrambling for the sheet. He pulls it over himself and then does up his pants again.

“If it makes you feel any better you have a nice looking dick!” you squeak out from behind your hands.

He wipes a hand wearily over his face.

“You really wanna have a conversation about my dick right now?”

“See a dick, converse about a dick, am I right?” you laugh nervously.

“No, no, you’re not. It usually goes like ‘see a dick, forget the fact that you ever looked at a dick.’”

“You got a point there.”

The room falls into silence for a moment before Jimin coughs and speaks.

“You can take your hands away now.”

Ever-so-slowly you release your hands from your face, looking over at Jimin who looks — not upset, not embarrassed, not angry — but intrigued. He’s looking at you with a mix of curiosity — and something else. Something you can’t quite put a finger on.

“Welp, I better be going—”

“I thought you said your heat is still out.”

You turn back around slowly.

“...It is. But I can go. I don’t want to make you feel… uncomfortable.”

“You’ve never made me feel uncomfortable. I don’t know if you could.”

“I’ve definitely made you feel uncomfortable before. Like that one time I put peanut butter on your special pickles and tried to fry them—”

“Okay, okay, maybe in like, a superficial way. But not in a deep way.” He pauses. “You’re my best friend for a reason.”

You’re still standing in the doorway, and as he looks you over — gaging your reaction, reading your emotions, trying to understand what’s going on in that far-off mind of yours — he realizes you’ve got your arms wrapped around your torso, protecting yourself from the biting draft that drifts down the hallway.

“Come ‘ere. You’re sleeping here tonight.” He says it without hesitation.

You look at him, and then back down the darkened hallway, and then back at him, the warm glow of his bedside lamp painting his features gold. His cheeks are still slightly flushed, his chest peeks out of his loose button down. And perhaps it’s that image that draws you to him — or, what you tell yourself in that moment, the inviting warmth of the layers of blankets on his bed and the radiator that sits close by.

You climb into bed, quickly tucking yourself into the blankets and rolling onto your side, away from him. However, you can feel his hands reaching out towards you, pulling the blankets closer to you, tucking you in further to their addicting warmth.

“I’m uh, gonna read for a little bit, is that okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, course,” you say, your voice slightly muffled by the pillow you’ve stolen and burry your face into.

He rifles through the nightstand. Behind you, he shifts, getting a bit more comfortable and you can hear the comforting sound of pages turning as he begins to read.

Even as you close your eyes, sleep evades you. As much as you try to banish it from your mind, it seems as if the image of his thick cock is burned into your retina, the vein on the underside of it swollen and pronounced. All you can see in your mind’s eye is Jimin, lost in his own pleasure. His face scrunched, eyes squeezed shut. What would it be like to see what he saw, whatever it was that had him gripping his cock so tight the knuckles began to turn white?

“So do you usually masterbate without porn?”

It slips out before you know what you’re saying.

He coughs behind you, and it sounds like he’s choking.

“What?!”

Well, you think. Now that it’s out there I might as well just go for it. You flip over onto your otherside, face half hidden by the blanket.

“When I walked in on you — you were just… lost in thought. No video or audio or,” you nod at the book he’s holding. “Rip off of Half a Hundred Colors of Dark-White.”

He gapes at you.

“Why are you so obsessed with my masterbatory habits, hm?”

“I-I’m not! I’m just curious, like one would be when they accidentally catch their best friend masterbating. We all, you know, do it. I, myself, have a very lovely connection of multi-colored vibrators — all sizes and shapes and, uh, textures? And vibrations and settings and speeds and—”

“So you wanna talk about it then?” He’s still sitting above, looking down on you. He cocks an eyebrow at your surprised expression. “You didn’t want to talk about last night but you want to talk about how I get myself off?”

It’s your turn to gape.

“Uh, what? Last night, psh no!”

He readjusts his position so he’s facing you now, one leg bent and propped up, the other one folded beneath it. You do your best to keep your gaze focused on his face, and not on the prominent bulge that is now in your direct line of vision.

“So you weren’t grinding on my cock last night — or god forbid tonight at the club — But you wanna know about my masterbatory habits?”

You swallow and despite the chill air of the bedroom, you sit up, letting the blankets fall around your waist.

“I suppose that is what I’m asking.”

Heart pounding in your chest, you lick your lips. You know what you’re asking. You know where you’re pushing things. Everything about this next step terrifies you. And yet, it’s all you’ve been thinking about for the past 24 hours. Hell, the past several years.

You’d be lying if you said that last night’s dream was the tamest of the ones Jimin starred in. He haunted you. His image, his being, were everywhere you turned. Even when you were with other partners or one night stands, all you could do was compare them to Jimin. Were they as softly hilarious as him? Did they know your every thought, your every desire, like he did? Could they anticipate your mood before you even could? Did they fill you with that feeling of belonging and safety like he did? No. None of them ever did. You didn’t just crave Jimin’s attention, you craved his touch.

“You know, most friends talk about this kind of shit.”

“Do they?”

“Yes. They talk about sex. They talk about getting off. They talk about their interests and turn-offs and fantasies and--”

“And you wanna talk about this?” His hand lands on yours. You look up at him as he squeezes your fingers within his warm grasp.

“I-I guess I do. Sometimes it bothers me that we don’t talk about it.”

“Then let’s talk about it,” he says, a little bit more confidence slipping into his voice. He picks your hand up, weaving his fingers in between yours. The way he looks at them reminds you of someone looking at a beautiful vista or an undiscovered creature for the first time. There is wonder -- and also confusion -- in him. “I never wanted to make you uncomfortable. I never wanted to… turn our friendship into something that you didn’t want. Something that made you uncomfortable.”

“And I didn’t want to push.”

“Push me? Into what?”

You glance down at your hands. “I don’t know, something that you were disgusted by.”

“I could never be disgusted by you. It’s the opposite, actually.”

“Then why do you keep pushing me away? When I want to talk about things? When I want to be close to you?”

Jimin is silent for a moment.

“Because I’m never sure if this is just fun to you,” he says softly. “What if something happens and you realize you don’t want it in the way you thought you did?”

“And what if something happens and it’s exactly what I want?” One hand still resting in his grasp, you reach out with the free one to clutch onto his shirt. Not wanting to push too far, you make do with tangling your fingers in the silky fabric, twisting it around yourself until you are lost in it.

You don’t see it coming. His hand reaching up to yours, pressing your hand to his chest. Slowly, he slides your intertwined hands up until he can press your palm to his chest. Beneath the fabric you can hear the gentle thud of his heart beating, quicker than usual. And there, he just holds it. Mulling. Contemplating.

“It feels like I’ve been distracted…” He licks his lips as he considers his next several words. “...for weeks. Probably longer. I’ve been trying to hold everything in because it’s not supposed to be there. But the temptation to just give in… To just lean into the things that I want… It’s always there. It doesn’t go away. But--sometimes I can distract myself from it.”

“What is it that you want?”

His gaze flickers back up from your lips. The look in his eyes is searing. Burning. There’s desire there — one that’s all consuming — but something else too. He refuses to look away from you, instead roving over your whole face as if he’s trying to memorize it. As if when he speaks next he might forget you entirely. And that’s when you realize. It’s not confusion dancing in his eyes. It’s loss. He thinks he’s going to lose you.

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t have it.”

“You can.”  

“I can’t.” He squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s trying to hold back. “There— there are lines that once you cross you can never go back to.”

“Jimin, I want you.”

The words hang in the stilled silence of the room like lead, suspended and out of place. But you push on, and as you do, his grip tightens around your hands and he’s pulling you forward until you’re flush against his chest.

“And it’s not because of your monster cock -- although that’s like a really really great benefit that I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting--” Jimin raises an eyebrow. “Anyways, I want you for you. I think I’ve wanted you since I met you, but--” You glance down. “I’ve been too scared to admit it. Too scared or too dumb.”

Jimin raises your chin so that you are eye to eye. He’s so close.

“I’ve wanted you since I laid eyes on you.” He lets his hands drop to your hips, maneuvering you so that you’re fully straddling his waist as he sits up against the headboard. “I wanted you in my life, in whatever way that would be. I wanted you as my best friend and my inspiration and my home -- and to have you like that? I would never want to fuck it up.”

“Then don’t.”

“Simple as that,” he laughs, his hands coming to rest on your hips. He tightens his grip and you instinctively wrap your hands around his neck, tugging him closer to you.

“Simple as that,” you repeat.

The words hang in the air for a moment, filling the space of the bedroom. And then their sound is gone, leaving the air vacant of sound. The weight of what you’ve both just said crashes down upon you.

Simple as that.

“I want to kiss you,” Jimin whispers. “Can I kiss you?”

“Always,” you barely manage to mumble before your lips are crashing together. They begin clumsily, desperate. Teeth knocking together as you both scramble frantically for connection. For the missed years. For the gazes thrown across the hallway, quick and longing.

And then you find your groove. Just like on the dance floor, there is an unspoken communication to the way that you move together. Chasing and pursuing. Biting and pressing. You gasp as Jimin slips his tongue between your lips, swiping against the roof of your mouth.

It feels like forever and no time at all that you’re wrapped up in his arms, his hands climbing the height of your back as he pulls you as close as he possibly can.

As the kiss slips into gentleness, you feel him between your legs. He’s impossibly hard. You don’t know if it’s thought or basic instinct that leads you to press your hips forward, sliding ever so slightly along his length. You know you’ve done the right thing when he groans into your mouth. You do it again, this time swiveling against him. His hands snake down to your hips, fingers digging into the fleshy bits of your sides.

“I don’t think you know what you’re doing,” he groans against your lips.

“I know exactly what I’m doing.”

He kisses you fiercely and you let your hands wander beneath the silk of his shirt, tracing the planes of his skin until you’ve had enough and need more. You attempt to tug the fabric up, but he seems lost in your lips.

“Off, please,” you say when you can’t get it over his shoulders.

He grins at you and shucks it off in one go, tossing it onto the floor.

You lean back just enough to admire him like this, the planes of his chest glowing dimly in the light of the lamp.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur in awe.

He captures your lips again, his movements soft and dutiful. And then with all the gentleness in the world, he turns the both of you, cradling the nape of your neck as he lowers you down onto the pillows.

“I never thought I could have you like this.”

“Me neither. I-I don’t know if I can go back.”

“Don’t worry, darling. I already know I don’t want to go back.”  

You smile up at him, a feeling of warmth and love spreading through your chest. As he sits back, looking down on you, you tug your shirt over your head, tossing it to join his discarded top on the floor.

His eyes rove over your naked form, bare of everything except for the grannie panties you slipped on before knocking on his door. At the beginning of the night you wanted nothing but to make sure everything was thoroughly covered. Now you wish you had gone for something a bit more stylish.

Even as you think this, looking at him you know he doesn’t give a flying fuck what you’re wearing.

He leans down again, kissing you. He lets his weight rest just enough on you as he settles between your legs and you arch up at the dull contact.

As he bites down on your lip, you push up into him, searching for more.

“Can I touch you?” he asks.

“Please,” you gasp.

His hand comes down on your thigh, pushing you open just enough. And then, as he comes back to kiss you, he slips his hand down your stomach, fingers teasing at the waistband of your panties.

You can’t help as your hips buck up as he slips a finger down your folds. You’re already soaking, arousal quickly coating his finger.

“Shh, shh,” he whispers against your lips, gaze searching yours. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

As the final word slips out of his mouth, he inserts the first finger into your tight entrance and you yelp in pleasure, the feeling of him filling you more sensation than you could imagine. Ever so slowly, he begins to pump it in and out before adding a second finger.

“I want to get you ready for me,” he murmurs. “If that’s what you want.”

“I want it,” you gasp as he presses against your g spot. “Please, I need it, please, Jimin, fuck me.”

“Patience, baby. I will in due time. But first I need you a little more stretched out.”  

When he adds a third finger, the pressure building deliciously in your abdomen, there’s nothing you can do to hold back the way your body jerks or the whine that slips through your lips.

“God, I never even imagined you would sound this desperate, this beautiful.”

As he continues to press against the soft spongy spot inside you, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to keep control but quickly losing it.

“You thought about this?”

“Of course I thought about it.”

“Tell me what you thought about,” you pant, his fingers still working rhythmically in and out of you.

“The list is endless,” he murmurs. “I think about what it would feel like to fuck you. What it would sound like to have you call my name. What it would be like to have you cum again and again around my cock, and then walk out of here, with it dripping down your leg so that anyone who sees will know it too. To have you so fucked out and screaming that everyone in a ten mile radius knows exactly who is fucking you so well, who you belong to.”

“Ah!” you cry as your orgasm begins to build. “Jimin! I’m so close, I--”

And just like that, his fingers are gone from your clenching walls and you are left with a feeling of absolute emptiness drifting through you. He pulls back with a smirk.

“Wha--”

“When you come, I want it to be around my cock.”

Your gaze flickers down to his crotch, where his dick is straining against the tight confines of the leather. “That just can’t be comfortable,” you say, your voice shaking even as you unapologetically eye his obvious arousal. “Please take them off. I’ll make you feel good.”

“You can?”

“I want to,” you explain. “I want to help.” You look up at him again and see that his gaze is dark with desire. “Can I?”

Slowly, he nods, and you reach out towards him, for the buttons to his jeans. As your fingers land on the cold metal of the button, his come down atop yours, popping the button open expertly.

As you slowly slide the zipper down, you swallow.

Everything about this feels right. There’s the sensation of a fire burning in your chest. It’s not just wanting his body. It’s chasing the feeling of electricity sparking through you every time he touches you. Chasing the want of his hands, his gaze, his everything focused on you. Something twinges in your heart. Even as you want these things, you know it’s not fair to ask them of him, to expect them of him.

He stands to slip the rest of his pants off and you realize he’s not even wearing underwear. You gulp as you watch him strip, his beautiful body soon revealed in the dim lighting. His cock stands at full attention, deliciously hard and poking against his belly.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks.

“I want it more than anything.”

The bed dips underneath his weight as he climbs towards where you lay. He lowers himself above you, expertly balancing his weight so that it doesn’t crush you. With one hand, he reaches down to palm his hard cock, the tip red and angry with need. With his knee, he pushes your legs wide open, making room for himself and spreading you out before him. At a devastatingly slow speed, he lines himself up with your aching center.

“So wet for me, princess. You’ve always been beautiful to me, but spread out like this, just waiting for my cock? You’re a dream.”

“Please,” you gasp.

“Please what?”

As he comes to nestle his cock in between your dripping folds, you whimper with need.

All you can feel is his cock, his touch against your skin, the way his presence surrounds you and envelopes you.

“Please,” you whisper. “I need you, Jimin.”

He chuckles.

“You’re so desperate, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Want you to fuck me.”

“My baby wants me to fuck her?” He slides slowly in and your back arches devilishly at the sensation of his fat cock stretching you open for him. He watches your facial expression carefully, not wanting to hurt you or push you too far too fast.

When he sees you relax just a little, he pushes in even further until he’s nestled inside you to the hilt. Once he knows you’re comfortable, he lets himself slip into the pleasure of you wrapped all around him. His eyes flutter closed, and he nestles his nose into the crook of your neck.

Gathering himself, he takes a deep breath, pushing up off of you so that he can better look down at you, your hair splayed on the pillow, cheeks warm with arousal, eyes wide in pleasure.

“God, you’re perfect for my cock. Like you were made to fit me.”

“Mmf, so big,” you groan as he shifts inside you. “Never felt this full before.”

As he begins to move, you gasp, hands coming up to cling at his back. The drag of his cock against the walls of your cunt is divine and you can’t help as your nails dig into his skin, raking down the planes of his back.

His eyes never leave your face, tracing your pleasure every time it flashes across your features.

“When I imagined this,” he pants, “I never even thought it could feel this good.”

He withdraws at a maddeningly slow pace, until just the tip of his cock rests inside your warmth.

“Please Jimin,” you gasp. “I need more.”

He smirks down at you. “More?” He gives a shallow thrust.

“More,” you groan, trying to push your hips down on him, anything to take him further into you. However, his hand quickly comes down on your hips, stopping all movement.

Leaning down to capture your lips in a feverish kiss, you gasp into his mouth as he thrusts into you with a great force. You cry his name as he bites down on your lower lip, the pace he sets brutal and exactly what you need. Each thrust rolls through your entire body, setting your nerves alight. When he gives a particularly hard thrust, your spine arches, hands slipping away from his back and coming to wrap around his wrists.

When he growls, you clench at the sound.

Your eyes flicker open in time to see his mouth gape and he groans when you do it again.

He answers your tightness with another roll of his hips, this time changing the angle just enough that it hits your g spot directly. You spasm around his cock, crying out as he continues to fuck you.

“You’ve ruined me,” Jimin gasps. “Nothing else, no one else is going to be like this. I wanna fuck this cunt until you can’t think of anything else.”

You start to respond, to tell him how much you want that, but his hand comes down on your clit, rubbing just gently enough that you’re yelping in a mixture of pleasure and overstimulation.

“I’m really gonna fuck you now, baby. I want you to touch yourself until you can’t anymore, okay?”

You nod, reaching down to your clit where your fingers brush against one another. You look down to see his cock rutting in and out of you, coated in your juices. As he withdraws his hand, he begins to pick up his speed.

The pace he sets reaches deep into your body, setting every nerve alight. You cling to him, begging him to fuck you harder. His cock seems to reach every single sensitive spot within you as rock your hips back up to his, meeting his every movement. He lets you now, lost in the feeling of your bodies moving together, seeking the same pleasure together.

When his pace begins to stutter, thrusts becoming long and rough, you know he’s close to his end.

“Baby, I’m going to come,” he groans. He begins to sit back up and withdraw, but you wrap a hand around his neck and pull him towards you, the other one coming to press on the dip of his hips.

“Come inside, Jimin.”

“But--”

“I’m safe. I want to feel you come inside me. Wanna come with you.”

He groans at your words and lowers himself to you, letting his hips grind against yours in a tide of sensation. Each movement pulls you closer and closer to your orgasm until three words are tumbling from his lips and you are tipping over the edge.

He kisses you as you both ride out your orgasm, waves of pleasure washing through your body and into his as if you are connected on more than just a physical level. His lips are soft against yours, guiding you through your orgasm. Everything is breathless and wildly full, all at once.

Pulling back as his cock twitches within you, he peppers your neck with kisses, his plush lips pressing softly against the delicate skin beneath your ear.

“I love you, baby,” he murmurs against your skin.

“I love you too,” you hum, eyes fluttering blissfully closed as you tangle a hand in his hair, pressing him closer to you.

That’s how you fall asleep. Tangled up in each other, bodies meshed together until there’s no way to tell which way is up.

You wake up wrapped in warmth. The kind of warmth that radiates from your heart, shining on outwards and into the room around you. And, as your eyes blink open, you notice it also radiates from the absolute furnace that clings to your back.

“Mmm,” the furnace grumbles, rubbing his nose against the soft nape of your neck. You can feel him press his lips against the top of your spine, his breath fanning delicately against your skin. “G’morning.”

“Morning.” You speak softly, as if any noise will break the memory of last night, his whispered affections against your skin as you drifted off to sleep still hanging in the air. Too loud and you will shatter and destroy the memory. The words of his confession still carved into your skin, your mixed pleasures riddled through your body, the song of his joy and laughter emblazoned into the room -- all of that, you think, will disappear if you move too quickly or speak too loudly.

However, that notion is quickly banished when Jimin rolls over and groans dramatically, spreading his limbs out until he starfishes over the entire bed -- including you. With a little grunt, he flips over on his belly, shimmying over to you. Pulling the blankets down around you, you gasp as the cool air hits your skin.

He’s quick to rectify this as he rolls onto you, resting his head on your stomach, blowing a raspberry into your skin. You screech in laughter and as the sensation rushes through you, tickling you.

It takes a minute or two before you calm down, looking lovingly down at the man who holds your heart and running a hand through his hair, brushing it off of his forehead.

“I love you, you know that?” he mumbles into your belly.

“Do you?” you giggle, doubt still riddled in your mind.

His eyes shoot up to yours.

“Of course I do. Is there any question about it?” You look down on him, worry in your gaze. “Oh, baby.” He’s quick to prop himself up on his hands, but still stays sprawled out atop you, his weight heavy and comforting. “I’ve loved you since I first saw you--” You open your mouth to tell him there’s no such thing as love at first sight, but his hand comes up quickly and covers your mouth, effectively shushing you. “--at least I knew I was going to love you the first time I saw you. I knew I was going to fall madly and deeply in love with all of your quirks and strange obsessions and deep passions and maddenly horrible humor. And I knew I loved you a year in, and every day after that.”

You look down on him, tears welling up in your eyes at his sincerity.

“Come ‘ere,” you say, pulling him up towards you. He crawls up your chest, playfully nipping at your bare breasts before settling against you. He kisses you. Lets you sink into the sensation. And then he pulls back and says,

“Aren’t you going to tell me you love me too?”

You don’t know if you’ll ever get enough of that dorky smile.

But you do know the tears threatening to spill over are rising from the deep, unnamable affection that rolls through your chest, finally released from silence. You want to call it love, and that is what you will call it, but there’s also something that goes so much deeper than the word itself. Something you know you will spend your whole life trying to explain to him.

read more: masterlist 

Taglist: @taestannie @thatlongspringnight @spicykoreantatertots​ @usuallynervoussheep​ @hesperantha​ @myimaginationsrunningwild​@lucedelsole97​ @heichooou​ @jiminskth​

[cjsinkythoughts]

Flaws

Written for @honeysucklesteve​’s 4k writing challenge! If you haven’t, go check her out because she’s amazing!

Pairing: Mickey Henry x fem!Reader

Summary: You hate his music taste. He hates yours. You have a bad habit of stealing his gigs. He has a bad habit of fucking you until you can’t walk straight. Everyone has flaws. What are you to do about it?

Word Count: 3822

Warnings: Cursing, hate sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, slight edging, there’s a mirror involved, drugs, alcohol, clubbing, smoking, one mention of lung cancer, mentions of Monday’s plot, so slight spoilers; (I hope I’m not forgetting anything. These kinds of warnings are new to me. If I am, feel free to tell me.)

18+ PLEASE!!! MINORS DNI!!!

A/N: I know I haven’t posted in a while, but here you go! I’m so nervous about posting this. Honestly. I feel like I kinda rushed it a little? I dunno if it’s good. Uhm, I will say that Mickey is not soft in this. You know how he’s all cute and flirty in the movie? Yeah. Not here. I have plans to write for him later on where he’s more on character and adorable and all that, but it’s enemies to lovers and he hates reader and reader hates him. So. Yeah. Have fun with that.

This is a few firsts for me; first published smut, first Mickey Henry fic, and first enemies-to-lovers ever! I’m attached to friends-to-lovers (my parents’ fault), so going in the opposite direction is exciting and I hope it works out! (We’ll see what it can become after it’s been written.) 

Also! Yes, I’m adding the link to the inspiration of the remix here. You’ll see what I’m talking about. I imagine more bass, but that’s basically it.

As always, all mistakes are mine and please excuse them as it’s not beta’d! Be kind to yourselves and others! Stay tuned and enjoy!

Part Two - Addictions

My Masterlist

*****

Between the tumultuous, voice losing cheers and the pounding, headache inducing bass, it’s a miracle the occupants of the building can hear anything at all. The large room is doused in bright pinks, purples and blues, glitter getting into every pore and crack, the smell of cigarette smoke and booze lingering in the air. 

Bodies pressed together uncomfortably tight, breath and sweat mixing in a way that can’t be enjoyable, but no one notices because they’re all too high and drunk. There’s a couple swallowing each other in every dark corner of the room. A group of guys looking to get some are laughing rather obnoxiously at the bar, having consumed far too much alcohol to be safe. 

Bouncers are escorting people out left and right; a streaker who decided to get on a table and dance, a couple who took it a bit too far over the bar counter, a group of girls who were no doubt too young to be in such an environment. Boisterous, chaotic, borderline dangerous.

There’s no place he’d rather be on a Friday night.

Up on the center stage, playing around with his tracks, messing with the turntables, pulse connecting to the music, head bobbing with the beat. He’s in control. 

Every party. Every Friday, Saturday, Sunday night. Every weekend.

He’s in control.

It’s what he liked so much about doing what he does. Once he’s booked, he’s booked. It’s his night. He controls the sounds people hear. He controls what they dance to. How they dance. The pace of the night. The feeling of the night. And no one can take it away from him.

No one, that is, except you.

He hears you before he sees you, which is nearly impossible considering how loud the music is, but you somehow manage to take control of the room the moment you walk in it. You always get what you want with a bat of your eyelashes. And if you aren’t given it, you take what you want without regard for other people.

It really really pisses him off.

You’re laughing with a group of your friends, guys and girls’ heads swiveling to stare at you, captivating every heart in the room as per usual. You always show up with the same group, but he doesn’t even know any of their names even though you run in the same circles. It’s not like you end up hanging out with them for long, and you never leave with them. No, no. You always leave with him.

And that pissed him off too. 

He can’t help it. He has absolutely no control over himself when it comes to you. And he hates you for it. He hates that he lets you take over with only a few snarky comments in his defense. He hates that you always get into his head. And he hates that you’re the best fuck he’d ever had and he can never get enough of you.

But most of all…he hates your music.

“Hey, hey! There he is!” You send him that infuriating smile of yours, a drink in your hand. It’s a flaw of yours. One of many, but probably the biggest. Alcohol. Like him and his cigarettes. He watches you with narrowed eyes as you effortlessly move through the crowd, your girls and guys seeming to vanish into the mob with every step you take.

You end up in front of the stage, leaning on it and giving him a smirk as you sip on your beverage choice of the night. It’s always something different. The only common factor is the alcohol you crave, letting it wash over your tongue, burn down your throat and slip into your veins.

“Heya, Mouse!”

“Don’t call me that!” He shouts with a growl over the music, pulling his headphones down around his neck. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

“I got called this morning! Said there was a gig tonight!”

He shakes his head, gesturing to the set up. “You’re a bit too late there, sunshine! Gig’s booked!”

You shake your head back at him. “I’m taking over from here, Mouse!”

“Says who?!”

“Argyris!”

His jaw clenches, his forehead creasing, a skeptical scoff leaving his lips. “Fuck you! No he didn’t! He said this one’s mine!”

You just give a shrug, no cares in the world, downing the rest of your drink. “You can fuck me later! For now, if you wanna whine about it, Daddy’s over there!”

Another growl leaves his chest as he scowls at you, eyes darting to where you’re pointing. Argyris is by the bar, of course, swaying on the seat. Barking out a laugh, he looks at you with a shake of his head. “He’s so drunk he probably shit himself again! You can’t take his word for it!”

“I can when he called me this morning, sober as he can get!” You shoot back, hopping up to stand besides him. “Besides! Someone’s gotta make sure these people have an actual good time!”

“Don’t touch anything until I get back!” He snaps, pointing warningly at you as he starts to walk towards Argyris.

You smile innocently, even though he knows you’re anything but. “Yes, sir!”

He marches over to his asshole friend and grabs him by the shirt, turning him around. “Mickey! Havin’ a good time?!”

Mickey glares, feeling his blood boil and his ears heat up, not from the proximity of strangers around him. “What the fuck?! You told sunshine over there that she could have my gig?!”

“I thought you’d wanna break! Dance and relax for a little bit! It’s only a two hour slot I gave her!”

“You should’ve fucking asked, Argyris! I don’t want her anywhere near my-” His sentence is cut off by a change in the music and he whips over to the stage where you’re grinning and jumping with the crowd. You catch his eye and throw him a wink, holding one of the headphone cups over your ear. “ Oh for the love of - she’s messing with my stuff!”

“I thought you liked her!”

Spluttering, Mickey gapes at the other man in disbelief. “Like her? I can’t stand her! She’s so fucking annoying!”

“What’s so annoying about her?!”

Mickey snatches the drink Argyris was about to gulp down and slams it on the counter. “She’s a spoiled fucking brat! Everyone lets her do whatever she wants! She steals half my fucking gigs! And her music is shit! Listen to this!”

Argyris looks around the room and shrugs. “Everyone else seems to like it! Sure it’s different than your disco-”

“It’s not disco!”

“But it’s a crowd pleaser! Just relax! Have a drink and go dance!”

“Argyris!” Wanting to scream in frustration, he watches the man stumble off to get another drink down the bar. “Dammit! This is fucking shit.” Grumbling to himself, Mickey storms back over to the stage, easily pulling himself up.

You bite your lip and raise an eyebrow at him. “So?! How’d your date with Argyris go?!”

“I hate you so fucking much! Use your own fucking headphones!” He snatches the pair from your neck, pulling the cord out. “Why do you always have to steal my gigs?!”

You shrug, leaning forwards to brush your lips against his ear. “Yours are so much fun.”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, eyebrows furrowing. This always happens. Every time. The moment he feels in control, you do something and he feels every ounce of himself slipping away. It’s the reason he fucks you. To take back that control he so easily gives to you. To make sure you understand that on the weekends, he’s in charge.

But not tonight. No, no. Not tonight. He refuses to get caught up in that game tonight. You wouldn’t end up in an alley or some bathroom with him. He wouldn’t end up on your couch or in his kitchen with you. He refuses to let it happen. Again.

Instead, he lets out a chuckle and nods. “Yeah. Okay. Whatever sunshine.” He takes a step back, giving you a smirk as your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You have fun playing your shitty music!”

“Have fun moping!” You call back, turning to the table and ignoring him completely as he groans and jumps off the stage.

Good God. You’re infuriating.

But so is he.

You hate Mickey Henry. You just do. You hate that he has zero responsibilities and gets away with it. You hate that he can charm his way out of any situation. You hate how immature he is and how no one ever forces him to grow up. And you hate how easily you let him take charge when he’s with you. After a life full of people making choices for you, you crave control, but with him? The moment he tells you to get on your knees, you fall, no matter where you are or what you’re doing.

But most of all…you hate his music.

You take his gigs to save people from listening to it, but also so he knows he can’t talk every situation into his favor. That Argyris can’t always take care of his job for him. He never checks up on gigs once Argyris tells him he has them. So it’s really his fault for not taking some responsibility.

Watching from the stage as your music flows through you, vibrating your bones and sinking into your skin, you’re not surprised to see him get out a cigarette as he heads to a mutual acquaintance of yours. He has many flaws, but that’s a major one. Like you and your alcohol. Him and his cigarettes. You wouldn’t be surprised if you learn a couple months from now that he has lung cancer.

Mickey is talking low to the guy and you already know what’s going on. That was a flaw you both shared. Drugs. He is much more intense than you though. While you’d be fine with some pot, he almost always hits hard with cocaine. Not that you’re innocent from that type yourself - you’d done it multiple times with the man himself if you ended up at each other’s place. Never in the bedroom. You never made it that far, and you don’t really care to. But after those times bent over the table, being pounded into the couch, hanging against the wall, you’d get high with him before one of you takes off.

You’re not exactly sure what happened earlier. You were a bit shocked when he stepped away. Not that you usually left so early, but he didn’t even stay to bicker some more.

Not that you care. You’re just…curious. Maybe he’s finally growing tired of the game you’ve been playing. You’ve been playing it for a few years now. With that weird little pause last year.

You actually thought he had changed.

Having run into him at a party, you prepared yourself for the arguing that no doubt would end in sex. But it didn’t. It didn’t even start. He was with someone. Like, steady with someone. As in dating someone. Living with her. To the point where his baby mama actually agreed to let him keep his boy in their apartment as long as they were together.

It was a weird six months. You two actually had real conversations. You knew how soft and goofy he could get; you had loads of mutual friends and often went to the same parties so you’d seen that side of him. It was just…odd because it never came out with you. But it did then. And you…liked it. You didn’t see him as often, especially once his kid was cleared to live with them. He stopped going out on weekends, started just attending the small shindigs your friends hosted, worked from home instead of DJing.

But then his girl - what was her name? Claire? Caitie? You can’t remember - left for a job in the States just a few months ago and he was back to square one. His baby mama took back the custody privileges, he went back to partying every weekend, and you fell right back into your petty bickering and rough fucking.

You feel bad. Really, you do. You heard that he’d actually loved that chick. And you know he wanted to see his kid more. You knew about the room at his place. But that almost made you hate him more. That he went right back to his old self. He didn’t even try. He got a taste of being a responsible adult, and then let it go.

Because no matter how hard people try, flaws are flaws. And no one can change that much.

As the night goes on, more booze enters your system, while more cocaine enters his. There’s the occasional glare or immature finger raising between you two. Mickey even sticks his tongue out at you while dancing with some broad, a smirk lifting up the corners of his mouth as yours twist down and your eyes roll.

Your features quickly morph into smug amusement as an idea pops into your head and his eyes narrow. What are you up to? He quickly finds out as you stop the music and bring a microphone to your lips.

“Hey, hey, party people! Everyone’s night going fantastic?!” Cheers are your response. Mickey scowls, not liking where this is going, and starts heading your way. You wink at him. “I’m gonna change it up for just this one song! It’s a dedication song to a good friend of mine! It’s a bit different than the usual stuff, but it’s a bop, I promise! Here’s to the Mouse!”

He immediately freezes as the song starts. “Meeska! Mooska! Mickey Mouse!” He feels his face heat up, his fists balling up at his sides, glaring at you and your shit eating grin as you roll your body to the beat, his feet taking him to the stage.

Effortlessly lifting himself onto it once more, he grabs both your wrists in one of his larger ones to stop the music without you interfering, his rings digging into your skin. “Aww! But, Mouse! We didn’t even get to the roll call!”

“Shut. Up.” He grits out through clenched teeth, putting something else on absentmindedly. He didn’t want Argyris on his ass later for leaving the crowd without music. “God. Stop being a fucking pain in my fucking ass for one fucking minute.”

You roll your eyes, but he’s pulling you away before you can reply. Next thing you know he’s shoving you into the bathroom, growling at the girls that were smoking up the place to get out.

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you, princess?” He hisses in your ear, slamming you against the door once the girls left. He’s so tired of giving in to you, but he can’t help it, crashing his lips against yours messily. Teeth and tongue, the taste of smoke and the fruity drink you had chosen for the night mixing, only making him press closer. Your hands get pinned above your head and he’s pulling your skirt up, bunching it at your waist. It’s rough and careless and fueled by loathing, but when is it not? “Think you’re so funny? Huh?”

“Yeah.” You breath, smirking as he slots a thigh between your legs, squeezing your hips and pressing you down against him, flexing the muscle and making you squirm.

His teeth are biting at your bottom lip and tugging, his hands dragging your clothed core along his thigh. “Let’s see how funny you think you are when I’m fucking you so hard you forget how to breathe.”

Your breath hitches and your hands previously above your head clutch onto his shirt at the friction against your clit. It’s not enough and he knows, but you don’t tell him. “All this over a silly song?” You jest.

He sneers back at you, ignoring your tease. “Did you get jealous, sunshine? Is that what happened? Is that why you decided to be a little shit?”

“Jealous?” You scoff as he attacks your neck, your hands quickly undoing his belt before he shoves his pants down, his briefs following along with your panties. “Jealous of you, maybe. That girl was hot. Way outta your lea - oh shit.”

You always forget how deep he reaches inside you, how much the stretch is. He’s not soft about it, entering you in one swift thrust, your hips connecting. His hands are dimpling your bare thighs, hefting you up so your legs wrap around his waist, rings on his fingers no doubt making imprints. The door against your back starts rattling with every movement, but the music outside was too loud for anyone to hear it.

“Not so mouthy now, are we?” He snaps in time with his hips. He can feel you tightening around him, your fingers dragging down his chest, trying desperately to pull his shirt off.

“C’mon, Mouse. That's all you got?” You pant out, a little whine leaving your lips when he leaves you suddenly, dropping you to your feet. “Mickey! What-”

He cuts you off by pushing you against the counter, a shout leaving your lip when he takes you from behind, making you surge forwards, your head almost hitting the mirror, pelvis hitting your ass with every piston of his hips. His hand is tangled in your hair and he tugs, making your head snap up. “Look at you. So fucked out. I did that. I’m the best fuck you’ve ever had and we both know it.” He isn’t wrong. Your makeup’s a mess, your hair is wrapped around his fingers.

“You’re the one who keeps fucking me.” You argue back, your spine arching as he hits that perfect spot inside you. Over and over and over.

He growls, leaning forwards to fold over you, his lips by your ear. “And who keep being a fucking brat? Huh? Who keeps coming to my gigs, fucking up my weekend? Practically begging me to fuck you.”

You scowl at him in the mirror. “I don’t beg.”

The chuckle that leaves his lips makes you shiver and you whimper when he tugs your hair harder, the sting of your scalp mixing with the pleasure his cock was giving you.

“You will. You may get everything you want from everyone else, princess, but I’m in charge here. Don’t. You. Forget.” His words are punctuated with a hard thrust, making you lurch forwards, your thighs pressing harshly against the counter.

“Oh God…Mickey,” that familiar tightness in your stomach appears, your eye clenching shut as your toes curl. “I’m so close…”

“Open your goddamn eyes. Look who’s doing this to you. Who fucking owns this pussy? Huh?”

Your eyes snap open and meet his again, his breaths fanning across your face, rapidly becoming less steady. “You.”

“That’s right. You wanna cum, sunshine?” You nod vigorously. He takes your lobe between his teeth and tugs as he stills his hips, keeping himself inside you. “Then beg.”

And, just like the many times before, you do. You do because you don’t actually care about begging. You care about him ruining you. That’s what you want. And you always get what you want. Fuck your dignity. 

He starts up slowly again as you plead, stopping a couple more times when you feel yourself getting close. “Mickey! Please, for the love of God!” He’s never edged you this much. Not this intensely. And not in the bathroom at a club. Usually it’s just a quickie before you take him home or vice versa.

But you pissed him off tonight. More so than usual. It was a good night and then you came along. Took his job. Played that dumb song. So he needs to remind you. Put you in your place. “You may be spoiled by everyone else, princess, but I’m the only one who can give you what you really want.”

“God, you’re so annoying.” You grind out through your clenched teeth.

He just smirks. “That wasn’t a denial. Let go, Y/N. Make a mess of my cock. Watch yourself fall apart for me.”

You do as he says, watching your jaw go slack in a silent scream, your body tensing, your legs shaking, as he finally lets you have what you want. Body going slack against the counter, he keeps rutting into you until he groans, a string of profanities leaving his lips as he spills inside you.

The both of you stay there, with him folded on top of you, his forehead resting against the nape of your neck, his grip on your hair loosening.

“That was fun. A little different.” You hum as he gets up. He’s glaring at you as you straighten and fix yourself. “Good orgasm though, so thanks for that. But I gotta get back to work now.”

“You’re such a pain in my ass.” He mutters, tucking himself away and pulling his pants up.

“Kinky. Maybe next time.” You wink at him through the mirror and his jaw ticks. He’s so fucking tired of it. Of you. How you let him have that one bit of control and then your right back to controlling the room once you get what you want. There’s so many nights where he wonders if he should just stop giving it to you. But then he’s inside you and he can’t help himself.

He watches you touch yourself up, although you still look thoroughly fucked, but you don’t seem to mind. This is new. You going back to the gig you stole after sex. He wonders if that was the last time for tonight, or if you’d be leaving together later too.

“I fucking hate you.” He spits out as you open the door, wanting to get the last word in.

You just smirk the same way he did to you earlier. “Yeah…but you love fucking me. Later, Mouse.”

Just like always, you’re the last comment as you walk out nonchalantly, even though he could see the slight wobble in your steps, the door shutting behind you, leaving him alone.

You hate Mickey Henry. You loathe him. You wish you never met him. But you can’t get enough. No matter how many times you convince yourself you have him where you want him, you know you don’t. You’d let him do anything to you. But you can’t stop. Like him and his cigarettes. He’s your flaw. And no matter how bad he is for you, you’re addicted.

Mickey Henry hates you. He loathes you. He wishes he never met you. But he can’t get enough. No matter how many times he convinces himself he’s in control, he knows he’s not. He always gives you what you want at the end of the day. But he can’t stop. Like you and your alcohol. You’re his flaw. And no matter how bad it is for him, he’s addicted.

*****

*****

*****

Personal Taglist:

@happygoreading​ @bibliophilewednesday​ @breadqueen95​ @marvelettesassemble​ @w-wolfhxrd​ @the-larry-romance​ @abitofeverythinggg​

[fireemblems24]

Ao3 Ship Thoughts

To sate my desire to read Three Houses fan fiction and jump in on the shipping comments that have upticked recently, I decided to see what ships were the most popular on Ao3.

Some of it's exactly what I expected, and one in particular is just . . . what, why?

Ao3 is probably the closest you'll get to truly determining which ships are the most popular, or at least have the highest number of passionate fans. So I was curious to see who the top ships were. Here's the ones listed, in order:

Sylvain/Felix

Dimitri/Byleth

Edelgard/Byleth

Ferdinand/Hubert

Claude/Byleth

Dimitri/Felix

Dimitri/Claude

Felix/Annette

Caspar/Linhardt

Hilda/Marrianne

If I exclude the Byleth ships, Dimitri/Dedue, Byleth/Seteth, and Ingrid/Sylvain take up the three missing spots.

Byleth's Ships

I'm shocked. Really, truly shocked that Byleth/Lord is popular. Never wouldn't guessed. I am, of course, being sarcastic. If someone asked me to list who I think would show up in the top 10 most popular ships, the first three I'd list would be Byleth/Lord.

What I find more interesting is that Byleth/Seteth is the fourth option for Byleth. AO3 writers, I officially bow to your taste. It pleases me quite a bit that, if you're not going with one of the main lords, you all want Seteth. This I can agree with.

As for the Byleth/Lord ships, I feel kind of mixed on them. Every lord interacts with characters who have more depth than Byleth, but I still get the appeal. I'm going to deep dive into all of the lords relationships with Byleth later, but here's a quick summary.

Edelgard/Byleth is shoved down your throat so hard it's nearly impossible to ship Edelgard with someone else and even shortchanges her potential to have deep, non-romantic relationships because Edelgard puts Byleth on a pedestal that no one else can reach by her own dialogue.

Byleth's character arc works well alongside Dimitri's. While the relationship is pushed and fanservice-y scenes exist, the game leaves enough breathing room to see Byleth as a mentor/therapist/teacher figure, and Dimitri has no shortage of deep, meaningful relationships with others should you not want to do the whole self-insert thing. It's a good balance.

Claude and Byleth are the opposite of Edelgard and Byleth. They read almost more like friends than lovers. It's a breath of fresh air, honestly. Claude/Byleth seems like the healthiest possible romance for Byleth/lord because the lord in question here doesn't seem as dependent. That said, it lacks lacks romance and shipping fuel. I may complain about fanservice, but the Byleth/Claude dynamic does show why scenes of holding hands in the rain and teasing about badly drawn images might actually come in handy.

Edelgard's Ships

I'm not surprised, at all, that Edelgard has no popular ships outside of Byleth. Dialogue consistently shortchanges Edelgard's relationships with others by having her verbally, repeatedly put Byleth into a special "other" that no one else can reach for her.

Though, I guess I'm a bit surprised at the extreme lack of Edelgard/Hubert. I feel these two have a lot of shipping fuel and their supports left things unresolved. I've come across the sentiment in fandom many times that ship where things are tied off nicely with a bow leave less to explore and aren't as interesting, so I am bummed out no one seems interested in fleshing out Hubert/Edelgard more.

The outlook for Edelgard fanfic and me seems pretty limited. I don't like Edelgard/Byleth for various reasons beyond this scope of this post. I was kind of hoping there were some Edelgard/Hubert or Edelgard/Dorothea character study stuff that could help me get past how much Byleth gets in the way of Edelgard's character growth, but it seems fanfic writers only want to write about her and Byleth, which is a bummer.

On that note, I'm also surprised but also glad that Dimitri/Edelgard isn't a big thing. I thought it might be because tragedy of childhood friends turned enemies by events out of their control is popular. These two seem wildly incompatible though, so I'm glad people seem to agree.

Claude's Ships

Ok. Claude/Byleth. Expected. I'm feel positively towards the ship since they seem mostly good for each other even if it's not getting my heart all fluttering.

I'm surprised there's no Claude/Petra or Claude/Hilda. Those two are my personal favorites for him. I would've given Claude/Petra the edge given how they can uniquely relate to each other, but Hilda's scene in CF really gave Petra a run for her money. Even more so that Petra and Claude have obligations to two different nations and Hilda has no such complication.

But whattttt???? Claude/Dimitri? It's in the top 10?? More people ship Dimitri with Claude than Dedue?? I thought lord/lord might be popular, but I honestly thought Dimitri/Edelgard would take it, not Claude/Dimitri. They never really talk. So I'm a bit confused about this one. Though, intrigued by the idea.

Can I take a wild guess this partly stems from Claude having no real other viable M/M ships outside of M!Byleth and fics that plays up the chapter I'm about to play in AM (Dimitri saving Claude) or "what ifs" VW routes where Dimitri doesn't . . . you know.

I am really curious about this dynamic though. Because I like Claude - a lot. He's a character I want to get attached to. From experience, the fastest way for me to like a character is to give them a significant relationship I enjoy with a character I already love and the new character gets absorbed by proxy. So, fans, please, tell me more about this Dimitri/Claude. I am curious.

Dimitri's Ships

I am as unsurprised by Dimitri's being one of the biggest repeat offenders on here as I am by Edelgard being Byleth or bust. If Edelgard is written to fanservice the player by making the self-insert her one and only, Dimitri is fanservicing the player by being a shipping magnet. The writers knew what they were doing and who they were trying to appeal to with these two characters.

Dimitri/Byleth is a given. The game plays up the romance angle, but it's not at the expense of Dimitri's other relationships.

What I'm more interested in, though, is Felix/Dimitri. Between angsty CF stories, post-AM slow-burns, or fleshing out missing scenes from their shared childhood, there's just a lot to work with and a rich context to use their relationship - spun romantically - to explore each character. Felix and Dimitri's relationship is layered, complicated, heart breaking, and potentially healing. The fact they're two incredibly attractive guys doesn't hurt its popularity either, I'm sure. I'm not surprised it ranked that highly.

Claude/Dimitri surprises me. If two lords were going to get on this list together, I would've put bets on Edelgard/Dimitri. Since Claude and Dimitri's relationship is fairly unexplored, I'm really interested to see more about what exactly this is about. Don't get me wrong. I figured people would pair two main characters who are that good looking together, I just didn't think it would rank that high.

I am, slightly sad, that Dimitri/Dedue isn't a bit higher, but happy it seems to have some steam. I get it though. Dedue's not as flashy as some of the others on the shipping list and their relationship is so full of fluff by their A support it lacks the angst Felix/Dimitri and Dimitri/Byleth can draw out nor is as much of a play around with "what ifs" as Claude/Dimitri is.

Non-Lords/Main Characters Ships:

This list, more than anything else, shows AO3's penchant for writing M/M and F/F works for better or worse. Whether this phenomena stems from lack of representation, fetishizing by the fanbase, deeply ingrained gender roles making fictional M/F ships either less appealing to many fanfic writers, or M/F romances often getting assumed leading to less substantial writing compared to friendships - I don't know. Probably all of it.

There are a few surprises here for me. Felix/Sylvain is that popular? I figured they'd make the top 10, but #1 is surprising. Though, looking through the first page of the tag, it's true Felix/Sylvain have fics just for them, but it also seems like a common pairing in Dimitri/Byleth and Dimitri/Claude fics. It's the same story with Caspar/Linhardt, who I honestly didn't expect to see. They had a fair number of their own fics, but it seems many CF fics put them together rather than focus solely on them. Felix/Annette also balances being the main focus and an adjunct pairing. Marianne/Hilda seemed to have less fics where they took center stage and more they were one of many ships listed.

Ferdinand/Hubert having a lot of fics isn't surprising. I don't really care too much for it personally, but I can see the appeal of it.

I'm surprised Catherin/Shamir is nowhere in sight. Likewise, Rhea is absolutely nowhere. Kind of sad by the lack of adult characters in general. Especially Rhea. I think it's a pretty big sign of how the writing's treated her that such an important character is totally absent in this list.

Not surprised at all to see Felix also get so many ships. He, like Dimitri, seems designed on purpose to ship with many characters. I do really wish Dorothea and Seteth would get more attention though.

What do you guys think? Anything that surprised you? How do you feel about any of these ships and there popularity or lack thereof? Are there characters/pairings you wish got more attention? Any popular ships you despise (spill that tea)?

[whereisten]

Stupid Cupid

A Taeyong fic that’s a part of our Halloween Series!

Summary: Cupid, also known as Taeyong, has never experienced real love. But when he meets you, he may finally have a chance.

Pairing: Cupid! Taeyong x female reader

Genre: romance, angst, fluff, smut, fantasy

Word Count: 13k

Warnings: oral (male receiving), penetration, breast fondling, cursing, alcohol use

(A/N: thank you guys so much for being so sweet and understanding and patient. I’ve always believed Halloween should be a celebration for multiple months out of the year and since the Halloween series is ongoing, it works 💀. Anyways, I’m so excited to share this with y’all. ❤️ One of my favorite songs is “Give Me Love” by Ed Sheeran. And the music video features Cupid so I was inspired. 👍🏼 I hope you guys enjoy it! I also was inspired by “The Consequences of Cursing Cupid” by @by-moonflower). I loved it!)

...

Cupid was one of God’s most prized pupils. He was also one of His most beautiful creations. His hair had the shades of pink you’d see at sunset and warm brown eyes that could claim the heart of almost anyone. His tan skin glowed, bringing a piece of heaven’s glow down to earth with him. His body was slender, elegant, and muscular. His true appearance was known to few mortals but overtime, historians were able to conclude that Cupid was as beautiful as any of the archangels.

God entrusted his son to bring love and hope to the world one couple at a time. With his bow and arrow, he was able to give people love every day. As the years have passed, though, the population of the world expanded and Cupid only had so much time in the day to bring couples together. God and Cupid carefully handpicked Cupid fledglings throughout the years. Cupid wasn’t alone in his work anymore and he could afford some downtime every few centuries. It was 2020 and it was time for Cupid, or, as he was known by his earthly name, Lee Taeyong, to take a vacation.

Taeyong arrived in the sunny coastal town of Isla one Sunday morning. He would stay here for a few months. Taeyong would’ve kept working if he hadn't been forced by his coworkers to take a leave of absence. He’d always been a huge workaholic and quite the perfectionist. He was the type of guy who liked to get things done by himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his team. He just had a fixation with doing things his own way, which caused many clashes over the years.

This time, God had to intervene and force Taeyong to step down so that newly realized Cupids like Haechan and Yangyang could step up in his absence. Taeyong moved into a beach house right by the beach. A whole mansion to himself, he grimaced. What the hell was he supposed to do in such an expansive and luxurious place all by himself? Well, he had some ideas.

As much of a workaholic Taeyong was....when he let loose, he really let loose. It was like there was an on/off switch in his brain when it came to his rebellion and since he was out of work for the foreseeable future, it was time to turn the switch on. All work and no play for so many years made him act out in rebellion, which was why God sent Cupids Sicheng and Kun to watch out for Taeyong this time around.

Taeyong heard a knock on the door of his beach house. He frowned in confusion.  

“Knock knock,” Kun said as he brought in suitcases and carried a backpack over his shoulder. Sicheng followed him in with his own bags as well.

Taeyong frowned. “What are you guys doing here?”

Sicheng beamed. “We’re here to make sure you don’t start up another orgy and anger many significant others…”

Kun nodded. “You’ll barely know we’re here.”

Taeyong brought out his angelic smile. “Is that so?”

…

Even with Kun and Sicheng on his tail, Taeyong was able to throw a massive party at the beach house the next night. A pretty face like Taeyong’s and a few likes on Instagram could attract many followers. And with followers, there was a great party. Celebrities even caught wind of the festivities. Taeyong was able to hire caterers and event planners to make the beach house a Hawaiian paradise. Tiki torches were lit all around the house. People lounged in the lagoon-shaped pool. There were party games in every room in the mansion.

Your friends convinced you to come with them to the hot new bachelor’s party. You could use a night out after working another six day work week at the local Isla Humane Animal Shelter. You wanted to let loose and dance with your friends. If only for a little while. Hopefully, you didn’t think about him now that you were able to relax.

Taeyong was having the time of his immortal life, dancing with one girl...one boy...after another. He was already hooking up with people on the dance floor in the backyard that overlooked the beach. He would grind behind one girl while another boy grinded against him from behind. Taeyong was in nothing but red swim trunks. His abs glistened with sweat and-

Your friend Jisoo said, “y/n, ask him to dance.”

You’d spent the last few minutes staring at the dancefloor. You couldn’t help but watch the pretty boy who stood at the center. You quickly gulped down your drink and shook your head. “Pass.”

Jisoo sucked her teeth. “Y/n, you’ve been staring at him for five minutes now.”

You rolled your eyes. “I like to observe my surroundings...It’s nothing.”

“You should ask the pretty boy to dance. It won’t hurt.”

“Nope. I’m fine right here, drinking my free pina colada...Not a care in the world.”

Jisoo replied, “Y/n, it’s been five months...”

You met Jisoo’s eyes. “Yeah, and I’m doing a lot better. You know this. My family knows it. All of the people who should be sorry to follow me on any social media know this.”

Jaehyun joined you two. “She's talking about how she’s over...him?”

Jisoo nodded. “And she clearly wants to dance with The Bachelor over there.”

Jaehyun watched him, also. “Well, for starters, he’s way cuter than that bastard but she should stay away from him. He’s trouble.”

Jisoo scoffed. “Who are you? Her father?”

Relieved that Jaehyun was on your side, you said, “Thank you, Jay! Now don’t worry about me, Jisoo...I’m great! I’m out of the house. I’m cutting a rug.”

Jisoo eyed you. “Okay…”

Now you had to admit that you thought about throwing caution to the wind and dancing close to the man, making ‘come hither’ eyes at him, kissing him in a closet, and calling it a night. The idea made you wet just thinking about it. But you knew yourself. You were the type to fall hard. And you fell hard once and it left you broken to this day.

Anyway, Pretty Boy seemed kind of busy so you turned the other way to join a game of poker in the living room.

Every human that spent an intimate moment with dear old Cupid was guaranteed the best orgasm of their lives. In Taeyong’s hands, his lover would feel treasured and adored and spoiled. Taeyong, a bringer of love, could bring paradise to anyone.

Now in his human form, Taeyong still had some of those divine powers. However, in a human body, he had limitations.

Like his alcohol tolerance, which, unfortunately for him, had never been good.

Before he could take anyone to paradise like he’d longed to do since he came to the Earthly plane, he was outside in his front lawn, vomiting all of the alcohol he downed in the past two hours.

Taeyong felt woozy. He wasn’t all there the moment when you first approached him. He looked awful. Pale and sweaty from puking so much.

Your concern outweighed your fear of talking to him so you approached him. You handed him a bottle of room temperature water and a wet towel from his kitchen so he could clean himself up.

Taeyong uncapped the water bottle and drank. He managed to say, “Thank you.”

You sighed, relieved to see that he was responsive. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I am...Thanks…What’s your-”

“Y/n! Time to go,” Jaehyun started. Jaehyun promised to take you home. You were supposed to go into the shelter tomorrow to finalize an adoption.

You shouted back, “Coming!” You turned to your friend. Taeyong couldn’t see your face now. You did smell heavenly, though. Like fresh berries and daisies.

You turned back to Taeyong and smiled. Even if he was a wreck, he was still the most gorgeous male you’d ever seen. “Great party. Take care of yourself.”

Taeyong was still trying to sober up but he was able to meet your eyes, the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen on this planet. In any realm, actually. “You, too…”

You left him there, curious about you. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to ponder further as he threw up again. Maybe these parties were getting old. He always found himself like this whenever he visited good ol’ planet Earth...

…

[One Month Later]

Taeyong continued to indulge in his debauchery, throwing parties every night. Part of him hoped you would return so he could properly thank you for your kindness.

Your eyes were sultry and your scent was intoxicating. He wished he could remember you.

Every night that he spent time with a different partner, he thought of you.

Without any hidden agenda to get in bed with him, you absolutely fascinated him. His clouded judgment that night only made him remember your eyes. That was all he had to go on. He couldn’t explain the need to see you again.

The need grew stronger and stronger.

He certainly couldn’t ask his coworkers or the big man upstairs for help. Surely, they’d misinterpret his actions. He simply wanted to see you again.

In the process, Taeyong slowly began to reevaluate his time on Earth. Like Gatsby before him, he threw even more parties in hopes of you showing up. But he had no idea about your hectic work schedule. The parties continued and Taeyong quickly grew bored. Maybe he needed to get out and explore the city if he ever hoped to see you again.

In the daytime, Taeyong found himself waking up earlier and sending his partners on their merry way. He took up a couple of hobbies at home, as well. Baking and playing games on his Nintendo Switch. For his outings, he’d go to the mall, the grocery store, the amusement park, and more. Everywhere he could think of. But you weren’t there. He had the ability to feel your presence but you were never within his radar and it frustrated him.

Taeyong finished swimming a couple of laps in the pool and went into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. Kun was making dinner and Sicheng was setting the table.

“Penny for your thoughts, boss?” Sicheng inquired.

Taeyong sighed. “I’m just wondering when you two will finally leave me be.”

Kun turned off the stove and let the stir fry cool. “When your sexual appetite ceases.”

Taeyong frowned. “Have you no shame to comment on my activities?”

Sicheng and Kun looked at each other and looked back at Taeyong. “No.”

Taeyong sighed. “If you must know, the parties will cease tonight. I have given up.”

“Given up on what?” Sicheng asked.

They couldn’t know about Taeyong’s true motive with his parties. “Parties, of course.”

“Really?” Kun asked as he washed his hands.

Taeyong sighed. “Yes. Now let’s eat.”

A few hours later, Taeyong went to the beach to get some sun. A few girls asked for his number and he simply pretended not to know English. He spoke Japanese and spoke broken English to throw them off. He was in no mood to frolick. He was frustrated.

It was because of you. He couldn’t explain it but he desperately wanted to see you. Wanted to know you. Wanted to feel you come alive under him as he pleased you. And he had no leads.

Maybe he should just throw in the towel. It was dangerous for him to entertain the idea of seeing someone as more than just a fling. Knowing his one night stand’s name was more information than he needed.

Perhaps you weren’t real. Oh, heavens. He knew you were real but maybe he should convince himself of the contrary so he could give up on you.

Meanwhile, you’d been busy non-stop. You couldn’t go out and unwind because of your extremely-packed schedule, which was just how you liked it. Whatever free time you had was spent at home curled up in bed before bedtime. It was how you preferred it, though. It helped you get over your ex much more quickly. Or so you thought, anyway.

One of your co-workers at the shelter was an adoption counselor who had a family event she needed to attend. So she asked you for a favor. You came in for the afternoon shift to help pair up families with pets.

You loved working at the shelter, helping animals find their forever homes. It broke your heart to see so many of them, neglected and homeless. You always knew you wanted to work with animals, though. In high school, you started at the shelter as a volunteer. Now, you were one of the managers. You helped with fundraisers and outreach events to get the shelter animals’ faces out there.

You went to check on the dogs, cats, rabbits, ferrets, and other residents of the shelter, like you always did. Then, you finished adopting out an Australian Shepherd. His new family already adored him. The shelter’s adoption process was strict so if a family really wanted to commit to a pet, they had to commit to the process to prove it. So you had high hopes that this adoption would be permanent.

On the off chance it wouldn’t, these animals always had a home here. You wouldn’t cease until you did everything you could to get a home for each animal that walked through the shelter’s front doors.

You took a picture of the happy family to post on the shelter’s social media. You sent them off. You felt like you were being watched so you turned to the front window where you recognized Jaehyun and the pink-haired man from the Hawaiian paradise party. They were talking like they knew each other.

You frowned and walked outside to greet them. “Jaehyun?”

The men faced you. Jaehyun beamed, “Y/n! I was passing through and I ran into Taeyong here who is looking to volunteer at the shelter.” Taeyong was about to cut in when Jaehyun continued. “Is there a volunteer orientation today?”

You shook your head. “It’s tomorrow, Jay.”

Taeyong just looked at you, not saying a word.

You tilted your head in confusion. “But...If you’re free, Taeyong, we’d love to have you.”

Jaehyun answered for him. “Of course he is. There’s no other place he’d rather be!”

Taeyong shot Jaehyun a look but his face softened as he looked at you. “Yeah...He’s right about that.”

Still confused, you smiled. “Okay, tomorrow it is.”

Taeyong headed home after his confrontation with the meddlesome Jaehyun. Just who was he to you, he wondered. How dare he cross a god?

Sure, Jaehyun was a beautiful specimen but he was not at his level, Taeyong thought to himself.

[A Few Hours Ago]

After his time at the beach, Taeyong took another stroll through the town, exploring small businesses and stumbling upon an animal shelter.

Through the front window, he saw a family with their Australian Shepherd. And that’s when his radar switched on. His heart squeezed and his breathing faltered. You were here. You greeted the family inside. They posed for a family photo together with their dog. They held a sign that read “Furrever Home” on it. The family thanked you and you sent them off.

You were exquisite. Your smile. The glimmer of hope in your eyes. Your laugh. You were out of breath from running around so much and from the excitement, he could tell. Even though you were stressed and tired, you were happy at that moment. You turned toward his direction and he read your name on your name tag: y/n.

Taeyong wanted to rush in and call for your name but his feet were planted to the ground.

“Hey, I remember you,” someone called out to him.

Taeyong snapped out of his daze and turned to find a handsome young man with black hair frowning at him. Taeyong started. “I’m sorry. I don’t-“

“You’re Taeyong. You throw parties at that beach house and you’re the city’s most eligible bachelor. It’s all over social media.”

“Yes, and?”

The stranger glared as he nodded at you through the window. “You’ve been watching her, haven't you?”

Taeyong smirked. “And what about it?”

The man looked down at Taeyong’s pants where his member betrayed him. Jaehyun lifted his eyebrows.

Taeyong shrugged. “It’s rude to stare at a stranger’s crotch.”

He laughed. “You’re pretty easy to read, Taeyong. But I gotta warn you: don’t waste her time if you’re not fully committed.”

Taeyong laughed. “And who are you to tell me this?”

“Someone who refuses to see his friend’s heart broken again.”

Again, Taeyong wondered. “Well, I have no plans to let it get that far.”

He rolled his eyes. “Right.”

“Jaehyun?” You started.

Then, the conniving Jaehyun set Taeyong up to be a volunteer at the animal shelter without his consent. Well, Taeyong could’ve said no at any time but he didn’t want to disappoint you. Besides, this would be an opportunity to get to know you. Jaehyun may not be so bad, after all, Taeyong mused.

Jaehyun left Taeyong with these parting words. He grinned, showing his dimples. “If you hurt her, I will run you out of this town.”

Taeyong smiled. “I’d like to see you try.”

To anyone else, it would’ve seemed like two friends were parting ways but in reality, it was more like a declaration of war.

Your friend Jaehyun was very protective of you, Taeyong realized. He wondered if Jaehyun was enamored with you. And your nickname of “Jay” for him made Taeyong’s stomach turn.

Who was he to you? And why was he butting in on Taeyong’s pursuit of you? And what did Jaehyun mean by you getting your heart broken again? Who broke your heart? And why was he still breathing, unless Jaehyun failed to mention your ex’s funeral?

Taeyong wasn’t going to break your heart. He wasn’t that stupid. He spent enough time on this planet to set boundaries and never fall in too deep with a human.

It didn’t matter if you made him feel different than any other human has after twenty seconds of an interaction.

…

[The Next Day]

Taeyong wasn’t sure how he would feel about working with animals because he’s never interacted with them before. He envied any family who had a pet, though.

It was a kind of love he didn’t get to see frequently. His job was primarily focused on romantic love so it always fascinated him to see familial love, love between friends, and now love between man and man’s best friend.

You led the volunteer orientation. It was a relatively full house. You gave the new recruits the rundown on maintenance, walking the dogs, socializing with the animals, feeding, laundry, and safety. Taeyong was so impressed by how skilled and informative you were at work. You were a no-nonsense girl when you needed to be.

When the orientation ended, Taeyong lingered behind in the staff meeting room. You had to admit that seeing Taeyong again made your heart do weird things. You’d dreamed of him for a few nights and part of you wished you could’ve gone to another one of his parties. Your friends told you he’d thrown so many this past month that they lost count. So you were shocked to see this wealthy party boy at an animal shelter of all places. You did notice as you gave your talk that his eyes never strayed from yours.

After the orientation, you began, “Hey, Taeyong. How did you like the orientation?”

He smiled. “You were brilliant.”

Your face heated up. “Thanks.”

He asked, “I was wondering if you were free tonight to-“

A volunteer popped in. “Y/n, code leash with Ruby!” Code leash meant a dog was loose in the shelter without a leash on.

You started. “Oh, God. Sorry, Taeyong, I have to help catch one of our dogs.”

You looked distressed so Taeyong decided to help. He didn’t know where this altruism came from but it was there. “I can help.”

“Thank you. I have to warn you, though. She’s not friendly with most people. So be careful.”

You and Taeyong teamed up to catch Ruby while some of the other volunteers also teamed up elsewhere. Ruby had hidden under one of the benches near the cat corner of the shelter.

Ruby was a Papillon, also known as a Continental Toy Spaniel. She was a reserved dog. She was adopted as a puppy but when she was a year old, her owners gave her up for adoption when they were expecting a baby. With the betrayal she’d experienced, she closed herself off from most people and most animals. It took a few weeks for her to warm up to you.

Ruby had cute ears that resembled a butterfly’s, which explained the name of her breed, the Papillon.

With her leash in your hands, you crouched down to greet her. “Hi, Ruby…”

She surprised you by running over to Taeyong, who froze in his tracks. Ruby jumped against his legs and cried. She wanted his attention.

You looked at them in shock. Ruby had never taken so quickly to someone before. You were impressed.

Taeyong’s eyes doubled in size as he slowly backed up. Ruby continued to jump against his legs, regardless. “What’s happening? Is she trying to kill me?”

You fought back a laugh. “No...She wants you to hold her.”

He looked mystified. “Uh...I’ve never…”

“You’ve never…?”

For the first time, he looked shy. “I’ve never held a dog before…”

You approached them and called Ruby again. “Ruby, I’ll help you.”

You picked Ruby up and guided Taeyong. “Just raise your arms and cradle her. It’s okay.”

You handed Ruby to Taeyong and he was shocked at this new feeling he felt in his chest. It was this overwhelming joy and worry and affection he’d never felt. He would die for this dog.

Well, if he could die, he would.

So this is what familial love must be like.

Ruby licked him all over his face and he giggled like a little boy.

You were overjoyed to see Ruby with another person. This was promising. “She really likes you. It took me weeks to get her to warm up to me.”

Taeyong stared at you. “Really? I can’t imagine that…”

“You saved the day, Taeyong. Not bad for your first day as a volunteer.” You laughed.

You led him and Ruby back into her room. You stepped into her small room where she resided alone. She had a big fluffy bed and toys to play with. Even so, it could definitely get cramped in there after a few hours. You would take her for a walk later.

Taeyong asked, concerned. “She lives by herself? She must be so lonely.”

You told Taeyong her story and he understood her circumstances. He was furious at Ruby’s previous owners and he finally understood why places like this shelter existed.

You said, “She needs someone who will remain faithful to her all of their life. I hope she finds them soon.”

Taeyong rubbed Ruby’s belly. “So do I.”

“I have to get back to work. You’re not on the schedule until tomorrow but you are more than welcome to spend some time with the dogs…”

Taeyong was in his own bubble with Ruby.

You giggled. “Or maybe just Ruby.”

You left them be and got back to work.

Taeyong spent the next hour playing with Ruby, taking her for a walk, taking pictures of her, and cradling her to sleep. He hoped to catch up with you later but he couldn’t let go of his attachment to this dog now.

There was something about this town that made him attached to others. First, it was you. Then, it was Ruby.

It was unusual.

Ruby fell asleep and Taeyong checked his phone. He received a text over half an hour ago.

Where are you? Kun says you’re not home :( -Yooa

Crap, he’d forgotten all about Yooa. His “date”.

Taeyong realized he’d be getting earful from Kun later. He texted Yooa he was on his way.

…

[2 Weeks Later]

The first few days were rough for Taeyong because he’d never done manual labor in his life. He was willing to try and with your and other volunteers’ guidance, he was able to pick up on everything quickly. Everyone thought Taeyong was as strange as he was beautiful. They thought he was a sheltered rich boy who was learning how to care for someone else for the first time. Well, they weren’t far off from the truth.

Taeyong volunteered almost everyday at the shelter. He did everything he could possibly do as a volunteer and still had the energy to take the dogs on more walks than required. He was a god, after all. His energy on Earth was higher than that of any normal human’s. He hoped to impress you, too. He tried to ask you out or even for your phone number but you were always busy with shelter tasks. It was very hard to tell if there was a connection between you two.

At the end of each shift, Taeyong always left Ruby for last because she was his favorite shelter animal. “Alright Ruby, today is the day I finally ask y/n out.”

Ruby snoozed in response. Taeyong sighed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

You were the last person to leave the shelter and lock up. Everyone had already left an hour ago but you were finishing up some emails. You found Taeyong waiting outside the door. “Taeyong!”

He waved and smiled, not looking disheveled at all after a full-day shift.

You, on the other hand, could use a shower. “Everything okay?”

Taeyong asked, “Are you free?”

“Uh...”

“I was wondering if you…”

Your eyes as you watched him left Taeyong in nearly almost a trance. The way your hair fell over your eyes when you adjusted your work bag. The breeze caused your perfume to creep into his nose and he had to catch his breath. Even your little yawn after a long day was cute. Damn it.

You started, “Taeyong?”

Taeyong tried to say something but his throat went dry. Why wasn’t he able to say words? He was prepared to say. Come away with me tonight. I’ll take us to dinner and then...Well, it’s your call, y/n.

And here he was, his palms sweaty. His cheeks were red. He was so close to trembling from the new anxiety that crept up on him.

You asked, “Are you okay?”

Taeyong shook his head to shove his fears away. “Are you free?”

He invited you over to his house for dinner as a thank you for showing him the ropes around the shelter. You felt bad for assuming that he was asking you out. It appeared that he wanted to keep this platonic and you were relieved.

You’re a chicken, Taeyong thought to himself. The ball was in his court and he missed his shot to take things further with you. Even so, you’d said yes so all in all, you two were headed somewhere.

You followed Taeyong in your car over to his place. You entered the extravagant beach house, which was surprisingly neat and homey. The furniture looked comfortable, like you could easily fall asleep on it. The lighting was at a low, almost romantic setting. The house was tranquil and all you could hear was the crash of waves in the distance.

Taeyong said, “Please take a seat. Make yourself comfortable. Can I offer you some wine?”

“Yes, please. Thank you.”

Taeyong smiled warmly at you before he departed for the kitchen.

Another young man appeared as he came down the stairs, calling out. “Sicheng and I will be back in a few days. Our Lord needs us in Beijing for an emergency match-up.” He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and merely stared at you. “Seriously, another ‘appointment’?”

Taeyong darted out of the kitchen. “Kun.”

You got up and waved. “Uh, hi. I’m Taeyong’s friend, y/n. From the animal shelter?”

Sicheng joined the group. “Friend?”

Kun’s eyebrows furrowed. “You’re just friends with him?”

You looked at everyone around the living room. “Yes…”

Although you had to wonder what Kun meant by “appointment”. If you had to guess, you weren’t the first girl Taeyong brought home. This week.

You knew Taeyong was a player from the first night you met him. But you were attracted to him so the possibility of a one night stand with him didn’t repel you. You weren’t about to ask for it, though. You were already going out of your comfort zone, coming over to his house for dinner.

And then...Taeyong’s personality surprised you these past few weeks. He was warm and hard-working and kind. You had to admit you had a little crush on him. You wouldn’t let that truth see the light of day, though. A player was a player, no matter what.

Sicheng smiled as he greeted you, “Y/n, welcome to our home. I’m Sicheng. Our rude friend right here is Kun. We are Taeyong’s coworkers and roommates.”

“It’s nice to meet you. What is it that you guys do? You mentioned a match-up?”

Taeyong eyed his friends. “They...”

Kun continued, “We...are dating gurus!”

You replied, “I see. So you’re headed to Beijing? That’s exciting!”

The boys told you they worked for a dating website for high-profile people and traveled to countries like China and South Korea to counsel them on dating. It was unheard of and unusual. At least for you, anyway. But it was kind of fascinating. Kun and Sicheng told you that Taeyong had been working nonstop for years now as a dating guru so now he was taking some time off. They excused themselves and headed off to the airport.

You accompanied Taeyong to the kitchen as he cooked some New York strips for the two of you. He refused your help and wanted you to sit down and relax. “I didn’t know you were a dating guru.”

He chuckled nervously. “I don’t really like to talk about it.”

“Oh, well, we don’t have to…We could always talk about something else. Like where you’re from?”

Taeyong chopped some vegetables as he mulled over his answer, avoiding your eyes. How was he going to say he came from Heaven? First of all, it would be ludicrous to you. And second, it sounded like a pickup line that would only stroke his ego. There was no way to win by telling the truth. “Abroad.”

You sipped your glass of wine. He was so vague. “Abroad? Where?”

“My Lor-...father traveled all the time when I was growing up so we always moved. And once I got to work with the dating website, the traveling continued.” Nice save, he thought to himself.

“Oh? Wow, that’s sad, isn’t it?”

Taeyong looked at you. “Sad?”

“I mean, maybe it wasn’t...What I meant was that it must have been difficult getting uprooted all the time. Having to get accustomed to a new place...Only to have to start over somewhere else.”

You had no idea, Taeyong thought. You read him like a book so he had to ask. “How did you know?”

You understood his situation very well. “My dad is a lieutenant general. We’ve moved around a lot until I was eighteen. Come to think of it...Are your parents in the military?”

Taeyong knew he had to come up with something. Quick, he told himself, think of something believable. The first thought that came into his mind was Jurassic Park after he watched it last night. “No...He’s a...paleontologist.”

That was an uncommon job but you were impressed. After all, Jurassic Park was one of your favorite movies. You asked him about the places his dad took him, what dinosaur bones his dad uncovered, and more. Taeyong had to get creative and being dumb about the subject didn’t hinder his case. He claimed that remembering the names of species was impossible for him. You were riveted, regardless. You spent most of the time talking about Jurassic Park, anyway. You told him about Universal Studios’ Islands of Adventure and a Jurassic Park feature located at the park. You suggested you two could go together sometime and Taeyong’s eyes lit up, then. His doe eyes caught you off-guard.

You continued talking about your interests and your pasts. Well, you did. Taeyong had to get a little creative when topics such as his “childhood” and “family” came into conversation. But other than that, he enjoyed having you in his home. You were full of warmth and generosity. You laughed at his jokes and asked him about how he was doing. It left him speechless. He wasn’t sure what you were really thinking or if you were even interested. You were equally unsure and found yourself considering what you’d been fighting since the moment you first laid eyes on him.

Taeyong served dinner. His cooking was incredible. The steak and baked potato were paradise on your taste buds. “Taeyong, oh my God, this is incredible. You should be a five-star chef and open a restaurant.”

Taeyong chuckled. “Thank you, y/n but I’m more of a pastry chef than anything else.”

“What’s your price for a batch of chocolate cupcakes?” You teased.

He smiled. “Free of charge.”

“But?”

“Well, if you were free to watch Jurassic Park 2 with me this week, then I would consider it.”

“I’ll take it.”

Taeyong was excited that you two would see each other outside of work again. Taeyong served you cookie dough ice cream with fudge.

You ate your ice cream. “Thank you so much for inviting me over. I haven’t been able to hang out with friends in a while so this means a lot.”

Friends. Taeyong was a little hurt at your label of him. He thought there was something between you. Maybe this wasn’t the right time to make a move so he forced a smile. “I’m glad we’re friends, too.”

…

[2 months later]

Taeyong continued to volunteer at the shelter. His ego took a nice, deserving blow after you told him you were just friends. He was still happy that he got to spend time with you. You became so close that you spent most of your time with him outside of work. You played video games and watched movies. You also fostered some animals together on the weekends.

Taeyong hadn’t thrown a party or gone to one since he started spending time with you. His phone started lighting up a lot less as the weeks passed. The truth was Taeyong had stopped hooking up with anyone else. He was focused on you. Getting to know you.  

You even told him about your ex Jaemin. You and Jaemin were going strong for 11 months. The biggest player at your university, Jaemin worked hard to get you to say yes to dating him. The romance started off beautifully and ended abruptly when Jaemin said he didn’t want to be unfair to you. The day after the breakup you saw him out with another girl like it was nothing. And a month later, they were engaged to be married. Now, they were married and expecting a child together. It seemed that he genuinely loved his wife. The way he looked at her with such affection the day after he broke up with you. It broke you because that was how you used to look at him. You thought he was the one and up to a certain point, he told you you were the one for him. You wondered how he moved on so quickly to this day.

Since then, you didn’t want to date anyone, much less a playboy. Hook-ups were something you would’ve considered but you were still hurting. Taeyong had been the first boy you looked at in five months but you still weren’t ready. However, now that you two were getting to know each other...Maybe, just maybe…

Taeyong wanted to track down Jaemin and destroy him, break up his family, and kill him. Well, maybe not to that extreme. But he wanted to avenge you for how Jaemin could’ve been so swift in hurting you and moving on like nothing. He had to wonder…

If maybe one of his coworkers had something to do with it. He’d never had a hand in pairing up a Na Jaemin with anyone. If that were the case, he would’ve never forgiven himself for pursuing you.

He finally understood that you were guarding your heart and he didn’t want to push you. He would wait for as long as it takes to…Well, he wasn’t sure...Kiss you? Take you out on a date? He wasn’t sure how romance or courting worked.

It took some convincing but Taeyong finally decided to foster Ruby for the week. He didn’t refuse before because he didn’t want Ruby. He was scared of being ill-prepared for taking care of her or that his house had some hazards for the little dog.

You drove Taeyong and Ruby back to his house. The three of you stood outside his front door. He had Ruby on a leash.

Taeyong started. “Are you sure, y/n? What if Ruby falls in the pool when I go take a shower? What if she chews at my phone charger and gets electrocuted?”

You laughed. “Taeyong, how is she going to get in the backyard? Are her paws going to magically turn into hands so that she can turn the doorknob to the back door?”

“No…”

“So long as you keep her active and give her toys and activities, she will have no reason to chew at your charger or go on an online shopping spree while you’re asleep.”

Taeyong frowned, knowing that you were mocking him now. “Fine. But if anything happens, I’m taking you down with me.”

Your eyes danced. “Fine with me.”

You three went to the beach and Ruby was having fun playing on the shoreline. Taeyong giggled like a little boy as he played fetch with her. You watched them and smiled. It was beyond you why Taeyong wouldn’t adopt Ruby. They clearly loved each other very much. Maybe today you could finally convince him.

You returned to the beach house as you ate ice cream cones from the boardwalk ice cream shop. Ruby ran back inside to drink from her water bowl. You and Taeyong lingered on the outside deck by the pool and watched the sunset. Taeyong’s chocolate ice cream cone was melting at the sides and you regretted not buying chocolate so without thinking, you licked his melting ice cream. Taeyong was caught by surprise and you looked up at him before getting back to your ice cream cone.

The innocent but teasing glint in your eye made him shocked and aroused. He paid a little too much attention to your tongue. As quickly as it appeared, it disappeared. And he longed for it to worship his body.

You winked. “Sorry. You’re a slow eater and it was melting…” You handed him your vanilla ice cream cone. “You can have some of mine.”

He snapped out of it and licked the cone as suggestively as he could to try and get a reaction out of you. And that he did. His big brown eyes had a mischievous glint to them. He smirked. You avoided his eyes completely. “Y/n.”

You bent down and pretended to tie your shoe and realized you weren’t wearing sneakers but sandals. You got back up, embarrassed and still looking away from him. “Yeah?”

“I like you.”

You looked back up at him. “Taeyong-”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I just wanted to say it. At least once.” He liked you for a long time now. The more time he spent with you and went out of his way to be with you every moment he could made him realize that maybe what he longed for with you wasn’t simply one night of pleasure.

He wanted more. He didn’t know exactly what that meant. But he just liked to be with you. Your kindness, your wit, your sense of humor, everything about you made Taeyong feel that heaven could be found in another person.

He didn’t want to push you, not at all. He did wonder about what things would be like if you gave into each other. But he would still wait for as long as it took for you to consider him.

You admitted, “Taeyong, I like you, too.”

He sighed in relief. “Oh, thank heavens. Let’s go out on Friday.” Hundreds of plans were running through his mind of how he wanted to spoil you for your first date. He’d been doing research on where he could take you in the city and debated whether or not a road trip to Universal Studios would be too much.

You smiled in spite of yourself. “That’s so sweet…”

“But?”

“I don’t know if I’m ready...Or if I can trust you...You’re very…experienced.”

Taeyong looked at you in confusion as he finished his ice cream cone. “What do you mean? I’ve never dated.”

“I mean...Sexually…” You muttered the last word. Your face was hot and Taeyong only looked at you like you’d said the sky was blue.

“Taeyong, before we met, you were partying every night and sleeping with multiple people. Are you going to tell me that you’re not that person anymore? Because you know what happened with Jaemin...I don’t want that again. If we are going to take this any further, you have to be honest with me. When you want to end it, show me your heart. Don’t leave me wondering what I did wrong...” He could see your eyes get bigger and redder. They were welling up. Your voice broke and it broke him to hear it.

He hated seeing you unhappy. You didn’t deserve to be burned the way you had. He wrapped his arms around you, then. For the first time. “I would never do that to you. I would never-”

You hugged him back. “Please don’t make promises you can’t keep. Let’s just take this slow...Okay?”

He never felt as close and vulnerable with someone. Then you came along and he was ready to do what he could to be with you. To at least try. “Okay.”

He caressed your face and pulled you in for a kiss. He lifted you off the ground and sat you on a ledge as he leaned down to kiss you deeper. His tongue intertwined with yours. You both tasted like ice cream and it made you both crazy with longing. You were the first to stop the kiss and reminded him, “Slow.”

He kissed your forehead. “Slow.”

…

[4 Months Later]

You and Taeyong took your new relationship slow. It drove you both crazy that you put off sleeping together for so long. You wanted to get to know Taeyong better. So did he. Even if this was the longest dry spell Taeyong had undergone, it was worth it.

“What’s got you so happy, boss?” Sicheng asked, visiting from New York. Sicheng and Kun moved out months ago when they saw that Taeyong wasn’t causing any trouble. Sicheng held Ruby in his lap. Taeyong adopted Ruby not too long after you two agreed to date.

Taeyong was worried, though. Just how far could he take things with you before he was summoned back by God? It could be five years or fifty years before He called him back to Heaven. Taeyong had to tell someone what was eating at him and Sicheng was one of his closest friends. “I need to tell you something.”

After Taeyong told Sicheng about you and what transpired all this time, Sicheng sighed, “Taeyong, this is trouble. We are not supposed to get involved with humans.”

“Sex is okay but dating and marriage are out of the question? How does that make sense?”

Sicheng frowned, reminding Taeyong of Kun at that moment. “Sex was never okay. In moderation and with zero strings attached? Sure...But you’ve crossed several lines...You’re playing with fire by pursuing y/n.”

Taeyong sighed in frustration. “I know but Sicheng, I’m falling…”

Sicheng watched Taeyong that night and witnessed how he changed after he met you. He put a hand on Taeyong’s shoulder. “I know. You’ve fallen since that first night. Five seconds.”

It took Taeyong five seconds to fall in love with you.

Taeyong continued, “I want to make this work. Let our Lord find out from me.”

“But-” Sicheng started.

“I appreciate you for not ratting me out to our Father, Sicheng. You’re a good friend.”

Later that night, Taeyong picked you up from your apartment and wanted to surprise you. He blindfolded you as you sat in the passenger seat of his car. Taeyong whispered into your ear. “Can you hear me?”

You laughed and bit your lip. “Taeyong, it’s a blindfold. Not ear plugs. Why are you whispering?”

He whispered even lower and the warmth of his breath made you fidget and press your thighs harder together. “It’s fun. That’s all.”

He could tell you were aroused. He could see your nipples through your black dress and he had to control his cock from making an early appearance. It was a good thing he blindfolded you.

Taeyong drove you two in silence and his giggles made you laugh. You held hands. It didn’t take too long to reach your destination. He escorted you out of the car and removed your blindfold.

“Surprise!”

You were at the Isla Central Marina and you stood before the entrance of a yacht named Cupid’s Bow. The boat was decorated with white Christmas lights.

“Taeyong, what is all this…”

He smiled as he led you onto the boat. “It’s where we’re having dinner tonight.”

You sat down at the table set at the center of the yacht. It was decorated with white daisies. Taeyong chose white daisies because their scent reminded him of you. And for their significance.

He sat you down at your seat and squeezed your shoulders.

You looked around in wonder. The night sky was clear as the full moon shone down on you both. “This is amazing. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

Taeyong sat across from you and smiled brightly. “I want to give you the world, y/n. If you let me, I will.”

Your face felt flushed and you stared down at your lap. “You’re so corny.”

He asked for your hand and you gave it to him. He kissed it and looked at you with what could be described as bedroom eyes. He tried to seduce you a couple of times now because he loved to tease you. You’d tease him back and pretend to consider sleeping with him. Fair’s fair.

But tonight? The teasing would stop.

Someone else cleared their throat. “Welcome to Cupid’s Bow. Thank you for dining with us tonight. I will be your server, Kun.”

You gasped and laughed. “Kun, what are you doing here?”

Dressed as a waiter, Kun said, “Taeyong needed a hand for tonight. And our friend Sicheng will be maneuvering this vessel.”

You turned to Sicheng as he waved from the steering wheel. He was wearing a captain’s outfit. You fought back a laugh. They were a cheesy group of guys.

Kun started you guys off with drinks as the boat departed the marina. You sailed around the bay that connected to the ocean. The bay led into downtown Isla where the city lights shone brightly. It was a beautiful modern-day fairytale.

Taeyong started up a playlist from his Bluetooth speakers and asked you to dance. “Give Me Love” by Ed Sheeran played.

Taeyong was a great dancer. He must have been classically trained for years. He spun you in circles and dipped you, pretending he was about to drop you to tease you. He pulled you close and hummed along to the lyrics. You laughed and held him tightly.

The songs continued as you and Taeyong watched the view. He held you from behind. The night was perfect.

“Y/n,” he said into your ear softly.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

You turned back to him and smiled. “I love you, too.” You kissed him.

You liked Taeyong ever since that night you met. But you started falling in love after you saw how he was with Ruby. He carried a lot of love and loyalty in his heart that it left you in awe every time you were with him. There was more to him than the wealthy bachelor persona he emitted. That wasn’t who he was. He was a man who loved fiercely. He was your best friend. And now you wanted him to be your lover.

You sat down together and ate Italian cuisine. Kun was an incredible chef. You and Taeyong share lasagna and chicken Alfredo. It was delicious. For dessert, you two fed each other gelato.

When Cupid’s Bow returned to the dock, you and Taeyong sat in the car, awkward.

Taeyong waited for you to tell him to take you home but it never came. You wanted him to suffer for a few more seconds.

You started. “Thank you for tonight.”

He cleared his throat. “I had the best time.”

“Can I stay the night?” You asked softly.

Taeyong was hearing things. “I’m sorry?”

“Let’s spend the night together.”

Taeyong was about to jump out of the driver’s seat and scream. He played it cool and his face was unreadable as he said, “Okay.”

You giggled. Taeyong was an enigma but you could see the blush creeping onto his cheeks.

You returned to the beach house and darted to the pool. Taeyong ran after you. You removed your dress and turned to him, biting your lip because you knew he loved it.

You were down to your black and red lingerie and Taeyong was so close to salivating. He longed to worship your body. He stood there, unable to move. He watched you slowly descend the steps into the pool and wait for him.

He walked slowly over to you, like a tiger about to pounce on his prey. He wanted you. You could see the desire in his gaze. He unbuttoned his shirt and you could see his abs glisten against the reflection of the pool. He smirked again, knowing it drove you crazy when he did that. He slowly unbuckled his belt and you could see his bulge better as he pulled down his pants.

“Wow,” you said.

“Hmm?”

Taeyong was down to his briefs. He pulled them down and chucked them away. His physique was like that of a statue of a Greek god. He was rock solid. You swam into the deep end, waiting for him to follow you in.

Taeyong got into the pool and dove down. You couldn’t see him now.

You were waiting for him to surprise you but time passed and you wondered if something was wrong.

“Yong?” You started. “Yong!”

He crept up behind you then, pulling your panties down in the process. “Boo.”

You smacked him. “Jerk. I thought you were dying.”

Taeyong chuckled. “I wasn’t down there for that long.”

“You’re kidding, right? I counted. It was at least a minute.”

Maybe he crossed the line with his immortal abilities, then. He sighed. “What can I say? I have incredible lung capacity.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why don’t we put that to the test?” You put your arms around him and kissed him deeply.

Taeyong’s heart skipped a beat. Your soaked body got him harder. You got onto his lap and he kissed your cleavage. His kisses were everything. You had been thinking about your first night with him for a long time now.

Taeyong lowered the strap of your bra and kissed your shoulder, silently asking if he could unclasp your bra. You nodded. He adored your breasts, biting and sucking at them.

You lowered your hand to his pelvic region and felt his large cock. He grunted as you clasped it. You kissed his neck and nipped at his ears.

You both loved teasing each other so now that you were spending the night together, neither of you was going down without a fight.

After a few minutes, Taeyong carried you out of the pool. You looked up at him, admiring his flawless profile. He dried you off and he took your hand and led you upstairs to his shower.

He started up the shower and you looked up at him. He took your face into his hands and gave you a peck on the lips. He smiled.

He started washing you with his body wash. It was Jo Malone Lime Basil & Mandarin. It smelled just like Taeyong and you wished you could smell like this all the time. He carefully navigated your body like you were a fragile vase and kissed you all over. He saved your chest for the end and could feel your heartbeat against his palm. He looked up at you through hooded eyes and you kissed his nose.

You washed him and teased him as you washed around his crotch, lightly tracing it with your fingers. His skin was soft while his body was muscular. He was the most beautiful contradiction in the world.

Taeyong pulled you in for another kiss and you wrapped your arms around each other. He turned the shower off. You both dried off.

He scooped you up, making you giggle. He laid you down gently. You stretched your body against the mattress and Taeyong admired all of your angles.

“I’m going to fuck you until the sunrise, y/n,” Taeyong said as he looked down at your body. Your eyes lock on him. They were no longer doe-like.

“I bet you are,” you said, feeling a little nervous now.

He straddled you and kissed you. His cock teased its entrance into your folds. “My stars, you are the most gorgeous creature,” he said as his face was mere centimeters from yours.

You pulled him closer and you kissed again, running your hands over his back. He traced his fingers around your folds, teasing your entrance. You whimpered as you held him tightly.

You pushed him off of you and laid him back as you gripped his cock and pumped. “You think you’re the only who’s been dying for this moment?”

Taeyong gaped at you. You were the first partner to take charge. His other lovers usually let him take the lead. He didn’t mind it much but to see you cater to his needs made him dizzy.

You took his cock into your mouth and your throat burned from the contact. You couldn’t take all of him in so you had to love the rest of him with your hand. You started bobbing your head back and forth, licking the veins of his throbbing member. Taeyong grunted. “Fuck, y/n.”

You looked up at him and his heart nearly stopped again. He gripped your hair. He came into your mouth and you swallowed his seed.

“You taste better than I imagined,” you said as you wiped your mouth.

You were generous in all aspects of life but in the bedroom? Taeyong was floored. “Allow me to pamper you.”

He laid you against his bed frame and brought out handcuffs.

“Well, you came prepared. Are those new?” You hoped they were.

“Yes. They came in yesterday…Good timing, wouldn’t you say?”

You nodded as he unlocked the cuffs. “Lift your arms up, y/n.”

You obeyed and he cuffed you. Your breasts were raised beautifully and Taeyong sighed. “Breathtaking.”

You averted your gaze and Taeyong shook his head. He took your chin and turned your face to him. “No, no...Don’t get shy on me now...Not when you fucked me with that pretty little mouth of yours.”

You loved how low his voice became and you felt your pussy tremble underneath him. He fondled your breasts, squeezing your nipples and biting them. He kissed around your folds. He traced his tongue at your entrance and breathed against it, making you whimper. He started whispering sweet nothings in multiple languages. He spoke in almost ten languages and you wondered who this man really was. You came once he spoke dirty French into your ear.

You were already soaked and Taeyong wanted to indulge in torturing you for a few minutes before he entered you. He started by slipping one finger into your entrance and carefully avoided your G-spot to rile you up.

“Taeyong, please,” you cried.

He stopped and kissed your forehead. “We have all night, y/n.”

You pouted. “You’re too good at torturing me.”

He smiled. “Am I torturing you? I didn’t think so.”

You wrapped your legs harder around his abdomen. “Get inside me. Now.”

He sighed. “You seem to forget that I’m calling the shots, y/n.”

You licked your lips. “Are you?”

He frowned and slipped his fingers out of your folds. “Do you not like it?”

You shook your head. “I do. I do. I do.”

He smirked. “Then, let me work.”

He continued to fingerfuck you until you cried. “Yong, please…”

“I love when you call me Yong. It destroys me,” he said as he finally entered you.

You cried out loud as his cock entered and hit you in the right places. You could feel him go deeper and could feel his cock twitching in your belly. You climaxed quickly and Taeyong quickly pulled out and came right after.

Taeyong cleaned you both up, not removing you from the cuffs just yet.

“Uh, Taeyong?”

“Yes, darling?”

“You forgot something?” You looked up at the cuffs.

“Oh, you’re right. I did forget something.” He kissed your forehead. “I love you.”

He walked out of the room.

Your arms started to hurt from having been raised for so long. “You are so funny!”

He returned with a tray that had two glasses of water and a bowl of strawberries and whipped cream.

“Are you hungry?” Taeyong asked, acting oblivious.

“Taeyong, I think it’s your turn to try on the cuffs…”

He beamed. “Exactly what I was thinking, y/n.”

“Okay, great. Now if you can get these off of me, the chances of me choking you to death will be lower.”

He laughed. “You’re so funny.”

He sat next to you in bed. And fed you a strawberry with whipped cream on top, popping it into your mouth. He carefully slipped his finger out and licked his finger. “Mmm.”

He took the whipped cream and drew out shapes onto your body, tracing his tongue over the shapes and eating the whipped cream. It drove you crazy.

“Now that I’ve had my dessert. It’s only fair that you enjoy yours.” He uncuffed you.

You cuffed him and had your way with him. You even took it a step further and pulled out another set of handcuffs from the drawer. “I see you got an extra pair.”

He smiled. “Can never be too prepared.”

You returned his smile. “Let’s kick it up a notch. Shall we?”

You cuffed his ankles, as well. He laid in bed and waited for you to get to work on him but you decided to get the bowl of strawberries and whipped cream and eat a couple slowly. You even fed a couple to Taeyong.

You started, “This is nice.”

Taeyong grumbled in Korean.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. I’m just waiting here. Patient.”

“Like the good boy that you are,” you cooed.

Your voice made him harder. You took the whipped cream and traced it over your collar bone. “Lick,” you commanded.

He licked across your collarbone. Then, you drew shapes onto his body, drawing a heart around his pelvic region. You saved it for last and slowly licked around it. You kissed his tip. He groaned. You straddled him and kissed him passionately.

You teased each other like that all night and made love for hours. You fell asleep in each other’s arms, holding each other tightly. The sun had risen a few hours ago. You woke up first and found Taeyong holding you tightly to his chest. He felt your movement in his sleep and he held you tighter. The sun lit up his features. He looked like an angel.

You kissed his cheek and his eyes opened slowly. “Good morning.”

You smiled. “Hi.”

He stretched and held you again. “I need to check on Ruby.”

You shook your head. “I’ll take care of her. You sleep.”

He whined. “It’s okay. You rest.”

You giggled. “It’s okay.”

You and Taeyong got cleaned up. You borrowed some of Taeyong’s clothes. You took Ruby for a walk around the neighborhood. You spent a quiet day together, living in utter bliss.

…

[1 Week Later]

Taeyong was on cloud nine. Having you in his life made him complete. He can’t imagine it getting better than this. You were at work and Taeyong was preparing dinner for you as you were sleeping over later. He was going to ask you to move in.

He finished his homemade pepperoni pizza and put it in the oven. He heard the doorbell ring. Ruby barked and he joined her to see who was at the door. It couldn’t be you. It was too early. He opened the door to find Mark at the door.

“Mark!” Taeyong smiled and hugged him. Mark was another one of his coworkers and close friends. Taeyong regarded him as a little brother.

“Taeyong, it’s great to see you…Wow, you are glowing.” Mark eyed him carefully.

He smiled, thinking about you. “Yeah...I guess I am. Come in!”

After they sat down and caught up with each other, Mark said, “I’ll cut to the chase...I’m here in Isla for my next pairing session.”

“Is that so?”

He nodded. The usually lighthearted boy looked serious. “I know about y/n.”

Taeyong’s smile faded. Ruby snuggled tighter to Taeyong as she rested on his lap. “Who-“

He shook his head. “I found out myself. Y/n is my next assignment.”

Taeyong felt his world crashing down onto him. “No…”

Mark sighed. “I expected one of the fledglings to get into this mess but you? Our mentor? It’s absurd.”

“Mark-“

“Father doesn’t know…Imagine his disappointment when he finds out. He doesn’t have to. If you end it now.”

Taeyong’s chest was on fire. Tears were threatening to fall. “No.”

Mark frowned. “What?”

“You heard me, Mark. I’m not leaving her.”

Mark sighed. “Once I strike the arrows at her and her partner, it’ll be over.”

Taeyong shook his head. “Mark, please.”

Mark hurt for his friend but his duty as a Cupid came first. “I’m sorry, Taeyong. This is how our world works. You’re the one who told me so.”

Taeyong hated this. He hated the world he knew before you. How could he go  back to a world of bringing love to others and have no love himself? He couldn’t. Not after meeting you. You’d been burned before. No doubt by one of the Cupids interfering. He wasn’t about to let that happen again.

“Taeyong, if you interfere with y/n’s pairing...There’s no telling what the consequences will be.”

“I’ll be the one to deal with that, Mark. But I won’t let you come between us.”

After their exchange, Mark left. Taeyong retired to the kitchen to check on the pizza. It was ready.

“What is he saying, Taeyong?” You started.

“Y/n?!” Taeyong jumped as he found you waiting for him at the kitchen island. 

You’d snuck in earlier to surprise him with sweet potatoes you bought from the farmer’s market. You wanted to scare him because it was a bit of yours. You snuck through the back door with your own set of keys he gave you.

You were about to duck your head into the living room when you heard Taeyong say he wouldn’t leave you. Your heart sank.

He wanted to hold you. “Y/n…”

You crossed your arms. “What is going on? Who is Mark? And who exactly is your father? What exactly is your job, Taeyong? Because I’m beginning to suspect you’re not a dating guru.”

Taeyong sighed. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Taeyong checked the schedules of the fledglings at work in Isla. The best way for him to prove his identity to you was to show you how Cupids worked. “Come with me.”

He drove you to an amusement park. You turned to him. “You are not taking me on a date right now.”

He shook his head. “I’m not. Just follow me.”

He led you into the park and you sat down on a bench by the haunted house.

Taeyong started. “See that guy in the leather jacket? That’s my coworker Shotaro.”

“I don’t see him…” There was no one by that description where Taeyong was pointing.

“Y/n, hold my hand.”

“Taeyong, now’s not the time.”

“Please. Just do it.”

You gave in and held his hand and suddenly, a young man in a leather jacket appeared. Shotaro was carrying a bow and a bag of arrows. He prepared his arrow to shoot at someone leaving the haunted house.

“Taeyong, what is he doing?!” You yelled.

Taeyong shushed. “Y/n, just watch.”

You put a hand over your mouth and you were about to run over and stop this madness. Taeyong held you back.

Shotaro released the arrow and hit the young woman first. She looked at her best friend and kissed her cheek. Shotaro then shot another arrow at the best friend. She kissed the first young woman on the lips, then. The arrows vanished just as quickly as they pierced both women. It was as if they were never struck. Shotaro noticed Taeyong and waved before he faded away.

You rubbed your eyes. “Taeyong?”

“Yeah?”

“What the hell was that?”

“More like what the heaven was that…”

“Explain.”

Taeyong explained everything to you. How he was Cupid. How there were Cupids all over the world bringing people together. Taeyong was the original Cupid and he was on vacation. You took it all in and a lot of things started to make sense. Why he never spoke about his family or his job. How a lot of things were so new to him. It wasn’t because he was a sheltered rich boy. He wasn’t even human. He was a god.

This also meant that your concept of love was completely wrong. Cupids had their hand in romance all over the world. Which made you realize...

“So…When Jaemin broke up with me, it was because of you guys?”

Frustrated that you brought up Jaemin, Taeyong managed to say, “Yes…”

Tears fell from your eyes. “And you were never going to tell me?”

“It wasn’t my place to-“

“Oh, hell, if it’s not...How long were you going to play me like this? You were going to leave, anyway. What was the plan? Lead me on and then dump me like Jaemin did?”

Stabbed by your words, he begged, “Stop saying his name.”

“Well? How long were you planning to lead me on for? I’m sure you have a carefully crafted schedule for your next victim ready.”

Taeyong shook his head. “You don’t mean that.”

Tears fell onto your lap. “Taeyong, I loved you. Did you ever love me?”

The past tense killed him to hear. “Y/n, I love you. I’ve never loved anyone in all my years. You’re the only one for me.”

“Taeyong, you’re going to leave me.” You sobbed.

He shook his head. “I won’t leave you. I’ll fight for us.”

You hugged him tightly and he shushed you. He bought you a funnel cake with a large cup of lemonade to share. You both ate in silence for a few minutes.

You broke the silence.“When Mark said I had a pairing session, that means that I’m being matched with someone. Someone that isn’t you…”

“Yes…”

“Taeyong, I don’t want to be matched with someone else. What are we going to do?”

“I have a plan.”

You sighed. “I’m being selfish.” “What? No...Why would you think that?”

You took a sip of the lemonade. “The consequences of you disobeying...God, I still can’t believe it....I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Taeyong replied, “Let me deal with that, y/n. I will fight for us. It’ll take some convincing but after all of my years with Father, he has to listen to me.”

…

[The Next Day]

Tonight was the animal shelter’s fundraising gala in downtown Isla. It was held at the lavish Sun and Moon Hotel’s ballroom. Your potential partner would be in attendance tonight but you didn’t care. All you cared about was Taeyong and what he had up his sleeve. Mark was mingling with the other guests. He didn’t know that you were in on his plans with you. He met your eyes and smiled, playing the part of the oblivious but charming young man.

As far as Mark knew, you and Taeyong broke up last night so you had to look miserable. And frankly, you felt miserable not knowing what was about to happen with Taeyong. There was a chance you could lose him forever tonight. But you held onto the chance of remaining with him.

You forced a smile and continued to mingle with the guests. Meanwhile, Taeyong disguised himself and kept an eye on Mark. Mark may have been a well-established Cupid by now but he was not at Taeyong’s level. He was off by a few centuries.

The shelter had received a lot of donations from many local businesses and celebrities. You gave a thank you speech to all the attendees for their generosity and raised your glass to them. The uncertainty was killing you underneath it all.

Taeyong watched Mark prepare his arrow, then. Mark was no longer seen by humans. You realized Mark and Taeyong were missing, which meant it was time. Taeyong prepared his arrows. He stabbed himself with his own arrow as he watched you. Right before Mark shot his arrow, Taeyong shot at you. You turned to him, then, finally able to see him. Mark realized too late what he had done.

Mark yelled. “What have you-”

Taeyong and Mark vanished.

…

[5 Years Later]

The year you spent with Taeyong had vanished from your memory. The night of the gala after Taeyong and Mark disappeared, you continued on with your life. Living with an inexplicable hole in your heart. You thought it was because you were being dramatic. Seeing a lot of your friends get married and have kids didn’t help your case either. Meanwhile, you were alone. Working hard and thriving, sure. But emotionally, you weren’t all there.

None of your friends or family remembered Taeyong either. It was as if he never existed to any of you. One day, Jisoo introduced you to one of her friends from her gym. You two hooked up not too long afterwards. The night was fun. It was a one-time thing.

However, that one-time thing ended up in your pregnancy. The father wanted nothing to do with your child so he skipped town. You didn’t hold it against him. The child was unplanned and you decided to carry on with the pregnancy on your own. Your friends and family were very supportive. You gave birth to a baby girl named Daisy.

The emptiness in your heart was filled by your love for Daisy. She was your world. She was your partner in crime. You wanted to give her everything good the world had to offer. Maybe someday you could give her a father.

After dropping her off at pre-school, you stopped by the post office to send out a letter to your pen pal. Isla recently started up a pen pal program for its citizens to send each other letters and gifts. You were paired up with someone who shared a lot of the same interests as you: favorite movies, foods, and animals.

You were paired up with a man named Lee Taeyong.

Dear Taeyong,

I’m sending you a copy of my favorite movie of all time, Jurassic Park. Please let me know if you like it. If you do, there’s a bunch of stickers in it for you. I hope you have safe travels to Munich and Budapest.

Warmly,

y/n

Taeyong had faced serious consequences for interfering with your pairing session. The work that had to be put in to pair up y/n’s original partner, Nakamoto Yuta, with someone else put everyone into a frenzy. Thankfully, the damage was repaired.

However, the Lord was pissed. Taeyong disobeyed him. Even though God adored him, he knew he had to be punished. For every second it took for Taeyong to fall in love with you, it would take a year for you two to reunite.

God relieved Taeyong of his Cupid duties and wished him a wonderful life as a human. He looked forward to Taeyong returning to him again one day.

Taeyong returned to Isla with an established job as a pilot. Ruby remained with him. His friends Sicheng and Kun would look after her while Taeyong was away now and then. He loved traveling the world but he loved coming home to Ruby most of all. He tried dating a couple of times but it never clicked with anyone. And hook-ups were a thing of the past. He wanted something serious. He hoped to find someone to call his person someday.

He recently sent his pen pal a letter before departing for his flight to Paris.

Dear y/n,

I loved Jurassic Park. I can’t believe I wasted so many years of my life not knowing this movie. Don’t hold back on the stickers. I’m sending you a copy of one of my favorite movies. It’s called Train to Busan. Try not to swoon too hard over Gong Yoo or I might get a little jealous.

Warmly,

Taeyong

You two exchanged letters frequently and after a few more months, you decided to meet up at the cafe right next to the shelter. Taeyong walked past the shelter, arriving early for your meet-up. He was thrilled to meet you and finally put a face to your name. He looked at the windows where adoptions were currently underway.

That was when he saw you.

And just like that everything flooded back to him. How you two already knew each other once. How you became friends and grew together. How you fell in love.

He ran into the shelter and called your name. “Y/n!”

You were answering a volunteer’s question when you heard someone call your name. When you turned to the person who called you, it all came rushing back to you. All of the memories. All of the love for him that you carried in your heart. 

“Taeyong…” Your eyes welled up.

You ran towards each other. You jumped into his arms, then. You laughed and cried together. You took a ten minute break to sit outside with Taeyong.

“I can’t believe it’s you…” He cried.

“Me neither...It’s been five years…”

“Five years...A year for every second it took for me to fall in love with you…” Geez, he thought, God was so unfair and so corny at the same time.

Five years without each other was too much for either of you to bear. You caught up on each other’s lives. Taeyong was shocked to find out you have a daughter. You were shocked that Taeyong was a human now.

But now this meant that you two could grow old together. Daisy could finally have a father. And you couldn’t wait to hold Ruby again.

…

[1 Year Later]

After a year of dating and getting to know each other again, you and Taeyong got married. Daisy and Taeyong adored each other. Ruby was happy to see you again and more than happy to welcome Daisy into her life. It was a beautiful union.

All of your friends were in attendance. Jisoo was weeping so hard. Jaehyun and his boyfriend Johnny were in attendance. Taeyong was shocked that it hadn’t been Jaehyun who claimed your heart after all this time. It turned out that Jaehyun was just a concerned friend. They became good friends.

You got married at the beach. You wore a stunning mermaid white gown. You walked down the aisle with a train decorated with white daisies. The white daisies translated to: “I love you truly.” Sicheng, a violinist, played his rendition of “All My Life” by K-Ci & JoJo. It was yours and Taeyong’s song.

Taeyong donned a black tuxedo. A daisy decorated his lapel. He nearly broke down in tears at how lovely you looked. You couldn’t help the huge smile on your face.

You recite your vows to each other. You started, “Taeyong, from the moment we first met...My life became tinted in shades of pinks and oranges again. I could see that the world could be beautiful. You helped me find happiness again. A happiness I didn’t know I needed until I met you. I adore you and will adore you even into the afterlife. Whatever happens, I will always be here for you. You have my heart. My everything. I cannot wait to spend our lives together with Daisy, Ruby, and our future children. I love you.”

Taeyong replied, “Y/n, you are my world. I found love in you. You are the light of my life. You made me a better person and you made me want to live and enjoy life. The world is beautiful because of you. I love you with all of my heart. I promise you that we will always be together. No matter what life...and the after life...will throw at us. I am yours. I will always be with you. My love. My darling y/n...I love our family. Daisy and Ruby, we love you so much. I cannot wait to raise our family together, y/n. I love you.”

Officiant Kun continued, “By the power vested in me by the State of Sweetwater, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

Taeyong scooped you up and kissed you, earning applause from your friends and family.

A magical day of many. You two lived happily ever after.

Fin.

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

Could you please do 4 with lots of banter maybe? And an amnesia fic with happy ending with any prompt that you haven't done yet? The first fic I read was based on Harry losing his memory and you wrote the 27 prompt so very beautifully. So please?

Thank you so much @slytherinnbitch for your request and your compliments. All the same for you, you are incredible my love.

It feels like rain

Dialogue Prompt- 18. We both know that i should walk away, but i can't.| TW- Alcohol | Angst with happy ending | Amnesia |

The smells of the scented candles invaded the entire living room as the music poured melodiously echoing the corners. Draco walked around the house making sure everything was close to perfect as they had planned, it'll be the perfect belated anniversary as they had planned. Everything was planned.

Only it wasn't.

The phone rung loudly, making Draco to stop chopping the coriander leaves. Huffing as the ringing grew louder, he wiped his hands over his floral customised apron embroidered with his and Harry's name and he finally picked up the call.

" hello "

" mr. Malfoy it's an emergency, we need you-"

" Macy I told you I can't. Didn't I tell you to find someone else-"

" Sir, it'-its-"

" it's what?"

" it's your boyfriend"

Draco’s breath was caught in his throat, his heartbeat quickening at the pronouncement. And then, everything stilled.

____________________________

What it's to be in love, draco had always wondered. Up until now he always thought that perhaps loving was in showering harry with gifts, or Maybe bringing him flowers, or making breakfast for him before leaving, or taking harry out for dinner, or maybe even letting him cry over his shoulder after he had a rough day but when life hurled and kicked draco's door down, everything as if twisted into untwisting circles and suddenly loving became a remembering to him.

It was no longer bringing harry his coffee in bed, but it was him adding quips everytime draco tried to soften thing's up. He still sees in Harry's movements how a part of him was twitching to touch draco, to feel him, to perhaps remember him but it was maybe harry holding himself back, the new harry, the one that would not allow conversations with draco for more than 10 minutes.

He could recall that night when he ran to the infirmary to look in depth what exactly had happened. 4 hours in the room, healing wounds, casting spells, stitching injuries, cleansing harry, he woke up in Draco's absence Only to be informed later,

" Harry's suffered amnesia "

Hope was what he was left to Drown into. A lingering small flicker of hope that perhaps in those long stares Draco gave harry while medicating him, he'd remember, or maybe he'd remember him in all the small conversation Draco's tries to make, or perhaps, he'll remember through those eyes. He hoped, and he hopes, still.

But Draco hated it in all honesty, but he had Faith, he had Faith that the man he loved is still in there and will one day come out. Only the time was running out and draco would soon have to let go of harry from keeping under observation. He was afraid that in the time all he's left, that if he doesn't remember, then how would Draco cope. It was already hard to look after harry every single day and feel his eyes brim with tears of trying to find his lost treasure.

" Macy told you me you spend a lot more time looking after me than Anyone else? What makes me special malfoy ?" Harry has asked one day

Draco stopped in his movements, giving him a curt smile" th- perhaps Because I know if I spend more time with you, you'll remember "

" why are you so obsessed with me remembering ? I mean it's not like it's such a big deal right. If anything I'm happy to have forgotten something's even " harry chuckled lightly.

Draco gulped down the knot that formed in the center of his chest, dug his nails firmly into this palms wishing that Harry would take his words back, for once harry could look at draco with a vision of more than just hatred..

As if harry sensed it he added " I- I don't know if we were friends Draco, if I have mistakenly hurt your feelings by saying that, then I'm sorry "

Draco hummed and practically ran out of the room. In that time Draco decided that not talking with harry would be a much better move than to have his feelings hurt everytime Harry opened his mouth.

But it was hard, it was hard when he realised that Harry had not once opened his mouth to say I love you, because he didn't remember..

It was late in night one day when Draco was attending harry as his last patient before he could go in loneliness,when it happened,

" can I ask you something ?" Harry asked. Draco was cleansing Harry's wounds on his back when he hummed..

"Have you,” He paused, his eyes fluttering close for a moment as he cleared his throat and asked, “have you ever been in love?"

Draco paused his movements, his heart clenching almost painfully in his chest, a knot in his throat.

" you don't have to answer if you don't want to "

Harry's muscles in the back tensed up with Draco's left arm resting on it. Draco inhaled sharply resuming cleansing when he responded "Yes,” He breathed, “yes, I have "

" what does it feel like ?" Harry asked, looking a little over his shoulder as though perhaps he wanted to watch Draco.

Draco licked his lips, smiling to himself a little as he remembered the Times when Harry had remembered Loving him " it's- it's complicated "

" how exactly ?" Harry asked again

" it's- love - it feels like rain "

" feels like rain ?"

They simultaneously whispered.

" how- how do you?" Draco stilled in a jerk

Harry turned around to face Draco, a weird look on his face "there's- there are things in my head. Like there are saying, they're all jumbled. Like I know it's there, but I can't remember who said them to me. All of it is not lost you know. At least that's what I think. But it happens only in the late hours of night when I remember something's and they vanish in the morning. I don't how to feel, but I know how I've felt before, it's all weird "

And in the dying flickering fire as if someone had dropped a log again, the fire of hope grew again in Draco.

"so- y- you're saying you remember but you can't remember who ?" Draco asked cautiously..

" I mean- yeah I think " harry replied.

Draco thought for a moment " I- "

" I feel as though most of these sayings are from Ginny "

Draco's breath hitched, stopping at the hilt, suddenly feelings as all of his organs collapsed into a whole, his brain screaming and all the memories automatically putting a lock on themselves and realisation hit Draco. Harry remembered his life before Draco, or so as it felt. Before Draco, harry had only one lover and that was Ginny and whatever recollection of phrases he had remained with of with Draco became faceless and it only sounded for Harry to feel like they're all from Ginny.

"i- perhaps " Draco replied briskly before he picked up the cotton again with shaking hands and did his wounds in a blurry vision, remaining silent.

" wait- how did- why did you say love felt like rain, isn't it what- I mean i-"

" I read it somewhere " Draco vaguely replied.

" oh " harry mouthed before he wore his shirt again and watched Draco hurriedly leave the room with slumped shoulders.

_____________________________

" pa, pa pa pa para ra rara ra " Draco hummed as he knocked down doors after door's, collapsing in his office chair, raising his legs over his table, watching a frame of Draco and harry resting over it. He smiled at it before he chugged down another gulp of whiskey burning his throat.

" sir- mr. Malfoy ?" Someone said as they flicked the light on watching Draco with narrowed eyes

" oh- Macy- oh love, you know I shouldn't call you love. Well but again, you did absolutely nothing. But you know you ruined my entire life "Draco's pale eyes glimmered in tears and he chugged down another gulp.

" si- sir.. I'm-"

" do me a favor and please, leave me alone " Draco sobbed. Macy looked at Draco in pity before she turned off the lights and walked away..

Draco remained there staring at the ceiling for a long time, river of tears flowing down his cheeks, wetting his neck and his shirt, sip after sip, he emptied the bottle, crying in the agony of pain that became friendlier minute by minute.

" liar" Draco mumbled to himself, then loudly " fucking pathetic liar" only he wished he could've yelled..

" you loved me, you said you'd never forget me, you said you could never live without me, there you are fucking breathing, living, surviving, taking my breath away, leaving me to die " draco mumbled to himself staring at harry in the picture. And he cried a little more too.

Draco smeared his face with tears, rubbing his hands over his face, releasing a shaky breath before he rested his forehead against the table and left heavy sobs, a weird pain settling into his chest that pulled him in deeper, something that left him empty, Hollow but yearning. Left him heart broken..

It was seconds later, or minutes or an hour later, he had lost the count before he got up and stumbled to Harry's room and as sobriety started settling into him, He watched harry from the door, gazing softly at the sleeping figure,he didn't want to wake him up.

" he'll be fine " Someone said besides him. Draco turned his head to see a patronus hanging in the air, it was maybe a stag, he didn't know, he didn't remember.

" what if he never remembers me ?" Draco asked as it the patronus would answer.

" trust me it'd be fine " it spoke again.

Draco watched the patronus bouncing with light blue light " you don't know that. I've only a day left with him, he'll leave from here and he wouldn't remember a single thing " Draco muffled in tears.

" it'd be fine, Draco, it will be "

Groaning, Draco threw his hand over the patronus, Making it evaporate in the air, faint words still whispering" it'd be fine" until the hallway grew dark again and Draco remained there watching harry from the door.

" what if you never come back to me ?"

And with the dying hope, Draco walked back home.

Only if he had known thing's would've changed the next night. The last night.

Draco has paraded the his healers office next morning, scenting of Harry's Cologne, wearing Harry's shirt and his pendant, he never understood why he did it, but he wore it, perhaps in the last rememberance. But no matter what he did, he couldn't bring himself to meet harry that very day. Every opportunity he got, a string tugged him back as if he wasn't ready to say goodbye and it was until the end of the day, he had to finally face Harry.

" you didn't come all day ?" Harry eyes had perhaps glimmered as Draco had entered but Draco purposely ignored it, he couldn't bring himself to hope, not anymore.

" I- I had things " Draco mumbled, wearing his gloves before he checked Harry's pulse, then looked over his scars.

" y- are you mad ?" Harry had asked several minutes later after Draco has remained suspiciously silent.

" why would I be ?"

" you haven't spoken a word " harry pointed.

" it's a strategy you see, it's easier to say goodbye now " Draco mumbled heavily as he pushed away his thrumming feelings.

"y- you'll never meet me after this ?" Harry asked innocently..

Draco bit his lips as he blinked his tears away, offering harry a little smile "I'll try "

Harry spoke again after several minutes, lifting the silence " can I ask you to do something ?"

" anything " Draco whispered.

" can you just like say something so I can remember you by it? I mean we might meet, but we might not right. So I- I just want to retain a memory, just of you "

Draco could've sworn his heart leapt several feets, throbbed Loudly and unshed tears appeared " why- why do you want to ?"

" I- I don't know. I just- I don't want to forget you " harry shrugged.

Draco inhaled before he faced harry, forming a little smile once again before he said " perhaps loving you will always remain a memory, but loving you had felt like stars colliding, sun shining and daisies blooming. Loving you was homely. Now loving you will be will only be a memory "

" who said that ?"

" me " Draco smiled and he went into writing Harry's last report before he'd be ready to go..

" that- nevermind" but Harry remembered looking at Draco's chest, watching carefully the necklace that hung around his neck..

Draco didn't see him again for the rest of the day, busying himself because then maybe, letting go would be easy, saying goodbye wouldn't hurt so much anymore as he knew it did. Maybe it'll become easier.

That night before leaving, Draco stood against Harry's door, watching him sleep one last time.

" we both know I should walk away, but I can't "

And yet, yet he walked away. And still remained.

The fire remained nothing more than a shimmering spark of red and orange and Draco saw it dying out on his couch, his knees pressed against his chest. He watched it slowly die, he watched it die.

But love wasn't remembering or their love wasn't ever supposed to be just a memory, their love was in loving, their love was, still.

That very night when Draco had revisited harry and Whispered the soft words embraced in love, the midnight stroke, harry remained awake and maybe that's why it all changed..

Maybe it was the midnight or maybe it was some unsettling feeling that had remained in Harry's chest when draco had spoken about loving and home, or maybe it was Because of the pendant he saw, he knew there was something..

It came in visions, little by little, like a reel forming, moving forward when Harry jerked awake, sitting still when he remembered. He remembered Loving.

Of course, it wasn't in loving, it was in giving another chance, it was in longing, it was in seeing Draco differently that day, it was in that smile that skipped his heart beat that changed everything..

It was in falling again, once again that he remembered. That he remembered Loving was like raining, slow at first, then rapid with middle, then soothing.

Harry jumped up from the bed, running down the hallways, Calling the home number, wishing Draco would pick up but the phone was resting on the side of the telephone, ignored on purpose.

" sir, I need you to calm down-"

" I need Draco. That's what I need. That's who I need.. don't you see I remember. I remember everything" harry manically yelled.

" yo- you remember ?"

" yes I remember. See I know. You're macy, you work under Draco, the first day you joined you spilled coffee all over Draco's shirt and somehow in trying to help him clean up, you changed his shirts colour to pink. Remember ?" Harry yelled

Macy looked in shock, words dying in her throat.

" I remember everything. I- I need to see Draco" harry ordered.

" but- he requested- he left "

" left ?where ?" Harry asked impatiently.

" he didn't say. He said he's going and didn't mention when he'll come back "

" that ass " Harry mumbled.

" do you have any idea where he might go ?" Harry shook macy violently.

" I- n-no I don't " she stammered. Harry tugged his hair as he started brainstorming, thinking about all the places he could be. All of them but nothing-

"of course, the cottage house " harry jumped up, adrenaline pumping inside every nerve of him.

" but- I - can't let you go " macy said

" oh watch me" and without even thinking Harry disapparted.

________________________________

Draco watched as the rain poured down, wetting the window. The fire had died down, maybe not even remaining sparks, and the room grew colder and darker with the absence of warmth and light. But he sat there, knees pressed against his chest, head resting on the wall behind him as his eyes begged for tears to stop, his fingers playing with the necklace lying on his chest.

And just as the thunder broke again, he saw the figure appearing in the living room. It should've scared him but Draco felt insane, hallucinated perhaps.

" Draco " it spoke..

Draco didn't reply, not wanting to feel stupid talking in hallucinations.

" it's me Draco. I'm here " he whispered.

" as if " Draco mumbled.

" I really am " he Whispered. Draco narrowed his eyes at the figure and stepped down the windowsill to face him.

" liar. I know you're not " Draco said as he approached him.

" I really am " he whispered as he too stepped closer.

Draco was an inch apart when he touched him, waiting for his hands to go through, only it didn't and Shock formulated like a slow chemical reaction and he gasped when he realised..

" you -"

" I am very much real " he chuckled holding Draco's sides.

" but you- you forgot "

" I remember, I remember everything Draco"

" no, you- you had amnesia. You're playing with me " Draco harshly Whispered..

He huffed " you think coasters make good wall posters and that they make good show pieces, that's why most of our coaster are on the wall instead of under the cups "

Draco stilled " yo- you-"

" I remember, love, I remember " and without thinking twice, Draco hugged harry breaking into heavy sobs. Mumbling incoherent words.

" I'm so sorry. I'm never forgetting you ever again. I'm so so sorry " harry Whispered as he hugged Draco tighter.

" i- I love you " Draco mumbled in sobs.

" I love you too. Fuck, I missed you "

The wind blew through the door, just as they broke the hug, the cold air stirring inside going through the fireplace, and they kissed, the fire grew again, lighting the darkness Again, the warmth invading again and Love settling in once again.

My greatest Apologies for delaying it longer than I ever should have. Ofc I'm back to writing, so further requests are soon to be delivered. Bear with me. Also thanks to @drarrywords

300 followers appreciation dialogue Prompt requests open

Angst prompt requests open

[thegirlwhowritesawksh-t]

la douleur de l'amour - georgenotfound x f!reader

author: @thegirlwhowritesawksh-t​ me!

word count: 4.7k +

warnings: hella angst, mentions of blood/scabs/injuries. if there’s any you think that you see, please let me know!

a/n: hi y’all :)) first off, to whoever’s reading this: stay hydrated, smile and laugh! and second: this is my submission for @bozowrites​ writing event! <33 congrats!!

**this is my second fic, and i’m hoping to push more out as i get more comfortable with writing! i’m thinking to maybe make a part two to this but i don't know yet. please let me know what you think! *sending besitos to y’all :))*

Prompt: Why are you crying?

1:15 p.m.

In the corner of a dimly lit studio in front of the barre, (y/n) leans over to her left, counting four beats before resetting and proceeding to stretch over her right side. After months spent choreographing, picking costumes, and endless bandages wrapped around her feet, it has led to the final product: her first piece in her dance company’s annual recital premiering tonight.

All (y/n) could feel was pure energy and pride at what she has created. It’s her baby after all and nothing could ruin the day for her.

Feeling her joints start to loosen up, she runs through a mental list in her head making sure each dancer had their costumes, knew where all the dancers would start and end on stage, as well as remembering her own choreography, seeing as she had an important section to end her piece. After double-checking, (y/n) then begins to travel to the center of the studio, and begins to run over the piece.

Remember the triple pirouette here, before you end with a leap to fourth position. Finishing in the fourth position, she lets out a curse as she accidently stubs her right thumb toe, a small scab already tearing at the edge. Shaking out her pain, she reattempts the move, succeeding with an effortless bow.

“You know, your piece is going to be excellent. Why are you so worried?”, a voice calls out in the quiet studio, with (y/n) yelping and trying to find where the voice came from. Standing against the edge of the doorway stood Liam, her dance partner and best friend. (y/n) begins to chuckle and runs the piece over again.

“Can’t help but make sure it’s perfect. I have drenched all my blood, sweat and tears creating this dance, this- this masterpiece. It is my first, and most certainly not my last choreographing piece at this company. There’s too much riding on this for me.”, she replies.

“Even if so, I’d like to think you’ll be fine. Don’t stress, it’s amazing. Otherwise, how are you feeling?”

“Kind of excited, kind of feeling like I should run away.”, (y/n) replies. Avoiding to answering the question entirely, she begins to run the piece over again. She continues,

“I think regardless, it should be a great night. George is coming to the recital tonight and it’ll be the first time he’ll be seeing this dance.” With George editing and recording videos for the Dream Team, his Twitch channel, and YouTube channels, (y/n)’s barely seen him since the start of the dance season. The only time she’s been able to spend time with him has been going to bed with him - even if it’s been a bit more rare lately - and sometimes, a free day on a weekend with no dance practice or no recording for George.

“So that’s why you are nervous, how cute.”, Liam laughs, with (y/n) leaping over to Liam and swatting their arm lightly.

“He swore that he’d come tonight, and he knows how much time I’ve spent perfecting this. I just can’t imagine tonight going any other way. I made sure to get him a seat right in the front, so he’ll be able to see the whole performance, and me.”, (y/n) smirks. As soon as (y/n) found out she would be choreographing one of the pieces in the recital, she immediately told George her good news. George had told her she deserved it for working her butt off since the start of her being at the dance academy. Making him pinky swear, George swore that he would be there for her first performance with her also starring as a choreographer.

“So focus on that instead of thinking your piece is going to crash and burn! Relax a bit. We only have a bit of time before we start getting ready, so let’s run it over a few more times. And don’t even think about slacking off now, missy, we’ll stretch and go get ready after.” Liam decides, and she nods, thinking it’s probably for the best. Running to her bag, (y/n) sends a quick message to George.

George J: hey, can’t wait to see you tonight! i left your ticket on your nightstand, and remember to dress up slightly, it’s a dance recital after all ;) lub you xo - sent at 1:34 p.m.

Content with her message, she tosses her phone back into her bag, and heads back to run over the piece with Liam once more.

>>>

6:47 p.m.

Sticking the last bobby-pin to her bun, (y/n) glances in the mirror to make sure no mistake is in place. Eyeing her look, she can’t help but smile looking at her dance attire, admiring how her purple leotard and dress matches her eyeshadow. Paired with a dark nude lip, she smirks and turns to check her phone for any messages, hoping that one could be from George.

Out of the nine messages she received, most were from friends and family, wishing her luck on her performance tonight. She replied with a thanks and a heart emoji before finally reading the last message coming from George about two hours ago.

George J: hi darling, i saw the ticket, i am so excited for you! can’t wait for you to take my breath away, as you always do. love you more xo  - sent at 4:48 p.m.

Smiling even wider, (y/n) puts her phone on silent, before walking towards the backstage area, passing dancers along the way. Grabbing their hands and wishing them good luck, she arrives at the destination, nerves buzzing as members of the audience start gathering at their seats. Deciding to take a peek, (y/n) rushes to the curtains, peeking her eyes out towards the front rows, trying to spot the pale boy who danced into her heart. First row, seat G for George, she giggles to herself.

“Trying to find your lover? I’m right here!” Liam asks, with (y/n) turning around.

“As much as I’d love that, I’m no Harry Styles, so I don’t think I’m your type…” (y/n) smirks.

“Hm. Where’s George, I want to see him!”

“I’m looking for him right now, Liam. Give me a second.”, (y/n) laughs as she turns back to the audience. Finding his seat, she subtly frowns seeing as he’s not in his seat yet. He’s probably in the bathroom, or still in line to get to his seat, (y/n) tries to explain to herself.

“He’s not here yet, I think he’s in the bathroom or something. But give him time, he’ll be here.” (y/n) mutters as Liam frowns at her.

“He better show up, it’s your night, (y/n).”, they grumble. They start to say more however-

“Places, everyone! Take your places! We’re starting at seven sharp!” the stage manager yells out. He continues,

“We start in five minutes!” Rushing to get off the stage, she sees dancers brush past another wishing them luck. As the ballet dancers start to move into their places for the intro piece, she then walks over to Liam, helping them set up the microphone as they begin to breathe slowly.

“Hey, you got this. It’s just reading off of cue cards and announcing pieces. And then you’ll be set for my piece. You’re going to do great, Liam.”, (y/n) tries to motivate, with Liam smiling shyly at her.

“And your piece is going to kick ass, (y/n). It’s perfection. Just wait until George sees you dance. I’m a hundred percent sure he’s going to fall for you even more.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see…” (y/n) laughs. Liam clears their throat a bit before raising the microphone to their lips. (y/n) proceeds to head to the viewing room, where a broadcast of the show would play for other dancers to watch and support their fellow castmates.

Taking a deep breath, Liam starts to speak as (y/n)’s nerves start to palpitate.

“Hello, how are you this evening? And welcome to the 67th Annual Recital for the London Dance Academy! I am your emcee, Liam Barrings, and let me introduce you to the first dance of the night created by Sam Hastings. Here is Invictus!”

>>>

8:51 p.m.

An hour later, seven dances, and many whispered good jobs, it is finally time for (y/n) to step on stage and premiere her masterpiece. Slowly tip-toeing to her first position on stage, she glances at her castmates, thanking them silently in her mind for them to trust her to bring her visions to life. Before the curtains open, she turns to Liam on her right, kneeling down and grabbing her thighs, and they smile back at her.

“Ready for it?”, they smirk. Thinking to herself, she nods and turns back to the front of the curtains waiting for the music to begin. Remember the triple pirouette after Liam grabs you. And try to look like you’re in pain from loving him. It is exquisite pain, right (y/n)? Liam is toxic, yet you still love them. Make it believable. And finally, breathe.

Another emcee, Josh begins to speak.

“And now, I present to you (y/n - y/ln)’s dance. This is her first piece with her own choreography with the London Dance Academy, and tonight, we are the very first group of people to watch her story come to life. Please let me introduce you to (y/n) and her piece, La Douleur Exquise!” the audience claps softly, before the curtains open its wings to reveal the creation.

The background, a stark white, yet the lights casts hues of soft lilacs, with streaks of dark reds splattering across the dancers’ bodies. With a small pause, music begins to sing out of the speakers. Liam and (y/n) begin the piece with a small duet. Following closely behind, a quad of dancers mimicking their moves with childlike innocence.

Liam turns to (y/n), conveying an I love you through their linked hands and they abruptly pull her to their arms, as she looks at them with confusion in her eyes and pulling away. Gliding towards the middle, the quad walks slowly to (y/n), enveloping her with open arms, before having a dance section with (y/n) in the middle as Liam looks on, hellbent on grasping (y/n) once more. Every other beat, (y/n) turns to Liam, feeling lost as if they were missing from her.

As the quad looks away, having their own small solos, (y/n) slips away from the group only to leap back into Liam’s arms with her hands grasping their face as Liam slowly grips her waist. Looking at her with renewed interest, his face morphs into fury as one of the dancers pass by her, softly guiding his fingers from her shoulder down to her inner wrist. An angry duet starts, with Liam and (y/n) clashing against each other, as if saying they hate but love each other at the same time.

(y/n) leaps into Liam’s arms, before slowly sliding herself off him as the quad of dancers, follow closely behind, lifting (y/n) to her feet. Everyone proceeds to move as one, with the quad dancing in the center, whereas Liam paces their way to (y/n), lifting her into the air once again, before they land in a small leap. Conversing with their bodies, Liam guides (y/n)’s hands to their heart, slightly pulling her along. Finally coming to the end of the dance, (y/n) runs to the center of the stage, facing the audience.

Grabbing her left arm is Liam, pulling her to their side, and the quad of dancers are pulling her on her right. The war between the two goes back and forth in a tug-of-war before (y/n) seemingly gives up and slams herself to the ground, as the music fades into silence. The audience erupts into booming claps and cheers, and (y/n) feels herself being pulled up from the ground by Liam as a light blush covers her skin. Glancing up at the audience, she tries to smile despite the stage lights burning into her. I did it, I managed to make a story, my story come to life. Hearing the audience continuing to clap, realization sets in and she finds her eyes wandering over to the front row, seat G for George. Seat empty, her smile falters and her eyes become glassy. Some would think because of her success with her piece. She couldn’t tell if she was happy or sad, maybe it was a little bit of both.

>>>

9:23 p.m.

He’s here, he has to be. He’s probably peeing or waiting for me in the front with flowers, or in the dressing room. He has to be here, I know it, (y/n) mutters to herself, hellbent on her beliefs that George is here. Yet the bitter taste of rejection starts to seep into her bones. Shaking her head a bit and attempting to put on the brightest smile, she starts to rush back to the dressing room, a sinking feeling residing in her stomach with each looming step.

Facing the dressing room door, (y/n) can’t help but hope that maybe George is standing there with a bouquet of flowers and kisses reserved for her. Slowly opening the door, her hopes slip through with her mouth curling as she stares at only her reflection in the mirror. He swore that he’d be here. He swore that he would be here for my first performance, (y/n) softly whispers to herself, tears threatening to fall. Gasping, she finally lets herself breathe as she repeats to herself again and again that he wasn’t here.

A soft knock on the door interrupts her thoughts, causing (y/n) to quickly wipe her tears before foolishly yelling out,

“George?”, as the door opens to reveal Liam and the Director himself, Nicholas Anderson.

“(y/n)? It’s us. Where’s George?” Liam asks, a frown settling into his brows.

“Oh, he’s just in the bathroom, he hasn’t been feeling good.” She lies, feeling bile itch her throat. A little white lie shouldn’t hurt anyone, (y/n) thought.

“Hello, (y/n). You looked wonderful out there! Your dance was easily one of the highlights of the night, I couldn’t stop replaying the duet between you and Liam in my head. Your dance truly captured the aspects of a toxic relationship not from one side but from both of point of views. It truly showed exquisite pain, knowing that you would always go back to Liam, but would Liam be there for you?” Nicholas explains, his words smacking (y/n) at full force. Is- is George there for me?, (y/n) thinks to herself. Nicholas continues on,

“I think you are a great addition to our Academy, and tonight truly proved how ready you are to become a full-time member. So how about it? Next season, we’ll be adding you to the roster of choreographers.” Eyes wide, (y/n) nods furiously with a yes and hugs Liam. Nicholas smiles and exits the room, leaving behind two excited dancers jumping around.

“You did it! Now we have to celebrate! Club night, I don’t care. We are going to get plastered! Bring George!” Liam laughs. At the mention of George, her stomach turns as she then realizes George wasn’t here. What sounded like good news turns to rot as she starts thinking of George.

“Let me check my phone, it has been a while in the bathroom, huh?” (y/n) tries to joke, trying hard to not let her voice waver and letting her brain scramble to come up with another small lie. Reaching through her phone, she reads over the texts once again sent from family and friends, finding the conversation between her and George. No new messages, her heart sinks as she slowly starts to open up the rest of her notifications, scrolling to most likely find the purple box that would always stay permanently stuck on her home screen. With bright white letters glaring at her, her heart begins to ebb away feeling a familiar sense of loneliness.

1h, 53 min ago: MINECRAFT MANHUNT W/ THE DREAM TEAM

Relying on her emotions, she turns to face Liam, hoping that her excitement of her promotion would overcome the feeling of abandonment of the man she loved. Plastering a sad smile through watery eyes, she forces out,

“George isn’t feeling well, he’s got an upset stomach. I think it’s the stomach flu going around.” If you can convey pain through dance, you can lie through this as well, (y/n) thought. She continues,

“I don’t know if I should be going out since he’s sick.” (y/n) mutters.

“So we go without him! It’s your celebration, his loss.” Liam rolls their eyes. His loss, my loss - seems like the same.

“I- I don’t know, Liam… I’d want to celebrate with him as well.”

“And I get that, but at least go out with us. You always have tomorrow with him, or later tonight. Do it for tonight, do it because you’re going to be a choreographer next season! At least do it for me and the group. We’ve worked our ass all season and we made your vision come true.” Liam explains. Contemplating with herself, (y/n) resolves with a soft smile and mutters an okay. Pumping their fist in the air, Liam excuses themselves to notify the others of the good news and plans.

Once again facing the mirror, (y/n) repeats with determination to celebrate her night. It’s her night to celebrate with loved ones, even if the one she loved the most isn’t there beside her. So much trying to take your breath away when you weren’t even here, George. Taking a breath, she forces out a shaky laugh and tries to smile. Let’s go celebrate, (y/n).

>>>

1:39 a.m.

Slightly stumbling out of the taxi, (y/n) manages to slowly walk her way up to his doorsteps, phone still showing that George was still streaming. Pausing her hand on the doorknob, she resolves to try to wait until morning to confront him, not trusting herself completely to be okay in front of him. Opening the door softly, she walk in, attempting to not make a sound. With small steps, she closes and locks the door before setting her bags down. That can be cleaned tomorrow, (y/n) thought. Rubbing her eyes, she decides to make herself tea before she goes to bed, most likely not with George until he finishes his stream.

While making her tea, (y/n) thinks of everything that she has worked for in the last few months. Endless changes to her dance, countless small injuries, whether it be a jammed toe/finger, scrapes of blood scattered around her feet from dragging her feet too hard across the floor, everything. Why is it that with her triumph, she is beyond proud yet the idea of George not being there to witness her moment shatters that accomplishment? Mulling it over, she doesn’t notice George bustling down the stairs, finished with his successful 5 hour stream with Dream and Sapnap. Spotting (y/n) making her tea, he slowly approaches her and wraps his arms around her waist, landing a soft kiss to her shoulders.

“Why are you home late, Darling? It’s nearly almost two in the morning.”, George chuckles, as (y/n) freezes in his arms. Softly shaking her head, she tries to side-step out of his arms and brings her tea to the opposite side of the room, wrapping an arm around herself. Clearly, he didn’t remember, (y/n) slowly starts to think and repeat to herself.

“Why do you think I was out, George?” she softly asks, taking a sip of tea to calm her nerves. I guess we’re just going to have to hash it out now.

“I don’t know, but did you see the stream? I beat Dream at the last second and he was this close to defeating the Ender Dragon!”, George starts to explain while laughing, with (y/n) taking a harsh breath in. Pinching in-between her brows, she snaps,

“No, George, I didn’t see the stream because I went out to celebrate.”, she mutters, tears slowly starting to escape.

“(y/n)? Is there something wrong? Why are you crying?“ Turning around, (y/n) tries to look anywhere but him. She settles on looking at the clock, watching as time went by, and her nerves increasing with each second. George starts to say more-

“I needed you tonight. Do you remember what tonight was? To my career? To me?”, (y/n) cuts him off. Standing there without a thought, dread slowly seeps in as George realizes that he missed her performance. He starts to stutter,

“Darling, I- “

“No! No. You do not get to apologize. I needed you and where were you? Sitting on your ass playing Minecraft with Dream and Sapnap! I get that your career is very reliant on you being consistent with your uploads, but you couldn’t have taken a night off? For me? I- ”

“(y/n), it’s not like that at- “

“Don’t- just don’t try to explain or come up with excuses. I just don’t want to hear it George. I spent months working on this, exhausted yet still pushing myself for the damn Academy. You swore that you would be there. I left you the ticket on your nightstand, you even texted me saying that you were excited to come! So imagine me standing on stage, looking at the front row, seat G, and where the hell were you? Not there, George. You were not there. I looked like a fool waiting for you to see me perform and dance. Do you remember Nicholas Anderson?”, (y/n) tries to ask calmly. George only stare at her with defeated eyes as he shakes his head no. Cursing, she heaves out a breath before continuing,

“He’s the director of the Academy, George. He’s offered me a position to be a permanent member and choreographer for the London Dance Academy. So please, let me ask again: where were you? I had to lie to Liam and say that you had an upset stomach and that you couldn’t come out! So, Liam invited me to celebrate with the dancers, to celebrate tonight’s success.”

“(y/n)- (y/n), we can celebrate now. I know- I truly know I messed up, but I can fix it, we can celebrate right now!” George stumbles out, walking towards her to grab her hands. Stepping back, she glares at George, appalled that he truly thinks he could resolve this. Shaking her head harshly, she bites out,

“I don’t want to celebrate with you. I’ve already celebrated with loved ones.” Rolling his eyes, George tries to reason with (y/n).

“Okay, I get it. I’m the bad guy in this scenario. But I’m trying to make this right. I am so sorry, darling, but I want to make it up to you, you know I am sorry.”

“You know, I never ask you to cancel a stream or get off of the stream. I always try to understand for the life of me why the streams have to be long, but I try. I always watch your streams and interact with your fans for your sake. I’ve had to explain countless reasons as to why you never show up to my performances, or why you can’t go out with me with the other dancers. And I am okay with it, don’t get me wrong. I know how much Twitch and YouTube and the Dream Team means to you. But you mean everything to me as well. So forgive me if I wanted to be a little selfish and ask you to support me in one of the biggest performances of my life.”

“I can go to the next one, (y/n). It’s not like it’s the last performance.” George snaps.

“You don’t get it, do you?”, she asks, wiping furiously at her tears, trying to not stutter through her words.

“What is there to get? Clearly I’m trying my hardest to make it up to you.”, he replies.

“I love you. I’m so much in love with you, it hurts. But you don’t get it. I have been there for everything in your career. Your first hundred subscribers, your first million subscribers, when you won the MCC back to back, everything. This was- is the important night of my life, and you didn’t show up. You stuck with Dream and Sapnap and decided to stream instead. This night was important for my career, and you knew! I told you months and weeks in advance. I wanted you to take charge and clear your schedule for today and- and sit in the damn seat that I chose because G stood for George. It was for you.” She sobs out, chest shaking as she tries to collect the words tumbling out of her mouth. With eyes flashing in annoyance, George tries to speak over her tears,

“(y/n)- “

“I created this dance for you! For me and- and for us. Because we believed in each other and had the support for each other. Clearly, it was one-sided and tonight proved that.”

“(y/n), listen to me- ”, George stops himself. Watching (y/n) fall apart, he takes a shaky breath and tries to walk closer to (y/n). However, (y/n) takes more steps back, leaving a distance of hostility and guilt between the two lovers.

“I love you. I love you with all of my heart. And… and I know you love me. But I needed you. Do you even need me?” she asks, the thick silence covering the air.

“Yes! How- how could you even say that, (y/n)?“ George replies just as quick as she finished asking. Looking at him for the first time tonight, she lets out a sob. With cheeks red, hands tugging at his hair, and George frantically looking at her, (y/n) can’t help but cry a little more.

“Because tonight proved otherwise. I wanted a night of you to myself to watch me be pretty and dance, and you didn’t even give up one night for me.”, she says, tugging at her sweater. Looking up, she further goes on to say,

“How stupid would it be if I were to ask to choose between me or the Dream Team? Or- Or your career?”, barking out a bitter laugh as George stares with guilt. As silence meets her ears, (y/n) slowly starts to sober up, eyes slightly widening with shock.

“George…”

“I’d find a way to make it work, I’ve been making it work for us since the beginning!” George snaps.

“George, you know I would never ask that, because I personally think it’s a selfish question. But if I decided to ask seriously, right now. What’s your answer?”

“And I’m telling you, I am making both work. Please believe me, (y/n).”, George says quietly, grasping at whatever opportunities there are left to resolve this potentially fatal matter.

“I can’t tell anymore.”, her voice cracking as fresh tears pool down her cheeks.

“I don’t think I can stay here for a while. At least until I’ve had some time to think.”, she manages to force out.

“(y/n), you can’t be serious. No, we are fixing this now!” George tries to say with an unwavering voice, eyes slowly becoming glassy.

“I can’t look at you George without wanting to cry, and- and scream- yet tell you I love you, even if you don’t deserve my love, especially right now. I need to go- I’m going to go. I’ll be back in a while.”, (y/n) says, choking on her words. Walking backwards, she turns to the door, with George following her and watching her pick up her dance bags. Lying on the ground was a bouquet of flowers, crumpled amongst her heart. Choosing not to pick up the bouquet, she mumbles out,

“I’ll call you when I’m ready.” Pausing, (y/n) looks up at George for the final time tonight, willing herself to not run back to him, despite how much the desire is growing to do so.

“I love you, George.”, opening the door, George yells out,

“I love- “, the door cutting through his confession, acting as a wall between the two. George tries to reach the door knob, ready to run after the love of his life. Yet… he’s frozen on the spot, with tears finally trickling down his cheeks, and pushing deep breaths out to steady his shaking heart.

Why are you crying, George?

[gukyi]

if i told you | jjk

summary: in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him.

{friends to lovers!au, college!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, angst, we’ve got it all folks word count: 22k warnings: slightly underage alcohol consumption, mention of words that could be spoken on an crime documentary series but nothing graphic, ravioli-stealing, idiots to lovers, as per usual a/n: finally! here is the long awaited jungkook fic that i have literally been slaving over since the beginning of january. was this fic supposed to be 10k? yes. did i somehow end up writing 22k anyway? of course! in any case, please enjoy my absolute baby who i love and cherish!

check out the post-script drabble here!

Jeon Jungkook loses his job at the university call center on the seventeenth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year. 

You know this because on the seventeenth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 2:07PM, seven minutes after he normally starts his job at the university call center. 

He’s lucky that you’re the only one who doesn’t have class in the 2PM hour. 

“Y/N!” He shouts through the thin wooden door, his voice probably echoing down the thin hallway of your apartment complex. 

You open it before the second knock—you only rush to the door to get him to shut the fuck up, and not because you’re excited to see him, you swear—to see him standing on the other side, XXL university hoodie draped over his figure, down to his mid-thigh, baggy hood pulled over his head like a sad college-aged Star Wars character. He looks exactly like a jaded sophomore year college student would. He is beautiful. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the call center right now?” You ask in lieu of a normal “hello” or even a “what the fuck are you doing here, it’s 2PM”. Jungkook does not wait for you to invite him inside your apartment, immediately kicks off his shoes by the entrance and tugs on your apartment slippers that are a size-and-a-half too small for his feet, and marches over to your shared fridge to fish through the tupperware containers with your name written on Post-it notes for a mid-afternoon snack. 

Jungkook waits until he’s got an entire piece of frozen supersized ravioli shoved into his mouth before he responds. “I was fired,” he says over a mouthful of pasta and cheese.

“What?” You ask, eyes widening as Jungkook shuffles through your kitchen drawers for a fork, which means that the first piece of ravioli that he ate he did so with his bare ass hands. Like a heathen. Like a ravioli-craving twenty-year-old heathen. 

“I was fired,” Jungkook repeats. He stares at the microwave resting on your kitchen counter for a good ten seconds before he continues to eat the cold, unheated pasta. Every time he’s in your apartment (which is frequently), he tells you how it’s a fire, water, and explosive hazard to have your microwave on the counter like that. As if there is any other place in your apartment for it to go. Maybe out on the tiny balcony you have that overlooks the busiest street on campus. 

“Care to offer an explanation as to why?” You ask, coming up next to him. Jungkook is nearly finished with your tupperware of ravioli, and normally you’d shout at him for it, but seeing as he was just fired from his only source of income as a money-starved college student, you’ll cut him some slack. Just a little. 

“You remember that old, angry alumnus that told me that asking for donations in order to benefit low-income-slash-first generation students was selfish and rude of me, and that I wouldn’t be in college if it weren’t for what his generation accomplished?” Jungkook asks. 

You remember that vividly. Jungkook spent an approximate two hours and thirty-seven minutes on FaceTime with you ranting about this one “old man bitch” who he had to speak to during his day at work, all while you did your economics problem set to the sweet, mellifluous sound of Jungkook’s shrill shrieks. 

“The one you lost your temper at and shouted at for being ungrateful and elitist?” You ask pointedly. You have a feeling you already know where this conversation is going. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes. He finishes the ravioli (goddamnit, now you’re going to have to find something else to eat for dinner at 11PM tonight) and turns around to place it in the sink. For once, it is not piled high with dishes from up to a week ago, so Jungkook even squirts a bit of Dawn onto a sponge and washes the plastic container for you. “Well, as it turns out, telling an old racist elitist that he’s old, racist, and elitist does not go down well with my boss.”

“Why does that not surprise me,” you muse. Jungkook sighs, walking over to where you’re taking it easy on the couch. “Oh no,” you say, eyes widening as he grins, plotting something. “Do not, Jungkook. Jungkook, do not!”

He jumps, catapulting himself onto the couch and landing on top of you with a thud. You let out a groan as the weight of his body hits you, foreheads nearly knocking into each other. Jungkook is a good foot-and-a-half too long for this dinky leather couch that’s always sort of smelled, feet and ankles hanging off the opposing arm rest just so he can nuzzle his face into the crook of your shoulder like he always does. You hate when he does this. Hate when he jumps onto the couch while you’re casually reclining just so he can collapse on top of you. Hate the feeling of his body resting against yours, soft breathes against the skin of your neck. Hate how it always makes you want more, how it will never be enough. 

“Have you been working out?” You mumble against the fabric of his t-shirt. “You’re more muscle-y than usual.”

“I added weights to my routine,” Jungkook tells you mindlessly. If your roommates walked into your apartment right now and saw the both of you on the couch, you’d never hear the end of it. “Taehyung said it would make me more swole.”

“As if you need to be any more buff,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Jungkook’s the most athletic person you’ve ever met in your entire life. He could probably pick up your dinky couch with you sitting on it without batting an eyelash. Even Superman would tremble at the sight of him. “You’re perfect the way you are.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Jungkook mutters into your skin. “God, what the fuck am I gonna do now? I need money to pay for everything in my life and my one source of income is now totally invalid because an old guy got what he deserved.”

“Are there any work-study positions still available?” You ask, hand reaching up to stroke at his hair, smoothing it down. Jungkook’s preferred cuddling position is big spoon, but he still demands that he be coddled as though he were the little spoon. 

“No,” Jungkook says with a huff, “they’ve all been snagged by try-hard freshmen who need money like me.”

“I distinctly recall you being a try-hard freshman who also needed money,” you tell him. “That’s why you applied to work at the call center, isn’t it?”

Jungkook sits up, the weight of his figure crushing your legs as he rests on top of them. If you stayed like this forever, you’d probably lose feeling in your lower body, but you’d also get to stay with Jungkook forever, which is a trade-off you would genuinely consider. “Yeah, but the call center hires everybody. You just need to be like… decent at communication. And I’m pretty decent at communication.”

“You never text me back,” you tell him pointedly. 

“That’s because I prefer showing up unannounced at your apartment or other places you frequent,” Jungkook reminds you excitedly. He’ll never let you forget about the time you were wrapping up a small seminar with your history professor and Jungkook burst through the doors with a whole thing of carrots and hummus because you had texted him that you were hungry. You could not look your history professor in the eye for the rest of the semester. “I’d say that’s pretty decent communication.”

“Well, you’re going to have to figure out another way to market your decent communication skills to get another job,” you tell him. “Have you considered the boba place on Oak? You could get me employee discounts.”

Jungkook leans over just to pinch at your cheek, fingers gripping onto your face and pulling like a grandmother. “You just want me for my money.”

“You’re my best friend, Jeon Jungkook,” you tell him. “Of course I do.”

This is what Jeon Jungkook’s obligatory university Facebook group introduction post read:

Hi, I’m Jungkook and I’m thinking of majoring in visual studies or computer science (really different lol I know)! I played soccer in high school but don’t think I’ll be continuing in college because I was pretty bad at it. I’m looking for a roommate and I’d really like to live in New East House, but anything works for me as long as it has a bed. Hit me up if you think we’d made a good match, but I like talking with everyone lol. 

I’m really into music and can play the guitar, drums, and piano. I like listening to all types of music (yes, even country which slaps kinda hard sometimes) but my favorites are The 1975, Frank Ocean, Troye Sivan, and Khalid. Will bop to Justin Bieber on occasion as well. 

I play Ultimate and am really interested in joining the club team here so hit me up and we can practice sometime because my skills are a little rusty. I also do a little skateboarding but I am definitely not a skater. 

Hit me up if you think we can be friends lol I’m excited to meet you all!

It was accompanied by several pictures, a couple of which are selfies at that anime girl angle, one of him with his friends at prom all doing that Frat Boy pose, and a couple of him with his family. To an outsider doing a very quick glance, it pretty much reads the same as a rather extensive dating profile. 

The truth of it all is, as you were scrolling through the hundreds of obligatory university Facebook group introduction posts in search of a freshman year roommate, you stumbled upon Jungkook’s intro post and you thought this: No. Way.

The moment you laid eyes on his first above-the-head angle selfie, you knew that it would be unlikely that you and Jeon Jungkook’s paths would ever cross. He played guitar and did Ultimate Frisbee, and you wanted to audition for your university’s symphony orchestra. He was beautiful but in that sort of college frat boy who can crush you at beer pong kind of way. Craziest of all, he was a computer science major, and you were walking in as an undecided humanities concentration. 

Impossible. There was no way the two of you would ever meet, and you accepted that right off that bat. At a school your size, you would go through these four years not knowing a majority of your class. Jeon Jungkook was just one of the casualties. 

On the very first day of orientation, Jeon Jungkook comes up to you on the sidewalk, wearing a white t-shirt, a backwards baseball cap, and shorts, and asks you if you’re here for orientation as well? He’s lost. 

Jeon Jungkook is the type of guy you imagine getting eaten up by any girl who meets him almost immediately. He’s charming and endearing the same way a baby deer is, but has no problem wearing clothes that remind you of how fit he is. He is, for lack of a better term, extremely good looking. 

“Yeah,” you had said on the sidewalk, squinting to look up at him since the sun was in your eyes. “I’m heading to the auditorium right now. Wanna walk with me?”

“Okay, sure,” Jungkook had replied, smiling with all of his teeth. Even in the sweaty summer heat, he looked even nicer in person. “Thanks, by the way. I’m Jungkook. What’s your name?”

You knew that already. How could you have forgotten? 

You had grinned up at him. The universe has always worked in mysterious ways. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

When Jungkook doesn’t know what to do, he stress eats. Most often, you are the single witness to this action, which has literally no effect on his body mass whatsoever since he immediately burns off every calorie (and then some) at his next gym session. 

That is precisely why you are sitting in the second-best dining hall on campus eating a pretty measly salad and french fries, while Jungkook returns from the serve-yourself cafeteria with his sixth plate of food. Next to you is your mutual friend Chaewon, a filthy rich international student from Korea who is probably the nicest person you’ve ever met. 

“I think I’ve called every cafe, bubble tea shop, clothing store, and paid internship within a five-mile radius of this place and nothing,” Jungkook says with a sigh, keeping Chaewon updated with his job-search antics. It’s been several days since he was fired, and while being keenly cognizant of your bank account isn’t necessarily a bad thing, when it means that Jungkook refuses to leave campus because he is in hyper-saving mode, it sort of rustles your jimmies. 

“Have you tried babysitting?” Chaewon supplies helpfully. 

You laugh aloud at the mere thought of Jungkook stuck in some middle-aged parent’s house with their toddler for hours on a night where he could be living it up on campus. Jeon Jungkook? A babysitter?

“Wow, what the heck is wrong with me being a babysitter?” Jungkook questions, offended. 

“First of all, you don’t even let me beat you in Mario Kart on your Switch and I am your best friend. If you ended up gaming with a four-year-old boy, your over-competitiveness would take over you and you’d crush the poor kid and his spirit,” you remind him pointedly. Not to mention the fact that the man cannot cook to save his life, and you can’t even entrust him with microwave dinners because of his irrational fear of modern oven technology. 

Jungkook pouts. He knows you’re right. 

“It’s not like you were going to look into babysitting, anyway,” you say with a shove, nudging his shoulder with your own. 

Jungkook sighs, and despite all of the shit you give him on a daily basis (part of the responsibility of being his best friend), you do genuinely feel bad for him. Even if his job at the call center wasn’t the most intellectually stimulating nor morally rewarding, he didn’t absolutely hate it and he made a pretty decent earning off of it. He unzips his backpack and fumbles for his laptop, opening it up to reveal a Google Chrome window with approximately thirty-seven tabs open of places to work on and around campus. Meanwhile, Chaewon’s phone buzzes on the table, and she heaves out a great, exasperated exhale before picking up and immediately launching off into incredibly speedy Korean. 

“If only the bubble tea place was hiring,” you lament, kissing goodbye all of the free bubble tea you had been dreaming about if Jungkook got hired. 

“I’m glad I don’t work at the bubble tea place,” Jungkook tells you with his eyebrows raised, “otherwise I’d have to see you every day!” 

“You already see me every day!” You should back, but it’s not like Jungkook doesn’t know that already. He’s the one always barging into your apartment or sitting down next to you in the library when you’re trying to study. 

“But maybe you should try drinking less bubble tea, otherwise you’re gonna blow up like a tapioca pearl like that one girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” Jungkook warns, pinching your cheek as if to make your face round like a tapioca bubble. 

“I can think of nothing I’d want more than to be a tapioca pearl for the rest of my life,” you state simply. It would be much less stressful than to be a college student. 

“If you were a tapioca pearl, I’d eat you!” Jungkook says, and you, out of the security of both your head and your heart, choose not to think too much into it. 

As Jungkook teases you about your slight obsession with bubble tea, Chaewon finally puts the phone down after what very well was several minutes of angry Korean. She lets out this deep, long sigh, like all of the pent-up rage within her is exiting through her exhale. 

“You good, Chae?” You ask her, a little concerned. Even after knowing her since the beginning of your freshman year, you’ve never once seen her get mad, though she looks pretty close to it now. 

“Yeah,” she says, exasperated. “My mom is having this stupid company ball here and she really, really wants me to attend.” It is obvious that Chaewon does not, in fact, want to attend. You’ve seen Chaewon nearly every day for over a year, and you’ve never even seen her wear a pantsuit. You couldn’t imagine her joy at having to dress up in a ballgown. 

“But fancy free food,” you point out. Even if she does have to be trapped in a penthouse ballroom with her parents’ stuffy business friends, the catering company will probably be god-tier. 

Chaewon pretty much bangs her head on the dining hall table. 

“Wow, I didn’t know someone could hate catered food so much,” you say, a little alarmed. 

“It’s not that,” Chaewon says, rubbing her forehead. The pasta on the plate in front of her has remained untouched for nearly ten minutes now. You wonder if she’s even hungry anymore. “My mom wants me to bring a plus-one.”

Your eyes widen. An excuse to dress nice and eat good food? Hell yeah. 

“And it can’t be you, Y/N, it has to be a date,” Chaewon says. It’s pretty obvious she’s not interested in dating whatsoever, no matter the gender of the object of her affection. You pout. Damn. “My mom said, ‘he can be whoever you want!’ but that means that he has to be an attractive Korean guy who’s got a future job in finance.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jungkook says over a mouthful of broccoli. 

“You will?” Chaewon asks. Jungkook just single-handedly saved Chaewon from a night of unbearable business talk with a boy she doesn’t know and cannot relate to. 

You scoff. “You’re just a regular Korean dude, Jungkook,” you tell him. 

Jungkook pouts, bottom lip turned out. “You don’t think I’m attractive?”

You refuse to answer that question. You’re afraid of what you might say if you open your mouth. 

“Seriously, you’d do that for me?” Chaewon turns to Jungkook with platonic stars in her eyes. 

Jungkook shrugs. “Sure. I’ve got a suit. I’ll ask my friend Jimin for a crash course in finance before the thing. When is it?”

And just like that, you and Jungkook’s weekly Friday Mario Kart night gets a rain check. 

 Jeon Jungkook is the sole best decision of your life. 

And it’s funny and twisted and wonderful, because he is the one thing you had failed to account for in your life. He stands there on the sidewalk in the blazing sun, black baseball cap nestled safely onto his dark brown hair, and in the split second it takes for him to open his mouth and say hello, everything changes. 

But no longer is the image you conjure in your mind when you think of him a picture of him on that very first day of orientation, lost and excited all at once. It is of him barging into your apartment and eating all of your leftover ravioli. It’s him laying on your dinky couch like it belongs to him, surfing through all of the Netflix shows available and eventually just settling on old Gilmore Girls episodes like he always does. It’s him standing in your closet to judge your latest clothing purchases and take back any items that you’ve stolen from him over the years. 

It’s imagining him not as a guest but as a permanent fixture in your home, in the place that makes you feel safest. Because that’s who Jungkook is, now. He is that place. He stands in your apartment rattling off a list of why microwaves are a severely underestimated killer, and it takes every inch of your being not to ask him to stay. To spend night after night cuddling on the couch, or make a home-cooked meal together on a Sunday evening, or get lost underneath the sheets on your bed.

Jungkook stands in your apartment like he belongs there. And only in your wildest dreams could you ever imagine that coming true.

Such is the case of that Friday night, when he’s supposed to accompany Chaewon to her terrible, awful, brain-melting parents’ business gala. You haven’t seen him all day, too busy with your club meetings to make time for him after your classes are finished for the week. College is never-ending in that horrible, unstoppable way. 

It’s nearing two in the morning when you hear the knock on your door. Two of your roommates are at a rush event for their sorority, and the other sleeps through your smoke alarm on a regular basis, so you are tasked with the job of opening the door. 

On the other side is Jungkook, as he frequently is. 

Your heart practically freezes in place, like his eyes have shot right through it. Instead of his usual baggy outfit and a bucket hat, he’s standing outside of your apartment in a crisp navy suit (complete with a pocket square), rings lining his fingers and hair tousled in that effortlessly-styled kind of way. He looks like a goddamn celebrity, like a young, successful CEO. Like the love of your whole fucking life. 

Coughing to distract from the fact that you’re practically drooling, you say, “Wow, you clean up nicely.”

Jungkook looks down at himself, almost as if he had forgotten he’s wearing a full suit entirely. “The pocket square is Jimin’s,” he explains, “but yeah. I didn’t want to let Chaewon down by not dressing up to code.”

He’s got remnants of makeup left on his face, having faded and smudged throughout the night. There’s a bit of black underneath his eyes from the liner, a smoldering effect that makes the dark brown of his irises even deeper. “You look tired,” you comment. “Why are you here, why don’t you go home, Jungkook? Get some sleep.”

Jungkook shrugs, looking over your shoulder to see if his arrival has woken up any of your roommates. “Your place was closer,” he says like it’s nothing. 

Like it doesn’t make your breath catch in your throat, stop in its tracks. He spends an evening dressed up in a stuffy suit and tie surrounded by old businessmen and their preppy daughters with whom he has nothing in common, and when it’s nearly two in the morning and he can finally relax, he drives to your place instead of his own. Like it means nothing. As if it means anything at all. 

Jungkook runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair, and even knotted and messy it still looks flawless. “If I’m bothering you, just let me know. I know it’s late.”

It’s so hard to say no to him. 

“Just come inside already before you wake up the neighbors,” you tell him, sighing to pretend like it’s a minor inconvenience. And even running on barely any sleep with makeup smudged underneath his eyes, Jungkook grins as you let him inside your apartment, caving in, just like you always do. 

The first thing he does when he’s inside is take off his fancy loafers and peel off his suit jacket, resting it against the back of the couch. You fumble around in the kitchen for the kettle, instinctively starting to make two cups of tea. Routine. 

Looking up, you watch as Jungkook loosens his tie and takes it off, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his white dress shirt. By the counter, you turn your back to him so he doesn’t see you mentally combust. It’s impossible that he doesn’t already know what he does to you. 

The kettle finishes boiling the moment Jungkook settles onto your couch. He keeps the television off so he doesn’t wake your roommates, and scrolls on his phone with his knees tucked underneath his chin. Thirty seconds later, you’re joining him, handing him the cup of tea before sitting down next to him, severely underdressed in comparison. 

“Did you at least have fun tonight?” You ask. 

“The food totally slapped,” Jungkook tells you. “Chaewon’s parents really pulled out all the stops.”

“So I’ve heard,” you muse. 

“We spent most of the time lounging by the catering table and distracting each other by making up stories about all of the rich people there.” Jungkook laughs. 

“Please tell me you didn’t embarrass yourself, though,” you say. Perhaps Jungkook could withstand a few blows to his ego, but Chaewon’s future pretty much depends on her impressing her parents and their comrades. 

“No!” Jungkook tells you defensively. “Jimin told me everything I needed to know, but all of Chaewon’s friends and their filthy rich CEO parents thought I was so handsome that I didn’t even need to speak.”

You roll your eyes. Of course Jungkook wouldn’t give up the chance to remind you of his hellishly good looks. 

“You just stood there, looking pretty?” You ask. Not as if he doesn’t do that already. 

“You think I’m pretty?” Jungkook teases, a greasy smile sent your way, like he doesn’t know the answer anyway. 

You huff. “Dressed up like this? Anyone would.”

“Chaewon said I was like her fake trophy husband,” Jungkook jokes. “She did all of the schmoozing. It’s not like I could have contributed anything anyway. Unless everyone wants to hear about C++.”

“Ooh, I love it when you talk all tech to me,” you tease, nudging him with your arm. “So sexy, keep talking.”

He laughs. “If we keep talking about Python I might get a little too excited.” He wiggles his eyebrows just for good measure and you giggle, holding onto this moment for dear life as you let it etch itself into your brain permanently. Times like these, you know you can’t forget, saving them for a rainy day thirty years down the line when you’re in love with someone that’s not Jungkook. When you look out the window and think about what might have been, if only things back in college had been a little bit different. 

Jungkook’s phone buzzes on the table. He’s got two notifications, one from Instagram of Chaewon tagging him in a post, and another from Venmo. 

“Fuckin’ damnit,” Jungkook swears, letting his phone drop on the couch cushion. 

“What?” You ask, turning to look at him. 

“Chaewon just Venmo’ed me a hundred dollars,” Jungkook says with a sigh. And it’s not one of those times when you see your bank account balance go up and get happy because yay, money!, it’s when your friend pays you anything over what they actually owe you out of the goodness of your heart, and you refuse to accept it. 

“She did?” You ask, eyes widening. A hundred dollars? That’s more than Jungkook would make in three shifts at the call center. 

“‘Thanks for bailing me out tonight. You definitely deserve more than 100 but then you’d be mad at me. But please don’t be mad at me!’” Jungkook reads off his phone. “I just stood there looking like eye candy. I didn’t do a thing to help her, what the heck?”

You pull out your own phone to check Chaewon’s latest post. 

It’s a picture of them together in the skyscraper penthouse the gala was held in, Jungkook looking dapper in his suit with a glass of champagne in his hand, and Chaewon in a dress worth more than a semester’s tuition throwing up a peace sign like the trendy Asian she is. They look like a K-drama couple. Like two celebrities basking in their fame and wealth. 

Shoutout to my one and only Jeon Jungkook for being my fake date tonight! Thanks to your good looks and charming personality for impressing all of my parents’ rich friends and their daughters. Love you 3000 💕

“Wow, whoever took this picture of the both of you knows their shit,” you say, impressed. You had always thought it impossible for Jungkook to look better in pictures than in real life, but this photo is coming rather close. If you were any more shameless, you’d ask Chaewon if she has any more photos of him. Just him, preferably. 

It’s not as if she doesn’t know about your gargantuan crush on him anyway. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever looked that good in a photo in my life,” Jungkook says with a laugh. Impossible. He yawns, placing his empty mug on the little end table next to the couch. 

“You should set it as your profile picture,” you suggest, leaning your head on him and pretending like this is normal. He yawns again, stretching out as he rests his body against yours. “Hey, we should go to sleep. Unless you want to go home?”

Jungkook groans, snuggling in closer. “No, your bed is big enough for the two of us.”

And who are you to resist?

You wake up to the sound of a phone buzzing furiously on your bedside table. You crack open one eye just a sliver to see who the culprit is and immediately eradicate it, when the sun filtering through your Venetian blinds hits your cornea. You groan, shutting your eyes once more as you smack your hand around to get it to shut off. 

The movement, however, causes the bedsheets to shift beside you, and when you turn, you find Jungkook nestled up tightly beneath your duvet, an arm stretched over your side as he hums in his sleep. 

You’re best friends. 

This is normal. 

(The feeling of your heart beating out of its chest has become rather normal, as well.)

He’s wearing a raggedy old t-shirt of yours that has always been too big on you but fits him just perfectly and a pair of joggers that he keeps at your place “just in case”. Just in case he stays the night. Just in case you ever need them. Selfishly, you will yourself to fall back asleep, shutting your eyes tightly and pretending that maybe, if you never wake up, this moment will freeze in time, locking the two of you together for eternity. 

He mumbles to himself in his sleep, a murmur of nothing as he shifts over slightly, hand dragging up your side. 

God. 

Next to you, the phone begins to buzz erratically again, and wide-awake, you look over to realize that it’s Jungkook’s, and that it’s Chaewon on the other end. 

This is at least the second time she’s called, which means that, despite how tempting it is, you probably shouldn’t silence his phone and go back to lying in bed with Jungkook and pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist. 

Sighing, you pick up. 

“Jungkook!” Chaewon shouts on the other side. For a brief moment you wonder why on earth she’s so energetic so early, but it’s less that and more the fact that you are overwhelmingly lethargic rather late in the day. “All of my friends said you looked really good in those photos I posted of us. Do you think you’re free next Wednesday night? Seunghee wants you to accompany her to a double date her parents are forcing her to go on!”

“Chaewon—”

“Oh, Y/N! How’s it going?”

“I just woke up,” you mumble quietly as Jungkook stirs beside you. 

“Of course you did,” Chaewon says, and you can see her rolling her eyes on the other side of the line. “Wait, why do you have Jungkook’s phone if you just woke up? Oh my God, don’t tell me—”

“Shh!” You hiss into the phone. Jungkook is slowly beginning to wake up, and you can only pray that he isn’t listening in to the conversation between you and Chaewon. “No, we did not. He got back after your thing and we promptly passed out in my bed, fully clothed,” you whisper loudly. 

“Jungkook went to your place last night? He was so tired, I thought he was going straight back to his. We even got dropped off outside my apartment.”

What? Chaewon and Jungkook live within a three-minute walk of each other. Your apartment is ten minutes away from both of them. 

“You did?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Who’s that?” 

You turn around to see Jungkook lying on his back, head resting on a nearly-deflated pillow of yours as he looks up at you, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair is mussed, some parts styled and stiff with hair gel, and some parts tangled and unkempt. He looks like he’s been lying in that position for a while, hand resting behind his head as he gazes up at you. 

“It’s Chaewon,” you tell him softly as she laughs on the other end. “She just called your phone. Are you free next Wednesday?”

“Hmm?” Jungkook, still half-asleep. “When?”

“Next Wednesday,” you repeat, a hand on the phone like it’s going to do anything to stop Chaewon from listening to you two. “Chaewon says she has a friend who wants you to accompany her to a double date she’s been set up to go on by her parents.”

“Mmmrph,” Jungkook mumbles. It’s clear he hasn’t even thought about his plans for the rest of the day, let alone next Wednesday. 

“He’s not available right now,” you say into the phone. Chaewon snorts. 

“Fine,” Chaewon says with a sigh. “Can you pass the message on when you guys are done pretending that you aren’t fucking behind my back?”

You suck in a breath. “Chaewon!” You hiss. “We are not—” you quickly turn back to Jungkook, who, by the looks of his hooded eyes and bewildered expression, isn’t listening in, “—fucking!” You whisper. “You know we’re not!”

Chaewon laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Call me later, Y/N, we should grab ice cream or something.” She hangs up. 

“Who was that?” Jungkook asks sleepily, eyes still half-lidded as he sits up in your bed, soft skin, brown hair, pouted lips amongst a sea of white, bundled up in your thick duvet as if sitting on a cloud. 

“Chaewon,” you tell him. 

“Oh, why was she calling?”

“She wanted to ask if you were free next Wednesday.”

“To do what?”

Maybe you were worried about Jungkook listening in to Chaewon grill you about your relationship (or serious lack thereof) for nothing. 

“She has a friend who wants you to go on a parent-mandated double date, trophy boyfriend style,” you explain. Jungkook groans. 

“Pretending to know business is mentally, physically, and morally draining. It feels like I’m selling my soul to capitalism,” he says with a sigh, collapsing back against the mattress. “I just wanna stay here forever. It’s so cozy.”

“Come on, Kook,” you say, tugging the duvet off of him to reveal the rest of his body. He curls into himself at the exposure, refusing to budge. “You’ve encroached on my apartment long enough.”

“Y/N,” Jungkook whines, drawing out your name for good measure. “Noooooooo.” He reaches out to cling onto your wrist, which means that if you want him out of your bed, you’ll have to drag him out.

“Jungkook, you’re swole, you know I can’t tug you out of my bed,” you say with a pout. He knows every trick in the book to use against you, and worst of all, he knows you’re weak to all of them. 

“Good,” Jungkook says with a loopy smile, pulling you back onto the bed like it’s nothing. You yelp as you come crashing on top of him, your body bumping into his as he wraps his arms around you and flops back onto your bed. You laugh and shout at the feeling as Jungkook cuddles up in the warmth of the sheets, pulling you in tightly to his body. “It’s so warm here, let’s stay like this forever.”

“What about food?”

“You keep a stash of Clif bars under your bed, we’ll eat those,” Jungkook suggests. 

You attempt to wriggle out of his grip, hoping to escape before he holds you long enough to get addicted, hooked on the feeling of his arms around you, his body against yours. But Jungkook is nothing if not persistent and clingy, and he wraps his arms tightly around your torso like a koala, warm and soft. “Come on, Jungkook. It’s nearly noon. Let’s be productive today.”

“Gross.”

“Let’s not sit in bed all day.”

“Grosser. Let’s just stay in your bed all day and pretend that we don’t have any real responsibilities.”

“Given that we’re in college, that may be slightly difficult.”

“Fuck that, your GPA doesn’t matter anyway. Unless you have plans on going to grad school?” He asks with an eyebrow raise, turning to look at you. 

“No way, I’m not paying for another four years of this shit,” you immediately declare. Let the capitalist system of higher education extort another two to four years worth of tuition out of you for the same degree? Absolutely not. 

“Then why move?” Jungkook says with a grin. 

“Because,” you say, stumbling for a real answer. 

“Not good enough.” He grins cheekily. “I vote to stay in bed.”

“I vote to do my readings, your CS homework, and get back to Chaewon about Wednesday.”

“God,” Jungkook says with a sigh. “What’s Wednesday?”

“Oh my God, you need to call Chaewon. Right now. Before you ask me what you have on Wednesday one more time after losing all of your brain cells lounging around in my personal bed and refusing to leave,” you say, eyes wide as you worm your way out of his grip, dusting yourself off and heading to your closet. 

“Noooooooo,” Jungkook says, reaching out a desperate hand. “Y/N, come back.”

“Call Chaewon. Call her!” You order, fishing around in your closet for some fresh clothes. You’ve been wearing the same one since Thursday night. You are disgusting. 

Jungkook groans but obeys, picking up his phone and pressing her contact. “Hey Chae, it’s Jungkook. Listen, I’m literally going to Venmo you back what you paid me because you? Literally didn’t need to pay me at all? And I’m actually mad at you for it? Wait, what do you mean am I up to getting paid on Wednesday—”

The phone call presents the perfect opportunity for you to dash out of your bedroom and into the bathroom, where you splash yourself with cold tap water like a model in a face wash commercial (who already has perfect skin, so why does she need this new face wash, seriously?) to clear your head. It’s been a weird twelve hours. Even weirder knowing that across the hall, Jungkook is sitting in your room, on your bed, in your clothes, under your bed sheets. Knowing that maybe, in another universe, on another timeline, you would be in the exact same positions, only everything would be different. 

You wash your face, hoping to wake yourself up. Convince your mind that the past twelve hours have been nothing but a dream, and that when you walk back into your room, Jungkook will have vanished. Or he would have never been there in the first place. 

You leave the bathroom and return to your bedroom to see Jungkook tugging on his suit jacket, wearing the same clothes he had on when he knocked on your door at 2AM last night. He’s still on the phone, wrapping up the conversation with Chaewon. 

“Yeah, yeah, tell her that I’m down. She can just text me, give her my number. I’m happy to do this for you and your friends, Chae. Plus, she’s gonna pay me and I feel less bad about it because it’s a service and she’s not a close friend like you are. Yeah, it’s all good,” he looks up to see you standing at the door, leaning against the frame. “Yeah, Y/N just got back so I’m gonna go. Maybe we can grab dinner or something tonight? Cool. Bye.”

“Dinner without me?” You ask with a pout. 

“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. “You’re always invited.”

“Have you figured out what’s going on on Wednesday?” You tease him as you walk him to the door. 

“Chaewon has a friend, Soojin, who wants me to accompany her on a parent-mandated double date with a business partner’s daughter,” Jungkook explains. “Apparently all of Chaewon’s friends realized I make a pretty good fake trophy boyfriend.”

You rub his shoulder. He’d make a great real boyfriend too. Not that you think about that all of the time, or anything. “Gonna put that on your resume, big guy?”

“Of course.” Jungkook smiles. “Dinner tonight? We can go to the ramen place you really like.”

“Sure thing, is Chaewon coming?”

“If she wants to. Otherwise, it’ll just be us.”

“Sounds good,” you tell him. “See you then.”

“Hopefully before,” Jungkook says. “Thanks for letting me crash here last night, by the way.”

“Anytime,” you say. Maybe one day, it’ll be true. 

Next Wednesday, there’s a knock on your door at midnight. 

Who else could it be?

It was supposed to be a one-time thing. And then it was supposed to be just a two-time thing. And before you knew it, Jungkook’s number and his services were circling through the ring of wealthy international students, jumping from phone to phone as people crammed to get him to accompany them on their next double date, next business gala, next ballroom dance. 

You had always had a feeling that his charming, charismatic personality would eventually draw everybody towards him, so electric and magnetic that you couldn’t help but want to know him, make friends with him, be close to him. From the moment you saw his Facebook introduction post, you knew it was only a matter of time before everyone on campus knew his name.

[October 17th, 4:12PM] You: do u want to get dinner tonight

Jungkook: would love to but have to go to kim family business dinner with dahyun sorry :(

You: ok next time then!

[October 23rd, 1:03PM]

You: yo what r u doing You: i have so many readings to do rip You: do u wanna come to greene w me and study

Jungkook: heejin is taking me shopping for a fancy suit for her family’s event tomorrow i can’t :/ Jungkook: but i am going to get macaroons for u at the mall so we can see each other later!

You: yummm sure thing!

[October 30th, 9:58AM]

You: hey ik you’re asleep rn but we are still on for tomorrow right? 🎃 You: can’t let our one (1) year long halloween tradition of buying last-minute candy and watching the nightmare before christmas together die

[October 30th, 11:13PM]

Jungkook: omg i just saw this now im so sorry Jungkook: uh yeonjoo wants me to go to her sister’s halloween party tm so idk if i can make it this year

[October 31st, 2:02AM]

You: ok You: thanks for telling me

It’s no fun watching The Nightmare Before Christmas by yourself, you realize this Halloween. All of your roommates are out frequenting one of the hundreds of parties being thrown on campus tonight, and although you’d normally be up for getting drunk and dropping it low, you just aren’t in the Halloween spirit this year. Wonder why. 

Armed with the knowledge that your roommates probably won’t be back until three or four in the morning, you shut your laptop and decide to go to bed early. Early being midnight, but it’s early for you and that’s all that really matters. 

You don’t know why you’re being such a stick in the mud this Halloween. It’s always been one of your favorite holidays, never one to pass up free candy nor the option to dress up, but this one has been particularly lame. You don’t have a costume, your local drugstore is out of mini Skittles packets, and you don’t have someone to spend it with. 

Realistically, you have no reason to be sad that Jungkook isn’t available tonight. It’s not as if spending Halloween together is some ancient tradition from birth that binds the two of you together. You did it for the first time as freshmen, and you were foolishly hoping to do the same thing as sophomores. It’s not a tradition if it only happened once. 

You look in the bathroom mirror, stained with nail polish and dry shampoo and old skincare, and you sigh. Jungkook has every right to prioritize his current and only source of income over a night spent lounging on the couch doing nothing. It’s not as if you haven’t seen your best friend in over a month and this was the only night you both had free. Jungkook drops by after every single event he goes on. Every single one. He stands outside your door dressed in a fancy suit, or a silk button down, leather shoes and expensive jewelry bought for him by the girls he goes out with.

No matter the time, he knocks on your door and says hello, steals a cup of tea and a bit of your heart along with it, before bouncing out of your living room and off to his own apartment. He doesn’t stay the night anymore, doesn’t worm his way underneath your duvet and refuse to move until morning comes. It’s hard to tell if you’re grateful about it or not. 

Sluggishly, you peel off your clothes and wash your face, changing into some old sweatpants from the tenth grade and a t-shirt with an embarrassingly large hole in the armpit. This Halloween, you are dressing up as a lonely college student who is going to bed early on Halloween night because she has nothing better to do!

There’s a knock on your door. 

Your first instinct is to freeze up. When there’s another knock, your second instinct is to grab the closest object to you (which happens to be your water bottle) for self-defense. 

And then, you hear,

“You’re not watching The Nightmare before Christmas without me, are you?”

To spare yourself the shame, you won’t say that you practically leapt out of bed the moment you heard his voice. You calmly removed the covers, and casually walked to the front door. That is what you did. 

When you open it, Jungkook is standing behind it, grinning, wearing the greasiest police officer outfit you’ve ever seen in your entire life. This flew at a marketing company’s heir’s Halloween party? He’s even got what looks to be a fully-loaded water gun in his holster. 

“Don’t tell me this is what you wore to some fancy-shmancy Halloween party,” you say disapprovingly, eyebrows raised as you look him up and down and pretend that you aren’t just ogling his figure. 

“It was fine, Yeonjoo’s sister just graduated college. If anything, she was more okay with it than Yeonjoo was,” Jungkook says with a shrug. You don’t even need to let him in at this point, just watch as he tugs off his shoes and steps inside your apartment like it belongs to him. 

“What was Yeonjoo dressed as?”

“Princess Leia. We made for a very mismatched pair,” Jungkook says, chuckling to himself. “Ooh, did you guys get new tea?”

“You can have some if you want,” you tell him, shutting the door as he eagerly pulls out a box of teabags, turning on the electric kettle on the counter. “I think it’s Wild Berry Hibiscus.”

“Sounds good already,” Jungkook says, and he lets out a sigh that sounds so exhausted, so tired and aching, as he leans back against the countertop, head resting on the cupboards above it. 

“You could have gone home, you know,” you tell him. Even from the couch you can see the droop in his shoulders, the bags under his eyes. He’s been going out several times every week for the past month, and he still has a truckload of CS assignments on top. He spends precious hours schmoozing with wealthy businessmen and women, shaking people’s hands and posing for pictures in the fanciest clothes he owns and then some. The selfish part of you wants him to stay. The part that loves him knows it would be better if he went home. “You still can.”

“No,” Jungkook insists, shaking his head. “We have a tradition to uphold, don’t we?”

Even though The Nightmare Before Christmas is seventy-six minutes long, the night ends long before that. You haven’t even reached “This Is Halloween” before you feel a head hit your shoulder, and crane your neck to find Jungkook having fallen fast asleep beside you, half-full cup of Wild Berry Hibiscus next to the laptop in front of you. He’s still wearing his stupid police officer costume, the navy blue uniform tight against his body. His lips are parted ever so softly, eyelashes fluttering as little non-sounds exit his mouth, hints, whispers of snores. 

He hasn’t slept over since the first time. You’re not sure if you want the trend to continue, or if you just want to be a little bit selfish tonight, greedy, taking and taking and taking. He’s so beautiful like this, so innocent and gentle and soft. It would be such a shame if you had to wake him. 

And so, gingerly, you rest your head against his own, breathe in the quiet little sounds that leave his parted lips, memorize the feeling. It’s not the first time Jungkook’s accidentally fallen asleep on you, but there is something about this moment, sitting on your couch a few minutes past midnight, as the rest of the world celebrates around you, that is so intimate. Like here, in your apartment, you and Jungkook have your own little bubble, tucked away in a corner of the universe far from the noise of the rest of the world. And it’s here that you wish you could stay forever, for once never wanting the feeling to end. Wanting time to freeze in its very steps, the clocks stop and the orbit halts, and it is just you and Jungkook, forever. Like characters in a movie, on pause for eternity.

The moment ends when Jungkook shifts beside you before eventually coming to, slowly opening his eyes as he turns to look at you. You smile at him, dazed and tired, as he sits up properly, staring down at your half-opened laptop and the half-full cup of tea next to it. 

“Thought you’d end up sleeping here again tonight,” you joke, even though it isn’t really a joke. Maybe, somewhere deep down inside you, in the crevices between your bones and the dark corner of your heart, you had hoped that he would stay. 

“Oh, did I fall asleep?” Jungkook asks, blinking away the sleep in his eyes. It’s nearly two-thirty in the morning. 

“Just for a bit. I didn’t want to wake you, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to head back to your apartment or anything,” you tell him. 

Jungkook nearly jumps up off the couch at that, like he’s got springs in his shoes. Suddenly he’s wide awake, brown eyes blown open as he scrambles to gather his belongings, taking the cup of tea and quickly dumping it out in your sink. 

“Hey, don’t you want that?” You ask. 

“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll come by some other time and have some, it was really good, I just fell asleep while drinking it,” Jungkook sputters, words moving a mile a minute as he tugs on his heavy black officer boots, scuffed at the tips from wear and tear. It’s as if he’s desperate to leave. Like your apartment has somehow offended him. Or worse, you. 

“If you want to stay, Jungkook, you can,” you tell him, standing up to run to the door before he pulls the damn thing off his hinges with how fast he’s moving. “I don’t mind. My bed is big enough for the both of us.”

“No, I should—I should get going. My… plants need watering. Right now. I totally forgot.”

It’s not a completely bullshit excuse. Jungkook has a fair few pothos amongst his other worldly apartment belongings, hanging from his ceiling or potted in old mugs and janky shoes. But it’s still a pretty bullshit excuse. It’s dark. Jungkook waters his plants every Sunday, and it’s Friday. It’s obvious he wants to get the hell out of your apartment for whatever reason. 

All you can do is hope and pray that it isn’t you who’s driving him away. 

“Oh—okay,” you tell him, opening the door as he furiously laces up his other boot. 

“Thanks for doing this. Next Halloween will be more fun, I swear. I won’t fall asleep on you. Or anything.”

“Okay, see you soon, then?” You ask, searching for a clue, a hint, anything that will tell you that it’s not you, that he hasn’t found you out yet. That you can still be friends, be best friends, because even if you want to kiss him, hold his hand, roll around in bed with him, loving him from afar is good enough. 

“Yes, yes, definitely. Dinner? Uh… sometime this week? I’ll text you. I have to go. Plants. See you!”

He dashes down the hallway. 

And you end your Halloween the same way you started it. Alone. 

Jungkook ran out of your apartment the other day like it was infested with cockroaches. Or the Black Plague. Or your microwave had just beeped. It was as if simply being inside it was going to scar him for life. 

Maybe your apartment is cursed. Jungkook does believe in ghosts. That’s another reason as to why he fears the microwave. Tiny ghosts could be living inside the microwave chamber and you’d never know. But Jungkook knows better. He knows that they’re there. 

“He just… ran out?” Chaewon asks, clearly bewildered. The two of you have been working on the first floor of the library all day, obviously doing everything in your power to not actually complete any of your assignments. 

“Yeah, something about his plants.” You sigh. 

Chaewon narrows her eyes, the same way she does when she’s plotting something. “Interesting.”

“What?” You ask, nudging her to see if you can worm a less mysterious response out of her. 

“Nothing,” Chaewon says with a nonchalant shrug. She clearly has something to say. 

“What?” You repeat forcefully. Chaewon doesn’t get to go all cryptic on you just because Jungkook ran out of your apartment like it had set fire. 

“I know I’ve only known you guys for, like, a year and a bit now, but you two have the strangest relationship I’ve ever seen,” Chaewon comments like it’s nobody’s business when it is, in fact, specifically two people’s business. 

You scowl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just…” She pauses, thinking. In the silence, she begins to pack up her belongings, shoving her laptop into her bag and gathering up the small pile of candy wrappers slowly amassing in front of her. “I’ve never seen two best friends have a relationship quite like yours.”

“Thanks?”

“What are you doing for dinner? I’m eating with Yoonji, but you’re welcome to join if you want,” Chaewon offers. Even though you have no idea who Yoonji is, Chaewon would never exclude you from eating with them.

“I’m getting Korean food with Jungkook, but thanks for the offer,” you say, only to be greeted with Chaewon rolling her eyes. He said he’d meet us outside?”

Sure enough, when you head out of the glass doors at the front of the library, Jungkook is waiting dutifully on a bench close by, headphones in as he nods his head and taps his feet to the beat of the music, lost in his own world. He doesn’t even realize that you’ve left the library until you’re two feet in front of him, when he recognizes your beat-up white sneakers and looks up at you in glee, eyes crinkled into crescents. 

“Ready to go?” You ask happily. Your stomach has been rumbling ever since Jungkook suggested you go out to eat this morning. 

“Hell yeah I am,” Jungkook says, putting his earbuds away as he stands up. “You coming, Chae?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m eating with a friend.” There’s nudge against your shoulder, and when you turn to face her, she winks. “But you two enjoy yourselves! Don’t have too much fun without me!”

Before you can publicly berate her for being so goddamn obvious, she’s rotating 180 degrees on her heel and speed-walking in the opposite direction, zooming off so you don’t get the chance. 

“I feel like we haven’t seen each other in ages,” you comment mindlessly. Twenty-four hours away from Jungkook feels like a lifetime and a half. Forty-eight is a light year. 

“I’ve been busy,” Jungkook says vaguely, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Doing what, going out to fancy restaurants and galas?” You half-tease. It’s sad but true—Jungkook spends his nights living a life you could only dream of. And all of these rituals you share, from studying in the library until three in the morning to crashing at his place and taking naps on separate couches, get put on the backburner. 

“Hey, it’s hard work pretending to be rich,” Jungkook pouts. “Besides, the craziest thing about going to those things is that rich Korean people don’t serve Korean food at their fancy gatherings. They serve shit like caviar.”

“Is that why you’re so desperate to get Korean?” You ask pointedly. 

“Yes,” Jungkook emphasizes. “Man, I just want some tteokbokki.”

“Then we’ll go and eat all of the tteokbokki you can dream of,” you promise. You round the street corner and on the edge of the main road and an alleyway sits a tiny Korean restaurant the size of a bedroom, no more than six cramped tables inside. It’s run by a family who passes it down through each generation, dependent on the starving college students nearby to keep it alive. 

It’s Jungkook’s favorite place. The owner gives him a discount every time he sees him. 

(It’s impossible not to fall in love with Jungkook. Impossible to not be drawn to his presence, his personality. Like moths to a flame, you can’t help but come closer.)

“Ah, Jungkook!” The old man behind the counter greets as the bell above the entrance rings. “Sit! Sit!” He points to your favorite table, a round one in the far left corner that’s right next to the biggest window. “Usual?”

“Tteokbokki, too, please!” Jungkook shouts. The man gives you both a thumbs up and heads back into the kitchen. 

“It’s been a while since we came here,” Jungkook notices. You both usually eat lunch on campus and Jungkook has been largely unavailable for dinner. 

“Almost sounds like you missed it,” you poke fun. 

“God, I missed it so much,” Jungkook exclaims, tilting his head back in exasperation. “I didn’t realize that it would be so much work to get dressed up in a suit and look hot.”

“Don’t make it sound like such a drag.” You frown. Jungkook needs to put in literally zero effort to look hot. Sitting across from him in this tiny Korean restaurant as he wears nothing but a massive hoodie and black joggers, he looks hot. When he wakes up in your bed in a raggedy t-shirt, he looks hot. When you catch him at three in the morning in the library after eighteen straight hours of studying, he looks hot. 

Jungkook sits there and radiates light. Radiates warmth and joy and beauty. Laughter and hope. He’s the college version of a Disney prince. Perfectly imperfect and completely out of your reach. 

“I wish I could take you with me, you might enjoy it,” Jungkook sighs. “Plus, I have literally never seen you wear something fancier than business casual. Imagine you in a ballgown!”

“In your dreams, Jeon,” you rebuke. “Free catered food sounds nice but having to mingle with the 1% does not.”

“Touché,” Jungkook concedes. “I don’t know how Chaewon does it.”

“She’s a goddess.”

“Indeed.”

Jungkook pours you a cup of water from the pitcher that the old man dropped off, and then pours one for himself. “Chaewon said that I did well, though.”

Not surprising. Jungkook excels at everything he does. 

“Of course you did, you sexy beast,” you chide. 

“She said I’d make a good boyfriend.”

You choke on your water as the man’s son brings out your food, and you desperately attempt to avoid eye contact as you sputter and cough into a napkin, gaze pointed away from both a surprised waiter and a concerned Jungkook, who awkwardly thanks the man and leans over to pat your back. 

“You good?” He asks, brows furrowed. 

Coughing, you say, “I’m okay, I’m okay. It just—it went down the wrong pipe, that’s all.” Jungkook doesn’t buy it, and the little coughs escaping your throat don’t do much to corroborate your claim. “Seriously, Jungkook. I’m okay. It’s just water.”

“You looked like you were on the verge of death,” Jungkook frowns. 

“That’s just my face,” you fire back. “Just keep talking about what you were saying earlier. What was it?”

“Being a good boyfriend,” Jungkook says, and with no water near your lips to distract you this time, your mind bears the full force of his words, weighing down on your shoulders like a calculus textbook. 

It’s not as if you aren’t already aware that Jungkook would be the best boyfriend in the entire world, bar none. Not as if you don’t sit in bed and dream of a parallel universe, a life other than the one you’re living in right now, where Jungkook is lovely and wonderful and yours. He knocks on your door at a random hour in the afternoon with Chinese takeout from the local restaurant. He remembers your homework assignments when you forget them. He sits in bed with you and judges the Instagrams of the guys on the latest Bachelorette season. It’s as if he was already yours.

“Believe me,” you scoff. “The people know how great of a boyfriend you are.” 

“It’s fake, though,” Jungkook reminds you. “It’s only for a night. An evening, really.”

“Better than nothing,” you sigh. “If only I had enough money to rent myself a fake boyfriend for a night.”

“If only your parents were the CEOs of a multibillion dollar cooperation,” Jungkook adds on. 

“Truth,” you say, and you and Jungkook toast to that. Toast to knowing that some people are born with a silver spoon in their mouths. Toast to knowing that some of those people can get for themselves something you can only imagine in your wildest dreams—a night with Jungkook. More than just a night. A night spent dressed up in your fanciest clothes, arms wrapped tightly around each other. A night spent as a couple, rather than you and Jungkook. 

Toast to knowing that even if you’ll never get to have him like that, you get to have him like this, and you’d rather it be like this than nothing at all. 

“You don’t need to rent a fake boyfriend for a night, Y/N,” Jungkook tells you once you’ve downed the water in your glasses (stay hydrated!). “You shouldn’t feel pressured to spend time with people you don’t want to spend time with.”

You don’t understand, you sigh. I’d give anything to spend time with you. 

Jungkook pays. He says that he’s made more money accompanying wealthy socialites—even ones that don’t go to your school, because word gets around—than he would in a month’s worth of shifts at the call center. He says he’s never looking back. He’s probably not going to give up the gig for a while, either. 

“Just because you have cash now doesn’t mean you get a free pass to pay for everything we do together,” you warn. You’ve always split the price of meals, split the price birthday cakes for your friends. In the beginning of freshman year, Jungkook ate a quarter of a bag of goldfish you had and paid you fifty-three cents to account for his consumption, which you immediately sent back to him. You still fight over it, finding surreptitious ways to incorporate it into the Venmo payments you make to each other. 

“I’m rich, I can do whatever I want with my money,” Jungkook proclaims. “And if that means treating my best friend to a meal, then that means I’m gonna treat her to a meal.”

“That’s very rude of you,” you tell him pointedly. “Zero out of ten, worst best friend in the entire world. Will not accept my Venmo payments.”

Walking down the sidewalk, side by side, Jungkook wraps an arm around you and pulls you in for a side hug as you come to a stop at a traffic light. “You always do so much for me and Chaewon. You deserve to be treated once in a while, Y/N.”

“Why, ‘cause I go out to CVS at ten at night to get you Nyquil after you catch the common cold from some sweaty guy at the gym?” 

“That,” Jungkook nods, conceding, “and also because you’re one of the best friends anyone could ever ask for. The people who know you are lucky to get to say your name.”

If only Jungkook knew that he was the exact same. It’s an honor to know him. It’s a blessing to love him. 

“What fancy clothes do you own?” Chaewon’s lying on your bed, scrolling mindlessly on her phone. 

“I don’t know,” you respond, brows furrowing. You get up from your desk chair to start fishing through your closet,  “I have, like, some business casual stuff.”

“How about a dress?”

You whip around suspiciously, eyeing Chaewon as she lounges around in your room and acts like she isn’t plotting something nefarious. “Don’t you think you could tell me what you’re trying to convince me to do before you ask me if I have the appropriate clothing?” 

Even lying on her back, Chaewon still manages to roll her eyes, sitting up to meet your gaze. “There’s a gala tonight to celebrate some big business deal being closed and I want you to come with me,” she says like it’s a chore, exasperated. 

“Me?” You frown. “Why not Jungkook?”

“He said he had some thing to do for some other girl,” Chaewon says. The topic clearly is not at the forefront of her mind. It’s a little too obvious that it’s at the forefront of yours. “Besides, I was given no date restrictions and you deserve to have a little fun tonight. It’s a Friday!”

“I just want to stay in bed and play Legend of Zelda,” you tell her. 

“You’re already out of bed,” Chaewon points out unhelpfully. 

“Well, then I want to get into bed and play Legend of Zelda,” you rephrase. 

Chaewon pouts. “Noooo, please? It’ll be fun, I swear,” Chaewon pleads.  “It’s a huge party and hundreds of people are going to be there. Everybody gets to bring a plus one. You won’t be the only person who doesn’t know anything about business and has to cling onto their date in order to survive.”

“Gee, thanks. That makes me want to go so much,” you deadpan. 

“Seriously, Y/N. When was the last time you went out on a Friday?”

A while ago. You and Jungkook started having Mario Kart nights on Friday in the middle of your freshman year after you both came to the conclusion that every frat party smells, sounds, and tastes like the same fifty shades of college regret. You haven’t gone out since. 

“Not that long ago,” you lie. It’s been months.

“Yeah, right,” Chaewon scoffs. “Don’t think I don’t see your Bitmoji on the SnapMap sitting in your damn apartment on a Friday at 11PM,” she scolds.

“I’m gonna turn off my location,” you declare. You’ve had enough of Snapchat exposing you and your location. People can live in mystery about your whereabouts from now on. They don’t need to know. Chaewon certainly does not. 

“No excuses, you’re coming with me to the gala! You must have something to wear in that closet of yours, don’t you?” She slides off of your bed with a thud and joins you as you stand in front of your clothes. None of them scream fancy. None of them even whisper it. You stand back as she shuffles through your clothes, hangers squeaking as she shoves them along the rail. Chaewon tears through your clothing faster than you skim through your economics readings. “Aha! What do we have here?”

She whips out a dress from the very back of your closet, right behind the blazer you never wear because you’d rather be caught dead than in business attire. It’s old—you don’t think you’ve worn it since the beginning of your freshman year when you thought you actually had to dress up for parties. Needless to say, you dry-cleaned it the following Monday and never wore it again. You don’t even recall bringing it to college this year. 

“This is perfect!” Chaewon cries. “Really says ‘I can fucking dress myself’, don’t you think?”

“Are you implying that I can’t dress myself?” 

“You should definitely wear this,” Chaewon decides, dodging the question. “Gucci and Louis Vuitton are overrated, anyway.”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I.” Chaewon thrusts the dress towards you.

Chaewon shakes her head. “Of course you don’t.” 

Three hours later finds you one makeup and hair session later, standing in the lobby of a magnificent skyscraper wearing a dress that maybe could have done without the cup of frozen yogurt that you ate before you arrived. Now you remember why you haven’t really worn it since the beginning of last year. Has it shrunk?

“I feel like a loser, Chaewon,” you hiss as she bats her eyelashes and gets directed to the private elevator that will lead you both to the top floor. “A money-less, jobless loser.”

“At least you’re honest, Y/N,” Chaewon whispers back as you step into the elevator. Despite being nearly an hour and a half late (“Fashionably so!” Chaewon exclaims.) you are crowded into the back corner, several other couples stepping inside to join you, all of them wearing clothes that cost more than your tuition for all four years of college, combined. “That’s better than most of the people here.”

Nothing separates the rich from the poor like morality. 

When the elevator doors open, you and Chaewon are the last group to step out, milling about in the corner until the path is free. And when you turn your gaze away from her, you realize just why Jungkook’s so keen on going to events like these, why he never turns down an offer when it lights up his phone screen. 

In movies, rich people flaunt their wealth so extravagantly that it almost looks fake. From gigantic ice sculptures to ten-feet-tall chocolate fountains, entire orchestras and dresses worth thousands of dollars, it makes you wonder if rich people really do see those items as necessities when throwing a party. They rent out entire European castles and the press publicizes every one of their actions. To you, it looks contrived, unrealistic. Even if rich people have enough money to sustain the bottom 99% for hundreds of years, how could they spend their money on nonsense like this?

As it turns out, the ice sculptures and chocolate fountains are only half of the story.

At this gala, the hosts have spared no expense. The entire penthouse is made purely of glass, from the ceiling, to the floor, to the walls in between, giving you an absolutely breathtaking view of the city lights dozens of feet below you, of the stars millions of light years away. It’s as if you’re standing in a bubble, frozen in time, the world sparkling and twinkling and shimmering around you. You didn’t even know a place like this existed on Earth. The price to book it must be astronomical. The view, even more so. 

“Holy fuck,” you murmur, mouth dropping open at the sight. It’s a movie come to life. It’s a picture straight out of a fairytale. 

“Pretty sweet, right?” Chaewon says, clearly proud of herself for convincing you to join her. “The Parks and the Ohs really felt like celebrating.”

“No shit,” you say, dumbfounded. Chaewon wraps her arm around yours and leads you out of the elevator, her poise and grace akin to that of a princess. She’s been to this place before. She could do this in her sleep. 

“Pictures first, then we eat, and then we mingle,” Chaewon instructs, and you nod diligently. She’s the only way you’re going to make it out of this night unscathed. Without her, you don’t know what you’d do. 

On the average day of an average life of an average person, pictures means getting a stranger to take a single pic on your shitty iPhone at your worst angle, which you will begrudgingly post to your Instagram later after extensive editing. 

But this is not your average day, and these are not average lives of not average people. Pictures means professional photographers with entire setups, standing with their cameras held up to their eyes, poised and ready for the next shot. It means couples, one by one, stepping in front of a gorgeous backdrop and posing, over and over, as five photographers at once cram to get their best angle, the cleanest photo. 

You don’t know how to pose for photos. You barely remember what the proper formatting is for your essays, depending on the citation structure. And yet, Chaewon is ushering you over in front of the photographers, immediately striking one of her classic, perfect poses as you flail about, trying to figure out what to do with your hands. 

“Just relax,” Chaewon advises. Even standing beside you, she can see you panicking in her periphery. “And smile. You’re beautiful, so show them that.”

Eventually, as the photographers switch positions to get different angles, you stop worrying about your hands, stop worrying about your bag, your feet, your head tilt, and just grin. You may not have millions of dollars to your name, but it’s a Friday night and you’re living the life of a billionaire with no responsibilities. You deserve to live a little. 

When the next group comes up, Chaewon nudges you out of the way and whispers to one of the photographers, who nods dutifully in response. Wrapping her arm around yours once more, she guides you to the massive catering setup, tables and tables lined with delicacies from every country you could imagine. And of course, a gargantuan chocolate fountain in the middle of it all. 

Your stomach rumbles. Clearly, the frozen yogurt was not enough to hold you off. Or maybe it’s just because you’ve been eating college dining hall food for weeks now, and are probably going to throw up if you have to have dry beef one more time. 

“If you want to, you should try the caviar. It’s delicious. Avoid the eggplant, it tastes like foot, but the brussel sprouts are delicious. Kimchi’s good, too. Classic,” Chaewon instructs as you walk around the tables, placing servings the size of quarters onto your plate just so you can have a taste of everything. Chaewon sticks to some ribs, pan-seared salmon, and a vegetable so expensive you’ve never even heard of it before. 

“Im Chaewon, is that you?”

“Mrs. Kim!”

A strange older woman comes up to the two of you as you’re dishing up, and Chaewon’s face immediately lights up. The woman goes in for a hug, a barely-touching pat of the shoulders and hands. Over her shoulder, you watch as Chaewon rolls her eyes and pulls a face. 

“How are you, dear? You look so grown up,” Mrs. Kim says. You watch as the light slowly fades from Chaewon’s eyes with each second that passes. 

“I’m very well, Mrs. Kim. Did you get your hair done? It makes you look so youthful.” Chaewon’s a master. She glares at you when Mrs. Kim isn’t looking, raising her eyebrows as if to say learn, young padawan. This is how it’s done. They go on for a couple minutes, showering fake compliments on each other as you slowly begin to eat. You scrunch your nose up. Chaewon’s right. The eggplant does taste like foot. 

“And who is this?” Mrs. Kim asks, turning her focus onto you. You look up like a deer in headlights, a brussel sprout puffing your cheek. You were not meant to mingle and eat at the same time. 

“This is one of my closest friends, Y/N,” Chaewon introduces for you. You nod your hello, chewing the brussel sprout in the most nondescript manner possible in an effort to save whatever is left of your dignity. “She’s pre-law.”

You are not pre-law.

“Oh, how wonderful! You must have a lot you want to accomplish in life,” Mrs. Kim says. God, you couldn’t care less about how Mrs. Kim feels about you.

“Yes, definitely,” you say awkwardly. 

“We really must be going, Mrs. Kim. My parents will want me to make sure I do my rounds,” Chaewon says, a hand on your arm as she makes to get you both the fuck out of there. 

“Of course, of course,” Mrs. Kim concedes, sending you and Chaewon one final goodbye before moving on to find her next victim. 

When she leaves, Chaewon seems to let out the biggest exhale of her life. “Holy fucking shit, I thought she’d never leave,” she exclaims, grabbing a flute of champagne and downing it in a single go. “She’s an associate of my father’s, so she’s always trying to kiss my damn ass. Like, sorry that you need to brown-nose your boss and his daughter just so you bribe your idiot son’s way into college.”

“You like mingling, I take?” You joke. 

“Just murder me.”

“Have any tips?”

“Flex as hard as possible without actually flexing. Try to speak to people your age because they are usually more bearable than people older than you. The best conversationalists are anybody under the age of ten,” Chaewon tells you. She picks up another glass of Prosecco. “Want some champagne?” 

“You have it,” you tell her. “I think you need it more than I do.”

Chaewon shrugs. Not as if they’re running out any time soon. She gulps it down and places it on the tray of one of the caterers as they whiz by her. 

The rest of the night passes by in the same way the beginning of it did. Chaewon drags you around the penthouse, talking with her father’s business partners and associates and their sons and daughters and husbands and wives for no more than two minutes each before moving on. She’s got her technique down pat. Greet, compliment, shade, flex, compliment, say goodbye. It’s foolproof, because you immediately notice that everyone else in the room has adopted the same approach. 

Business gatherings like these are just one big game of who can be the most-liked and the least-liked at the same time. And the answer: everybody, all at once. 

Halfway through the evening, Chaewon collapses against the back wall, totally unafraid of the possibility of the glass giving out behind her. She doesn’t care. If it breaks, it breaks. 

“Tired?”

“I just need a break,” Chaewon declares. “Because everyone in here is so fucking fake, and you’re the only one I can talk to without wanting to rip out my eardrums.”

“I’m honored,” you say sarcastically. 

“When I say you’re the only honest one here, I mean it,” Chaewon says. You lean back against the wall next to her, looking out into a sea of people in fancy clothes with fancy food and fancy friends. “Look at all these people, Y/N. All these fucking people, and you’re the only one who’s true.”

And then, you spot him. 

He’s far away, standing in a group of people you don’t recognize, a hand on the small of another girl’s back. He’s wearing a navy blue suit, tight-fitting and tailored, a silver watch sparkling on his wrist as he adjusts his sleeves. One of the other young men in the group says something funny, and he tilts his head back to laugh, chuckling as the girl beside him curls into his arms. 

You suppose it would have been ignorant of you to assume Jungkook was elsewhere on a night like this, at a gathering where everybody who knows anybody is here. 

Jungkook must not know you’re here. He mustn't, otherwise he would have come over to find you. You must have entered at different times, spent the night wandering around different parts of the penthouse. Clinging onto Chaewon’s arms, you must have avoided his gaze, and he, yours. 

Chaewon hasn’t spotted him either. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s better, if you’re the only one stuck with the knowledge that he’s here tonight. Chaewon would pity you. Other people would ask you how you knew such a worldly, experienced man like him. And you would spend the night wallowing in sadness, wondering why it’s never you that gets to spend the night next to him. 

From this distance, you can see Jungkook perfectly. The light from the moon shines down on him like a goddamn spotlight, catching the sparkling on his wrist, leaving a silver gleam in his slicked back hair. You watch as he laughs, smiles, talks, grins and beams and socializes. Of course he’s here. Of course. He’s so good at this, so good at being real and genuine and happy. 

Chaewon says the only person in the room who is true is you, but how can that be? How can that be when Jungkook, the most honest, wonderful, real person you know, is standing in front of you? You aren’t honest. You aren’t true and real and whole. You stand on the sidelines, a wallflower in a room of daisies and roses, and pine from afar. Watch as he pretends to date a girl that’s not you, wraps his arm around her waist and kisses her cheek, and you act like everything is alright. 

It sucks, being trapped like this for fear of him seeing you. You know that would be worse—if he saw you standing alone and decided to take matters into his own hands. Seeing him up close in a penthouse like this, a movie set, shimmering and sparkling, it would be worse. Jungkook pulls the girl beside him in close to his side, smiling as he listens to someone else speak. She’s the perfect height in those heels, just tall enough to rest her head in the crook between his neck and his shoulder. You imagine them walking into the room together, hand in hand. Imagine them posing for the pictures like a real couple, a pair of celebrities. 

You suppose you have no reason to be jealous of her, of him, of what they have. Jealousy is when resenting someone for having something that you once had. You never had a life like that with Jungkook. You’ll never have a life like that with him. Never get dressed up to go out, never get to be his date to an event. Never get pictures taken of you as a couple, never feed each other candies and strawberries dipped in chocolate. You can’t be jealous of her. You were never in the running to begin with. 

“Ready to get back out there?” Chaewon asks, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. 

A waiter comes by with a tray of champagne flutes, offering it to the both of you. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Chaewon tells you as she takes a glass for herself. 

You sigh, casting another glance over at Jungkook. He and his date are moving around now, joining another social circle on the opposite side of the penthouse. He looks so at ease, so comfortable. He belongs there, in the middle of it all, talking and laughing and grinning. And you? You belong back at home, underneath your duvet covers playing a game of Mario Kart. Not here. 

You shake your head. You could use a drink or two in this state. “I’d love one, actually. Thank you.”

That night, you stay at Chaewon’s place. 

“You’ve been acting weird.”

“Hello to you, as well,” you say with a scowl as Chaewon sits down across from you at the local ramen place. 

“Listen,” Chaewon begins, “I’ve been thinking. You need to confess to Jungkook.”

You nearly spit out the complimentary water you were served. “Excuse me?”

“You need to. You’ve been acting weird and that’s the only thing that’s going to fix it,” Chaewon declares. 

“What do you mean I’ve been ‘acting weird’? Care to explain?” You ask, offended. You haven’t been acting weird. Well, that weird. Maybe a little weird.

“Jungkook told me you haven’t seen each other for the last eight days,” Chaewon points out. Eight days? It’s more like seven and a half. Not that you’ve been counting, or anything. 

“So? We’re busy people,” you defend. It’s a good enough excuse. You’re sophomores in college. You have classes. Clubs. You have to meal prep. 

“So? You guys are best friends. You make time to see each other at three in the fucking morning if you haven’t seen each other yet that day. And you haven’t seen each other for eight whole days? What’s wrong with you?” Chaewon demands. 

“Nothing! What the heck, I invite you out to a best friend ramen date and you just blaspheme all over me like this?” You accuse. This is not how you imagined today to be going. This isn’t how you imagined this week to be going. “Besides, it’s only been seven and a half days. He’s over-exaggerating.”

“Seven and a—holy fuck, you are literally the worst. Can you just stop resisting? If you tell him, everything will be fine and go back to the way things were,” Chaewon says, blinking, flabbergasted. 

“No, they will not,” you hiss. “Everything will change if I tell him. We’re best friends, Chae. Imagine if I told you that I loved you. What would you do?”

“I’d love you back, that’s what!” Chaewon tells you. “You deserve to be loved back, Y/N. Nothing would change between us. I already love you. You’re one of my most favorite people ever. I would never regret something if it was with you.”

“It’s different with him, though,” you try to explain. You don’t know why—you just know that it is. The way you’re friends with Chaewon and the way you’re friends with Jungkook are entirely separate. You love Chaewon. You’re not in love with Chaewon. 

“Is it? How?” Chaewon says. 

“I don’t know, I just—it’s different with him.” There’s no way to describe it. Jungkook appeared in your life and it was as if everything just clicked into place. There isn’t a single thing in your life that makes more sense to you than Jungkook. “It’s always been different with him. With you, I—I knew that we would become really close friends once we started talking a lot more in the beginning of freshman year. But with him—I don’t know. From the moment I met him, I knew that I would fall in love with him. When he said hello to me, I was fucked. There’s never been any hope for me, Chae. I just have to live like this forever.”

Chaewon rolls her eyes. “No, you don’t. You don’t even see what the fuck is right in front of you.”

“You?”

“God, I’m friends with idiots. Literal idiots. How you guys have made it through nearly a year and a half of college is beyond me,” Chaewon says to nobody in particular. “Seriously, tell me, Y/N. What do you think will happen if you tell him? Just out of curiosity.”

“I don’t know—” you pause. A lot of things. He tells you he just wants to stay friends. He rejects you because he’s not interested that way and you can’t really be friends anymore because it’s weird now. He’s already interested in somebody else. He’s already dating somebody else and you never even knew. He’s not looking for a relationship right now. Things get awkward because you confessed to your best friend that you’re in love with him and he doesn’t feel the same. You end up never speaking to each other. You never see each other. You go through the rest of university seeing each other on the Green by chance and not knowing what to do. You graduate and move on with your lives. And suddenly, he’s just a past friend you used to have. No longer a part of your life. No longer given the chance to. “He rejects me. We never speak again and have to avoid each other at all costs. He lets me down easy and I feel like a total loser for having confessed in the first place. There’s a lot.”

“Jesus, Y/N. Aren’t you forgetting a possibility?” Chaewon says, eyebrows raised high. 

“I’m omitting a lot of them,” you tell her. Including the one where, in the next three years, you end up in a hellish dystopian wasteland and you have to band together to survive but it’s awkward and terrible because you love him still and he doesn’t feel the same, never has and never will, and now you have to fight off zombies and a corrupt autocratic government all while dealing with your own goddamn feelings. That may be the most unbearable one of them all. 

“How about the one where he actually feels the same?”

“Too unrealistic,” you tell Chaewon. It’s the truth. Why else would Jungkook be traipsing around with beautiful, rich, worldly girls on his nights off? He does it for the money, sure, but he likes it. He loves the experience, loves living that sort of life. You’d never be able to provide that for him. “You know that’s never going to happen, Chae. We’re just friends.”

“Bullshit.”

“Well, he thinks that we’re just friends. And I’m not gonna fuck everything up by telling him that I’ve been madly in love with him for the past year and a half.” You can think of nothing worse. 

“Have you ever considered the fact that maybe he thinks that the two of you are just friends because you refuse to actually show him how you feel?” Chaewon asks pointedly, eyebrows raised in disapproval. She looks about ready to walk out of the restaurant. “You never do things to give him a reason to think otherwise.”

“Why would I?” 

When your ramen arrives, Chaewon takes a deep breath, downs the rest of her glass of water, and moves on. It’s clear that if she thinks about this any more, her head will explode. 

Nothing’s ever going to change between you and Jungkook. You knew, when you first met him, that it was always going to hurt like this. That loving him was something you had to sacrifice to stay close to him. He lights up every fucking room he walks into, and it’s all you can do not to sit there and bask in his warmth. You would rather catch a single one of his rays than be in the darkness. And if being friends with him means that friends is all you’ll ever be, then so be it. You’re lucky to have him like this. Why take the plunge? 

“Just—” Chaewon says as you begin to pull apart the noodles in your own bowl. “I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now. And you deserve to be happy, Y/N. You deprive yourself of all of these wonderful things, and I just want you to know that you deserve every single one of them. But telling him? That’s something that even I know would make you the happiest. You shouldn’t live like this, Y/N. You have no idea what you’re missing out on if you do.”

The streak of not seeing Jungkook ends the next day, when you come back from an evening grocery store run to find him standing outside your door, hand about to knock on the wood. He’s all dressed up again, button-down and slacks, hair styled and parted, and you watch as he takes a deep breath, almost as if he’s waiting for the best time to knock. 

“Jungkook?”

He practically jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice, nearly tripping over his own feet as he lays his eyes on you. 

“Oh, Y/N!” He exclaims. “I was just about to see if you were home.”

“You could have just texted, you know,” you say jokingly, joining him at the front door as you fumble for your keys. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” Jungkook admits sheepishly. 

“Well, make it up to me by helping me unpack these,” you demand, kicking the door open as you reach down to grab your reusable canvas bags filled with groceries. Immediately, Jungkook is leaning down to grab all of them for you, hauling them inside like they weigh nothing. You stare as he heads over to your kitchen without breaking a sweat, biceps clenching as he lifts the groceries up onto the counter. 

“What’d you get?” Jungkook asks, slowly beginning to take out the groceries. He’s in your apartment so often that he’s memorized where all of your food goes, from the correct shelf in the fridge for produce to the proper cabinet for cereal. 

“Just like… groceries. I saw a box of peppermint chocolate bars that I thought you might like, they’re in there somewhere,” you say mindlessly, pointing to a random canvas bag. Immediately, Jungkook abandons his putting-away-groceries duty to fish through each of the bags, hunting for the box of goodies. “And I got some cheap Trader Joe’s wine. You know. Just for emergencies.”

“Trader Joe’s wine and peppermint chocolate bars,” Jungkook comments, nodding in approval. He finally finds the box and tears it open sideways. “Sounds like a perfect dessert if I’ve ever heard one.”

“What, did you eat already?” You ask, busting out the wine and a couple of mugs, because you don’t own any wine glasses. Nothing says cultured like drinking seven-dollar wine out of mugs with kitschy sayings like “don’t talk to me until this is empty” or “coffee is my first love” written on them. 

Jungkook shrugs. He grabs the box and heads over to your couch, already kicking back and relaxing. “Yeah, I went to some restaurant for another double date,” Jungkook says. “It was one of those places where everything is so expensive but the portions are the size of my fist. Of your fist.”

“You sound hungry,” you note, filling up the mugs and joining him. “And mad.”

“I’m getting reimbursed for the money I spent tonight, so I suppose I could be angrier. But I’m starving. Let’s finish this entire box of chocolates and do nothing else.”

“Your words, not mine,” you say, although his proposal sounds more than appealing to you. 

You turn the television on for some background noise, switching to a channel showing old reruns of unsolved serial killer cases, because nothing sets the mood better than the words “then, slowly, he took the knife with which he killed her and began to slice away at her body”. Jungkook doesn’t seem to pay the television any attention, though, instead focused entirely on the chocolate in front of him, calling his name. 

He takes an enormous bite out of one before moaning far too sexually for your liking, tossing his head back in bliss. “Oh my God.”

“Good?”

Jungkook moans again in response.

“Please don’t orgasm on this couch. Who knows what other bodily fluids were on here before we bought it,” you ask calmly. 

“I’d say that’s nasty, but you guys did cover this with one of those couch covers, so it’s not like my body is coming into contact with other people’s body stains,” Jungkook reasons. The couch cover is the single best purchase you’ve made this entire year. Possibly your entire life. “But they’re delicious. You made a good purchase.”

“I thought you would like them,” you say. “You’re the only person I know who actually likes the combination of mint and chocolate.”

“People who say that it tastes like toothpaste are brushing their teeth with the wrong kind of toothpaste,” he tells you pointedly. “I don’t understand. This is God’s combination. It’s perfect.”

“As long as you love it, that’s all that matters,” you tell him with a pat on his back, breaking off a square of the chocolate bar for yourself. It is pretty good, even if mint chocolate ice cream does sometimes taste like toothpaste. But you’d never tell Jungkook that, of course. 

Jungkook takes a swig of the wine, picking up the mug and gulping down about half of it, the wine bitter on his tongue. “Goes great with this wine, too,” he jokes. You take a sip yourself. It’s… not very good. Actually, rather sticky. No wonder it was only seven dollars. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, I know it tastes like ass,” you tell him honestly. To be fair, you and Jungkook have both had worse. Compared to the shit served at frat parties, this may as well be beautifully-aged Malbec. 

“It only tastes a little bit like ass,” Jungkook compromises. “But it doesn’t not taste like ass.”

“Let’s finish it now so we don’t have to have any more of it later,” you decide. “You’ve probably had some of the best alcohol in your life this semester.”

Jungkook thinks back, tilting his head to the side as he begins to recall all of the instances in the past few months when he’s had anything to drink. “Soju’s still my favorite. But yeah, I’d say I’ve had wine that probably costs more than my textbooks for this semester if I hadn’t pirated them all.”

“The beauty of being a CS student,” you muse. 

“You know it,” he says, holding his half-empty mug out as a toast to himself. “But seriously, even if this Trader Joe’s wine literally tasted like garbage, it would still be better than all of that other shit.”

You turn to him, skeptical. Even the single night you spent with Chaewon, in a penthouse amongst the stars, drinking champagne and eating strawberries dipped in chocolate, was more than you could ever dream of. You woke up the next day on an air mattress in her bedroom and wanted nothing more than to go back to basking in the luxury, desperate for another taste. It was addicting. How could Jungkook ever prefer what he has right now to what he had last night? 

“Really? Don’t say that just to make me feel better,” you tell him. You can take it. Jungkook has every reason to prefer the fancy meals, the penthouses, the suits and ties to your janky little apartment and old clothes from high school. The two aren’t at all on the same level. They’re not even in the same goddamn game. If you could drop everything to have what Chaewon has, what the other girls and boys who pay for Jungkook’s company have, you would. 

“I’m not,” Jungkook tells you seriously. “I mean it. I would rather sit in your room, hunched over your tiny Switch because you lost the HDMI cord to plug it into the television, playing Mario Kart than out there, pretending to be someone I’m not.”

“But it was fun in the beginning, wasn’t it? Getting to be rich without the moral ambiguity that comes along with being part of the upper class?” You ask. It must have been. Jungkook looked so happy when he first started doing these gigs, coming back to your apartment in a state of bliss, a little tipsy from the expensive champagne and steak. He’d knock on your door and tell you all about the night, from how older businessmen handed him their cards and offered him jobs, to the hundreds of ice cream flavors you could only ever dream of eating. Everything seemed so wonderful to him.

Jungkook shrugs, pouring himself more wine. “Yeah, I guess, but it gets so old after a while. Like, no wonder Chaewon was so desperate for me to go with her that first time. It sucks the damn life out of you. You walk around and mingle and pretend that you’re the greatest person on Earth, talking about yourself and kissing up to the other people for an entire night. Honestly, sometimes it’s worse than my CS homework. And I hate that shit.”

“Chaewon mentioned that the eggplant usually tastes like foot,” you add. Jungkook nods in agreement. 

“Yeah, it does. She warned me about it the first night and I, like a fool, tried it because I usually like eggplant. And it still tasted like foot. Never again,” Jungkook says, shivering at the mere thought of it. It’s funny, actually, because you did the exact same thing. “But the food is like, the one thing I pretty much don’t have the right to complain about. It’s delicious and usually free.”

“But I hope that you’re having fun,” you tell him honestly, because you do. When you’re sitting in your room, eating two different pints of Ben & Jerry’s, you hope that Jungkook, wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, is enjoying himself more than you are. Because he deserves it. You never want there to be a time when he’s sad, when he’s unhappy or bored. Jungkook deserves to live the happiest version of life he possibly can. “I want you to enjoy yourself.”

“I do,” Jungkook says. There’s a second half to that sentence. “I do—it’s just that… It's so fake, you know? I feel like such a goddamn actor when I’m there. I get to live this extravagant lifestyle for a few hours but in return I don’t even know who I’m looking at when I look in the mirror.”

Oh?

“Like, I pretend to be this business student, when I’m not. I pretend to have millions of dollars to my name, when I don’t. I hold hands and pose for pictures with people Chaewon is vaguely familiar with and nothing, literally nothing, feels real. I don’t know.” Jungkook takes another swig from the mug. “Even the relationships I have when I’m there are fake.”

“Do you hate it that much, then?” You ask him. If it’s so awful and terrible, then why does he keep doing it? Keep dressing up and going out, holding hands with and wrapping his arm around them?

“No,” Jungkook says, sighing as he leans back into the couch. “I don’t hate it. I just—I wish I had something real afterwards to come back home to.”

Real? Like what? Like you? You aren’t real. You sit next to your best friend and pretend that everything is fine. That nothing hurts. You’ve had the biggest crush on him ever since you laid eyes on him, and you’re doing everything in your power to make sure that he’s the only one that doesn’t know. 

“That’s why I’m always coming back to your apartment afterwards,” Jungkook says. He chuckles, but it isn’t his usual laugh. It sounds forced, contrived and fake. Jaded. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it almost immediately. Then, he breathes, long and slow. Thinks. The silence is almost unbearable. Waiting to hear what he has to say, even more so. “You’re the most genuine person I know. What we share—it’s real.”

Tonight is the least lonely you’ve felt in a long time. 

Even though Jungkook has something tonight, you aren’t aching to be by his side, desperate to spend more time with him. He told you that he was really looking forward to this one, that it wasn’t going to be some stuffy gala or blind double date. He said something about going to karaoke with the girl and her friends, singing Britney Spears songs and taking shots of soju for hours on end, screaming his voice hoarse. And even if you aren’t there with him, you’re happy because you know that he’s happy, that he’s genuinely enjoying himself. 

So, you aren’t that lonely. 

Content with the state of your life as it is, you take the night off, ready to prepare yourself for a weekend that will almost certainly consist entirely of just work. Chaewon’s voice echoes in your mind (“I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now,” she had told you), but it’s different now. Because you are happy. You are happy, because Jungkook’s happy. The two of you see each other just as frequently as you used to. He texts you about his terrible CS homework and the Shiba Inu he just saw being walked across campus. It’s all gone back to the way it used to be. That’s what you had wanted. 

You were prepared for this. You knew that it would eventually boil down to this, down to whether or not you could take Jungkook not knowing how you feel any longer. But right now, you don’t care. Jungkook not knowing has always been a part of your friendship. The love you hold for him, in the spaces between your bones and deep in the cracks of your heart, that has always been there. You see it, hear it, feel it, whenever you’re with him. Even when you’re not with him, it will remind you, appear in the silence, the emptiness. It will always make itself known, because it’s become a part of you. From the moment you met him, it had settled into your heart.

Staring out of the window by your living room, overlooking the ugliest parking garage on campus, you sigh. You can’t see the stars from here, not even in the dead of night, but that’s alright. There is something so peaceful about the navy blue sky. About how mysterious and unknown it is. It calms you. You put on a movie that you’ve genuinely been wanting to watch for a while, sit down in your bed, amongst your duvet and sheets, pillows and plushies, and enjoy yourself, for once. It’s a good night. 

And then, much like most aspects of your terribly convoluted, over-complicated and confusing life, it all comes crashing down. 

There’s a faint thud from outside, a soft little non-noise that you assume is coming from the street. Not wanting to interrupt your movie—she’s just about to confess, holy shit—you ignore it. It’ll go away eventually. 

Then another thud. You pause, leaning towards your window to see if you can figure out the source. Silence. You’re just about to press play, when you hear it again. And again. It gets louder and louder, making up in volume what it lacks in rhythm and order, until you realize it’s someone knocking on your door. And not just knocking casually. It’s as if someone is shoving their whole body into it, shoulders and chest and feet hitting the wood as they bang on it. 

“Y/N?”

Oh, God.

Pushing off your duvet, you tug on your slippers and wipe away the crust around your eyes as you rush towards the door. You know who’s on the other side. You’re not sure if answering it is the better or worse option. 

You’ve always had an uncanny ability to pick the latter. 

When you open the door, Jungkook, in a fancy sweater pulled over a white button down and black jeans that could almost pass for dressy slacks, is standing on the other side. 

Correction: he’s sort of standing on the other side. He nearly topples over when you pull open the door, having clearly been leaning on it, and you barely have time to reach your arms out to catch him. 

“Oh! Y/N!” Jungkook exclaims, as if he’s surprised to see you inside your own apartment. “I was hoping to see you.”

“I figured,” you tell him, laughing. You guide him inside, and even in his state he remembers to tug off his clean white sneakers, kicking them towards the shoe rack. “It’s so late, Jungkook, you should go home.” 

“No,” Jungkook whines. “I wanted to see you. I missed you.”

“We saw each other this morning, Jungkook. And this afternoon, right before you went out,” you remind him. The words go in one ear and out the other, and he pulls you in close to him, wrapping his arms around you as he presses his body against yours in a sweaty hug. His grip is tight around you as he rests his head on your shoulder, breathing you in as if you’d been gone for years. Slowly, after a few seconds, you pull away from him, a hand on his shoulder to get him to look at you through his too-long bangs, hanging over his eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong? I’m right here, don’t worry. I never left.”

“I had a lot to drink tonight,” Jungkook tells you, blinking rapidly. “Like, a lot. They just kept ordering soju and I just kept drinking it. It was really good. Have you had strawberry soju? It’s delicious.”

“I might have had it once or twice,” you fib, not able to recall having it one way or another. “Come on, sit down,” you point him towards the couch, but he refuses, clinging onto you even as you make your way towards the kitchen. “Jungkook, please, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“But I missed you,” Jungkook repeats. “I missed you a lot. I thought about you the entire time I was there.”

You can’t say you didn’t do the same. 

“Next time we’ll do something together then, hey? Something really fun, like going to an arcade or bowling,” you promise him with a pat on his shoulder. “But you need to drink some water, JK. Can you please sit down?”

“No, I want to be with you,” Jungkook says like it’s nothing. Like the feeling of him wrapped around you like this, holding onto you and telling you that he misses you, that he thinks about you, doesn’t mean anything. You don’t think your heart has beaten since you opened the door to see him standing on the other side. 

(You don’t think it’s beaten since you met him. Since he came up to you on the pavement, asking you for directions. Since you told him your name, and he told you his.)

“Ah, fine, just be careful, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” you concede, because it’s so easy to let him have his way, so easy to say yes to him. You manage to grab an empty water bottle and fill it up with what’s left in your Brita, too lazy to refill it after it’s left bone dry. Slowly, you make your way to your bedroom, out of view of the central living space, where your roommates could burst through the door at any moment and see you taking care of your drunk best friend on the sofa. 

Slowly, you settle on your bed, sitting off of the edge of it as you cajole him into drinking some water, whispering soft nothings to make sure he finishes the whole thing. 

“Does your head hurt or anything?” You ask him, already looking around for the stash of Advil you usually keep on your nightstand.

“No, no, I’m fine, Y/N, seriously,” he promises, even if you can see the glazed-over look in his eyes, the way his sweaty bangs stick to his forehead. “You’re too nice, you know? Always treating me when I show up at your place. Even when you don’t invite me.”

“You know I never mind seeing you,” you tell him. “You can come over whenever you want. I’m always here.”

“No, you’re not,” Jungkook says with a pout, and it makes you furrow your brows. When have you not been? Jungkook’s been going out to events ever since the beginning of the semester, and without fail, you’ve always been waiting for him at home, knowing he’ll turn up one way or another. Except, there was— “That one time a couple of weeks ago, I went to this crazy big gala with Eunha, there were so many people there, and I came back home afterwards and knocked on your door, and your roommates said they hadn’t seen you all day. Where were you that day?”

He had come? You didn’t know if he would. 

(Or maybe, you did. You knew he would show up at your door once he got back from that night, and selfishly, not wanting to see him after the fact, the leftover version of him, the part he leaves behind when he goes out. You knew he would be there and you couldn’t bear the thought of being the second girl he spends the night with. The other option. Maybe, you’ve known all along that you’ll never quite stack up to the girls he goes out with, and that sometimes, when you see him all dressed up while you’re in your hoodie and sweats, it reminds you is nothing more than a casual friendship.)

“I must have been out late with Chaewon that day, I’m sorry,” you apologize, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. “I didn’t know you would come.”

“I always come after my events. You know that.”

“I didn’t know if you’d remember to,” you correct. 

“I’d never forget about you,” Jungkook says, the alcohol erasing his filter. Making him honest. “I really missed you, that day. I had been waiting the entire night to see you.”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” you promise, and this one is for real. 

“You know, today?” Jungkook says, pulling his head back so he can get a good look at you, your eyes meeting his own. “Today, I was so sad on my way here. It was so terrible, because I was drunk and sad and I missed you.”

“You were sad? What happened?” You ask, leaning in. Jungkook? Sad? Who would do such a thing to him? Who would erase the smile on his face, his crescent eyes, and replace them with tears? 

“This girl and I, she was a lot of fun. We sang a couple duets together and we were pretty good,” he hiccups, “kept winning. It was fun. She and I talked for a long time. I definitely liked her the most out of all of the girls I’ve gone out with. Besides Chaewon, of course.”

“What happened? Did she do something you didn’t want? You know you can tell me, Jungkook,” you ask, a hand on his arm. 

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I don’t know. She was fun and I was drunk. We were on our way back in the Lyft when she leaned over and kissed me. And I kissed her back, and it was kind of nice. I haven’t really kissed someone like that in a while,” Jungkook tells you. And even though you’re hearing these words from him, hearing how he had all of this fun with a girl who isn’t you, how he kissed her in the backseat of a car, you rally, blinking away the tears you can feel forming in your eyes. It’s none of your business, you tell yourself. You and Jungkook aren’t together. You don’t get to feel bad about him kissing someone else. 

“Did you like it?” You ask, each word a pin in your chest. 

“It was pretty nice,” Jungkook admits. “We, uh, we made out a bit in the back of the car until we got to her place. And then we got out of the car and she asked me if I wanted to go back with her, to her room. And—and I almost said yes.” Jungkook looks about ready to combust. At his side, his fists are clenched so hard you’re worried he’ll pop a vein. 

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” you tell him, looking him in the eyes so he knows that you don’t mind, that he can tell you these things without worry. Jungkook may be the love of your life, but he’s your best friend, first. He’s always been, before anything else, your best friend. 

“But there is!” Jungkook cries, standing up in anguish. “There is, Y/N, you don’t understand! I almost had sex with her!”

“You’re allowed to, Jungkook!” You assure him, standing up to reach out to him. 

“No, Y/N, you don’t get it,” he tells you coldly, pulling his hand away. “Why aren’t you mad? Aren’t you angry that I nearly had sex with her?”

“No, what the fuck, Jungkook, why would I be mad?” You shout back at him. “You can do whatever you want with your body, it’s not my job to police it! I’m your friend, not your mom!”

“But don’t you want to be more, Y/N?” He rounds on you. “Don’t you want to be the one kissing me, fucking me? Why aren’t you jealous?”

“Were you trying to make me jealous, Jungkook? Is that what you were trying to do? You wanted to get a reaction out of me because my best friend nearly fucked someone else and then didn’t? What the fuck, Jungkook? What do you want from me?”

“I just want you to tell me you fucking love me back!”

“Jungkook, what—”

Jungkook, eyes dark and furious, pushes you against your closet door as your lips part, feeling the breath get knocked out of your lungs. He’s so close. He’s right there, you can see him, watch as he looms over you, hands clenched in your hoodie as he presses you against the wall. And then, wordlessly, he’s leaning down, crashing your mouths together. 

Suddenly, your heart starts. You gasp into the kiss, the feeling of his mouth on top of yours. It’s fervent, hot and angry and passionate, his body against your own as your hands reach out to press against his head. You seize up at the feeling, almost as if in shock, before melting into his touch, leaning into him, desperate. You can feel his breath mixing in with your own, feel the way his chapped lips meet your overly-moisturized ones, feel how his hands drift from where they’re bunched up in the front of your hoodie to your waist, your hips, your thighs. Jungkook kisses ruthlessly, kisses like he’s trying to prove a point. Holds onto you like he’s afraid to let go. 

When you part, gasping for air, Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, blinking. 

“Jungkook, you’re drunk—” you tell him firmly, refusing to let get your hopes up if what you have in front of you is really just an intoxicated best friend. Your heart is beating miles a minute, about ready to thump right out of you, chest heaving and mouth agape. 

“That doesn’t matter,” Jungkook argues back. “Even when I’m sober I love you. Don’t tell me I’m confused because I’m drunk.”

“You show up at my place at one in the morning, tell me about how you made out with some other girl and almost slept with her just to get me angry, kiss me, and tell me not to tell you you’re confused?” You demand. “Jungkook, I’ve never been more confused in my life than right now, can you please just—”

“I love you, Y/N,” Jungkook says, and even though he’s angry, red in the face and sweaty, when he says it, it’s soft. It’s a whisper, a murmur. He says it not to convince you, but so you know. “I’ve been in love with you for so goddamn long, ever since I fucking met you. And I thought you might like me back but you never did anything about it, and so neither did I.”

“You need to go home, Jungkook,” you tell him, hiccuping. When you blink, you feel the warm tears streaming down your face. You hadn’t even noticed them. “You can’t just come into my apartment and tell me shit like that. How do you think it makes me feel?”

“Do you feel the same, Y/N?” Jungkook asks, looking you in the eyes. He’s angry, that’s for sure, but even underneath, you can see the desperation, see how he’s just waiting for an answer. 

“Go home, Jungkook. Please. Let’s talk about this when you aren’t drunk, okay? I’m confused and I need to clear my head,” you plead, pushing him towards the door. “Please, okay? Be safe, too. I’ll call Chaewon to give you a ride,” you tell him, grabbing your phone. 

Jungkook puts a hand on your wrist. “I’ll be okay, Y/N. I just… Please, tell me. Did that kiss mean anything to you?”

“Yes, it did, but Jungkook, I can’t—”

“It meant something to me, too,” he tells you firmly, lets the words sink into the air around you.  He heads for the door, pulling on his shoes. He looks so sad. “Good night, Y/N.”

You place a hand on the doorknob. “Good night, Jungkook.”

It’s barely nine in the morning the next day when a knock wakes you up. It’s soft at first, one every couple of seconds, before it gets progressively louder. Slowly, you get out of bed, trying to tame your hair as you rub the sleep from your eyes. 

“Y/N’s in her room. Is that for her? That’s so cute. Yeah, she’s probably awake. You can just knock.” It’s your roommate. 

You scramble to make your bed, pouring some water from the water bottle by your nightstand into your hand and splashing your face, wiping it away with an old t-shirt as you run towards the door, pulling it open just in time. 

On the other side is a much more tired, much less drunk Jungkook, one hand raised and about to knock, the other holding a bouquet of daisies. 

“Hey,” he says shyly, mouth breaking into a smile the moment he sees you. 

“Hey,” you say back. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, head hurts like hell, though,” Jungkook says. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah, s-sure, of course,” you say, stepping aside to let him into your bedroom. 

“These are for you.” Jungkook holds out the bouquet towards you, wrapped up neatly in cellophane and tied at the stems with a bow. “So you don’t have to keep Febreze-ing your room all of the time.”

“They’re beautiful, Jungkook,” you tell him, grinning as you take them from his hands. Today feels different from yesterday. It feels lighter, fresher. New. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I—” He pauses, taking a second to think, “I meant what I said, yesterday. Maybe not all of it, but. Most of it, yeah. I meant it.”

“Why did you try to make me jealous, Jungkook?” You ask him. “Why did you think that would work?”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook admits. “I shouldn’t have, and I fucked up. I just got so… so tired of waiting to see if you’d ever come around. I just wanted you to tell me. And then I guess I got so fed up that I told you instead.”

You place the bouquet on your dresser before walking towards him, reaching a hand out. “Yeah, that was a pretty big asshole move of you,” you chide, grinning to yourself. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighs. 

“But I’m happy you’re here,” you tell him. “And happy that you meant what you said. Maybe it could have been said in a less angry way, but hearing it made me happy.”

“I’m happy that you’re happy.” Jungkook grins. “You’re my favorite person, Y/N.”

“When you asked me, yesterday, if that kiss meant anything to me? And I said it did?” You begin, Jungkook nodding in front of you. He’s positively beaming. “It still does. I want to do that every day, Jungkook. Every hour. Every single second for the rest of my goddamn life.”

“You do?” Jungkook asks. 

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook. From day one, it’s always been you.” You smile, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. Feels like you’re fucking flying. Like you’re weightless. 

“I love you, too, Y/N. I never want to be away from your side,” he declares, and like a cheesy, rom-com movie, like the shitty novels you used to read in eighth grade, he pulls you in close and presses a kiss against your lips. Wraps his arms around your waist as he holds you tight, kisses you in the middle of your bedroom, in your hoodie and sweatpants, a bouquet of daisies on your dresser. He kisses you because he can, because for every second of every day for the rest of your goddamn life, he can kiss you, over and over and over. 

“We owe Chaewon an apology,” you tell him when you’re parted, sitting on your bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms. 

“Hell yeah we do,” Jungkook agrees. “She’s been on my ass for ages about telling you.”

“Mine too.”

“She’s such a great best friend,” Jungkook comments. “Knew all this time that her two friends were madly in love with each other and didn’t say a damn word to either of us. That’s loyalty.”

“We should do something for her, to make up for it all,” you suggest. 

“You know,” Jungkook says, grinning, “I know this guy who made bank this semester by going on fake dates with a bunch of really rich girls. Maybe he could help.”

“I know him, too,” you joke. “He’s the love of my fucking life.”

Jeon Jungkook quits his job on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year.

You know this because on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 7:18PM, eighteen minutes after he normally heads out on one of his many dates. 

“Y/N!” He shouts, banging wildly on your door. You rush over to open it, letting the pasta water on the stove boil over and sizzle on the heat. He’s barely gotten in a second knock when you turn the doorknob to reveal your smiling boyfriend in his oversized hoodie.

“Don’t tell me you’re blowing someone off for me,” you say, inviting him inside. He places a kiss on your cheek on the way in, taking off his shoes and coat as you rush over to take care of the pasta.

“Me? Blowing someone off? Never,” Jungkook says, mock offended. “I actually quit the dating thing, this afternoon. A girl asked if I was free and I said that I wasn’t, because I have to go home to my girlfriend making me a meal. Don’t you love the sound of that?” He asks, pleased with himself.

“You quit? I thought you liked doing that stuff,” you say, using the spaghetti fork to move around the linguine. “Hope you’re cool with boring old pasta for your meal tonight. You could have had caviar if you hadn’t quit.”

“I don’t care, it smells so good,” Jungkook tells you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he stands behind you, watching you cook from over your shoulder. “Look at you, being all domestic and shit. It’s very cute.”

“Stop rubbing in the fact that you’re the better cook, I get it. Pasta is all I got right now.” You pout, turning down the heat as you move to pour yourselves two cups of tea. Jungkook follows you the entire way to the kettle, grip on your waist never faltering. “You can keep going on those dates, you know. I don’t mind. I get to see you in a suit when you get back, and then I get to take it off of you. It’s a win-win.”

Jungkook pinches your waist in response. “If you have a thing for suits, you can just tell me, you know. I won’t be mad.”

You turn around to whack him with the spaghetti fork. “I do not!”

“Alright, Y/N, guess I won’t wear a suit next time you call me at two in the morning—”

“I never said you couldn’t,” you interrupt, making Jungkook laugh. 

“You’re so cute, Y/N,” Jungkook coos as you begin to dish up the pasta, making sure to add peas because Jungkook loves peas with his spaghetti. “But I quit because I have enough money to sustain me for the rest of the semester. I’ll work over break and get a new job next semester when the new work-study positions open. Don’t worry about me,” he assures you. 

“But didn’t you like going out and everything? Getting dressed up and drinking fancy champagne?” You ask, setting the plates down at your dinky kitchen table, a single scented candle lit in the center. 

Jungkook thinks about it for a split second, and then he shakes his head. “Nah. I like hanging out with my girlfriend more.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” you reason with a grin. 

Jungkook laughs, leaning over the table to plop a kiss on your lips. “I love you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you pea-eating loser,” you chide, “I love you too.”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

↳ check out the post-script drabble here!

[fangirlovestuff]

littera scripta manet - steve rogers x reader

a/n - hey lovely people!! first of all, this is based on a moodboard by the amazing @cloudystevie​, which inspired this whole fic, thank you!! the picture above is how i imagined steve in this one, but you can imagine him however you want:) also, there’s a list of meanings of the flowers i mention at the end because i’m a sucker for the language of flowers (the flowers are in bold in the fic). i love the dark academia aesthetic and i hope i did it justice:) enjoy!!<3

title means ‘the written letter remains’

summary: unlike you, steve doesn’t have a problem admitting to himself he has feelings for his best friend. that’s what makes it so painful when it seems like you don’t.

word count: 7k (oops?)

warnings / tags: friends to lovers, Pining™ , angst with a happy ending, as slow burn as a one shot can be, an obnoxious amount of clichés but i’m not sorry, no plot just vibes (i mean there’s like,,, some plot i guess), the songs/quotes i used in this aren’t mine!!!

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You watched as the morning mist slowly faded, the sun showing it away. You watched as the curtains fluttered against the touch of a delicate wind. You watched as the sparks of dawn came to life under the sky's watchful eye. You watched the tree beneath your window in the glory of its blossom.

You turned your body in the other direction, the one facing not the east window but the bed. And there, beside you, you watched as he stirred hazily, his body still clad in yesterday's clothes, huffing out a quiet breath before his eyelashes fluttered open to reveal the pair of familiar blue eyes.

You watched, and his eyes told you the most amazing story – his look was disoriented, then bewildered, and then, well, the most gorgeous smile stretched onto his features, and it told the rest – love, and hope, and home.

That story is the one I will tell you today.

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The first day of school was always a straining one. All the way from elementary school to high school, it was a constant in your life.

There was, however, one more constant. Your best friend.

Steve Rogers was truly the most wonderful of boys.

You two met when you were very young, your mothers getting along well, so you had no choice but to do so as well. And you did get along, splendidly. You became fast friends, not stopping even when his other friends were telling him about 'girl germs' or when your other friends were constantly asking if you wanted him to be your boyfriend, or if he was. What you and Steve had transcended it, in a way.

You grew together, and you watched as Steve Rogers became the most wonderful of men. He was your best friend, and you loved him with your whole heart. Platonically, of course.

You smiled at him fondly as the both of you stepped into your new college, in through the big iron gates. As far as you looked there was grass, trees, flowers. The big cobblestone building stood tall in the distance, and if you listened carefully, you could hear the chatter of students above the sound of the wind that was gently ruffling your uniform skirt.  

"Excited?" Steve asked, smiling back at you.

"Nervous," you let out a quiet laugh.

"You shouldn't be," he answered, "look at this place!" he gestured around, "you fit right in here with all the-" he cut himself off, closing his mouth before continuing, "you fit right in!"

"Yeah, maybe. This place is just… dreamy," you smiled. "But that doesn't stop me from being nervous."

"Well, you have no reason to be," he took your hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly.

You hoped he was right. You never liked being far away from home, but this school was truly the school of your dreams, and well, with Steve by your side… you could never be that far away from home.

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Adjusting was… an experience, certainly. This school was like nothing you've known before, the uniform seemed a bit excessive, the school halls were so incredibly long, and the grounds so vast you could barely see the outside. And yet, it felt like something about this place was magical. Like it accepted you right in, it wanted you to be there. The library was huge, and you've already spent countless hours digging away for course related materials and, well, less course related materials. The vast grounds meant you could walk out every day in a different direction, if you wanted to, and find a new hidden treasure.

You shared your thoughts with Steve when you discovered one of these treasures together. It was fairly early evening, you two had just gotten out of class and were walking off the long day you've had, and you suddenly came across some high rose bushes. Steve tried to see what was on the other side of them, but it was too tall even for him, so you circled around and found a small, rusty gate. You went through it to discover a small fountain, with a marble statue of a mermaid in the center.

You gasped in delight, unable to contain yourself from running to kneel on the grass next to it, looking into the water curiously. Dipping your hand in tentatively, you shivered at the touch of the chilly water, and immediately took out your hand, massaging it in your other one to warm it up.

Steve laughed as he finally caught up with you, not running but walking calmly. He dipped his hand in the water as well, before raising his brow mischievously. Before you could ask him what's going on, he took his hand out of the water and sprayed the cold droplets of water right on your face.

"Steven Grant Rogers!" you said, shocked, "You did not just do that," you glared at him.

"You know what, you're right," he began shuffling away, "I didn't," he stood up with a cheeky smile as you continued to glare at him, "It was a happy accident."

"Oh I'll show you happy accident!" you couldn't contain your laughter anymore as you dipped your hand in the water again, getting up to chase him around the little garden. He managed to evade you for a bit, and then you finally caught up to him, placing your cold hand right on the back of his neck. He turned around, making him lose his balance and fall down onto the grass, which in turn made you topple over him, stopping your fall with your hands just when you were about to fall onto his chest.

"Alright, I surrender!" he lifted his hands up.

"Good," you smirked.

There was a moment where you just stared into each other's eyes, each sparkling with a smile. It was broken when Steve asked, "Well, can I, uh, get up now?"

You noticed you ended up straddling his hips, which you then fumbled to undo, standing back up hastily. You dusted your skirt a little awkwardly, avoiding Steve's eyes as he got up too. You didn't even know why you were feeling so awkward. You've had plenty of play fights with Steve, there was no reason for this one to be different.

But Steve just extended his arm to you, like he did on the first day you were here. You took it, and just like that, you were fine again.

"Do you know, Stevie, I think there's something magical about this school," you told him as you were walking.

"Really? Why do you think that?"

"Well, the library's huge a-"

Steve burst into laughter, and once it died down a little, he said, "I'm sorry, it's just so… like you to say a big room full of books is magical. It's true, don't get me wrong," he said before you could get annoyed, "but I feel like no one but you would have vocalized that truth."

"Well then, lucky I'm here," you smiled.

"Yeah," he said softly, "very lucky."

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About a month later it turned out the school holds a ball twice a year, at the start of winter and at the end of spring, right before the school year ends. At first you were a little shocked, but you quickly warmed up to the idea, given that it was very much on brand with everything else in the school.

You did obviously make more friends than just Steve, so you and your friends went to get dresses together. Roaming between the big expansive stores was fun, but after a while you all realized it wasn't very affordable, and not really your style. You wandered into a small, secluded second hand shop, where you found the perfect dress – fancy but not overly glamorous, a color that suited you beautifully, and not too bad of a price. It made you feel like a princess, the long skirts shuffling gently behind you as you stepped out of the fitting room to show it to your friends, who were just in love with it as you were and told you to buy it right away.

That night you went home with a dress in your hand and a smile in your heart.

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As the school year progressed, you started picking up and drying different flowers you found on the grounds, keeping them between pages of your notebooks. A bit of a messy hobby at times, but it made you happy.

You were just writing a letter to your family, trying to figure out if and which flower you should attach to it, when you heard a knock on your dorm door.

"Just a second!" you called out before shutting the ink box, putting down the dip pen before getting up and opening your door. There, you found a flustered Steve, smiling at you with a few honeysuckle flowers in his hand.

"I, uh, brought these for you," he said timidly, "I know you collect flowers and I don't think you have some of these yet."

"I don't!" you smiled and took them from Steve's hand, "thank you!"

You ushered him in before putting the honeysuckles on your desk. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," he shrugged. He saw the letter and pen on your desk. "Oh, am I interrupting you? I'm sorry, I could come back later if y-"

"It's alright Stevie," you chuckled, "I was just writing home. Anything you'd want me to tell my family for you?"

"Ummm… hi?" he smiled bashfully and you both laughed.

"Well, that's just too long! I don't have any more place on the page for such eloquent greetings!" you teased.

"Alright, then no, I don't have anything to say to them. I wrote my family a few days ago already, so if you wanted to say anything to them, you'll just have to wait till next time."

"Anyways," you smiled, "did you need anything?"

"Not really," he shook his head, "I just, well, I don't really have a person to go with to, you know, the ball thing, so i-"

"So you want me to set you up?" you giggled. "Is it Ella? Or is it Kathrine?"

"No, let me finish," he half heartedly grumbled. "I was thinking, I wanted to ask you to come with me," he smiled timidly, averting his gaze. After you didn't say anything, he continued, "I mean, I didn't think you had anyone to go with either, and since we've been friends since forever, I thought-"

"No, yeah, that's a great idea!" you spoke up quickly, "Sorry, I just spaced for a moment, I think that'd be great, since no one really asked me and stuff," you shrugged and smiled.

"Great!" he smiled.

"Great," you nodded. You both chuckled, not really knowing what to say.

"I should leave you to get back to your letter," Steve said after a moment. "I'll, um, see you around."

You told him goodbye before shutting the door behind him and sitting back down at your desk. But you found you didn't have it in you to pick up your pen. No, your train of thought was lost, and was now racing a hundred miles per hour, because –

Because why would he ask you. Because he could've asked any other girl and they would've probably said yes, yet the thought of him going with another girl made your stomach drop in a peculiar way. The obvious answer was that it was just about his comfort zone, which you knew Steve was prone to staying in.

Yeah, that's it. It's just comfortable. Familiar.

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The night before the ball, you found yourself tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. At around 2 am, you officially gave up and traded in your pajamas for some more presentable clothes in case someone is also awake, and made your way to the library.

Over the few months you've been here, the library has become somewhat of an escape for you. Sure, it was where you did a large amount of your schoolwork, but it was also the place that allowed you to 'travel' to several magnificent worlds.

You made your way as quietly as you could, picking up one of your favorite classics. It was an old, worn in version of Dumas' "The Count of Monte Cristo", a book which you vaguely remembered reading in your childhood and, when you stumbled upon it here, fell in love with all over again.

The place was dark, and you wanted to keep it like that, giving you less of a chance to be disturbed by others. You sat down and lit a candle, getting immersed in your book. So immersed, you didn't notice the sound of footsteps coming up behind you.

"I figured I'd find you here," Steve smiled, sitting down on the wooden chair next to yours.

"How come?" you smiled back and closed the book, not before putting a bookmark in it.

"I went up to your room to see if you were still awake because I wanted to show you something. When you didn't answer my knock, I guessed you were either in extremely deep sleep or you were here. And would you look at that, I was right," he smirked.

You chuckled. "What did you want to show me?"

"Come on," he stood up and extended his hand to you, "I can show you right now."

You smiled and followed him as he led you outside, into the chilly night. You shivered slightly as the cold air hit your face. "Steve," you complained, "I wasn't really planning on going outside. I don't have my jacket."

"Oh, right," he said, stopping in his tracks, "sorry. But you could just take mine," he said, while already shrugging it off.

"No, Steve, then you'll get-"

"Come on!" he smiled, wrapping the jacket around your shoulders, "let's go!"

You giggled at his excitement, adjusting his jacket a little before following him further away. He took you somewhere you had shockingly never been before, a small, secluded field of hydrangeas, peaceful in the moonlight. You looked around in awe.

"I knew you'd like it," he smiled. "And look," he gestured upwards, "it's far enough from the building so we can really see the stars."

You looked up and your breath caught in your throat at the sight. He was right. The stars never seemed so many or so bright to you than in the moment.

"See right there? That's Ursa Major, and that-"

You looked to him, and his words faded away in your mind, becoming a low stream of sounds. Everything seemed to become softer, distant, while he flooded your mind.

In that instant, it looked like Steve had the moon in him. Soft, and bright, and beautiful. His pale skin glistened under the moonlight, but when his eyes turned to meet yours, you thought you may have been wrong.

Because in them, you found the stars.

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And there it was, the big night, the night of the ball. You were nearly ready to put on your dress when you heard a knock at your door. You opened it to find Steve there, smiling.

"I just came to check in on you," he said, handing you a few hibiscus flowers. You smiled, taking them from him, your fingers brushing against his.

"Well, I'm doing quite well," you said, and wordlessly invited him in. He followed you inside and shut the door behind him.

"You look great," he said.

"I'm not even wearing my dress yet," you giggled. Squinting, you tried to figure out what about him seemed off to you. Then, when you realized it, you stepped up to him and brought up your hand to fix his shirt collar, which was partly stuffed under his tie. You then rested your hand next to his collarbone, above his heart.

"You look great too," you said softly, smiling a small smile up at him.

"Thanks," he breathed.

"Alright, I better get ready," you chuckled, stepping away from him. "I'll see you there."

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Steve didn't think of himself as a very sophisticated guy. Sure, he was smart enough, but he was no match to you, for example. He wasn't that big on words or analogies.

And yet, when he saw you step down the stairs into the ballroom, his first thought was that you looked like the sun, ethereal and radiant in your beauty, almost blindingly so; your hair was styled in a simple manner, your face stretched in a soft smile as your wonderous eyes roamed around the room. Your dress created an angelic sort of look, and as you gently walked down each step, your hand delicately gliding on the banister, he nearly couldn't believe you were real, that you were making your way to him.

The moment your eyes met his, your smile became bigger, your steps quickened, much like his heartbeat. When you arrived, he extended his arm to you, like he has a habit of doing, and greeted you a soft hello over the sounds of the dainty music.

The night went great, it really did. You two danced together, ate some of the fancy food, laughed. It was… magical. There was one point, when you were swaying together to a slow song, when he thought –

Well, it didn't matter what he thought, didn't it? Because at the end of the night, you didn't wait on him. No, you sneaked out with some guy in the year above you.

Steve wanted to be angry. He couldn't, not at you anyways.

Ever since a year ago, when you found out you were going to the same college, he knew. The relief that washed over him when he heard the news, the gratitude of being able to be by your side – he didn’t understand how he didn't see it sooner.

He assumed, sooner or later, you'd see in him what he sees in you. The sun. Happiness; bright, celestial, divine.

But maybe you can't see what's simply not there.

Steve went to his dorm. He went to sleep, but his nightmares awakened him again and again. Nightmares of losing you. So, without any other choice, at around 5 am he decided to give up and get up, maybe take a shower.

At the moment, it felt like real life wasn't any better than his nightmares. He hoped at some point, that would change.

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"Damien!" you laughed breathlessly as he pulled you through the endless corridors.  

"What?" he chuckled, stopping and turning back towards you, pulling you a little closer to him by your joint hands. You panted a little in an attempt to catch your breath before you spoke.

"Where are we going?"

"Oh, wherever you want to! Just away from that stuffy ballroom," he grinned.

"It wasn't stuffy, I thought it was very pretty!" you defended it with a smile.

"Not as pretty as you," he softly said, bringing his hand to cup your cheek. He's been complimenting you like that since you two met an hour ago at the ball, and well, you were a simple girl; you really wanted him to kiss you right now.

He took a step closer and his hand traveled to your chin, holding it and gently tilting your face up. Just as his lips touched yours, your eyes fluttered shut, allowing yourself to succumb to his embrace, your lips moving against his. You broke apart for air, and you opened your eyes when you remembered.

"Damien," you said, "I just remembered, I was with my friend at the ball and I didn't tell him I was going… can we go back for a second?"

He examined your face for a second before smiling and saying, "Sure. Just for a bit though," he winked.

You made your way back in silence, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the carpets below you. Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you found him looking ahead with a smile. Bashfully, you smiled too, slightly biting your lower lip. Soon enough, you arrived.

Staying close to the ballroom doors, Damien asked you, "Can you see him?"

"I don't think so," you said with a frown, scanning the dancing crowd with your eyes. Steve was tall, usually you were able to easily pick out his frame from any crowd, but you couldn't see him anywhere nearby.

"Well," you said after a couple more moments passed, "he probably realized it and went already," you shrugged.

"In that case," Damien gestured at the exit, "After you, madam."

You giggled and bowed a small bow before exiting, Damien on your heels. You spent the night walking the grounds, talking to each other over the sound of the wind. When it was getting late, he escorted you to your room and gave you a good night's kiss, a perfect gentleman, just like you read about in books.

That night you slept peacefully, no dreams, good or bad, plaguing your consciousness. The next morning you woke up refreshed, ready to take on the day.

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You and Steve were still friends, but something changed. You didn't really see it, too occupied with school and Damien to notice, but there was a shift, a distance that wasn't there before. You still talked, you still hung out from time to time, it just… wasn't the same.

One day, when you were in the library together, one cold February night, Steve asked you a peculiar question.

"What do you think is the best way to tell someone you love them?"

"Why, any Valentine's day plans?" you joked.

"Nothing in particular," he shrugged.

"Well, I think the best way to tell someone you love them is with words. Just… say it, or write it, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess that's nice," he smiled, returning to his book.

"So, who's the lucky lady, huh?" you nudged him with your elbow, "is it Kathrine? Because I'm telling you, I really think if you'd ask h-"

"It's not Kathrine, because it's no one," he cut you off with a chuckle. "It was just a general question."

You never bugged him about it again, quite honestly you forgot about the whole ordeal.

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The months of the winter passed, and lo and behold, the spring settled over you. The winds were less harsh, the flowers were blooming again, the sun was shining brightly. With only a few scattered days of still wintery weather, you mostly studied outside on the grass, maybe under a tree. You were making the best of it, inviting your friends of Damien to study with you too. You felt like bursting into song.

One day, when you and Damien were sitting on the grass, studying together, he picked a rhododendron, sticking it behind your ear. The large flower didn't hold on for long, and fell down after a couple of seconds. You laughed, and he chuckled. Picking it up, you tried to put it on once more, but it just wouldn't stay. Then, you took it again and this time, stuck it behind his ear. Somehow, it managed to stay on.

You laughed, "You look very pretty."

"I do?" he asked, fluttering his lashes playfully, "why thank you darling."

After a while, he took it off and pressed in between the pages of his notebook. "Like you always do," he smiled, showing off the closed notebook before putting it back into his bag.

"Be careful," you giggled, "if it falls out the entire bag will be full of petals, and even when you’d think you got them all out, you'd find a couple more a few days later."

"Are you speaking from experience?" he asked cheekily.

"Why of course not! I was born a professional," you stuck your nose up indignantly, making him laugh.

"Of course you were, how could I forget," he offered you his hand and helped you up.

As you walked together back to the school building, you had a feeling you forgot something, or like something was missing. You looked back at the place you were sitting in seconds ago, but there was nothing there.

"Everything alright?" Damien asked.

"Yeah, everything's great," you answered, squeezing his hand that was clutched in yours.

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When the second ball was approaching, Damien had started to send you love letters. Every time you had gotten one, you felt your heart pick up its pace, a smile stretching on your face. Some of them were poems, some quotes, some just sentences, you didn't know which he wrote and which he read and thought of you. You took to the habit of saving them all in a small box in your room, going through them every couple of days.

I see you everywhere, in the stars, in the river, to me you're everything that exists, the reality of everything ~Virginia Woolf  

Every one of them was simply signed with three x's, signifying kisses. You smiled as you put the most recent one into your pocket, intent on putting it with the rest later.

Some days, you'd get small notes, and some days would be a rather large page. You loved both.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

~Elizabeth Barrett Browning 

You resonated with the words, you've always loved poems. Weirdly, you've never talked to Damien about your love of them, but you guessed he just… knew. That's what made him so special.  

If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk in my garden forever. ~Alfred Lord Tennyson

That one made you stop in your tracks for a moment. It made you think of Steve. He didn't really bring you flowers anymore. Well, maybe he just didn't find any new ones.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom.      If this be error and upon me proved,      I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

~Shakespeare

You smiled brightly as you read the note. You were getting new ones every other day. Amongst the chaos of exams, it was nice, knowing that's the way he had to keep in touch with you. You were just done reading it when your friend came up behind your back, reading over your shoulder.

"Oh, did Damien bring you this?" she smiled. "You guys are so cute together."

Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you The love of all man’s days both past and forever: Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life. The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours – And the songs of every poet past and forever.

~ Rabindranath Tagore

That last one you found in the library copy of "The Count of Monte Cristo". You gravitated towards it every time you were anxious, or couldn't sleep, or both. It was a comfort. Finding the note there nearly made you cry; the long day you've had mixed with the love you felt bringing tears to your eyes. You blinked them away with a smile, stuffing the note in your pocket before starting to read the book.

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Steve saw you open the book and get the note. He smiled to himself.

He didn't know if this would work, or if you'd think your boyfriend wrote them. He just wanted to make you smile.

He also wanted to make you know, make you understand what he was feeling. But you weren't exactly emotionally available right now, so Steve did the best he could; he waited.

In the meantime, he went to search for another poetry book. He was surprised you hadn't recognized his handwriting yet. He did write it a bit more neatly than he usually did, with more careful attention.

Maybe she recognized it but didn't want to say anything. Maybe that was a pitying smile, whispered a voice in his head. He shook it off.

He knew you weren't his, but he couldn't give up hope. He could wait some more.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

The spring / end of the year ball was approaching in giant steps. You were done with your exams, and already had a dress, which you adamantly refused to show Damien despite his repeated pleas. Now, you were spending an afternoon outside, enjoying the fresh air picnicking with some of your friends, who were playing a card game you couldn't care to learn the rules of. You were taking photos instead, borrowing one of your friends' camera and taking some pictures of them playing, of the scenery.

"Has Damien asked you to the ball yet?" one of them asked.

"Oh, not yet," you shrugged, "I'm sure he will though. I mean, you've seen the notes he sent me," you giggled, "I don't see another option."

Just then, you saw a figure coming towards you from afar. In the other direction, you saw Damien approaching, and before you had a chance to wonder about the other person, he was there, planting a kiss on your cheek. You put the camera down on the blanket and smiled at him.

"Speaking of the devil," your friend chuckled.

"Only good things, I hope," he sat down next to you.

"Of course," you laughed and leaned away from him to snap his picture, "what else could we have said?"

"Well, that's great, because I was wondering," he took a breath, "do you want to see me do a card trick?"

"Yes, sure," you said, slightly confused but still smiling.

He held up a card. "Could you tell me what card this is?"

"A leaf ace," you said.

"Great," he flipped it around in his hands a couple of times, before pulling off a complicated hand movement you couldn't keep track of, and was now holding a small, card sized mirror. "Now, could you tell me what card this is?"

"It's… a mirror," you said, puzzled.

"Look closer," he encouraged.

"Still a mirror, Dames," you chuckled.

"No, it’s a queen of hearts!" he laughed, "my heart, more specifically," he leaned in closer and smiled. "Would you go to the ball with me?"

"Yes! Of course I will!" you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. Just then, you heard the shutter of the camera clicking, and broke apart from him, laughing.

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The night of the ball finally arrived. You were in Damien's room, getting ready, when you finally had the mind to say, "Oh, Damien, I don't think I ever thanked you for the notes," you smiled at him from the other corner of the room. He was standing in front of the mirror, tying his tie, while you were sitting on the bed, already in your dress, which you finally let him see.

"Oh, from last week's lecture? No problem love," he smiled at you, your eyes meeting through the mirror.

"No," you giggled, "I meant the notes you've been leaving me."

He looked at you, puzzled. "You know, the notes with the– oh come on, don’t play dumb," you scoffed playfully.

"I'm not," he said, "I genuinely have no idea what you're talking about." He finished the knot and came to stand in front of you, offering you his hand and helping you up. You stood in front of him, squinting.

"Okay," you said after a few moments. Smiling, you noticed his collar was partly stuffed under his tie, raising your hand to fix it and –

"Oh," you frowned softly.

You knew who wrote the notes. You knew all along. I mean, how couldn't you recognize the handwriting of the person you know the best? Who knows you better than anyone else?

The person you've been neglecting the past few months. And yet, he was sending you love letters. You felt like crying, because you should've known it was him. More than that, you should've realized; you love him too.  

You love him so much it nearly hurts. The man with flowers in his hand and stars in his eyes, the one who took you to every bookstore you ever wanted to visit, who gave you his jacket when you were cold, who knew not only what your favorite book was, but also what copy of it you would take.

As good as Damien was to you, he was never the one for you. He was charming, lovable for sure.

But he wasn't your Steve.

Your Steve who was probably going to the ball alone, or maybe not even going.

"Is everything okay?" Damien asked, a concerned frown on his features.

"No, I- look, Damien," you took a deep breath. "I owe you an explanation, and I swear, I will give it to you, but I just… I can't do this anymore."

"What do you mean can't do this anymore? Do you not want to go to the ball or-"

"No," you closed your eyes forcefully before opening them, "us. I don't think we should be together anymore."

"Where is this coming from? Love, is everything o-"

"It's not okay, Damien!" tears welled up in your eyes, "It's not fair to you, I know. But I just… I have to go," you stepped away from his embrace.

"Go where? You're not making any sense, please, can you just-"

"I'm sorry, I am so, so sorry, but I have to go. I promise I'll explain everything, just… not right now," you said shakily, fumbling to collect your things before leaving the dorm, and a stunned Damien in your wake.

You weren't sure where you were going, you just knew you had to find him.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

You roamed the corridors in a bit of a daze until you finally realized your legs were carrying you to the library, and shook your head, deciding to go there anyway since there was a decent chance Steve was there.

He wasn't. You knocked on his dorm room door, but he didn't answer it, so he probably wasn't there either. You went to sneak a look at the ball, but you didn't find him there too.

You were just about to give up when you looked out of one of the windows. There, you saw the small glass gazebo that was a little further away from the building. The light was on, and there was someone there. You couldn't tell if it was Steve, but you figured it wouldn't hurt to try.

You went down the stairs and outside. The night was surprisingly crisp, and the dress you were wearing had short sleeves, but you continued anyway. As you got closer, you could see the silhouette clearer; it was indeed Steve.

You stopped a few yards next to it. Now that you found him, you didn't know what to say. I'm sorry didn't feel like enough, and –

Your train of thought was cut off by Steve turning around, his eyes locking with yours through the large glass windows. You swallowed heavily.

He went outside, crossing the distance and standing in front of you. Both of you were quiet for a moment before he spoke up.

"Not going to the ball?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I feel like it's obvious I'm not going. Where's your boyfriend?"

"I don't know."

Silence settled between you for a couple of minutes, each one of you absorbed in your own thoughts. Eventually, you were the one to speak up this time.

"I know you wrote them, Steve."

He chuckled. "Okay. What do you want me to say?"

"That you meant them," your voice broke with emotion, not knowing how true the words were until your lips uttered them out loud.

"I did. I do. I can't say I'm sorry for that."

"You shouldn't be," you said, "I'm that one that should be sorry. I am sorry," you looked up at him, your eyes sincere. "I'm sorry I didn't realize it was you sooner. And I don't mean the notes, Steve," you stepped closer to him.

"Then what do you mean?"

You licked your lips hesitantly, bringing your face closer to his. You didn't know which one of you finally broke the distance, but suddenly his lips were on yours, and it's all you could think about. You were kissing Steve Rogers, and it was enchanting. You wrapped your hands around his neck as he wrapped his around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You melted into his touch as your hands tangled in the soft hair on the nape of his neck. One of his hands came up to cup your cheek gently, and suddenly you were both smiling so hard you broke apart, gasping for air. Your foreheads stayed connected, leaning on each other as you slowly opened your eyes.

"This," you whispered, "I mean this. I love you, Steve."

"I love you too," Steve laughed, "so much. I was afraid you will never say that. That I'd never get to hear you say that to me. I love you," he said again, his eyes looking into yours.

Just at that moment, it bizarrely started to rain. "Really?" you looked up at the sky, "it's spring! Hell, it's almost summer!"

"Maybe it's summer rain," Steve suggested with a smile.

"But it ruined our moment," you playfully pouted.

"We always have another one," he smiled, pulling you in for another kiss, not minding the rain that was now wetting your dress, his suit. You felt the raindrops fall on the top of your heads, but the sensation was a thin echo compared to Steve's lips on yours.

A thunder roared, and you broke apart once again.

"Maybe we should get inside," you suggested.

"Maybe we should," he grinned, "last one there is a rotten egg!"

He started running before you could even register what he said. Just like he did when you were kids.

"Wait!" you laughed, running after him, gathering your skirt in your hands, "Not fair! I have a dress!"

He stopped and ran back to you before picking you up with ease, carrying you bridal style to the entrance and putting you down right on the threshold.

"You're a rotten egg, Stevie," you giggled.

He looked down to see that indeed, your legs were technically inside while his weren't.

"Don't worry," you cupped his cheek and tilted it upwards so he'd meet your gaze, "you're my rotten egg."

You both laughed before you went inside. He offered you his arm and you wove yours through it, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Taking your time, you strolled through the corridors in comfortable silence until you reached your room. You came inside and turned on the heating, Steve right on your heels, hugging you from behind.

"I can't believe it's raining," you looked out of the window with a smile.

"I can't believe you're mine," he whispered into your neck.

You tilted your head back to kiss him softly before you involuntarily shivered. Wordlessly, Steve guided you to the bed, tucking you into the blanket. He was about to leave, but you opened your blanket and gestured for him to come cuddle you. He chuckled and climbed in next to you, wrapping his arms around you again.

"Tell me a story," you said as you laid your head on his chest.

"Once upon a time," he started, "there was a very beautiful princess. And she chose a normal boy. No one knew why she did it. They asked her, 'why not a prince?' and sh-"

"And she said she didn't like princes, but she loved the boy more than anything else," you smiled.

"Wow, more than big libraries?" he chuckled.

"Yes, even more than big libraries," you giggled. Humming contently, you snuggled even closer to him, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a peaceful sleep.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

Which brings us to where we started this story, the next morning.

The story Steve's eyes told you that morning was better than any other story you've ever heard. It was a love story that you would tell your children, and your grandchildren.

And every time Steve heard you telling it, he sat and listened with a smile.

You once asked him why he always listens to that story, it's not like he didn't know it, he lived it.

"I did live it," he answered, "but I still live it, every single day. And it gets better with each day," he leaned down to kiss you.

Steve Rogers was the most wonderful of men, and over the years he grew to be the most wonderful of husbands, of fathers and of grandfathers.

You both grew, but there was one thing that stayed the same – his heart was yours, and your heart was his; forever.

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flower meanings:

Rose – love.

Honeysuckle - pure happiness, sweet love, devoted affection.

Hydrangea - gratitude, grace, beauty, abundance. some colors also symbolize bad luck.

Hibiscus - variously symbolizes health, delicacy, beauty, respect and hospitality.

Rhododendron – beware.  

p.s. - the meanings are based on my limited searches, also there are some flowers with more than one meaning:)

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i’d love it if you’d want to tell me your thoughts!! if you’ve stuck through this entire thing - thank you!!!<3

Taglist:  @horny-nd-bored​ @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds​ @wintersoldierslut​ @iceebabies​  @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree​ @kaitcordx25 @bequeening​ @steve-barry-damon-logan​ @itscrazycherryblossomcollection​ @hollandxmarvel​ @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland @jazbot2000 @anobscurename @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @peggycarter-steverogers @evansphnx12 @starlightcrystalline @procrastinatingsapphictrash

if you wanna join / be removed from a taglist, comment/message me! much love <3

[shotorozu]

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤

𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔬𝔲 𝔥𝔦𝔱𝔬𝔰𝔥𝔦 ᥊ 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you find yourself in a bar that you and your ex used to go to regularly. the local bartender calls your ex- shinsou hitoshi; thinking you guys are still together. 

𝗮𝗱𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝘀: angst to fluff (happy ending), sfw, pro hero au (aged up), drinking (alcohol mentions and intake) ex to lovers, minor todomomo (not the center of this fic) reader is in the top 5, some swearing. 

𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗱: [Y/N = your name, L/N = last name, H/N = hero name, ] f! reader, quirk not mentioned. 

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: i also did this trope on ao3 with todomomo, so i better not see people think i plagiarized them because.. that’s literally me lol. also! i was very conflicted, bc i also wanted to do this with shouto but since I already have 2-3 fics in the making, i went with hitoshi (but let me know if you wanna see shouto’s version.) 

word count to be added when im not sleep deprived

　　　　　　　　

　　　　　　　　˚✧₊⁎⁎⁺˳✧༚

You swivel down another shot down your throat, not caring of the burn in your nose, nor do you care about the smell of the alcohol. 

You’re never like this, this is not the best representation of yourself, no. This is not who you are as a person, and the way your former classmates look at you with concern when you chug down another shot shows how unusual this is to them.

“Take it easy..” Momo pats your back, and you exhale heavily, putting down the glass. Everyone is certain that you’ll obtain some serious hangover, almost to the point that you’d have to take the morning off to treat your hangover. They’re aware that you’re not this careless, since you're in the top 5 after all. 

But they let you be momentarily, but why you may ask?

Because this is your way of coping a breakup with your boyfriend of 3 and a half years, Shinsou Hitoshi. They’re aware on how hurt you really are, and to be real- they were the ones that asked you to come out with them tonight to distract you. 

“They’ve been going at it for a while, it’s almost concerning.” Tsuyu comments, as she tends to a slightly tipsy Mina, holding her so she doesn’t fall face first into the floor. 

The least they could do is let you be, while you're not totally blacked out.

The local bartender- Maki, looks at you with concern when you order another shot, yet they still give it to you (with the slightest hesitation) since you’re such a good friend to her. (Your rank makes you very respectable, it’s almost intimidating! but your casual friend ship with the bar tender says other wise.) 

But on the contrary, you'd know when you’ve reached the limit, and you’d probably know when they’d start refusing your requests of another shot. 

One by one, their friends depart from the table, either they were too drunk to even handle it so they were brought home, or something came up- everyone could agree that they all had some sort of worry towards their dear friend’s very out of character coping mechanism. 

“I have to go soon,” Momo sighs, when she receives a text from Todoroki- though it’s very obvious that she’s still very concerned for you, considering that she’s the only friend left. “Please take care of Y/N, Maki-san.” 

Maki nods at your black haired friend, and the creation hero looks at you one last time before leaving the bar. 

Lifting your head, your words are slurred as you request for another shot, which seems like the umpteenth time that you requested for a shot. The concerned bartender still attends to your needs, yet- she’s contemplating of calling someone if you ask for another. 

Likewise, you finish that shot in a moment, and you slump down on the table. Eyelids fluttering slowly as your laughter is filled with intoxication, your cheeks are warm from being inebriated from the intake of alcohol. 

You don’t notice how your concerned bartender dials up a number, requesting for them to pick your drunken state. 

     »»————-　➴　————-««

“Did you know the word bed is shaped like one?” 

It’s now past midnight, and you’re mouthing off about something random, the train of thought is endless (but it’s more like a shower thought ramble.) Your fists are deep into your hair- holding your head up so it doesn't hit the table, meanwhile Maki paces back and forth- still tending to other requests from the very few customers left. 

“Now that you’ve mentioned it, yeah.” They answer absentmindedly, “Man, I haven't seen you in nearly 4 months! it’s been a while. You knows how to hold your alcohol so frankly, this is the first time I’ve seen this side of you!” 

“Oh really?” You slur, continuing on to spout out purposeless words.

The bartender’s response is a total blur, words turning into background noises, and a part of you is lucky to still be conscious and still functioning (yet it's barely) 

“..But you hold it well for--” 

You’re also very lucky that you’re a little too under the influence to even register the name.

You didn't know you’d take this breakup with him harshly. The most you were expecting was just.. crying while eating ice cream. 

But no, it was an utter shit hole. 

The door busts open, and the bartender’s expression seems to brighten up “Ah, there you are!” 

You grumble, the bar’s lights causing your eyes to sting- and your head hurts too. You might need some aspirin later.. you close your eyes shut. The bartender is chatting with the unknown person, and frankly- you just wished you didn’t intoxicate yourself this much.

“Y/N,” 

The baritone voice is almost sufficient in sobering you up. Turning to the familiar voice, you see the tall figure, sporting bedraggled purple hair. 

It’s Shinsou Hitoshi. A reason why you’re in such a mess, coping with a breakup in the first place. 

You almost fall off your chair in sudden revelation to the appearance of your ex lover. It was almost like.. your drunken state was making you see things- a possible hallucination maybe? it has to be that. Maybe it’s the side effect of the growing headache?? What was in that shot?

“Ugh, I must be crazy,” You wipe your cheek from slob, your head throbbing from the growing headache. The weary purple head raises an eyebrow, and the bartender is confused by the sudden tension. It's abnormal, alright.

The reason why you broke up was because of his lack of self care. 

Again, it’s not like he was being a shithead and cheating on you, or being a total prick of a boyfriend and neglecting you, and it’s definitely not the other way around either. 

It was probably the opposite. He'd neglect himself for days on end, not caring about himself, and not caring about his own being. It was.. not what you wanted at all. 

You figured just because the both of you are rising up heroes, and also adults- he would’ve gotten a grip of not neglecting himself. 

But even habits like that don’t get old. 

“Hitoshi- seriously, when was the last time you’ve took a breather?” growing slightly irritated by Shinsou’s continuous neglect of his own self care, and also the fact that he’s clinging onto you 24/7. 

“It doesn’t matter.” He shrugs, pinching your cheek. Heck, you should be glad he wants to be with you for the majority of the days. But you can’t tolerate him when he’s constantly complaining about being tired, although making little to no efforts in taking care of himself. Heck- his dark circles got even darker- how is that even possible?

“’Toshi, it really does. You can’t neglect self care.” Your brows furrow when he chooses to ignore your words. “You’re not listening to me.” 

“You should be glad that I want to spend time with you.” 

It stung. What the hell did he even mean by that..?? scoffing, and slightly offended, you reply “That’s not the main issue.” you cross your arms “We’ve talked about this before, remember?” You reason out, giving him the nice benefit of the doubt. You'd like to be civil here. 

He ignores you once more, and you can actually feel the irritation grow within you. “I don’t want to be the reason why you neglect yourself.” 

“I’m really not, okay?” He retorts back, “Why do you always have to bring up things that don't matter?” 

Aggitated, you snap back “Wh- we’re talking about you! Hitoshi, we’ve talked about this- and you said you’d work on it! do my words mean nothing to you?” Hitoshi’s gaze flickers up, only staring at you, as if it was his own way of judging you and your intent. 

And that’s how it erupted into a full fight, and into your eventual breakup. 

You didn’t know how expressing your genuine concern for him blended into him saying things he’d never mean in his entire life. He doesn’t stop you when you walk out, not saying a thing at all

There was no verbal breakup. It was just.. there. 

The unknowing bartender interrupts the nonverbal tension, “I thought you’d be a lot happier, y’know.” 

“We-”

“..’ll get going now, thanks again.” Before you know it, Hitoshi’s hooking your arm around his shoulders— as he walks to the door, leaving the very familiar bar.

It’s awkward, surely. You’re not sure why he was there, and you’re not so sure as to why he decided to come to your aid in the first place. If Maki called him, and he was requested to come to you in question, then he could’ve just..

“..sent someone else,” You mumble. You reek heavily of alcohol, and your skin is undeniably warm. Frankly, he doesn’t remember the last time you were like this— was it the first time you had a drink? it was years back at this point.

You’re pretty.

Beautiful,

That’s one thing that hasn’t change. Surely, what changed things was the fact that he said some.. horrible things— and refused to even listen to your concerns, which ultimately cause your breakup. His relationship status changed into some lonely and young hero, and his heart ached in different ways.

But you’re still very beautiful, to him.

Doesn’t matter if you’re all dolled up for a hero interview, or a mess on a off saturday. You’re still beautiful.

But now— he’s focused on your words, and he’s taken aback when you continue to speak, causing the both of you to stop in the middle of the sidewalk.

“You’ve coulda asked s-someone else to pick.. me up.” Your words are slurred, a normal side effect of being drunk. However, seeing your ex has surely sobered you up.

“That’s true,” Shinsou moves to continue walking, so you guys weren’t standing on the middle of the side walk on a cold early morning.

“What are you even doing at a bar at 1am?” He changes the subject, but you’re still caught on to your previous question. “You didn’t answer my question at all, meanie.” Her grip is firm, so there’s no way of budging it.

His laugh lacks humor, yet he feels obligated to answer her. Or else they’d be stuck on the sidewalk, due to her hero grip.

“It didn’t feel right,”

“Yeah sure.” You grumble, “Because you suddenly care.”

“I’ve always cared, Y/N.”

“Really?” You say, not really believing him anyway. “You seemed pretty sure with your words back then to care.” Despite being toxicated, your words have undertones of venom

“You may say that, but.. I’ve always cared.”

“Then why the hell did you say all of that back then, huh?” Overwhelmed by seeing your ex, who you still fucking loved by the way— tears grow at your eyes. “If you’re lying, stop it.” You say, literally not in the mood to be lied to right now.

You’re literally being carried by your ex, while intoxicated, while also having a throbbing headache.

“I’m not.” Hitoshi answers firmly. A certain edge grows in his throat, and he hates it.

“Yes you are,” Your voice is now wobbly, it’s really just a mix of your overwhelming emotion, as well as your drunken state. “You would’ve told me that weeks ago!”

You were always right, and he knows it. Ever since from the last moment you shared with him, your words were just.. nothing but the sheer truth. Yet, he’s only hurt you— because of his denial.

He knows you’re right, and he knows that he had his habits of neglecting his own care. Though that’s why he decided to change, that you were in fact- correct all this time.

And he was just an ass to even admit it.

“You’re right,” His fists crumple, grip tight as he fights his sudden urge to break. “You were always right. I’ve always cared, and you’ve always cared about me. Yet I was worried of changing, not being around you just so that I could take care of something that’s not really important-”

“But you are, Hitoshi,” You sob, nearly collapsing onto the ground— “You matter so much, yet you don’t even see it, and if I’m going to contribute to your destructive ways— then...”

“How could you? If you don’t care about my words, then do you care about yourself..?”

Shinsou sighs, bending down to meet your level— you’re gasping and sobbing into his chest, tears angrily running down your cheeks.

“I know, kitten, and I’m sorry.” Wiping your tears with his thumb, he speaks once more. “That’s why.. I’ve thought about what you’ve said, and I decided to take care of myself a bit more, I want you to know that.. I do care.”

You glance up at him, the city lights luminating his face— enough for you to see the adorning expression he’s sporting.

“..really?” You speak, in a nearly hush tone, again— you’re still very drunk, and overwhelmed with emotions. This could’ve been passed off as a fever dream, and you could’ve been normal with it.

“Yes, Y/N.” His mouth perks up into a small smile.

“Then.. would you allow me to start over with you again?”

Pushing against Hitoshi, you envelope him with your arms— it’s almost cliché and dramatic, the way you collapse into his arms like it’s the last day on earth.

But.. Shinsou’s glad he has you again. Finally a chance to prove that he’s changed.

ーーーーーーー

BONUS

You sit on the counter of your apartment, hands covering your face— as a way to shield your eyes from the prodding sunlight that peaks from the windows.

“This should help,” Hitoshi hands you a cool glass of water, “The way you hold your alcohol is terrible,” You chug down the glass of water, and you take a jab at him with your feet.

He hisses at the sudden attack, and only chuckles, “You’re mad because it’s true kitten,” He teases

“Shut up,” You draw him in with your leg, setting the glass down, “Just kiss me already,”

And so he does, pressing your lips against his— savoring the sweet warm moment he’s been practically starved of for nearly 4 months.

He pulls back, his expression showcasing that he’s tasting the aftermath.

“Ew, you taste like beer.”

You glare at him, and take another light jab, “Of course I do, Idiot.”

Despite saying all of that, he pulls you in once more.

　　　　　　　˚✧₊⁎❝᷀ົཽ ❝᷀ົཽ⁎⁺˳✧༚

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading (literally the first fic i’ve ever posted, so y’all BETTER like it or i’ll 💀)

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing

do not plagiarize my work :)) (literally don’t, it’s 3:26am on a tuesday.)

[seokmingiggles]

transmarinus.

(from beyond the sea)

Prompt: "I like the way your hand fits in mine."

Pairing: Lee Seokmin x female reader

Genre: fluff, slight angst, slow burn, mermaid!au, kinda magical overall(?), probably set in the same universe as Ponyo.

6.03k words

Warnings: some alcohol consumption (everyone is of legal age), swearing, the reader has a phobia of the ocean, allusions to drowning (nothing explicitly mentioned).

Beyond the sea, within the sea—both are places you have no desire to explore. You have lived nearly your whole life with an intense fear of the ocean, yet something about it keeps haunting you.

Alternatively, in which you are afraid of the ocean, yet Seokmin shows you that you no longer have to live in fear.

A/N: I don't have much to say about this little passion project; perhaps that Seokmin is one of my main bias wreckers in Seventeen. In my notes prior to determining a pairing for this fic, I had written: "All three have this kind of magical wonder to them that I want to capture," about my possible choices of a protagonist (you’ll find out the other two contenders later on). I hope I have captured this feeling. Furthermore, there are some loose ends for a possible part two if I feel the desire to continue this au. Enjoy!

The lyrics (bolded) are from Somewhere Beyond the Sea by Bobby Darin.

•• Somewhere beyond the sea,

You've never liked the ocean: the seemingly endless dark depths and rushing currents that could pull you below. No, rephrasing your thoughts—you are afraid of the ocean. Sure, it can be pretty to look at on a calm and sunny summer day, and sure, the sea breeze admittedly feels pleasant brushing through your hair and clothes on occasion, but you refuse to give in to its temptation, to even go near it if you can help it.

Somewhere waiting for me,

It can be lonely sometimes, being the only one of your classmates growing up who refused to go swimming on field trips to the beach nearing the end of the semester. You often found yourself alone and listening to the fun they would be having in the shallow tides: a shimmering, azure blue. You learned to bring things to accompany you when your friends would prefer to enjoy their time swimming. A book and a beach towel resting on the silky sands was often your set-up. Not much has changed since then.

My lover stands on golden sands,

You've become better over the years at handling your fear. When before, you used to hesitate to even step foot onto the sand, now you have become comfortable with the squishing feeling between your toes. However, boats are another story. Your mom once took you on a cruise when you were a child, and honestly, you enjoyed it. Well, for the most part, only until the last night of the tour. Frankly, that's the trip that made you develop your fear of the ocean in the first place. Since then, you've refused to step foot on any watercraft. It's a bit ironic, really. You've grown up on a decently-sized island apart from the mainland—the only way to get across is by a ferry. You're not sure if you'll ever be able to regain your trust with the water.

And watches the ships that go sailin'.

•

"I dare you to go skinny-dipping."

"Oh, hell no. That's a hard pass."

"Really, Gyu? You think she'd do that?"

"You're gross, dude."

"What? Do you want me to go instead?"

"Not really. None of us need to see that."

Being friends with Mingyu, Jungkook, and Hansol—your best friend—is a recipe for no dull moments. You four have a tradition; you'd all take a trip to the Jeon family cabin near the island's peninsula as a way to start your summers. You've all been going for the past few years since your final year of high school, continuing the tradition into your college years.

It's where you find yourselves now, splayed out in drunken messes (some more than others) on the semi-private beach. To your right, there's a small fire pit in the center of your beach chairs. A cold drink is in your left hand to counter the heat in your cheeks from the flames.

"Sorry, (Y/N), I'm an idiot," Mingyu admits after finally realizing what he'd dared you to do. "You don't have to go into the water."

"I wasn't planning on it, but thanks," you reply and take a sip of your drink.

The four of you stare at the fire beginning to diminish. Orange embers glow in the ashes.

Hansol swirls the remains of his beer bottle around. "Why do I suddenly want to go swimming now?"

"Dude, no. It's nearly midnight, and you're drunk," Mingyu retorts, "None of that is a good combination."

The younger boy is about to quip back, but suddenly, a loud splash interrupts his thoughts, heard near the row of rocks separating this property from the next.

The tallest boy stands to try to see the source of the noise, but it's much too dark. "Okay, you're definitely not going swimming now. I don't want to be responsible for your death."

The splashing continues. It isn't as loud as the first time, but it's more constant as if something is struggling by the rocks.

"I'll go check it out," Jungkook puts his bottle down and slips on his sandals, already heading closer to the water.

"Not by yourself, you're not," Hansol is quick to jump to his feet and follow the elder.

You remain seated, and luckily, Mingyu remains at your side too.

•

Somewhere beyond the sea,

Seokmin adores the ocean. Well, he sort of has to since it's been his home for nearly nine decades. He loved playing in the currents with his brothers when he was younger—and now—appreciating how the colour of the water changes the closer he gets to the surface. The ocean makes him feel free. It's like he can go anywhere or see anything. Seokmin can't say he's ever felt love before first-handed, it's not a feeling he can define, but he considers the ocean to be the closest thing that he loves.

She's there watching for me,

He has breached the surface before. It isn't a forbidden action to his people, but it is to be taken carefully; however, there are different rules when you're one of the sons of the merking. There are countless cautionary tales of merfolk who have been spotted by sailors, more on what happens when they get too close to shore. Merpeople are supposed to live for centuries as they slowly age, but most of those tales abruptly cut their lives short. Seokmin feels like the only one who isn't afraid of those stories and wants to see for himself what would happen if he met a land-dweller. He's optimistic that they're not as cruel as the fables portray them to be.

If I could fly like birds on high,

Seokmin is a graceful swimmer. With decades of practice, it's a given talent. He used to struggle when maneuvering through the waves, especially when compared to his two brothers. Yet, with great perseverance and will, Seokmin trained himself to become better. Much stronger and significantly more elegant—he can now soar with ease through the water, quite speedily, too. In his younger days—what would be equivalent to teenagehood in humans—Seokmin would travel for days across the wide ocean, simply feeding his desire to explore.

Then straight to her arms—

Being a part of the royal family means Seokmin is eligible for arranged marriages. Soonyoung, his elder brother coming up on a century old, is already engaged to a beautiful mermaid, Tzuyu; the boy suspects he's next as the second-eldest in their family. Seokmin knows it's to benefit his kingdom, but he also knows that the chance of being in line for the throne is incredibly slim as the second brother. All he wants is to find someone he loves as much as he loves the ocean.

I'd go sailing.

•

"No way," Hansol whispers, breaking the silence between him and Jungkook as they've reached the rocky barrier.

Sure enough, the splashing sound is caused by distress. A boy, looking to be around Hansol's age, is stuck between a few large rocks that have fallen from the wall. It's shallow enough that his torso remains above the surface, but the position looks painful, nonetheless, with one of his arms twisted beneath the collapsed rocks.

"Here," Hansol approaches the stranger slowly, "we can help you."

The boy has a fearful look in his eyes as the human approaches. It's only when Hansol has rolled the legs of his joggers up and is wading into the shallows that he notices the lack of legs the panicking boy has, or rather, the glimmering tail he has instead.

He shrugs off the unusual sight and tries to move the rock, but it's much too large for Hansol to budge by himself, staggering slightly on the uneven ground. He calls Jungkook over to aid him, and the two of them together are able to lift the stone out of the way, freeing the trapped boy.

The stranger slips away and back into the depths before anyone could say anything.

"You saw him too, right?" Hansol asks his friend, pointing out to the vast sea and trying to find some evidence of what was next to him moments ago.

"Yeah," Jungkook is nearly speechless, drying his hands on his shirt.

"He didn't even say thank you."

•

"I fucked up. I fucked up big time!" The youngest brother rants to his siblings upon arriving back to his home safely.

"Alright, Chan, it's time to calm down now-"

"No, Soon, you don't understand! This time was different." Chan continues to ramble, "I would have really been in danger if I was stuck there until morning. The rising sun would suffocate me, no doubt. My precious sixty-one years would be down the drain in an instant!"

“So dramatic,” the eldest chirps. "It's a good thing that those humans found you when they did."

Soonyoung has heard enough of Chan's stories about always venturing off to the shore. He's somewhat jealous. Lately, the eldest has had to spend more time planning for his wedding and preparing to become the next-in-line for the throne. He wishes he could join his brother on an adventure like they used to a couple of decades back.

"Please, Seok, you'll listen to me then, won't you? You're a hopeless romantic."

Seokmin isn't sure if he should be offended by his brother's comment.

"And what if I am?" he asks with his hands fidgeting in his lap. "What does that have to do with this?"

"You're the one who enjoyed exploring the most years ago. I know you've done your share of people-watching before." Chan ponders, then adds more quietly, "Well, and also, the boy who first approached me was kind of cute."

"Oho, does our Channie have a little crush on a human?"

"Great, now you're listening, hyung."

Seokmin sits back and listens to his brothers playfully bantering. He admires them both fondly, sometimes wishing he could be as responsible as Soonyoung, or as free-spirited as Chan. Instead, Seokmin becomes more reserved around his siblings, despite not considering himself to be shy. But the three are well-balanced when they're together.

Noisy, but well-balanced.

"Why do I feel like I need to see him again?" Chan asks Seokmin as they're lying in their shared bedroom. Their older brother has a room to himself, being the next-in-line.

"Maybe you really do like him," Seokmin suggests, not quite knowing what to say. He's never before been enamoured by a particular human, nor any merfolk for that matter. "You're making me curious now. It's been a while since I've seen the surface," he sighs, struggling to remember what dry sand looks like.

"Then you should come with me!" Chan doesn't hesitate to suggest, "I can't guarantee he'll still be there, but it's worth a shot. Right?"

Seokmin hums in thought. As much as he would like to comply with his brother's request, part of him knows how they're not supposed to venture to the surface so freely. Especially with it being so close to Soonyoung's wedding, nothing detrimental should happen to them before the upcoming celebration.

"Besides, I should probably return... this... whatever this is."

Seokmin eyes the strange-looking object with a puzzled expression.

"You know, Chan, it's not very nice to steal things that aren't yours."

•

"Are you sure you checked your suitcase?" you ponder, trying to rack your brain of other locations the missing sandal could have gone. "What about by the hose in the back? Maybe you left it there after rinsing the sand off them."

"No, I've gone through my bags twice already, and I don't think I bothered with the hose last night," Hansol replies. "I have a feeling they're on the beach somewhere. Although, I can't remember if I walked up the path in bare feet or not."

"You were quite drunk, Han."

"Oh, hush. We're on vacation, aren't we?" the boy lifted his eyebrows at the question. "I'm allowed to get drunk. Anyways, will you come with me down to the beach? It's not like my shoe could have walked away on its own," he snickers at his joke, "it's bound to show up somewhere."

You try to ignore the rising uneasiness in your chest. "Do you really need me to go with you?"

"Two sets of eyes are better than one, (Y/N). And I promise I won't let anything bad happen to you. You don't even have to step foot into the water or even go close to it, for that matter."

You sigh and reluctantly agree, slipping on your own pair of sandals for the short walk down to the beach. You know Hansol would have asked one of the other boys to venture with him near the water, but Jungkook and Mingyu had left to get more groceries (and drinks) for tonight, so you were the only option.

"Where did you find the other shoe?" you ask as you scan the area around the fire pit. "Isn't it strange that you only lost one?"

"It was outside the front door. But as you said, (Y/N), I was quite drunk last night."

You giggle at your friend's comment, adding, "Maybe a bird flew off with it this morning," and continue to scan the sand.

"Wait, now that I think of it, I don't think I had that other shoe after we went to the rocks," Hansol considers and begins to walk to the familiar barrier.

The short wall looks smaller in the daylight, but you know the rocks are unstable despite their compact appearance.

You cautiously follow the boy as he ventures closer to the tide.

"You and Kook never did mention what you saw last night over here," you state, trying to create conversation to distract you from being so close to the water.

"Didn't we?" Hansol tries to recall, "I guess we didn't. Maybe because we knew that you and Gyu wouldn't believe us."

"Believe what?"

"Believe-"

You and Hansol turn the corner at the first large rock.

"-that."

Your stomach drops at the sight. There are two boys in the shallows; one is casually sitting and looking around, while the other is floating on the surface.

His rosy, fish-like tail is hard to miss.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Chan exclaims upon seeing the familiar figure, now sitting upright like his brother. "I believe this is yours."

The mermaid holds up Hansol's lost slipper while sporting a beaming smile on his face.

You're in shock. You've read about mythical creatures when you were a child, as most kids do at that age, but never have you thought that their existence is real. Let alone that you would ever come face-to-face with one.

"Thank you," Hansol mutters and carefully approaches the younger male.

Chan introduces himself along with his brother, and Hansol does the same with himself and you.

But you're beginning to panic. The feeling is bubbling up in your throat, and you don't want to break down. So instead, you excuse yourself and run back up the pathway to the cabin.

You miss the way the older merman's eyes remain on your figure as you retreat away.

•

It's far beyond a star,

Seokmin feels strange. It's not the first time he's seen a human-being that close, let alone speak with one, but there was something odd about your behaviour; the unusual feeling seems to stem from seeing you.

"Did you see the way she looked at us?" the second-eldest speaks, recalling your tense expression.

It's near beyond the moon,

"Why? Do you think she's pretty? That would be convenient because I still think Hansol is pretty. I thought he was charming in the moonlight, but now, I can say he's even prettier in the sunshine," Chan hums, repeating the boy's name for the nth time upon their return home. "I never knew humans could be so lovely."

I know beyond a doubt,

"No," Seokmin begins, "I mean, yes, she was pretty too, but she looked afraid of us. Of... me. Didn't she?" He pauses. "I've never had someone be afraid of me before."

Chan glances at his brother's concerned expression. "She was probably just surprised, Seok. Maybe she hasn't seen a merperson in-person before."

"Maybe," Seokmin mumbles, not entirely convinced.

The merman's peculiar feelings about you only fester as the days pass by. When Chan would return to that same beach almost daily in the hopes of seeing Hansol again, Seokmin would remain at his home.

He is strangely impacted by you. Not that you even said a word to Seokmin that day, but the way you reacted threw him off.

He longs to know why you ran away.

My heart will lead me there soon.

•

Not that you needed it, but you now have yet another reason to avoid the ocean.

Hansol ends up journeying down to the beach every time he sees the familiar crimson tail splashing in the shallows from the large cabin window facing the ocean. The other two boys have begun teasing their younger friend about his new fishy pal.

You have tried to express your concern about Chan to Hansol, explaining that he may be dangerous, but your friend has only dismissed your worries and encouraged you that Chan isn't a threat.

"He's a fun guy to talk to. You're welcome to join me down on the beach sometime, (Y/N)," Hansol says as he slips his notorious pair of sandals on. "Actually, Chan has been asking about you lately. If you're doing alright."

You look up from your bowl of cereal with a confused expression. "I don't think I even spoke a word to Chan. Why would he be asking about me?"

Hansol shrugs. "Apparently, one of his brothers has been worried about you. I'm assuming that's why he keeps asking, but that's all I know."

You remain puzzled in your seat at the kitchen table as Hansol closes the front door behind him, wandering down the familiar rocky path towards the water.

"Is (Y/N) coming?" Chan's posture perks up at the sight of the boy approaching.

He shrugs his head, "I don't think so. I'm sure you know by now how apprehensive she can be. Stubborn, too." Hansol takes a seat in the sand. His shoes are off quickly once again as he dips his legs into the water, the gentle waves lapping up to his knees.

Seokmin frowns. He's been accompanying Chan on his near-daily visits in the hopes of seeing you again. With all of the stories Hansol has been telling about the human world and his friends, Seokmin has convinced himself that he wants to properly meet you.

Just to make sure she's doing alright, he tells himself. There's no other reason.

Seokmin takes pride in helping people. As the middle child, he'd often take it upon himself to sort out his brothers' issues, especially on the rare occasion he found them arguing. A mood maker, his mother told him in his youth when she'd noticed the way he always seemed to strive to help others feel better. So when Hansol briefly mentioned your fear of the sea, there's nothing that the boy decides he wants more than to help you see that the ocean isn't something to fear.

However, it is a difficult task to accomplish when you wouldn't even venture down to the beach anymore.

There's part of Seokmin that feels guilty about your recent reluctance. From what Hansol has said, it seems like you were making gradual progress in becoming comfortable near the water. In fact, you hadn't always been afraid of the ocean. Yet, it all seemed to backfire the moment your eyes landed on him and Chan.

It makes Seokmin feel even more responsible for your fear.

•

It's raining today, a stark contrast to the previous perfect blue-sky, sunny weather that you've all been experiencing for the past week on your vacation.

You're the first one up this morning, making your way quietly down the stairs and into the kitchen to make some coffee.

You examine the horizon as the aromatic drink brews. The rain is only spitting down now, but you have a feeling it will pick up later with larger clouds slowly rolling in. It looks like the sun is trying to peek out from behind, although unsuccessful in its attempt.

You pour yourself a cup of coffee when enough fills the pot, hearing the sizzle onto the element when you impatiently remove the container as it continues to drip.

Making your way to the dining table nearby, you take a seat in front of the large window, holding your mug between your hands.

The coffee is too hot to drink right now.

Your mind begins to wander as you wait.

•

(Y/N), age seven.

You wake to a faint ringing sound.

"Mom?"

No response.

You shuffle to the edge of the bed to turn on the lamp. As your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness, you're met only with an empty room.

"Mom?" you say louder, just to once again, unsurprisingly, be met with nothing.

Maybe she's still at the party on the deck, you think to yourself. That would explain the sound. Maybe it's from the music.

You slip out from beneath the duvet and make your way to the cabin door.

You take a deep breath, not knowing why you're so nervous, and open the door.

There's no music. It's an alarm.

You suddenly feel the ship lurch to the side, throwing you off balance and into the side of the doorway.

"Mom!" you cry out, for someone, anyone.

You don't want to be alone.

Tears are prickling beneath your eyes, and immediately, panic rises to your throat.

"Are you (Y/N)?"

A young male rushes down the hallway in your direction.

You nod your head in response, not finding your words.

"Your mom said you'd be down here, come on. She's already up in the rendezvous spot." His nametag says Seungcheol.

You accept his outstretched hand and follow him as he hurries down the corridor back the way he came.

The boat sways again, but Seungcheol stands his ground, keeping you steady on your feet too.

"What's happening?" your voice crackles.

Seungcheol continues to guide you through the interior of the ship. "There was an unexpected storm suddenly. Captain didn't even see it on our radars, it came out of nowhere. We're taking precautions and gathering everyone in the lounge while he works on getting us to shore."

The two of you make it above the cabins where the wind and rain are pelting down stronger than you've ever seen before. You're having a hard time keeping your balance on the rocking boat, your hand slowly slipping out of Seungcheol's grasp.

A giant wave hits the side of the ship, effectively removing your small hand from Seuncheol's as you're thrown to the side.

You scream as the wave seems to drag you away and pulls you off the edge of the ship.

You hear someone else yell; maybe it's your mother, maybe it's Seungcheol, but before you know it, you are doused in the cold ocean.

The instant your body falls into the depths, you're frozen, petrified, unable to move. You try to struggle your way to the surface, but your clothes weigh you down, only making you sink further below.

Your lungs burn. Trapped in the darkness, you can barely see the moonlight above anymore.

You succumb to your watery grave, eyes closed and arms wrapped around your small figure in a final effort to gain warmth.

Suddenly, you are hit by a feeling of serenity like your mother is cradling you once again. You lean into the tender touch and begin to drift away into unconsciousness.

She belongs to the sea.

You seem to hallucinate a raspy voice hiss out the strange remark.

And then you're gone.

•

Each time you see the familiar grey, gloomy clouds in the atmosphere brings you back to that one fateful day from your childhood.

You know something else happened to you after you fell into the water, but you can't for the life of you recall what.

You know you somehow made it back to the shore safely in one piece. Could it have been that kind staff member who collected you from your room? Or perhaps your mother who dove in after seeing you fall overboard?

You've kept that day to yourself; the only one who knows the full story is Hansol. Not even Jungkook nor Mingyu are aware of all the details; they only know the gist of the origins of your fear of the ocean.

"Whatcha thinking about?"

Hansol's voice brings you back to reality. He's come from the kitchen and is currently standing next to you. Now brought back to your senses, you feel the slight sting from the hot cup of coffee resting between your palms.

"Nothing," you mutter out, removing your hands from the ceramic. You keep your gaze out the window at the hazy horizon; the tide seems to be rising with the weather getting progressively worse. "Are you seeing Chan today?"

"No," he answers, taking a sip from his cup. "Not that I know of, at least. I doubt he'll come if it's raining like this."

The wind looks like it's beginning to pick up. You can hear it howling on the other side of the windows.

"Right, of course."

The boy takes a seat across from you. "Are you sure you're doing okay?" he pushes, "You know you don't have to stay here for the full two weeks with us, right?"

"I know," you reply, "I've just been feeling more anxious recently, but I'm not entirely sure why." You take a sip of your coffee, burning the tip of your tongue slightly. "But I'll be okay."

Hansol's concern for you doesn't waver despite your words or the smile you’re presenting.

"Some storm, huh?" Mingyu's voice is heard from the staircase as he treks down to the main floor. His hair is still damp from his shower.

Hansol makes a noise of acknowledgement and takes another sip of his coffee.

Mingyu prepares a cup of coffee for himself. "Do you think the water will rise all the way up to the deck?"

You involuntary freeze at the thought.

"No, it shouldn't," Hansol says confidently.

And it doesn't, but it does come close. As the rain continues to pour, the entirety of the rocky path becomes submerged beneath the saltwater.

The sound of the storm keeps you awake as you lie in bed that night, picking at a loose thread on the duvet cover. You think you can feel the cabin sway with the heavy wind, but you blame it on your imagination.

She belongs to the sea.

You blame your imagination for the husky voice you hear too.

The sea.

The shutter on your bedroom window flies open; it's certainly not your imagination this time. You immediately stand up and make your way to the adjacent wall to close it, only to see just how high the tide has risen since you've retreated to bed.

Now you must be dreaming.

The sea level appears to be just below your window. Being on the upper floor of the cabin, that's more than concerning.

"(Y/N)?"

You back away from the window at the sound of your name spoken from the other side of it.

A vaguely familiar mop of damp brown hair appears outside your windowsill.

"Seokmin?" You squint your eyes at the face you see in the moonlight. Panic laces your voice, "What the hell is happening?"

Yeah, you really must be dreaming.

The merman reaches his arm through the threshold of your window with his hand open for you to take.

"Do you trust me?"

Every part of you screams no. No! You've lived your whole life in fear of the ocean and what resides within it. Taking this creature's hand would contradict your entirety.

"Please," he adds.

You feel yourself being drawn towards him, one foot after another taking you closer until your hand brushes against his. His fingertips are pruned, a sensation slightly rough against your smooth ones.

When he closes his hand around yours, you hear the rain abruptly stop.

Everything becomes silent, like the drops of water have stopped with time.

"It's okay," Seokmin whispers, warmly smiling at you.

Before you know it, his lips connect with your forehead.

And you suddenly remember that night you fell into the abyss.

•

The instant your body falls into the depths, you're frozen, petrified, unable to move. You try to struggle your way to the surface, but your clothes weigh you down, only making you sink further below.

Your lungs burn. Trapped in the darkness, you can barely see the moonlight above anymore.

You succumb to your watery grave, eyes closed and arms wrapped around your small figure in a final effort to gain warmth.

Suddenly, you are hit by a feeling of serenity like your mother is cradling you once again. You lean into the tender touch and begin to drift away into unconsciousness.

She belongs to the sea.

You seem to hallucinate a raspy voice hiss out the strange remark.

And then you're gone.

No, you think you're gone, but the burning sensation in your lungs is alleviated.

You open your eyes once more to find your small body enveloped by another being. It has a tail: a long, dark violet tail extending beneath you. Your fear hasn't left you completely, but the way you're cradled so carefully eases you.

"It's okay," a gentle voice whispers, causing you to look up to meet a pair of brown eyes and a warm smile. "You're safe."

"What's happening?" you hear your voice ask for the second time that day, unsure of how you're able to speak beneath the water.

"Your father wants you home," is the boy's response, "but I've tried to tell him it's not your time yet."

"My... father?"

You can't picture a face to the name you speak. Each time you've asked your mother about him, she's only said how he was a wonderful man. Was.

"Yes, (Y/N). Sorry about the storm. He gets emotional when thinking of you." One of the merman's hands supports the back of your head to his chest as he dashes through the water. "It's because he misses you."

"Are we going to see him now?"

"No, not yet. One day I'll find you again, and we will see him. Together."

Before you know it, your heads break through to the surface where the weather is much clearer than before. Your rescuer moves slowly towards the beach near the dock, continuing his hold on you until your feet can touch the ground.

You cough up some of the water that infiltrated your lungs before asking, "May I know your name?"

The merman smiles once more, the apples of his wet cheeks reflecting the moonlight. "You will, one day, little jellyfish."

•

Your eyes open only to find you still stood by your window with a familiar set of arms around you.

You take note of his purple tail extending below.

"You," you whisper, taking a step back from the windowsill to get a proper look at the boy residing on the other side, "We've met before."

Seokmin chuckles at your realization, "Yes, many years ago."

"You saved me."

"Kind of," he ponders. "You wouldn't have drowned; your father wouldn't have let that happen. I only made sure you wouldn't sink to the bottom of the ocean."

"Right, my father." The title still sounds alien from your mouth. You gesture to the flooded outside, "Did he do this too?"

Seokmin sheepishly scratches the nape of his neck, "Word may have gotten around that you were visiting the oceanside. You know how excitable Chan can get."

You smile at the idea of the youngest royal brother bragging about seeing you. "If my father's a merman, then why am I human?"

"Who said your father's a merperson?" Seokmin counters, "He's less of a merman and more of a sorcerer who resides within the waves."

"No shit."

The boy giggles at your remark.

"But if I technically come from the sea, then why have I been so afraid of it?"

"Are you still afraid of it now, jellyfish?"

You open your mouth, about to say your habitual response, but only to find yourself lacking one life-long phobia.

"No," you furrow your eyebrows.

"It was a spell I placed on you, back when you were a child," Seokmin fiddles with your hand; his is now dry. "It was to prevent you from returning when you weren't ready."

"Am I ready now?"

"My goodness, so many questions."

But Seokmin takes the time to answer them all for you.

You pull up a chair to the window as he remains in the raised tide.

That night, you learn that you're less human than you originally thought. You're not a merperson like Seokmin and his brothers are, but you do similarly come from the ocean.

Your father had unexpectedly met your mother one summer's day, the two falling in love faster than either party had expected. You weren't necessarily planned, but the two were ecstatic, nevertheless. Your father had to return back to the depths—his home—leaving your mother alone for the rest of her pregnancy. Yet, after she had you, she was significantly less lonely. She seemed to have the whole ocean supporting her, despite her lover unable to return to the surface.

When you were an infant, you were drawn to the water. Perhaps you could hear your father calling out to you for you to return home at sea with him, where he thought you belonged more-so than on land.

Seokmin had placed the spell on you to give you the opportunity for a normal youth on the surface. He recalled the way he so strongly loved being free of stress and confinement before his royal responsibilities became more prevalent and only wished the same for you.

Practicing magic under your father's teaching made Seokmin create a spell strong enough to last for over a decade.

He refrained from telling your father what he'd done that night when he found you. He knew how powerful the man was; a tsunami or hurricane could have easily been a product of his emotions.

Although now, the spell has worn off. Once more, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the water and arguably even-more-so to the boy with his hands encased in yours.

"Will I get to meet him one day?" your eyes examine the way Seokmin's thumb grazes across your knuckles, tracing every crest and trough on your skin.

"Yes," he says, "though only when the tides lower again. I don't want him flooding the entire island out of happiness."

You hum out an "Okay" and catch the beginnings of the rising sun in the distance, illuminating Seokmin's already-glowing silhouette.

•

We'll meet beyond the shore,

"(Y/N), could I try something?"

Seokmin's ears are tinted a pretty pink as he examines your form sitting in the shallow water.

You shift your attention from feeling the silky sand beneath the waves lightly lapping against your ankles and to the merman sitting next to you. His hair is slowly beginning to dry from being in the summer sunshine.

We'll kiss just as before,

Seokmin takes your hand tenderly and brings it to his lips. It's a gentle touch, but the act sends a flurry of butterflies straight into your chest. The boy smiles brightly, his eyes slightly crinkling at the corners, and laces his fingers between yours.

Happy we'll be beyond the sea,

"I like the way your hand fits in mine, jellyfish."

Your eyes meet Seokmin's, who are trained on the pair of your intertwined hands.

"I like it too," you admit, smiling as his gaze lifts and meets yours.

He slowly leans in.

And never again I'll go sailing. ••

[scarletemeterio-thesecond]

hi! i saw that you were accepting requests for LOK and i was wondering if you could write a Mako x Reader fic where they are enemies to lovers? maybe where the reader is Lin Beifong’s daughter and they constantly bicker but there is so much ~tension~ and everyone else but them can see it? and then they kiss and reveal their feelings for one another during an extremely heated argument? thank you!! :)

omg i love some enemies to lovers content, and i think that mako fits that trope so well lmao, i hope you like it!!

•••

Fights and Revelations (Mako x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: some cursing, i think that's all

Genre: some angst, fluff

Fandom: The Legend of Korra

Summary: See request

Word Count: 2030

Reader uses she/her pronouns!

•••

You and Mako had never liked each other. There was something about him that you just couldn't stand, something that made you want to punch him in the face every time you saw him.

You two practically hated each other.

But you weren't sure why Mako seemed to dislike you so much, you had a good relationship with everyone in the group, even Wu, who was Mako's best friend. However, your relationship had been like that ever since you two met, he was very dry all the time, and that completely frustrated you.

The thing you hated the most was the way he cared about everyone else. It made you angry because you wanted someone to care about you the way he did with all his friends. You wanted your mum to care about you that way. You loved her, but sometimes she could be a little too distant and cold and sometimes it made your blood boil. You knew it wasn't fair to let out your anger on him, so you tried to hold it inside, but sometimes you just couldn't help it. And you also hated how cute he was, how you had a huge crush on him.

Mako on the other hand couldn't stand the way you acted around everyone. You were Lin Beifong's daughter, so your main goal in your life was to be as perfect as she was, to make her proud, but he didn't know that. He thought that you were so arrogant and self-centered, and it just made him want to roll his eyes every time you two were in the same room. But for some reason, he also wanted to talk to you. He didn’t like you at all, but he still cared about you even though he’d never show it.

So when everyone wanted to go on a camping trip together, he wasn't a big fan of the idea of you joining them. There was a huge tension from the very first day, and everyone was aware of that.

It was time for you to set up your tents, and since you'd never been camping before, you had to ask for help - which was something you hated to do. You figured you'd ask Bolin, mainly because he was the closest person to you, and you were a bit lazy to walk, but also because he was always very kind to everyone.

"Hey, Bolin?" You said, making him look at you. "Could you maybe help me with my tent? It's the first time I'm doing this and I'm totally lost," you chuckled, but your smile disappeared as soon as you heard Mako's voice.

"Wow, so there's something that you don't know how to do? It must be killing you." He only mumbled it, but it was loud enough for you to hear him. His brother hit him on the shoulder and you just took a deep breath.

"You know what? It's okay, I'll figure it out. I don't want to bother anyone," you whispered the last part and started walking away before you got a response.

However, you heard Bolin calling out your name from behind you, and he told you that he would help you. You thanked him and in less than thirty minutes, your tent was all set up.

"Thank you so much, Bolin. I never would've done it without your help!" You started to arrange your stuff inside the tent, and he walked back to his brother.

"I don't know why you hate her so much," he said to Mako. "She's really nice."

"Yeah, she's also very cocky and annoying. You're only saying that because you don't know her."

"Well, you don't, either," he commented. "Maybe you should give her a chance."

…

Being alone in the darkness of your tent made you think about the past before you managed to fall asleep.

You first joined the famous Team Avatar when you helped your mother find Korra when she got kidnapped by the equalists. You also helped her save Tenzin's family, which resulted in you losing your bending.

Losing such an important part of your identity was the worst thing you could've imagined, and you still had some nightmares about that night, repeating it over and over again.

And tonight was one of those nights.

You’d finally fallen asleep and you woke up with sweat covering your entire body. You touched your face, trying to get rid of the sensation of Amon’s hand on your forehead, and noticed you were shaking. You started to feel constricted inside the tent and decided to get some fresh air.

You sat far away from everyone since you didn’t want to wake them up, and put your legs against your chest, hiding your face. You wanted to cry, you wanted someone to hug you, and you wanted to stop feeling so weak. You hated that you were still haunted by that memory, and you hated that you were too scared to tell anyone about it.

"Hey, can’t sleep?" You heard a voice behind you. You turned around and saw Mako standing a few meters away from you. When he realized that it was you, his expression changed completely. "Oh, I didn’t know it was you," he mumbled. You nodded slightly and turned around again. He thought that it was weird how you didn’t mock him or said anything to him like you always did. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I’m fine, Mako. You can go now." You were about to cry and it was totally evident in your voice, so he ignored your words and sat next to you, leaving some distance between you two.

"Do you want to talk about it or…?"

"Stop it, Mako. We both know you don’t care," you mumbled. Tears started falling down your face, and you turned to the side so he wouldn’t see you.

He ignored once again what you said and let out a sigh. "I do care, (Y/N). Why would I be here if I didn’t?"

"Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’d absolutely love to see me like this since you hate me so much," you said, looking at him. He opened his mouth to talk but you lifted your hand, signaling for him to stop. "I thought I told you to leave, but since you didn’t listen I guess I’ll leave." You got up, and he did too.

You started walking away and stopped when you heard his voice again. "Why are you leaving? I’m just trying to help."

"Well, I didn’t ask for your help! I didn’t ask for your fake sympathy! I didn’t ask for any of this and yet here we are." You didn’t care about possibly waking the others up anymore, and you also didn’t care that Mako was seeing you like this. You just wanted your fear and that stupid relationship you had with the boy in front of you to stop.

"Ugh, why do you have to be like that? Why do you always try to be so perfect? It’s so frustrating and annoying," he said. You took a deep breath and decided to walk back to your tent, you didn’t have the strength to keep fighting, you just wanted to keep crying, hoping that you’ll feel better in the morning.

…

When you got up, you saw that everyone else was already awake. You knew that everyone could see that you’d been crying, even you could feel how swollen your eyes were, and you suspected that maybe they’d also heard you and Mako last night. You tried to ignore them and decided to go and sit near the river so you could be alone, but when you got there you saw that Bolin and Opal were there, and also Mako. You still stayed there and sat away from them.

A few minutes later, they all got up and you thought that they were leaving, but you were surprised when you saw Opal walking towards you. The two boys followed her but stood a few meters away from you, waiting for the girl.

"Hi, (Y/N)," she said. You smiled softly and greeted her too. She kneeled next to you and grabbed one of your hands. "Are you okay? I heard you screaming last night and Mako kind of told us what happened."

"Oh, I’m sure he did," you mumbled. "I’m fine, Opal, you don’t have to worry. Thank you for asking." Mako scoffed at your words, and you glared at him. "Is there something wrong, Mako?"

"No, it’s just funny to me how you’re so kind now, you know?"

"Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?" You stood up and started walking towards him.

"(Y/N), Mako, why don’t you just calm down? There’s no need to fight," said Bolin, trying to ease the situation.

"No, I want him to tell me what’s his problem!"

"You wanna know what’s my problem? You are! You and your attitude, always pretending to be Ms. Perfection!"

"Maybe we should let them talk..." you heard Bolin say to Opal but stopped paying attention to them once they started walking away.

"I’ve never done anything to you! And yet you’re always annoying me. If you hate me so much then stop paying attention to me," you started walking from side to side. "You have no idea of why I act the way I act, you have no idea of what’s like to be my mum’s daughter! You don’t know the pressure I’m under, trying to make her proud all the time, and it’s even worse when you come and just bother me all the time." He tried to talk, but you just didn’t let him.

"You don’t know what it feels like to still have nightmares about Amon taking my bending away, or what it feels to feel so alone all the time! Not everyone has a perfect friend like you who’s always there when you need it, okay? But of course, you wouldn’t know what I’m talking about. No, you’re so worried about annoying me with your words and your perfect face all the time. You don’t know anything about me, Mako!" You stopped talking and took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down.

"I didn’t know about any of that, (Y/N), I’m so sorry, really." He made a pause and looked at you. "But you’re not a saint here, either. You get irritated just by looking at me, and you always have something to say to me, too!"

"That’s because I can’t stand how nice you are! I’d do anything to have someone like you in my life, Mako! You’re always so attentive to everyone and you know it! It makes me sick because I’d love for you to be that way with me too." You mumbled the last part, but he still heard you. You wanted to make a hole in the ground and never get out of there, and for a moment you actually thought about doing it.

"Did you just say what I think you said?"

"No, I didn’t. Of course I didn’t! I’d never confess that I like you in the middle of a fight."

"Not even if I told you that I liked you too?" He took a step towards you, leaving you two face to face. He couldn't believe that he'd actually said that out loud; it wasn't a secret anymore.

You made eye contact with him and you could already feel your heart racing. You licked your lips and you both stood there, waiting for someone to say something. "Mako, I-," you were interrupted by him grabbing your face and pressing his lips against yours. You immediately wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer to you.

You two pulled away since you needed to breathe, and pressed your foreheads together. "I'm sorry for being such an asshole," he said. "I promise I'll be there for you whenever you need me."

"I'm sorry for being an asshole, too. I guess that a part of me didn't want to admit that I liked you."

"Well, I'm happy to know that you do," he said before kissing you again.

•••

TAGLIST

@burningcurrently

[hikarimiyanaga]

I'll Always Be Yours (Part 5)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Fifth Song: Dahan (Gently)

You stop trying to fight your stubborn heart. Just wanting to live a lonely life without her.

A/N: Officially completed and I'm starting on my Wanda fic now!!

Might take weeks to finish that one though...

Oh well.

Dialogues that are in parenthesis are spoken in Japanese.

Warning: Angst

No more tears

I won't force it anymore

You are my love

Until eternity

No more listening

My mind is confused

I hope you know

You are the one I love

-

You hum as you draw. It took you a week until you can finally draw your sketches again. Another week to pick up a paintbrush and actually paint.

It’s been four months since then. Your only missing at least two more paintings so you could open another art exhibit. You hum as you take a sip of your coffee.

“Shouldn’t you stop?” You raise an eyebrow at Silvia.

“That’s your third cup already and it’s only 11 am.” You shrug at her and continue sketching.

“Will the last one be Natasha?” You stop and contemplate Miyuki’s words. You haven’t sketched her since you broke down.

“Most probably.” You’ll probably use one of your older sketches. The ones where the woman you draw was the one you knew. Not Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow and Avenger but just Natalia, the little girl who turned into a gorgeous woman. Natalia whom you loved with your every being.

“Maybe sell it this time?” You frown at Silvia. “You rejected the last offer for the portrait!” You shrug. “It was 20 million!” Miyuki whistles at you and you smile.

“I still don’t want anyone to monopolize her.” Silvia sighs in defeat and Miyuki consoles her.

-

You start painting her portrait again and you can’t help but smile. You just hope that wherever she is. Whomever she was with. That you’re still holding onto your promise with her. You’ll always be waiting for her. Loving her. You stretch your body as you pause for the day. You really did meant forever.

“Silvia?” Silvia opens your door and peeks inside.

“Yeah?”

“Can you contact Professor Asuna? See if there’s any willing gallery that I can rent for a week?”

“Okay. Got it.”

“Thanks, even though you’re only my bodyguard.”

“It’s called assisting. I do that too.”

“I know!” You chuckle as she closes the door. You open your phone and lay down on the floor. You begin watching videos of the love of your life.

-

“Natasha.” Nat ignores Clint and stares at her portrait. “Hey.”

“What?”

“There’s a kid that wants to interview you?” Natasha sighs and turns around.

“Why?”

“About the painting, I think.”

“Where?”

“In front of Mona Lisa.”

-

Natasha approaches the kid who smiles at her.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Colette. A big fan of Master Y/N.”

“Have you met her?” Natasha sits besides the kid and they both look at Mona Lisa.

“Yes. Many times. Through her exhibitions. Never got to buy any of original painting though, just the postcards one.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Just answers.”

“To what?”

“Do you and Master Y/N know each other?”

“Knew.” Natasha answers with a sigh. “Before I became an Avenger, I knew her.” Colette hums.

“To what extent?”

“What?”

“Your relationship? Friends? Lovers? Enemies?”

“Lovers.” Natasha says with a sad smile.

“Ah. I knew it.”

“What do you mean?” Colette shrugs and smiles.

“Do you know that she still loves you?” Natasha gulps and looks at Colette. Colette smiles and gives Natasha an envelope. “It’s all just postcards but you can compare them to your portrait here. The strokes and the color aren’t matching. She must’ve spent days on your portraits and only hours on the landscapes. Granted they’re the ones she sells all the time.”

“She never sells my portraits?” Colette chuckles.

“Never. She said to a buyer once that she doesn’t want anyone to monopolize you. That you’re better taken care of if you’re seen by the world.” Colette bids her goodbye and Natasha looks at the miniature version of your paintings, she goes back to her portrait and her heart stops. Colette was right.

You do still love her. She can’t stop her smile and Clint smiles at her.

“You okay?” Natasha smiles.

“I’m good.”

-

And if it’s not for me

The love that you offer

Then I won’t hope anymore

To be kissed again

-

You sigh as Silvia and Miyuki cuddle each other while you were behind them. You insisted on this arrangement so you could deny that you know them. You pay attention to the screen and flinches when Steve appears. He says that warning that every movie theater does before showing the movie itself. You sigh and you look and see that the two are looking at you. You chuck them a piece of your popcorn and they look at the screen.

-

“The movie was so good!” You yawn as Silvia gushes about the movie.

“Yeah!” Miyuki agrees as you stretch your body.

“Boss? You going back?”

“Yep. You two go on a date or something.”

“You sure?”

“Yep. I’ll go take a nap before painting.”

“How many more days till you finish it?” You grin at them.

“Probably just one more.”

-

You wake up and see Natasha’s portrait staring down at you. You yawn and smile. Your phone rings and you see that it’s Asuna.

(“Hey.”)

(“You ready for it?”)

(“Yup. I’m just going to have the final one in center.”) Asuna hums.

(“Another portrait of her?”) You look at it and smile.

(“Always.”) After you hang up, you send an email to Tony Stark, confirming his invitation to your new exhibition.

-

Slowly release

My heart can't resist

Because once you left

It’s been Extremely difficult

-

You put on your suit and hum at yourself. You clean up nice.

“Is that an appreciative hum for my fashion sense or are you just being narcissistic?” Silvia asks and you roll your eyes. You get out of your room and Asuna smiles at you.

(“Finally. After hours.”)

(“Only an hour. Don’t compare me to you.”) Asuna gasps and Miyuki snickers.

(“Hush, you. Now, come on.”) You smile as you all leave the Ryokan and into your gallery. You laugh as you look around and your new paintings are displayed.

(“Asuna! Thank you! This is amazing!”)

(“On such short notice too.”)

(“Anything for the master. As long as you save me one painting.”)

(“Pick one.”)

(“Wait, seriously?”)

(“Yeah? There are a lot more than the usual so pick one.”)

(“This one then.”) She presents the portrait and you raise an eyebrow.

(“Anything except that one.”) They laugh and you shake your head.

(“This one then.”)

(“Ah. Your hometown?”) Asuna hums and you nod at her.

(“It’s yours. I’ll tell Norah not to auction that one.”)

(“Thank you, Y/N.”) She hugs you and you smile.

(“Okay, then! Two more hours till we open the doors!”) Miyuki shouts and you smile.

-

“Are you sure about this?”

“Of course.”

“It’s your call.” Natasha hums as she approaches the gallery with Tony.

-

You smile as visitors gush about your paintings. Exhibitions are still the one thing that you do make an appearance at. You were about to be approached when you see her. Natasha… she’s alone and looking at her portrait. Your heart beats faster and everything seemed to close in on you. FUCK. She’s here. DAMN IT!

“Boss?” Silvia calls out but you don’t hear her. “Y/N?” She shakes you and you finally look at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Air.” You simply answer and Silvia nods. She escorts you out of the gallery and Miyuki follows after.

-

You clutch your chest as you try to breathe normally.

“In and out, Y/N.” Silvia guides you through your sudden attack.

“Did something trigger it?”

“Not something.” You answer with hoarse voice then drink the water that Silvia gave you. “Someone.”

“Natasha?” You nod in confirmation. “Damn it.” You stop Silvia from going back inside.

“Don’t kick her out. Don’t be rude.”

“Then-“

“I’ll leave. I’ll come back tomorrow.” They nod and you sigh. “Tell them that I got sick or something. Just go.”

“You’ll be okay by yourself?” You nod and bid them goodbye. You walk back to the Ryokan to clear your head.

-

Natasha looks at the stage where Asuna got a hold of the mic.

(“I’m sorry to announce that Master Y/N cannot be here tonight.”) She hears disappointed murmurs go through the crowd. (“It seems that she suddenly got sick and had to leave early. She did say though that she’ll try her best to be here tomorrow.”) Asuna gives back the mic to the Dj and goes among the crowd again.

Natasha tries to find her and sees that Tony actually got to her first.

“Excuse me, Miss-?”

“Ah. Yuuki. Asuna Yuuki.” Natasha shakes her hand and they nod.

“What exactly happened to Master Y/N?”

“I don’t exactly know. Her bodyguards just told me that she got sick and left early.”

“Is she okay? Did something bad happen? Where is she-?” Tony gets ahold of her arm.

“Okay. Sorry for the sudden barrage miss Yuuki. We’ll be going now.” Tony drags Natasha away from Asuna.

-

I will not allow it anymore

You hurt me

That again and forget

Our past

Can't you hear

My chest throbbed

It's getting away from you

My feelings

-

You take a deep breath and fix your suit.

(“You ready, Y/N?”)You nod at Asuna and she opens the doors to your gallery once again. People immediately flock to you. They’re asking how you’re feeling. Some about the paintings. Some about the portrait.

“PEOPLE!” Silvia’s booming voice freeze them and she drags you away from them. (“Stop mobbing the master! She’ll talk to you if she’s feeling any better! Understood?”) They nod simultaneously and Miyuki gives you a glass of water.

“You okay?” You nod and drink the glass in one go.

“You sure about that?” You nod again and give the empty glass back to Miyuki.

“I’m fine now.” You tell them and go to a visitor.

-

You’ve managed to avoid both Tony and Natasha as you talk to everyone else and it’s the last day of your exhibition.

“Miss Y/LN.” You hum as Tony approaches you. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“You’re with miss Romanoff.”

“Ah… do you not like her?” You scoff.

“It’s nothing.”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” You sigh and wave your hand.

“As I promised, a million dollars.” He gives you a check and you shake your head.

“No. The exhibition is free for all. Keep it.”

“You sure?” You nod. “Then I’ll just have to bid all of your paintings.” You chuckle.

“And where will you put them?”

“Avengers’ Compound and Stark Industries.” You hum. He bids his goodbye and you smile.

-

You laugh as Tony bid 5 million on the last painting that Norah auctioned… he just spent 125 million dollars on all of your paintings.

“How about the portrait? A special gift for someone who just got you 125 million?” You go to the stage and Norah gives you the mic.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. But that portrait will be donated, not bought.”

“Come on, Y/LN!” Silvia growls and you put up your hand to stop her. “125 million! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“It means everything Mr. Stark. But that woman in those portraits also meant everything to me.” You get off the stage and get something from Miyuki.

“Instead of that, please accept this.” You give him the canvas that is covered.

“And this is?”

“A painting for her. I know she’s with you.”

“She had to leave early tonight because of an emergency mission.” You smile.

“And you can just half all of your bids, I don’t mind.”

“No. You earned those 125 million. Pepper will be happy with these pieces.” You hum.

“Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah?”

“Please tell her not to come looking for me again.” You bid him goodbye and leave.

-

Tony tried to find you again but he huffs in frustration. You were too good at hiding your own trail. He hoped to find you before Natasha gets back from her mission but as he hears the Quinjet land softly, he knew that he failed. He runs a hand through his hair and look at your paintings.

You really were a master.

[alldayangst]

100 letters, just for me (Tom Holland)

All of my fics are LGBT and PoC friendly. PAIRING: uni (fuckboy/frat) Tom x uni reader. Summary: ‘You wrote a hundred letters just for me / And I find them in my closet in the pockets of my jeans / Now I’m constantly reminded me of the time I was nineteen / Every single ones forgotten in a laundromat machine’.

“Walk of shame?” your friend, Camren, sat in the lounge, TV on low as Tom walked with his clothes carelessly thrown on his body, recovered hoodies and jumpers you previously stole sat in a pile as high as mountains in his hands, leading Camren to wonder whether or not it was really the end this time round. “Third time this week!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t be back anytime soon.” Tom slams the door behind him as hard as he could, and just when Camren thinks they can get a moment of peace, they hear a screeching sob rip through the air through the walls of your room. And Camren swears they live in a movie; a scratched CD of a bad romantic drama, that replays the part where the lovers face their problems over and over again.

‘My mouth hasn’t shut up about you since you kissed it’

You remembered the start of this debacle like it was yesterday. You and Tom were in the bathtub and Tom told you to reach inside the back pocket of your jeans, he’d left something important in there. “I’m not ready to get married, if you left a ring in there. I’m only 19.” Tom kissed your shoulder, back cold and pressed against the tub - but he’d been willing to compromise to be the crutch you leaned against, to be the haven you found refuge in. To be the hill you died on.

“It better not be a ring, Holland. I swear.”

“I’ve never met someone who didn’t want to get proposed to as much as you.” He laid his chin against your shoulder once your search become successful, and you found a strip of paper in your trouser back pocket.

“My mouth hasn’t shut up about you, since you kissed it.” You turned to Tom who could only see your face in the corner of his eye, having found a new living situation of the warm, wet slope previously called your shoulder. “Tom, what is this?”

“100 letters, just for you. You’ll find them in every pair of your jeans. I’m with you forever.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and press a hard, loving kiss on your lips, causing you to drop the tiny piece upon which Tom scribbled his message. “Just for me? You stole this from a love letter by Alex Turner to Alexa Chung!” Tom couldn’t take his love-hazed gaze off of you, and kissed you again like he was oblivious to the words you were saying or you were speaking a foreign language he didn’t understand. “You don’t stop complaining, do you?”

Six months later marked the end of yours and Tom’s gap year, and you decided to move in together off campus.

“I can’t find it.” Tom smiled as he shook his head, your orange in his hand as he sat on a stool opposite your lunchbox. He knew you had a presentation that day and was eager to impress, so you’d shoved your most sensible pair of slacks in the washing machine without a care and when Tom went to unload it, his note for you torn into tiny pieces and covered in botched ink slithered out and caplunked into a minuscule puddle on your wooden floor.

“I’m serious, you didn’t write one this time.” You rummaged through your blazer pockets just to check for certain you were right before you turned to Tom with every bit of confidence that he’d truly forgotten to write you a little love letter this time around.

Tom placed the orange back into the fruit basket and opted for a tomato instead. He took note of the shock in your face and the wince you made as he juggled it, and it drew dangerously close to the ground. “Tom, don’t juggle that. If it hits the ground, it will splatter everywhere.” Tom giggled. 

“Have you checked your slacks?”

“You think I haven’t checked my trousers?” You turned your trouser pockets inside out with the flare of pride.”You’ve forgotten. It’s OK, Tom.”

You opened your lunchbox to place your orange in, but a piece of red card occupied the compartment usually owed to your snacks. 

You held the card up: “I love you from my head tomatoes.” Tom chuckled cheekily, not watching as the tomato rolled off the counter and depicted a large, red splatter on the kitchen floor. But Tom promised he would clean it up.

Tom didn’t forget about writing one love letter, until he did. And by that point, his letters had felt almost as autonomous as the days of the week. You didn’t even have to think about it, they just went by. So you’d be raking through every end of the house, expecting to find his letter.

“Tom, where’s the letter?”

“Huh? I don’t know.” Tom locked the door as if he’d been chased by wolves, looking up and down through the peephole and then giving a satisfied lick of the lip.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” 

“As in, I don’t know - you’d have to look for it darling.”

Little did he know that’s what you spent your whole day doing. And you hadn’t found anyone with sharper eyes or a bigger will to find it for you.

You didn’t find the note that night. You didn’t know there wasn’t any.

“I found one! ‘You’re my happy place’.” Huh. Tom hadn’t written a new one in a while. He must have put a note in both of the pockets in this pair of jeans. These jeans had been tossed aside, barely worn, in fact - never worn since you’d tried them out in the dressing room at the store two months ago. You were in awe of how young love could take you so far, and kissed the tired Tom that laid beside you. You pulled back and caressed his cheek.

“Why didn’t you kiss back?” You asked, too drunk on ignorant bliss to acknowledge the warning signs and the parade of red flags that told you to leave before you got truly hurt. “M’ just tired.” And it showed. His hair was matted, clad to his face, a few shades darker that it usually was due to all the sweat. He took in every breath like he’d never breathed before and kept watering at the eye; the kind of cry you did when even the fatigue wouldn’t let you sleep. 

It was inevitable. Three months later, you and Tom broke up. You were freshly twenty, and freshly out of a relationship. Tom moved out of your shared apartment, and you found yourself trying to navigate university with a compass that seemed to only point South. You never had to have friends here before, because you had Tom. It was out of sheer luck that you stumbled upon Camren who not only shared your soul and your mind, but agreed to share your home. Tom Holland quickly became synonymous with London nightlife and out of reluctance to let you go (call it withdrawal symptoms), requested that you continue to see each other as long as romance was left out of the equation. You’d happily obliged and incessantly kept a cobweb-covered carousel going years after it stopped being the main attraction. On the nights you left with Tom, Camren was tossed aside, forgotten like coat in a cloakroom, so it was only fair game that they’d tease and whine at you when Tom left in the morning. If Tom left in the morning.

Tom was ravenous, and you ended up on Camren’s nest of a sofa. “I love the bones off you.” he muttered, and Tom was perhaps too keen to grab a handful of your backside, he docked both hands into both your pockets, fingernails scrambling at little torn pieces of paper. His heart went into panic mode. He squirmed to get out. The piece of paper landed beside you as he forcefully yanked his hands out, feeling like a prisoner freed to a world that was only half of what it was before.

‘I’d be a crazy, blind man to ever leave you.’

The room fell silent. Maybe with Camren’s TV on low, you didn’t have the space to have these moments. To stop indulging in the highs of life and really examine why the lows were the lows.

“Tom. I’m demanding honesty.”

Tom sighs. He’s so different these days, so cold. He unentangles your bodies and huffs and puffs like a little kid who hasn’t gotten their way. This, before you’d even said anything. You don’t know if you can deal with this white noise. 

“I just want to know why we broke up.”

Tom chooses to look at the artwork opposite the couch, because his safe place is no longer his safe place. Because now that you’re demanding honesty, instead of taking it when it comes, his happy place becomes his vulnerable. Tom didn’t like to be vulnerable. It’s why he ended things in the first place.

“Well, we’re in uni..” Tom’s not sure if he wants to continue. He can feel the spotlight on him, you looking at him. He’s center stage but not one for attention. He’s suddenly painfully aware of the fragility of his answer, and worries it will go ‘splat!’ and make like a tomato, and then you’ll really never speak to him again. He furrows his brows as he looks down into his lap, twiddling and pulling at his fingers as if they had the answer (they used to) before he says it in the best way he knows how, your eyes boring into him. “We’re at uni, and there’s so many beautiful women and handsome men, and mighty attractive human beings walking around here, and it’s hard to believe one person you met at a stupid age could compare to the pool of people that are here.”

And how it sounds in Tom’s head, how he meant it is so much better to the way it sounds and means to you. Because words like ‘compare’ and ‘pool of people’ highlight how insignificant and worthless Tom felt he was to you. He felt he communicated how he insecure he was feeling. To you? Words like ‘comapre’ only shine a torch on your own insecurities and phrases like ‘pool of people’ makes you contemplate whether Tom was ever unfaithful, and it made you feel insignificant, worthless. 

“So, I’m definitely not the only person in your life right now.” Tom looks up and before he can say anything- “I’m not something you can butter up and taste when you get bored.”

“Y/N.” Tom starts. “That would never be the way I could see you.”

“I’d like you to leave, Tom.”

And leave he does.

Two weeks later, you and Camren found yourself in a predicament. “Can you get it out?” Camren had their hand down the drain of your bathtub. Cautiously, they launched two fingers in. “Can you get it out?” You asked again, nibbling lightly on the tip of your nails out of nervousness.

“Honestly, it doesn’t feel that big.” Camren stops their search after hooking their finger around the culprit of which blocked your plughole. “It’s a piece of fucking paper.” Camren sighs a breath of relief. “My mouth hasn’t shut up about you since you kissed it.”

You breathe in.

Credit for the gif goes to: /dreamyyholland

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