#sandwich is no longer an option

[sweetsweetbumblebee]

m hungy

[lucalicatteart]

Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 3: read the small story tidbit below the poll for more details, OR just vote based on initial impression

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

The winning option of yesterday's poll was that the adventurer should throw a coin into the mysterious well ….

"After nearly ten minutes rummaging through the disorganization at the bottom of his backpack, he finally approaches the well once again, meager coin pouch in hand. He meticulously balances a little golden coin on the tip of his thumb, positioning it just so for an elegant coin flip… With a flick of his hand, the coin wobbles off, anticlimactically dropping into the darkness.. He pouts, leaning in to listen for a plonk as the coin hits the water but… nothing…. silence.. A few minutes pass and he shrugs, moving to pick up his bag and just continue his journey elsewhere, when suddenly a faint noise echoes from the well.. an almost cartoonish plopping sound, like wet feet slapping against stone..? The pitter patter grows closer and closer…then stops abruptly. The adventurer cautiously slinks over to the well, only to find.. a creature of some sort, clinging to the walls, staring up at him blankly. - What should he do next?"

[bzedan]

There is something very fun and silly about getting takeout from a place we only know as “the work catering place.”

[squirmydonnie]

Vent:

I don't know what I want to do or what i should do.

I just wish things were less complicated.

[copperbadge]

This is not to sniff at packaged food in any way, because cheap, uniform, nutritious, premade food is important and necessary. And despite what your local tiktok orthorexic may tell you, packaged food is still capable of providing solid nutrition.

That said, I've been making my own bread for about twenty years, and for the last ten or so it has often been easier to make bread than buy it, solely because I don't need to leave the house to do so, and I live alone so a decent loaf can last me a good ten days. Being able to make ones own bread in this modern era is a product of privilege -- the resources to buy the ingredients (especially high quality flour, not cheap), the time and space to bake, the stamina to knead or equipment to make kneading easier -- my breads improved a lot when I got a good stand mixer, and those aren't cheap. But also, to make a decent edible boule you can get by with flour, water, yeast, salt, and time. Throw in a little oil and you can make pizza crust; add in kneading and a bit of sugar and you have bagels.

It did somewhat change how I eat, because homemade bread is often a little difficult to make a sandwich with, but I was never a huge fan of sandos anyway. These days I often don't even make loaves -- I make rolls or bagels, or flatbreads.

But all of this is to say that because I'm now accustomed to eating my own bread, which is necessarily small-batch and produced without stabilizers that make commercial bread so soft and uniform, I am starting to struggle when I do buy bread because the flavor and texture often feel off. It's not that it's objectively bad food, but it's very different from what I'm used to, which is unpleasant. I've been aware of the issue for a while but previously even if the bread wasn't as good to me as my own, it was edible and convenient, so it was fine. Making your own hot dog buns is a pain in the ass.

I just bought a loaf of Italian bread, reasonably fresh, a brand I used to eat regularly, because I wasn't feeling up to baking anything. I've been making toast with it mostly. But yesterday morning -- admittedly while dealing with some nausea -- I bit into a sandwich I'd made with it (cashew butter and strawberry jam) and thought, "this feels like eating upholstery fabric."

I haven't been able to eat any more of it since. The soft, dense texture, the specific preservative flavor, the mouthfeel. I tried to eat some toast just now and had to spit it out because it felt like buttered brocade and I started to gag. I'm kind of mad about it, honestly.

The bread won't go to waste -- if I can't eat the rest of the bag I'll dry it out and crush it for breadcrumbs for fried chicken or a panade -- but it's both sad and funny that I have functionally baked myself into a corner where packaged bread is no longer even an option.

It feels like I'm becoming one of the middle-aged eccentrics I used to know when I was a kid -- older people or couples in my church, sometimes parents of my school friends, who were just kind of oddballs, hippie leftovers, what I still think of as Berkeley Weirdos (affectionate) even though Berkeley has long since gentrified. The lady who didn't have a functional oven or stove because she ate raw vegan or the family that converted their old station wagon to biofuel but kept the rear-facing back seats with no seatbelts and would give us death-defying rides to the community pool in them. I'm already growing my own basil because I eat an unlikely amount of pesto for one person. My signature potluck dishes are kiwi dip or egg-free meringues.

I don't mind, exactly. I loved the Berkeley Weirdos and the community they built for us kids. But it's definitely not a place I imagined ending up.

[mntozakii]

sugar — lee haechan

pairing: haechan x female reader

tags: stepcest, age gap (6 years), unprotected sex, haechan is a little bit insane but it's fine ☹️

note: been having haechan brainrot so plz enjoy this

minors do not interact and all characters are in legal age

[unedited]

before your first encounter with the boy, his father has warned you that his son can be very mischievous. it turned out to be wrong because the haechan that you met was silent, you didn't have to know that he was actually angry. he believed that a pretty girl like you shouldn't be around men like his father, he knew that his workaholics father will neglect you in the future.

much to your delight, haechan warmed up and became closer to you since his father is always on a business trip. haechan just absolutely adore the way his father's young trophy wife showed up to his soccer games, coding competition, and took care of him like a good mommy. in return, he gave you a lot of affection and love. your sweet boy haechan who never disrespect you, listened to you more than his father, and indulged into your silly little hobbies. he didn't mind to follow around the store like a kicked puppy as you spend his father's black card.

haechan who can't be mean with you. at first, he wanted to make your life miserable but you were so kind and lovely to him. you think of him so fondly that it never crossed on your mind that he's taking advantage of you.

haechan who whines about his sore back so you will massage him and he finds it amusing that you laugh whenever he moans, if only you knew that haechan creamed his pants.

haechan who loves to share his food and feels his pupils dilate whenever your mouth opens nicely as he feeds you.

haechan who offers to do the laundry so he can steal your panties, he secretly touches himself with the flimsy silk.

to be honest, you weren't bothered with haechan's behaviour since you've seen how the boy acted around his relatives and friends. you assumed that it was only natural for him to be so attached with you, after all you're his new mother.

haechan has to thank his parents for making baby as his nickname because now he gets to hear you call him baby everyday.

"baby, don't forget to eat your breakfast"

"haechan baby, can you help me with the grocery?"

"good job baby, you're so smart"

four years went by and your sweet sunshine is no longer a pretty boy, he stood taller than you and looked intimidating than ever. however, he was still the same cheeky boy you've know. haechan attended law school, following his father's path. to be frank, it wasn't his first option but you had beg so prettily for him to listen to his father.

even though haechan was hundred miles away from you, he will still occasionally visit you. besides, he texted you everyday and updated you with everything. you knew the names of the professors that he hated, his pretentious classmates, and his roomate jeno.

"i want to see your face" haechan sent a selfie of him on bed with his messy brown hair.

"i'm on a date" you sent a selfie with his father which he replied with an eye roll emoji. you probably laugh at his choice of emoji but he genuinely felt pissed off. all he wanted was to see your face and he got a picture of the old man kissing your cheek.

"i miss having meals with you" haechan sent a picture of his pathetic dinner that consisted of ramen, few packs of sandwiches, and milk.

"my baby, please eat a proper meal" you sighed as you looked at his simple dinner, you'll remind your husband to pay extra attention to his allowance.

when haechan had few days off from school, he decided to suprise you by taking a flight home. upon his arrival, he was flustered to hear choked cries coming from your room. he knows that his father was home so he opted to peek from behind the door, his face turned into a soft frown when he saw your naked body on his father's lap.

"honey, please, i want to have a child with you" his heart burned with jealousy watching you hold his father's face as you cried, he never get to see your vulnerability before.

"i feel alone, the house seems so empty without haechan. it is a perfect timing for us to raise a child together, right?" his heart broke seeing your attempt to convince his father, haechan felt your frustration by the strong grip on the older man's shirt. he never know that you felt alone while he was away, he felt even worse when the accompany that you now wanted was in a form of a child.

"my sweetheart, i understand how you feel but can you wait for a few more months? once everything is settled at the firm, we will talk about this again" haechan had to physically control himself from letting a scoff, he knew that his father's promise meant nothing. the younger man headed to his room while he waited for his father to return to his office.

as soon as he heard the car left, he went outside to find you. his lips turned into a smirk when he saw you eating a pint of ice-cream, he was quick to attack you with a tight hug. you let out a shriek before hitting his chest when you realised it was haechan.

"haechan, you didn't tell me that you were coming home!" you reciprocated his hug and chuckled when the brunet pecked you on the cheek.

"i wanted to surprise you" he mumbled as he wiped the cream at the corner of your lips, he pulled you to the couch and kept you close to him. he wrapped his hand around your shoulder as he listened to you while the movie play mindlessly in the background.

"baby, have some" haechan smiled when you fed him the ice-cream. he found it very cute when you call him baby because he liked to take advantage of it, it almost felt like you will always forgive him for his mistakes.

haechan loved whenever you wear polo shirt especially if it was paired with a mini skirt. today, you were wearing his favourite white shirt paired with a midi skirt. you looked so beautiful, he can't help but to stare at your thighs through the slit of the skirt.

"why are you so pretty today? i want to play with you" his hand slid inside the skirt before he softly rubbed your inner thigh while maintaining eye contact with you. it wasn't unusual for haechan to be clingy but he should never touch you in that way.

"haechan, what are you doing?" your heart pounded heavily when his hand dangerously headed north.

"baby, your hand—" you tried to push it away but it was no use, his grip only tighten on your body. haechan leaned closer to leave wet kisses on your neck, he missed you so much.

"no— haechan, we cannot do this" your second attempt to shove him away failed since he was so much stronger than you, he didn't even budge at all.

"hmm, why can't we do this?" his mellifluous voice whined before he pulled you to his lap, his hands rested on your side as he eyefucked you.

"my father doesn't want to put a baby into you and i want to do the opposite of that, isn't that good?" his voice made the question sounded so innocent meanwhile in reality, he was talking about making you pregnant with his child. he must've overheard your talk with your husband, you wanted to believe that haechan was just confused with his feelings towards you.

"haechan, your father will get very mad at you" you mumbled as you reached for his hands, holding them tightly so he won't touch you again. haechan admired your effort to put him in his place, it was an adorable attempt. he easily pulled his hands away from you before carrying you to his room, he made sure to lock the door before cornering you to his bed.

"baby, baby, baby" he mocked the way your small voice always call for his name, he took off his shirt and sat on the bed. you can't help but to notice how different he looked now, his body was becoming lean and his features has developed into a handsome man. haechan held your hand as you stood still with guilt written all over your face.

was it your fault for spoiling haechan rotten until he thinks that he can get whatever he wants?

was it your fault for not creating a clear boundaries with your step son?

was it your fault for getting a little aroused with his little antics today?

"mommy, give me a chance to please you" haechan begged with the prettiest doe eyes ever, you are aware that you can say no, leave his room, and pretend that nothing happened but something inside you was thrilled to see more of him.

haechan grew impatient waiting for your reply, he decided to have you on his lap again before a brilliant idea popped out.

"you can tell me to stop and i will" haechan promised before he unbuttoned your shirt, he tried to read your expression but failed to do so. haechan chuckled seeing purple bruises all over your chest, you must had a steamy night yesterday.

"my father is a greedy bastard, isn't he?" he muttered before doing the exact thing that his father did to you last night, except haechan was aiming for your neck.

"baby, not on the neck, he will notice it" you pulled on his hair to take a look at his face, he seemed to be disappointed when he failed to mark you.

his hands gently groped on your tits and nipples, he alternated in between sucking, biting, and pulling on your hard buds. haechan felt his ego skyrocketed when you started to whimper and begged for more.

haechan positioned you to lay down comfortably on his bed before he took off your panties, he kept the skirt on because it looked lovely on you. haechan couldn't believe that he was finally staring at your naked body, he had been fantasizing this for years.

"such a pretty pussy" haechan praised you and chuckled when he noticed your hole clenched at nothing, he didn't know that you were already leaking wet.

"hmm, it's so tight, does he not fuck you at all?" haechan queried as he stuffed your hole with his middle finger, he moaned seeing you tighten around his digit. since he was eager to satisfy you, he added another finger and played with your clit using his other hand.

instead of making you reach your high, haechan kept on edging until you became so frustrated. he will rub your clit in the most delicious circles and stopped whenever you're almost close. the moment when he noticed your legs started to twitch, he will take his hand off your pussy and let you cry for more.

"haechan, don't be mean to me" you had to hold back a sob because you've been denied for so many times and it felt so painful. you tried to touch yourself but he gently smacked your clit as a warning, he wanted to see you come on his cock instead of his fingers. he got on top of you and let your legs rest on his shoulders, he gave a few kisses on your calf before pulling out his dick.

"i prepped you so well, you should be able to take it like a good girl, right?" he rubbed the tip on your entrance and slightly pushed the tip to elicit another moan from you.

one thing that haechan had always dreamt off was kissing you, he had various imagination to kept him on edge whenever he jerked off. he used to imagine fucking you on the mattress that you share with his father, he also fantasized about fucking you in the kitchen too. today, he will do everything that he wanted for so many years.

haechan bit his lip as he slowly pushed himself inside your warm cunt, it felt so fucking good that he wanted to cry. haechan leaned closer to kiss your lips and giggled when he tasted the lip gloss, you had put it on him for fun before but it tasted so much sweeter on your lips.

"baby, what's so funny?" you asked then laughed when he shrugged it off and hid his face on your chest as his hips kept on thrusting into your poor hole.

"this is better than everything i used to dream off" haechan admitted before pulling you into another kiss, you realised that the brown haired boy liked to be messy when kissing. he was so desperate and wanted to swallow you whole if he could, he slowly trailed down to your neck and started to suck and bite on it.

"baby, be gentle with it" you reminded him as you caressed his hair, you admitted that he was doing so well and it scared you. the younger boy decorated your neck with fresh red marks before he intertwined your hands together.

"i'm going to fill you up with my seed, get you pregnant with my child, that'll make you a real mommy" haechan whispered before he continued to fuck you real hard, every each of his thrust hits your cervix and drove you to madness.

"baby, no— haechan, you have to pull out" your hands weakly push him away but it only fueled him to pound your hole mercilessly, he knew that you were close and he wanted to come together. a few more penetration and haechan felt your walls contracted tightly around his veiny cock, he shot ropes of warm semen inside your pussy.

you can't help but to whine at the warm feelings inside you, haechan panted softly as pulled you into a tight hug. he caressed your messy hair and adored the marks he left on your body.

"did i do a good job, mommy?"

[jungshookz]

smitten: y/n (reluctantly) agrees to go to jimin's big halloween bash and she forgot how much she actually hated parties

➺ pairing; jeon jungkook x reader

➺ genre; smitten!miniseries!! bff!kook and smitten!y/n!! university!au!! honk honk humour!! the boohoo angsty wattpady fic of your dreams!! the pining and yearning is off the charts!! jimin’s still an asshole but what’s new!! 

➺ wordcount; 9.2k

➺ summary; putting on a smile while watching ji-eun cuddle up to jungkook is already hard enough, but when y/n is (reluctantly) invited to jimin’s massive halloween party, she can’t help but even more out of place. 

➺ what to expect; “you know, you’re my best friend and i wanna make sure that everything is… good between us.”

➺ currently playing on cee.fm; favourite crime [olivia rodrigo]

➺ smitten: part one [the almost confession]; part two [the incriminating note]; part three [the date]

»»————- 👻 ————-««

you’re pretty sure you’re in hell. 

you’re not sure what you did in your past life to have deserved this, but past-life y/n must’ve killed a baby or set an entire village on fire or something to that degree because you’re pretty sure that in this current timeline, you’re in hell 

you stay quiet as you munch on your (slightly soggy, unfortunately) sandwich, scrolling through your phone (but not really paying attention to your instagram feed because apparently you’re a glutton for punishment and you keep wanting to look up and just stare at jungkook and ji-eun in all their coupley glory) while your foot taps anxiously against the ground 

you know that if you say you can sit somewhere else to give the two of them some privacy that jungkook will insist that you stay, but you feel like the longer you sit here the faster the people around you will see that you’re just a big ol’ monster truck sized third wheel

you could lie and say that you have to go to the library to get some work done, but jungkook’s really good at knowing when you’re lying to him (apparently you have VERY obvious tells which you were very unaware of) so that’s not going to be a feasible plan either 

it’s just that being here is incredibly uncomfortable but it seems like the only option you have is to stay and sit through it — which, again, reiterates your point of you being pretty sure you’re being punished for something you did in your past life

“my handsome boy…” ji-eun giggles lightly, reaching over to adjust the collar of jungkook’s jacket before leaning over to kiss him on the cheek, “i like this jacket a lot.” 

“yeah?” he gives his girlfriend a boyish grin, looking down at his jacket before looking back up at her, “lucky for you, you can borrow it anytime you’d like-“ you glance up at them, the little voice in your brain stopping you from interrupting them to say that that is a nice jacket because you chose it for jungkook — and you feel like that comment could potentially lump you into the pick-me-girl-best-friend category which you’d very much like to avoid 

“borrow? no, i’m stealing it-“ 

“no way! i got this thrifted for, like, fifteen bucks, i’m not letting you steal it-“

“alright, then you better sleep with one eye open the next time i stay over at yours because this is a nice jacket-“ 

you can’t help but look over at the empty seat next to you on the bench as you let out a quiet sigh… you have never felt so horribly single in your entire life. 

and it doesn’t help that it’s cuffing szn this cuffing szn that all over your social media — your tiktok feed has not been very friendly to you as of late, the app flooded with countless videos of cute couples bundling up for the colder seasons

if anything you need to be cuffed to the wall before you go crazy and rip your eyelashes out from frustration 

unsurprisingly, jungkook and ji-eun are a couple now, but really, are you surprised? jungkook is great, ji-eun is great, they went on a great first date (thanks to you, let’s be honest) and all the dates after that went well too because it lead to jungkook asking ji-eun if she wanted to be exclusive with him 

you knew that things were going well when jungkook started hanging out with you less and less

and then when they officially got together, you didn’t think it could possibly get any worse but your already puny twice a week hangouts turned into two hours a week before he’d zip off to spend time with ji-eun

in fact, within the last two weeks, he’s only hung out with you once… which is fine, because you understand the honeymoon stage and you understand how giddy people can be when they get into a brand new relationship and just want to spend all their time with this new person 

you know for sure that if you were the one who’d gotten into a new relationship, you’d definitely want to spend as much time with your person because why wouldn’t you want to do that? you really can’t blame the guy 

you have other friends you can hang out with, but it’s just not as fun because even when you’re having a good time with them, your mind keeps wandering back to what jungkook is doing with ji-eun 

and of course, when jungkook mentioned to you over a quick lunch one afternoon that he was planning on asking ji-eun to make things official, it’s not like you could tell him that it was a horrible idea and that he shouldn’t be dating ji-eun without ruffling feathers and raising brows of suspicion 

the only person it would be a horrible idea for would be you, and you’re not enough of a dickhead to ruin a potentially good thing because of your own desires  

and obviously, she said yes because why wouldn’t she say yes?

…

you know, there really isn’t a way for you to talk about this situation without sounding like the most bitter person on the planet, so perhaps you should move on now  

“okay, i’m putting you two on drinks duty for the party!” jimin seems to appear out of thin air and you turn your head to look at him standing at the front of the table with an armful of flyers and the usual bossy, snarky persona that literally drains you every time you have an interaction with him, “unless you’re too busy making out to handle that.” 

“no, we can handle it-“ ji-eun rolls her eyes playfully, pulling away from jungkook before reaching over and plucking the list from jimin’s slim fingers, “jesus, jimin. twelve bottles of vodka??” 

“i’ll give you my credit card, just put all the charges on it-“ jimin shrugs, sliding in next to you before nudging you over a little, “this is going to be my greatest party yet. i’m charging $10 an admission and i’m renting out this huge house- i don’t think you can even comprehend how massive this party is going to be. it’s gonna be so much better than last year’s one.” 

“i remember hearing about your party last year!” you chime in, offering jimin a polite smile even though he’s not looking at you, “it sounded like it was super fun.” 

“so, you guys are on drinks, so that’s covered-“ jimin makes a tick on his clipboard before nodding to himself, “decor is covered, catering is covered, rent for the night is covered…” 

you poke your tongue against the inside of your cheek, slumping in your seat a little and resisting the urge to roll your eyes

you still have no clue what jimin’s problem is with you, but at this point you’ve gotten used to the way he acts like you literally do not exist at all 

you mentioned it to jungkook one time, wondering if maybe you were just looking too far into it and that there was nothing to take personally to which he responded with an enthusiastic nod and a “no, i also get the vibe that he doesn’t like you and i have no idea why… just let him be an ass if he wants to be one, don’t stoop to his level. life is too short to waste energy on weird people.” 

so if jimin wants to continue being an ass to you, you’re just gonna let it roll off you like water off a duck’s back 

“funny enough, y/n and i were gonna go to your party last year, but the kids in y/n’s building were trick or treating so we decided to stay home and watch horror movies and hand out candy instead-“ jungkook clears his throat, eyes flickering over to you for a brief second, “we also, like, decorated the doorway like it was a haunted apartment to freak the kids out. and y/n had this great idea to have a cauldron filled with warm spaghetti and she told the kids it was brain stew-“ 

“oh my god, i forgot about that-“ you snort, “i feel like we should’ve done, like, warm pudding instead or something, but the spaghetti kinda had the same effect and my kitchen smelled like an italian restaurant for two weeks after that-“ 

“let’s talk costumes!” jimin interrupts you, smacking his palm down on the table before pointing his pen at ji-eun and jungkook, “please don’t show up in anything tacky.” 

“we were thinking barbie and ken!” ji-eun grins, “not tacky, totally trendy — i know we probably won’t be the only barbie and kens in the room, but it’s just so trendy and i loved her pink sequinned cowboy outfit- or if that’s not available, i think the 80s skater costumes were a vibe-“ 

“i can’t whait to talk about horshes and capitahlism wiv a bunch of ovher kensj.” jungkook laughs lightly with a mouthful of sandwich, dabbing his mouth with his napkin before crumpling it up into a ball and tossing it at you

you scowl playfully when it bounces off your forehead and lands on the ground 

“you could go as allen, y/n. that’d be pretty funny.” jungkook swallows his bite, and you want to tell him that he doesn’t have to include you in every part of the conversation because you can practically see the pity for you radiating off of him in waves 

you know for a fact he feels bad that he’s not been able to hang out with you as much lately because every time you do hang out he always brings you a drink or a snack with sympathetic little puppy dog eyes

and every time you have lunch with him and ji-eun he’s always making an effort to include you in the conversation — especially when jimin is around because again, it’s pretty clear the guy doesn’t like you 

you and jungkook spent an entire afternoon trying to figure out why he didn’t like you so much, but you couldn’t come up with any conclusive results, so now whenever jimin is around, jungkook makes even more effort to include you in the conversation 

“allen was my favourite character, so that’s not even a bad idea.” you chirp, pulling out one of the flyers from jimin’s neat pile before looking at it for the details

“oh, right. yeah, you can come too, i guess.” jimin clears his throat quietly, taking the flyer back from you with a chuckle, “…you don’t seem like you’d have anything crazy going on on a friday night.”  

“i can come too? i thought that everyone was invited to this thing?” you raise an eyebrow, pointing to the little note on the flyer, “all it says is general admission.”

“…right.” jimin smiles sweetly at you, “and i suppose i’ll waive the fee for you since you’re… friends with jungkook.” 

“how sweet of you.” you respond curtly, offering a smile just as sweet before letting it drop as soon as he looks away

you are absolutely dreading having to go to this party. 

»»————- 👻 ————-««

“are you sure you don’t want us to come and pick you up? ji-eun has space in her car, you’d just have to sit in the back with all the drinks n stuff-“ 

“i’m good, jungkook, really-“ you mutter, pausing for a second to smudge out your lipstick before leaning back in your chair and turning side to side to look at your finished look 

not that this is jungkook’s fault, but the fact that the two of you really haven’t been hanging out as often gave you a lot of time to think about what you wanted to dress up as for jimin’s halloween costume, and after a solo spooky movie binge the other weekend, you decided that you wanted to dress up as emily from the corpse bride

sure, it’s been done so many times — but you love the movie and you love emily and you had so much time to get everything you needed for this costume so why not dress up as her?? 

you reach up to adjust your blue wig, tugging at it slightly to make sure it’s nice and secure 

“i’m just gonna uber there! plus, my place is kind of out of the way if you guys are already headed to jimin’s.” you clear your throat, “thank you for the offer though. make sure to let ji-eun know i really appreciate the gesture.” 

“okay, i will…” jungkook murmurs, and you can tell by the tone in his voice that he wants to say something but he’s holding himself back, “i guess i’ll see you at the party, then? we’ll probably be there in about forty minutes.” 

“yes, i’ll see you guys at the party.” you nod, wiping the leftover blue lipstick on your fingers on a tissue before reaching over to get ready to press the hangup button 

“y/n?” jungkook’s voice crackling out from your phone speaker makes you pause, and you pull your hand back 

“yea?” 

“we’re- we’re good, right?” the question is somewhat of a surprise to you due to its weirdly serious, non-jungkook nature, your eyes flickering down to look at the contact photo you have set for your friend

he grins like a maniac at the camera, eyes wide and lit up with excitement at the cheesy corn dog he’s holding in front of him 

the corner of your mouth twitches in a fond smile at the memory of that day — jungkook was convinced he’d be able to eat three corn dogs in one sitting and the day ended with him basically destroying your toilet and then refusing to let you use it until the smell cleared out 

“what do you mean?” you clear your throat quietly, lips parting to say something else before you press them together and decide against it

“i mean- i know we haven’t been hanging out a lot lately so i just-“ jungkook coughs, “you know, you’re my best friend and i wanna make sure that everything is… good between us.” 

“i-“ you pause again, gaze averting to the side as you think about his comment 

if you’re being completely honest, you don’t think everything is good between the two of you — the first reason why being the fact that you are still completely and utterly head over heels in love with him, and the second reason being that he’s in a relationship with someone else and you’re really not sure how much more of this you can take before you go insane 

but this isn’t exactly something you can hash out over a crackly phone call, and you’re really not in the mood to potentially destroy two relationships at once 

you really don’t know what you’re going to do about this emotional mess, but what you do know is that you’re going to have to take it day by day until you’re eventually ready to face it head on — and tonight, your only job is to smile, enjoy being young, and have lots of fun at what you’re sure is going to be an amazing party despite it being hosted by someone who hates your guts for no reason 

“we’re- we’re good, kook.” you manage to push out, despite the words practically fighting their way out of your mouth, “you’re my best friend, too.” 

“okay. so i’ll see you soon?” 

“yea.” you look at yourself in the vanity mirror, wondering if the sadness in your eyes will make your costume that much more believable, “i’ll see you soon.” 

»»————- 👻 ————-«« 

the six pack of lime seltzer water (you got the fancy kinds in glass bottles) clinks in their cardboard carrier as you walk on the sidewalk, blue heels clicking against the pavement as you follow the path leading up towards the house that-

“holy shit.” your jaw drops at the sheer size of this literal mansion — what looks to be an endless number of burgundy bricks separated by neat, thin layers of cement that are stacked on top of each other, two large, white columns that cast identical shadows on the curved sidewalk leading up to the large, black front door, and not to mention, the insane halloween decorations: huge spider webs stretched over the door and windows, fairy lights wrapped around the columns, a stack of pumpkins sitting by the front steps kardashian-style 

you don’t like jimin but you have to hand it to him, he sure can throw a party 

“s’cuse us, sorry!” a trio of girls dressed up as sluttier versions of the powerpuff girls brush past you, bubbles turning around to shoot you a grin, “love your costume, by the way!”

“oh, thank you!” your face immediately breaks into a wide grin, “you guys look great, too-“ 

the random compliment lifts your mood up slightly — you know you’re more than capable of making friends anywhere you go, so if jungkook is too busy mingling with the other couples, you know you’ll be fine 

and hopefully jimin will be too busy playing host to give you any attitude tonight 

you lift your dress up as you make your way up the steps, the corners of your mouth lifting in an excited smile when you see taehyung standing by the door greeting people and collecting their $10 by… having them tuck the bills into the waistband of his boxers

“magic mike?” you laugh, taehyung’s right eye dropping in a wink before thrusts his hips towards you 

“you know it, baby-“ he coos, reaching over to pinch the fabric of your dress to pull you towards him, your cheeks flushing when you stumble into his chest, “be nice to me and i’ll give you a lil lap dance in one of the private rooms-“ 

“taehyung, i swear to god, do not let any of those bills fall into your boxers because i’m not touching anything that touched your penis-“ jimin pops up behind taehyung dressed in a veryaccurate joker costume, his usual blonde hair dyed completely green for the look 

“hi, welcome to the party, $10 an admiss-“ the sweet smile immediately drops from his face when he realises it’s you, jimin leaning back slightly, “wow, corpse bride!” jimin nods, looking you up and down, “seems fitting.” he mutters under his breath, watching as taehyung tapes the neon orange bracelet around your wrist 

“nice to see you too, jimin.” you raise an eyebrow, lifting the six pack up with your other hand, “i didn’t want to come empty-handed, so i brought some drinks!”

“you brought six drinks for a house party? six sparkly waters, too… interesting.” jimin scoffs lightly, plucking the carrier from you before offering you a saccharine sweet smile, “how thoughtful of you. drinks are in the kitchen - first two shots are free, and then it’s $15 a shot after that. cocktails are $5 each, mocktails are $3- you seem like a shirley temple girl anyway- and all of it can be paid through venmo. the bartender will answer any other questions you have. bathrooms are upstairs, and the results to the costume competition will be announced at the end of the night. there are fifteen winners, and the votes are made by everyone here, so you might have a shot at winning something here.” jimin steps aside, gesturing towards the party, “have fun!”

“thank you, jimin.” you smile politely, stepping into the house and immediately rolling your eyes as soon as you turn away from him

so you weren’t able to completely avoid his dickheadedness, but hopefully that’ll be your only interaction with him tonight considering he’s probably going to be busy playing businessman all night 

$15 a shot is kind of insane, though 

you keep your phone pressed flush to your chest as you manoeuvre your way through the packed floor, the neon lights flashing and disco ball glimmering from above making it damn near impossible to navigate this place without bumping into backs and stepping on toes  

the DJ pumps his arm up into the air as he continues spinning his fingers against the discs, the crowd going wild as the song builds up to the chorus 

you can already tell that most of the people here are drunk (you can smell it, too) and you know, if you can’t beat ‘em, why not join them? 

you can find jungkook later, and alcohol is definitely going to make this night a little easier to handle 

“hi!” you smack your hands down on the marble countertop when you finally make your way to the bar, the vampire bartender turning to glance at you over his shoulder before tossing a cloth over his shoulder, “i want- something. shots, a drink, anything-“ your voice is already straining from the way you’re basically screaming over the music but this seems to be the proper way to communicate at a party like this 

“wait, y/n?” your eyes light up when you realise that it’s none other than namjoon in charge of the drinks (and you wonder if your friendship with him will mean he gives you more drinks without charging you for it) and you let out a gasp as you lean over the counter to grasp onto his wrist

“namjoon!” you grin, “oh my god, thank god, finally someone i know at this damn party. why didn’t you tell me you were going to be here??”

“why didn’t you tell me you were gonna be here?! i haven’t seen you at the library at all, otherwise i definitely would’ve talked to you about it- what can i get for you?” 

“top-shelf tequila, baby. i saw the list of brands that jimin bought - i want the most expensive one.” you raise an eyebrow, namjoon laughing to himself before nodding 

“alright, i gotcha- you need any chasers with that?” 

“you got cranberry juice?” 

“for you, i’ve got anything-“ namjoon smirks, holding a finger up to excuse himself  

it’s five seconds later that you’re presented with not one, not two, but three shots of tequila, namjoon winking at you as he slides the cranberry juice chasers over to you as well

“you better take these before jimin realises i’ve given you a freebie- i’m about to take a break here, someone else is gonna come in a sec to replace me- you wanna dance?” 

“um, of course i do!” you can’t help but squeal excitedly, “take one with me!” you push a shot glass towards him, namjoon shrugging before picking up the shot and downing it in less than two seconds

you take your second shot, eyes squinting as the burn of alcohol trickles down your throat 

you immediately shudder, reaching for the cranberry juice and tossing it down the hatch 

“oh, jesus-“ you hiss, shuddering against before sticking your tongue out in disgust, “god, that cranberry juice does not help whatsoever-!” you don’t get much of a chance to say anything else before namjoon has his slender fingers wrapped around your wrist, giggles bubbling out of your mouth as he drags you towards the crowded dance floor to join the rest of the drunken crowd 

»»————- 👻 ————-«« 

okay, so maybe this party didn’t turn out to be as bad as you thought it was going to be! 

“that- oh my god-!” you throw your head back in laughter when namjoon pulls out the worst dance moves you’ve ever seen, your eyes pinching shut as you clutch at your stomach 

you’re not sure how much time has passed (to be fair, it’s gonna be hard to tell how much time has passed when you’re at a massive house party with flashing lights and nothing but the sound of speakers booming to guide you) but you know you’ve been having a lot more fun with namjoon than you’ve had with jungkook these last few weeks) ((in fact you’re having so much fun that you almost forgot you were supposed to be heartbroken that the love of your life is with someone else, but also, that could probably be the alcohol taking over)) 

you know at some point you’re going to have to go over and say hi to jungkook eventually because you don’t want him to think that you’re purposely ignoring him or something — after all, it’s not his fault that he likes ji-eun and it’s not something you can pin on him and grill him for — but for now, you’re going to dance a little more, sing a little more, and- 

“i gotta pee!” you gasp all of a sudden, realising that you haven’t peed once since coming here and there’s a lot of tequila sloshing around in your system

“what?” namjoon furrows his brows, reaching up to tap against his ear, “too loud, can’t hear you!” 

“i gotta go pee!” you repeat yourself, pointing towards the staircase leading upstairs, “’m gonna go pee n then ‘m gonna come right back-“ 

“oh, pee?” namjoon nods, finally catching your words before stepping aside a little, “okay, i’ll be right here!” 

»»————- 👻 ————-«« 

the silence of the bathroom is more than welcome as soon as you step in and flick the lights on, not at all surprised to see a pair of elegant looking wall sconces lighting up the space 

you squint your eyes as you lean into the mirror, double checking that your makeup is still somewhat intact and you don’t look insane 

“hm. not bad.” you mutter to yourself, turning your head from side to side before nodding, reaching down to pull the endless amounts of tulle up so you can hopefully not piss all over yourself in your tipsy state 

…

…

…

you set the lid down as the toilet flushes, turning the tap on and rinsing your hands underneath the cool water 

“oh, damn-“ you wince when you realise you’re washing some of the blue body paint away and you quickly turn the tap off, shaking the water off your hands before reaching for a neatly folded cotton towelette of course, because regular paper towels aren’t fancy enough for a park jimin party 

you give yourself one last glance in the mirror (you could use a little more lipstick but it’s dark down there so no one’s going to be able to tell anyway) before flicking the lights off 

“oops! i’m sorry-“ you apologise instinctively when you open the door and stumble right into someone, taking a few steps back before looking up to see that it’s jimin, “oh, hey…” you clear your throat quietly, standing up a little straighter before offering him a meek smile 

you always feel like you’re in trouble when you’re around jimin and it’s the worst feeling in the world 

like he’s the principal and you just got caught cheating on a test and he’s about to call home to tell your parents as punishment 

or he’s an officer and he’s about to test you with the breathalyser and you know you’re going to fail because you definitely can’t walk in a straight line right now 

“why am i not surprised that you clearly don’t know how to handle alcohol?” jimin snorts, holding his hands out in case you fall over, “you better not throw up all over me, this suit is custom made-“

“i wasn’t throwing up in the bathroom, i just went in there to pee-“ you roll your eyes, placing both hands on your hips before shaking your head, “you are ridiculous, you know that? even if i was throwing up in your stupid fancy toilets, the normal thing to do would be to ask if me i was okay and if i needed some water! you- you are just so self-centred and just-“

“yeah, uh-huh-“ jimin reaches up to pat the side of your face with a smile, “by the way, if you were looking for jungkook, he’s at the VIP booth with ji-eun and the rest of us.”

“oh, perfect!” you nod, thankful for the information, “i’ll pop over and say hi in a bit, i think it’d be good to sit down too because my heels are kind of killing me and i wouldn’t be surprised if i had, like, a million blisters right now-“ 

“woah, i never said you were allowed to be in the booth with us.” jimin scoffs, pressing a hand against your shoulder to keep you from moving, “silly girl.” 

your lips part slightly as you look at him, and for a moment the only thing that can be heard is the faint boom and bass of the music playing from downstairs 

“are you… serious?” you ask, unsure if jimin’s joking with you or not

the bored expression on his face tells you that he is indeed, super serious 

all of this just feels so incredibly cliquey and immature and stupid and you know that you’re supposed to be the bigger person because jimin clearly won’t be and you like to think that you’re ten times more emotionally mature than him but he’s making it harder and harder for you to not want to shred up his nice suit with a pair of scissors and cuss him out in front of everyone 

“i’m dead serious. i’m just telling you this so that you don’t embarrass yourself when your drunk ass stumbles over and tries to join us.” jimin says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world, “enjoy the rest of the party, sweetheart.” he brushes past you to head into the washroom and-

“you’re a fucking dickhead, you know that?” you snap, jimin stopping in his tracks before turning his head slightly so you can just make out the side of his face, “i think i’ve been nothing but nice to you ever since i met you, and to be honest, i can’t even think of one reason why you are constantly so fucking rude and overall just unpleasant to me. i don’t say anything when you purposely cut me out of the conversation, i don’t nag when you ignore my questions and comments but respond to everyone else’s, and most importantly, i’ve never called you out for being a jackass when i think i’ve had every chance and opportunity to. if you have a problem with me, then just say so so that we can hash this stupid weird rivalry out and just get along. your best friend and my best friend are in a relationship, and i think it’s in everyone’s best interest that we at least try to get along-“

“oh, shut the fuck up, y/n.” jimin scoffs, turning around to face you, “you know, you always act like you’re better than everyone else, that’s why i don’t like you.”

you feel your shoulders stiffen at the comment before you shrug, crossing your arms over your chest, “well, i’m sorry if i’ve given you that impression but that’s not my intention, i don’t think i’m better than you, i don’t think i’m better than everyone else, and i can’t control how you feel about me but-“ 

“oh my god, even when you’re confronting me about being a dickhead to you you’re still being a sensible goddamn person, it’s like you’re purposely trying to piss me off-“ 

“okay, well, i’m not going to apologise to you for literally being myself because there’s nothing i can do about it. this is a you problem, not a me problem, so if you insist on being such an unreasonable drama queen for however long we’re going to have to spend time together, then i think the solution here is just for you to ignore me — which, you’re already doing a stellar job of, congratulations — and in return, i’ll happily ignore you.”

“i hate when people aren’t themselves. i pick up on that shit right away, and i gotta tell you, y/n, you might be the fakest person of them all.”

“what the hell are you talking about?” 

“i think we both know you’re hiding something from all of us. i think you’re hiding something from yourself, too. i think you’re lying to yourself.” 

there’s a pregnant pause in the conversation and for a second you want to ask him what exactly he’s implying here, but… 

“alright, jimin, well-“ you turn around to head towards the stairs, “you’re fuckin’ being weird, and i’m just trying to have a good time, so i’m just gonna go back down-“ 

“yeah, have a wonderful rest of your evening, corpse bride-“ 

you resist the very strong urge to whip around and literally just strangle the man, but you remind yourself that before you had this little interaction you were actually having a very good time 

“y/n!” jungkook stands at the bottom of the staircase as you make your way down, being careful not to trip over your heels, “hi!” 

“jungkook! oh, there you are- i was wondering where you were-“ you loop an arm with his as you drag him through the hoards of people and towards the bar (you really need a drink and it looks like namjoon is back on the clock)

“there you are!” he laughs lightly, reaching over to tap your hand gently, “i’ve been texting you all night trying to figure out where you were but- is your phone on do not disturb or something?“

“no, it’s not! i’m sorry, i should’ve checked my phone-“ you smile sheepishly, “i’ve been dancing with namjoon this whole time but- where are you guys sitting?”

“i don’t know, some area that jimin squared off for us and a few others- ji-eun’s been asking about you, she wanted to say hi-“ 

“oh! oh my god, yeah, i should probably go say hi to ji-eun-“ you gesture for namjoon to get you some water and he nods, grabbing a cup and filling it up for you, :your ken costume turned out great, by the way-“ you laugh, patting jungkook’s bare chest, “it’s, uh- it’s really giving horses and the patriarchy.”

“thank you, thank you- and your costume turned out so cool too, we should watch corpse bride again when we eventually have another movie night-“ 

“sure! sure, for sure.” you clear your throat quietly, a moment of awkward silence settling in between the two of you 

your friendship feels so… different now 

like there’s this unspoken air of something in between you and jungkook like an invisible brick wall 

and maybe it’s the liquid courage currently sloshing around in your body and the leftover exhilaration from finally calling jimin out on his bullshit, but now you have the urge to talk to jungkook about the weird tension 

“hey, kook, listen-“ you reach up to scratch the back of your neck, “there’s something i’ve been meaning to tell you but i’ve definitely been putting off for a while…” 

all of a sudden, a drum roll begins to boom from the speakers, the spotlights darting around the crowd before shining towards the main stage at the front of the room, whoops and cheers bouncing off the walls as jimin waltzes his way towards the microphone, a cocky smirk on his face as he raises his hand to get people to quiet down 

“oh, shit, the costume competition results!!” jungkook nudges your side as the two of you turn to face the front, “we can talk about it later, i wanna see who won what- i voted myself for best ken costume, so-“ 

you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding and you nod, thankful for the interruption 

maybe it’s a good thing you were interrupted 

telling him in the middle of a party probably wasn’t the best idea, anyway

»»————- 👻 ————-«« 

once again, you really have to hand in to jimin 

the man truly knows how to throw a party, because it seems like just about everyone is having the time of their lives — and this costume competition just made things so much more fun

there are definitely a lot of good costumes here tonight and jimin decided to change it up with twenty-five different categories to go through so he’s kind of speed running through the names 

most scary costume, most realistic costume, most well-made costume: he’s got a lot of categories to get through 

you keep a content smile on your face as the costume contest continues to go on, enjoying jimin’s commentary to the point that you nearly forget that the two of you hate each other and he totally just disrespected you like he’s never disrespected you before twenty minutes ago 

“i wonder how that guy made it look like his head was floating… that shit was so cool.” jungkook claps his hands along with the crowd and you nod enthusiastically

“i know, right?! i’m sure he probably took it off tiktok or something - we can definitely look it up after the party and maybe we can try to recreate-“ you stop yourself mid-sentence, suddenly remembering that you guys haven’t exactly been the closest as of late so it feels weird to be offering to do something together, “um-“ you clear your throat, offering a half-hearted shrug, “yeah, we can, like, look it up later or something. maybe you and ji-eun can figure it out and let me know.” 

“yeah! or- you know, you and me-“ jungkook licks over his chapped lips, “like- you know, like- old times or whatever-“

“yeah, yeah- maybe! maybe-“ 

“now, before i announce this special category, i have something to read because-“ jimin sucks in a breath through his teeth before cocking his head to the side, “well, let’s just say it’s some context for the best simp costume of the night.”

you can’t help but frown at the strange category — out of all the halloween costume competitions you’ve been to, “best simp” has certainly never been one that you’ve seen before 

“just wanna remind everyone that this is just a costume competition, everything is based off the costume you’re wearing.” jimin adds, taking a slip of paper out of his back pocket before unfolding it with nimble fingers, “so, uh- you know. don’t take anything seriously, you know? just gotta loosen up and have fun.” 

your brows dip slightly at the weird disclaimer 

…

something about this doesn’t feel right.  

“dear j, this is something that i’ve wanted to tell you for a while but have never had the courage to until now. throughout our entire friendship, you’ve been so kind and loyal and honest with me, and i think that you deserve the same, so this is me being honest with you.” jimin speaks into the microphone, reading the words off the slip of paper with a tone of amusement laced in his powder-soft voice, “to be honest, i’ve liked you for nearly a year now, and i’ve tried so many times to push those feelings down but it’s clear that my feelings aren’t going anywhere anytime soon…” he recites, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth as he puts the piece of paper down, “any thoughts on who the winner could be? or should i keep going?” 

your eyelids flutter slightly at the weird change in mood of the lines and a strange feeling of familiarity of those words

“me at that one hot english professor.” a voice pipes out from the crowd and that gets a round of laughter 

you laugh along politely, but you can’t help but feel as though something is off 

something is off

something is very, very off

“i cherish you as a friend and the last thing i want to do is to make things weird, so… you don’t have to worry about my feelings, you know?” 

oh my god. 

you feel the blood immediately drain from your face when you finally realize why these lines are so familiar — it’s because they’re from the note you wrote for jungkook when you were going to tell him you liked him. 

your brain begins to work overtime to figure out how the hell jimin got his hands on that note and why the hell he’d think it’d be okay to read it aloud to this massive group of people and what the hell he’s even doing right now  

“what i’m trying to say is that i like you, j. i like you so much that i don’t know where to even put my feelings, and i’m sick of holding my feelings back and pretending that i’m fine with being just your friend.” 

you know that jimin’s never really been a fan of you, but even this seems like too much of a dickhead move even for him 

you pluck at the cuff of your sleeve anxiously, tracing your steps all the way back to the day you were going to tell jungkook about your feelings for him and the note that you’d accidentally given him that you were hoping was rotting away somewhere in a dump yard but clearly isn’t 

jungkook said he’d given ji-eun the note to spit her gum out into 

but what if she uncrumpled the paper and saw the note?

and what if jimin was there when she uncrumpled the note? 

and then they read it together and ji-eun mentioned that you were reciting this aloud in the bathroom and-

your heart starts to race in your chest and you feel the hairs prickle on your arms as anxiety begins to bubble in your stomach, and you know that no one’s looking at you but you feel like everyone’s looking at you 

you feel sick

you feel like you’re going to throw up and explode at the same time 

“how could you like someone for a year and not tell ‘em?” jungkook snorts, nudging you with his elbow, “who do you think the poor sucker is who said that?” 

“beats me.” you breathe out, feeling yourself shrink slightly when you notice jimin starting to scan the audience, clearly laser-focused on finding you, “i have to- um, i think i need some fresh air, it’s a little warm in here-“ 

“oh- okay-“ jungkook doesn’t get the chance to say much else before you’re turning around, pushing yourself through the crowd of people and trying your best to stay calm 

just breathe

in and out

in and out 

in and out in and out in and out oh my god HURRY UP MOVE MOVE MOVE-

you’re sure that no one will notice if you slink out through the back

and you can always text namjoon later and say that it was great spending time with him but you had a personal emergency and needed to leave the party earlier 

and if jimin decides to expose you, at least you’ll be gone and out of this house and nowhere near any of these people and you don’t have to look at their stupid sympathetic faces and you don’t have to deal with- 

“and the best simp of the night goes to our lovely corpse bride.” 

you freeze when the spotlight lands on you, your heart going a hundred miles a minute as it starts to beat harder and faster in your chest 

you only manage to turn your head weakly to glance over your right shoulder, catching jimin in your peripheral view before you’re slowly twisting around to face him, feet glued to the ground 

“why don’t you come up here and accept your sash, corpse bride?” jimin smirks, plucking the satin sash from (a shocked looking) taehyung’s arms before raising it up in the air slightly, “congratulations on winning, you get two free drinks from the bar. one for you and one for… well, probably also you. get on up here and claim your coupons!” 

you feel your face burning bright red in humiliation and you’re unable to tear your eyes away from jimin, your hands clenched into tight fists at your sides

this is a nightmare

this is actually a nightmare 

this is traumatising in so many ways 

the music seems to quiet down, a loud silence washing over the room as people look at you with expressions of confusion on their faces, everyone clearly a little thrown off at the weird category 

eyes, there are just a million pairs of eyes on you and you feel like you can’t move or breathe or even do anything but stand still in shock

it’s only then that you notice the calculating look on jungkook’s face, his eyelids fluttering slightly before his eyes widen and his head snaps up and over to look at you

his lips part slightly as his eyes dart over the features of your face and you feel your entire body flushing in humiliation and shame, forcing your eyes away from your friend and back to the dickhead on the stage 

“you are really something else, park jimin.” you manage to mutter out before turning on your heel and pushing your way through the crowd, people stepping aside to let you out 

“aw, where are you going? you had a great costume, that’s all we were trying to say!” jimin laughs, actually laughs into the microphone before shrugging, tossing the sash over his shoulder before moving on, “alright, well, more drinks for me, i guess. the next category is best couple’s costume-“ 

“y/n- y/n, wait!” jungkook’s voice is the one thing you hear among the music and bustle of the crowd but he’s the last person you want to talk to right now so you pick up your pace upon spotting the front door 

tears blur your vision as you finally burst out into the open air, your chin trembling as you try your best to keep your composure and not completely burst into tears

“oh my god, oh my fucking god-“ you whimper, sucking in large breaths of air 

run, run, run, the only instinct you have is to run, and you reach down to yank both heels off before taking off into a sprint, the grass slightly damp beneath your bare feet 

it feels very cliché to be running out of a mansion in a big poofy dress, but you can’t even take the moment to laugh at yourself because the only thing you can focus on is the fact that everything has changed completely and you’re forced to face reality a lot sooner than you would’ve liked 

“y/n, come on!” you turn to glance over your shoulder to see jungkook hot on your trail, “you can’t just run away from a discussion you don’t want to have, we need to talk because we both know that things have been off since i started dating ji-eun and now-“ 

“okay, well, now you know, then!” your chest heaves as you come to a stop to catch your breath (you have no idea why you thought running would be a good idea, you get winded after thirty seconds on the treadmill), spinning around to face your friend who skids to a stop, tripping over his feet a little before standing up straight, “the secret’s out, jungkook. we finally solved the puzzle. i love you. i’ve loved you for so long that i don’t even remember when i started feeling this way, but all i know is i love you. you’re the first person i think of when i wake up and you’re the last person i think about before i fall asleep. i would literally drop everything i was doing if you needed me, and you’re the only person i want to spend my free time with.” all the words that you’ve been holding in for the last who knows how long finally spill out, your mouth running uncontrollably, “i love you so much that i helped you set up your date with ji-eun, i love you so much that i’m willing to run in the rain just to get you a teddy bear and a bouquet that’s not even going to me, jungkook, i-“ you blubber, reaching up to wipe at your eyes, “i don’t know what to do. there is no one else in the world i’d rather be with than you, jungkook, and i- to be honest, maybe it’s a good thing that jimin did what he did because you do deserve to know the truth and you do deserve to know how i really feel about you. if this didn’t happen i think i’d just keep it to myself for the rest of my life, but you deserve to know this. i love you, jungkook. i love you and i don’t know if i can keep being friends with you if you’re dating someone else because it’s actually killing me on the inside-“ 

“i love you, y/n,” jungkook breathes out, and you feel yourself letting out a breath that you didn’t even know you were holding

relief 

for the first time in a long time, you feel relieved, like a massive weight’s just been lifted off your shoulders 

you feel your heart soar in your chest, and suddenly it’s like all the humiliation and shame has completely washed away, and suddenly you have the feeling to run back into the house to thank jimin for doing this because you know you wouldn’t have said anything if it weren’t for this slightly traumatising experience 

“i love you, i do, but… not in that way.” his shoulders droop slightly and you feel your heart beginning to crackle like a delicate glass sculpture, each splinter creating more damage than the last, “i love you like you’re the first person i call when i get good news because i know you’ll be proud of me, or when i get bad news because i know you’ll be there to comfort me. i love you, like i envision you standing next to me at my wedding fixing my tie or calming me down when whoever i end up marrying is walking down the aisle. i love you like you’ll be fun auntie y/n who spoils my kids with shopping sprees at the mall and who allows them an extra scoop of ice cream after dinner. i love you because you make me a better person, i love you because you encourage me to be the best version of myself i can possibly be. i love you because you remind me to be smart and kind and humble and honest and i trust you to be the one to put me in my place if i ever need it but i-“

“stop.” you feel nauseated hearing all of these words coming out of his mouth, telling you that he loves you because and he loves you because but not just i love you too. “just stop, jungkook.” you know that you can’t control someone else’s feelings but you can control your own reactions, and if jungkook would’ve kept rattling on you don’t know what you would’ve said but you know you probably would’ve lashed out at him 

and it’s good that you finally got your answer, right? he loves you, but not in that way — not in the way that you love him 

“y/n, please-“ jungkook whispers, reaching out for you, his eyebrows scrunching together when you take a small step back, wrapping your arms around yourself, “please, i can’t lose you as a friend, you mean so much to me-“ 

“i need some time.” you manage to force out, the sickening feeling of humiliation and shame and embarrassment and disappointment and frustration and anger swirling around in your stomach, “i just need some time.”

“how much time?” 

“you should probably go back to the party.” you clear your throat quietly, offering your friend a weak smile, “i heard you and ji-eun were up for best couple’s costume. not saying that jimin rigged the system or anything, but-“ 

“y/n, how much time?” jungkook’s looking at you with sad puppy-dog eyes, and though it breaks your heart to see him like that, you need to put yourself first for once 

every instinct inside of you screams to console jungkook, to reassure him and let him now that you’ll still be around but you just need some space from him and the whole situation 

your eyes begin to water again as you press your lips together, shaking your head quietly, “i’m gonna go see if i can catch the bus home.” 

»»————- 👻 ————-«« 

(- “the FUCK is wrong with you, huh?!” jungkook barks, slamming jimin up against the wall before grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt, “you sadistic fuck, who in their right mind would ever fucking do that to another human being?!” 

“i’m the sadistic one?” jimin laughs, reaching up to wrap his fingers around jungkook’s wrists, “are you fucking serious? you’re the one whose been dangling yourself in front of y/n like a damn carrot to a starved rabbit-“ 

“what are you talking about?”

“you can’t stand here and honestly say that you didn’t have an inkling that y/n liked you more than a friend. i’ve seen the way you talk to her, i’ve seen the way you look at her, i’ve seen the way you are around her- you think i’m the evil one? at least i don’t take advantage of my friends who are CLEARLY head over heels in love with me and would obviously do anything i wanted them to do and ask them to help me set up a date that i’m taking someone else out on-“ 

“get a fucking life and mind your own damn business for once, you motherf-“) 

🎙️ console y/n or call out jimin because what the hell was that?! (talk to my characters!) 

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (go say hi to yoongi and y/n in la vie en bonsai!) 

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!) 

[moondirti]

animalic (4)

← chapter three // series masterlist

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader rating: mature word count: 2.5k summary: things don't go according to plan warnings: enemies to lovers, light bondage, sexual tension, arousal, choking, canon-typical violence, dub-con elements, paralysis, suicidal ideation, self-hatred, angst, miguel o'hara is not nice, no use of y/n notes: y'all. i promise we are getting somewhere. i promise. lmk what you think tho cuz i thrive off comments

“Lyla?”

While you’re – regrettably – unable to make good on your promise to phase through the floor, you catch yourself hoping it splits to swallow you whole instead. It certainly would be a better alternative to the purgatory you currently face. 

“Lyla? Come in, Lyla.” 

Feeble rays of light filter in through the weathered windows, their reach slowly growing as night surrenders to the wakings of dawn. Variegated motes bob lazily, suspended upon the streams of sun, quivering back and forth between a range of countless colours. Paralysed and splayed atop the frigid, hard ground of the empty store-lot, you try counting them all for lack of anything else to do. Pink, green, orange, gold. You wonder what force chooses the order, whether it’s sequenced to fit some plan of high design. 

“¡Ay, coño–”

Slowly, you let yourself scrutinise other things, too. The scent of neglect that permeates the stale air, particularly pungent around the entryway. You trace the yellow-brown mass that runs along the door’s hinge edge, and attribute the vaguely muddy smell to rot. Then, it’s the glint of shattered glass, winking at you from lost corner’s of the room. They look narrow, far too inconvenient to clean out with a standard broom. You revel in the understanding that whoever had been in charge of scouring the wreckage appears to share your habit of quick quitting.

It’s only when your vision begins to water do you divert your attention to the situation at hand. Last you needed to blink, it took half a minute for the command to register, and even longer for the motor neurons in your eyelids to act. By the time you eventually got them closed, you’d already started contemplating whether his venom would be the death of you. 

(Lame end to a lame life.)

It didn’t take a genius to figure out, though. You know that, if he wanted to, he could’ve kept imbuing you with the substance until your body was no longer able to perform the basic mechanisms necessary to sustain life. He could have kept his fangs lodged deep into your neck – encroached upon your stuttering veins, bathing in the ichor that flowed – until he felt you go limp, concentrated with his poison. It would have been a denouement to his problems – right there, easy, sandwiched between him and the wall – but it wasn’t. Because he didn’t. 

Just like he didn’t let you plummet to your death that day at the quarry, or strangle you while you were unconscious back at HQ. 

So, no. It doesn’t take a genius to acknowledge that Miguel O’Hara doesn’t want you dead. As he fiddles with his malfunctioning watch, you endeavour to come up with a divisive list as to why that is. 

One: you’ve charmed him. The notion is almost funny enough to elicit a snort, given that you weren’t cast in an immovable anathema.

Two: he’s a good guy. Somehow, this option seems less viable to you than the first. 

You find your third prospect slinging from the threads of a fraying memory. 

You’d been a student, before – attending college at a reputable institute close to home. It’s easy to forget what it was like most nights: cramped in that two hundred square foot dorm, borderline losing it as you tried to validate your claims on matter-antimatter rockets and their potential contribution to interstellar travel. There were concerns of total annihilation, and sourcing, and an array of other limitations – that which you’d dedicated your academic career to drawing up proposals for. It’s laughable now; the stress and theories blurring together to form a vague picture of your long-lost ambition. 

You have a hard time conjuring what exact future you were so hopeful for, but the lamp by your roommate’s bed remains clear in your mind’s eye. Warm-white, comforting. For as long as you were awake, tapping away at a never-ending thesis, she’d work through the latest volume of her beloved murder mystery anthology. 

It was the night before your start at an internship with Alchemax that the series came to a close. Her aggravated screams still ring fresh behind the clouded pane of time. You had thrown your pillow at her in a belligerent plea.

(You wanna elaborate?

The suspect behind every case was shot!

So? Isn’t that a good thing?

No, dumbass. It means the detectives fucking lost! They’ll never be able to prove how right they were.)

Admittedly, you know very little about Miguel, but you have an idea of what matters most to him. It’s entirely possible, then, that he refuses to kill you for what your death would do to negate his efforts thus far. 

“Oye,” 

Your mental traipse is reeled in when the devil himself snaps at you. Steadily, your pupils roll up to look at him. 

“I need your day pass.” 

You continue to stare. His jaw clenches. 

“Because of your little headbutt outside, my watch is busted. My only hope of fixing it is by using the parts of your day pass.” 

Is he asking? Does he expect you to respond? 

You can’t fool yourself into believing he’s that ignorant. 

But Miguel stays on standby, scanning your lax form. He takes in the webs that wrap around your waist, branching out to your thighs and shoulders, restraining your arms behind your back. When his eyes meet yours again, the reluctant question you see glaze over them pushes the recognition to the forefront of your mind. 

He is asking. 

Or, notifying – making sure you’re aware of what he’s about to do. 

God, you wish you could speak. You’ve never come up with so much to say without promptly blurting it out before. Irritation and amusement rip at one another within you, locked in a brutal dogfight fated to have no real winner. How hypocritical of him to pick and choose when your treatment takes priority over his mission; you’re littered in marks that all point to his prior negligence of such subtle humanity. Four stabs above your wrist, a pounding migraine at your temple. If it weren’t for your paralysed stomach, you’re certain you would have regurgitated your innards as consequence to the concussion he’s given you.  

But, oh. 

How funny would it be if you agreed. To let him discover the harrowing truth for himself. 

Deliberately, you muster an affirming blink.

Miguel's weariness escapes him in a heavy sigh, the weight of it etched upon his expression. Thick brows furrow, evidence to his age creasing between them, before he sinks down with a purposeful grace and carefully flips you over. Despite the resentment that festers in your gut, you can’t help but hiss a mental sigh of relief at the service it does to your elbows, which had begun throbbing in response to the pressure that the hardwood floor exerted.

From that point onward, it becomes a guessing game of sorts; you can’t see him, nor are you able to tilt your head and confirm your assumptions as to what he’s doing. Deprived of your most reliable sense, the others strain to fill the gaps in your knowledge, drawing upon every available cue; the sound of his miniscule grunts, the warmth of his skin – that which penetrates through his gloves. You’re alarmed into attempted action when the characteristic rip of his claws equipping pierces the strained air – your body powerless in addressing the adrenaline it secretes – until the spider-man touches his forefinger to your palm.

“Relax.” He all but commands. “I’m just cutting the webs off.” 

You’ve no reason to trust him, of course, but you can’t exactly pitch a complaint right now. 

(Perhaps it’s in your best interests to ignore how easy he’d been able to read you.)

A few moments of jostling ensue, before he withdraws with a curse. Your arms remain ensnared in the tight restraints, the ache that smarts your skin all too real for the continued predicament to be illusory. An assortment of jokes occur to you. 

Can’t get it up? 

In your peripheral, you catch him weighing his options. The pause is laden with a sticky indecision – this change in placement, you realise, exacerbates the already difficult task of breathing for you. 

While you fixate on that fact, he seems to come to a conclusion. With one swift manoeuvre, he positions himself astride your thighs, straddling the deadened extremities, and reaches forward to push your wrists apart. You’re quick to catch on to his intention, how the arrangement gives him better leverage, yet–

His groyne presses into the swell of your ass, worsening with every bid to sever the webbing. It’s impossible not to notice, especially not when the seam of your jeans start to shift in tandem, smoothing over your clothed core.  It’s not exactly ecstasy, far from it — no rainbow blooms, tingling gold from your toes to your nose – but it’s been ages since you were last roused like this. Enough for it to feel brand new, a wrapped curse in a prim little bow, eager for all that you shouldn’t be. 

And… Christ– 

And then he unfastens the lines around your arms, and runs his hands up your skin. It’s not gentle, nor is it brutish, but you can feel his desperation escalating. His touches grow progressively antagonistic, kneading your palms up to your shoulders, patting down to the shallow pockets of your pants. You’re searched like you hold the key to his success – you suppose that, in some oddly comical way, you do. And it should be upsetting, blasphemous. 

But you’re no sacred thing. You’d laid down that possibility a long time ago. 

No. You’re foul, questionable at your best, and erupt into goosebumps over the ruthless grip of a man who hates your very soul. You’re a deeply detestable spirit, truly, but a detestable spirit who has just managed to get one up on Miguel O’Hara. 

He throws you back around, wrapping his hands around your throat. His snarl is primal, maturated in acrid anger. 

“Where is it?” 

You’re sure that, in some alternate reality, your face is stretched in a shit-eating grin. 

“Where’s the fucking day pass?” 

Your satisfaction is short-lived. 

You’ve never been one to notably detest humiliation. It’s productive – healthy, even – in smaller doses; a fitting consequence for those who you deem deserve it. Yet, as you find yourself unceremoniously hoisted over Miguel’s shoulder, forced into a meandering parade through the streets of New York, you breach into uncharted territory – a threshold where your tolerance encounters its breaking point. 

He makes no effort to soften his strides, unmoved by the idea of providing even a shred of respite for your susceptible self. If anything, it feels as though he deliberately seeks out the harshest terrain, silently chastising your earlier defiance in the most passive aggressive manner known to man. He’d reinforced your constraints before marching out on this fruitless venture, and now you bobble uselessly, backside pointed upward, anchored solely by the meaty arm around your knees. 

At least you’ve regained control of your mouth. 

“D’stroyed it. Gone. Dearly d’parted–” 

“If you’re going to run that little mouth, then make it helpful.” 

“M’bein’ helpfoo,” you start, straining your weakened vocal cords in an effort to mock him. The grip of paralysis may have slackened its hold, but neurotransmission remains at an all time, sluggish low. In all actuality, it astounds you that he can even begin to decipher your words from the tangled murmurs they become. 

“You had it on at the convenience, and a little bit afterward. You can’t expect me to believe that you dealt with it while running for your life.”

Running for your life. Sure. 

Displeasure sparks at the confidence he imbues in his assumption.

“Escoos m– hnngh–” A sudden jump of stress robs you of breath, your stomach plummeting alongside the rapidly distancing ground. As Miguel propels himself above the city skyline, effortlessly evading the crowded streets via a web he’d grappled to an adjacent building, you’re confronted with a stark reality – that this is the very first time you have ever, and likely will ever, experience what it’s like to swing. 

It’s exhilarating and nauseating all at once, gravity relinquishing its command as you transcend the confines of the physical, soaring through some reality where law loses significance. If it had been you, your arms and skill and jurisdiction, you’d never come down. But maybe that’s why it isn’t; maybe your life was meant to lead up to this, and only ever this. 

(Not antimatter technologies or heroic conquest. Yeah, this feels more fitting.) 

Your skin prickles. You phase through the sturdy frame that’s held you up so far, and plummet from its grasp.

Slicing through the boundless sky, you’re accompanied by a profound tranquillity. It isn’t absolute – fear still gnaws at your core, its presence undeniable. But, amidst the churning horror, your instincts are fainter than they ought to be. They whisper in a subdued tone, overshadowed by conflicting conceptions. One, being the inference you’d drawn earlier about how – whether you like it or not – Miguel would not let you die. 

Another, quieter suspicion hints toward the full reality of your… relief.

Though, of course, you’re right about the former. Tree-trunk biceps wrap around your waist, pulling you close as he slingshots off to a nearby rooftop. You flop into him, a ragdoll to the overwhelming force of his agitation, and squeeze your eyes shut at the hints of patchouli permeating from under his mask. 

You don’t have to face the gospel just yet.

“¿Qué mierda? Eh?” He shouts, propping you up against a ledge. “What the fuck was that?” 

You don’t have an answer for him. Your heart lurches, catching up to the urgency at hand, striking on the hollow bars of your ribcage to some reckless tune. It’s only amplified by the torrent of blood distending through your system, throbbing at your temple, rushing by your ears. 

What the fuck, indeed. 

He damns you, it seems, with a fervour that breaches the heavens, as if willing God Himself to commit his plea to eternal memory. Or not; truthfully, you can’t tell. With the roar of your own snowballing thrill, it becomes impossible to discern the sequence of interrogations that explode from him. The world around you fades to the background, your preoccupancy consumed by the disquietude it leaves in its wake. 

Your sense is only validated a minute later when, two blocks away, an ear-piercing shriek ruptures your dissociation. 

Miguel stiffens, slowly turning to face its source.

𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘈𝘙𝘈𝘊𝘏𝘕𝘖-𝘏𝘜𝘔𝘈𝘕𝘖𝘐𝘋 𝘗𝘖𝘓𝘠-𝘔𝘜𝘓𝘛𝘐𝘝𝘌𝘙𝘚𝘌 𝘋𝘈𝘛𝘈𝘉𝘈𝘚𝘌:

Earth-15 – analysed, marked as closed. 

Spider-totem – The Spider: soon after being bit by his radioactive spider, convicted felon Peter Parker merged with Earth-15’s variation of the carnage Symbiote.

Notes – do not engage, at any cost. 

chapter five →

follow @moondirti-archive and turn on post notifs to be alerted of future updates!

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Just then Eddie walks in, raising his brows at the veritable mountain of food Steve and Eleven are putting together. “What’s all this?”

Steve smiles warmly at him. “Hey, Eds,” he says, which is certainly an experience. He’s spoken roughly twice with the guy—in his memory—but Steve’s three chapters—nay, three books ahead. Eddie is Frodo, about to embark on his first journey, and Steve is Bilbo, or even Gandalf: someone who’s done this all before, whose eyes carry the weight of worlds.

Speaking of, Steve’s eyes dim slightly the longer Eddie takes to answer, so he waves his fingers at Steve, trying to ignore the swoop in his stomach when Steve’s smile brightens again. “So… what’s this?”

“Dinner,” Eleven answers. “We are making sandwiches.”

Eddie nods, because sure. Why not. “Okay.”

“How’s the song coming?” Steve asks, and the swoop returns, because not only is Steve asking, but he’s asking about Metallica, and Eddie’s gay, metal little heart can’t take it.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out, grinning. “It’s so good, oh my god. I mean, it’s gonna take a bit to learn, but it’s gonna be the most metal solo I’ve ever done.”

Steve’s smile dims again. Probably because he’s remembering what happened last time, i.e., Eddie’s death. Eddie pushes down the queasy feeling.

“Eddie,” Eleven says.

“Yeah?”

She turns to face him. Her eyes are more serious than any twelve-year-old’s eyes have any right to be. “You will be okay,” she says. Then, apropos of nothing, “And I can move things with my mind.”

Eddie blinks at that. Apparently his face is doing something, because Steve chimes in. “She can.”

“I can show you,” she volunteers.

“Anything but the utensils,” Steve says in a distracted voice, like this isn’t the first time he’s had this conversation. Eddie wants to laugh hysterically, or maybe cry. Smoking a joint seems like the best third option, except all his stuff is at home. Fuck.

Then she does, lifts a whole cutting board—complete with tomatoes— and moves it over to him. He resists the impulse to snatch a piece and eat it. He doesn’t even like tomatoes, what the fuck, brain.

Steve’s watching with an amused little smile, like he can somehow read Eddie’s mind. That legitimately wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen today, so Eddie does his best to stop thinking about it, because he doesn’t think he can deal with more than one real-life superpower right now.

“I need that back, El,” Steve murmurs, and she grins at him before zipping it back over, stopping it just before it hits his face. He nods, brows raised, impressed. “Nice control. Put it down and go wipe your nose, please.”

She does, Steve watching her as she goes, fond little grin on his face. “She’s a good kid.”

“She can move things with her mind.”

“Yeah. Honestly, that’s one of the easier things to get used to. Y’know one of the craziest things, to me?”

“Do I want to know?” Eddie asks hesitantly.

Steve just grins at him. “Jonathan Byers has this baseball bat that he sticks a bunch of nails in.”

Eddie blinks at him. “What the actual fuck.”

Steve nods. “I took it, sometime back during the first year. Actually,” he thinks about it, “what month are we in?”

“Um. October.”

Steve winces. “Great. October…”

“Um. Twenty-fourth.”

Steve hums and thinks. “In about… less than a week, actually, I think—I don’t really know, the concussion messed up my days—oh, hey!” He suddenly says excitedly, then raises his voice. “Rob!”

Robin pops her head in a moment later. “What’s up?”

He grins at her. “No concussions!”

She stares. Slowly, a grin spreads across her face. “Holy shit!” She says. “No concussions!”

“No memory loss!”

“No hearing loss!”

“No eyesight problems!”

She freezes. “Steve. You were having vision issues?”

“Um. Not anymore?”

She groans. “Since when?”

“Um…” he thinks, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “Billy, I think. At least that’s the first time I really noticed it.”

She sighs. “I’m going to murder you.”

“Are not.”

“In cold blood.”

“Are not.”

“Nancy’ll help.”

Steve considers this. “She might. She’d be good at it.”

They both pause for a moment, then Robin turns to leave. “I’m gonna go make sure Jon doesn’t give you a concussion this time.”

“Have him make the nail bat, too!” Steve calls as she leaves.

“What,” Eddie says desperately, “the fuck.”

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[levilaughlove]

☁️► Heads up : M x m romance, cheating/disloyalty, mentions of emotional abuse, manipulation & gaslighting. Reader is taller than Levi by 3 in. Mentions of mental breakdowns & indecent language & ofc, smut.🗞 > Chapter 1 .

""Is this really how low you think of me?", Is what she asked me, Levi, am I the issue?" Your broken voice explains the situation to your longtime best friend, Levi Ackerman.

"I know I shouldn't have came to her like that..I should've been softer." You continued, only lower this time. "You did what you felt was right." Levi finally says. "How much kinder can you be to that self-absorbed bitch? She's drained all of your energy." He adds, hyperfocusing on your sleep-deprived eyes.

"If I showed you photos of what you looked like before you met her, you'd be astonished." He snarls.

"I know you're upset with her but, she is my wife." You defend. "Your wife or your disease?" You chuckle at his snappy remark.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence until your phone begins to vibrate. The device lights up revealing an incoming call. Levi sighs at the name on screen.

"How fucking convenient..." Levi murmurs. You gaze at him pleadingly & he whisps his hand through the air as a sign to answer it. You pick up the phone & accept the call.

"Hello?" You ask.

A muffled female voice could be heard from the other line. She doesn't sound too happy.

Levi's gray eyes glare at the phone ,then, rolls his eyes and falls back onto the bed. "A-alright, (f/n), I'll be home soon. Bye-bye." You quickly end the call.

"What did it say?" Levi asks unenthusiastically. "It? Levi, I know you don't like her but, please..." "I don't care, that's how she treats you, what makes her any better?" He quickly adds. You couldn't argue that.

Levi stares at you with an unexplainable expression in his eyes. "Before you think about going off anywhere, at least eat. She can wait 30 minutes." He says, arising from the bed & leaving the room. You follow quickly behind.

"I've got lots of options, mozzy sticks, mac & cheese, I can make you an egg & bacon sandwich.." He continues. "Egg & bacon sounds nice..." You accept shyly. Levi hums & begins to get the items.

While you waited, you began to think. You were so grateful that Levi still takes care of you, even after all these years. You reminisce on your favorite memory of him. It was bittersweet ,but the love & care you had for one another was evident. You were 4, Levi was 7 & he was moving far from your shared hometown. You were his closest friend & he was yours. On the bridge could be seen young you clinging onto Levi tightly with tears in your innocent eyes. Levi tried to keep a stone face even then but couldn't help how his heart felt.

" I'll be back, this isn't forever...pea. Stop crying.." Levi's voice shakes and he hold yours small body, hesitant to let go. "Why...please stay, I need you here.." Your tears kept flowing down your full cheeks, eyes loosely closed. A woman's voice called for Levi to hurry up. "I gotta go now, kay'?" Levi quickly wipes his tears, giving another attempt at a stone face. "Bye." "Goodbye, pea."

Just the thought of it makes you choked up but it doesn't just have a sad tinge anymore, but an innocent, admirable one. You wonder if Levi remembers that.

"Earth to M/n." Levi says loudly. "Hm? Yeah..." You look down to see Levi had finished making the food. Levi looks concerned for a second before returning back to his ordinary expression. You ended up staying much longer than anticipated. You knew your wife would raise hell once you were home.

"Fuck, it's been 2 hours..." You exclaimed worriedly. "If anything goes down, you could always come to me." Levi says trying to relax you.

You give him a thankful gaze before heading to the front door. Looking back once, you wave to Levi, which he nods to.

.

.

You cautiously open the front door to your house.

Your wife is sat on the couch, already meeting eyes with you. She looks furious. "I called you at 2:00 & you're only just getting home at 4!?" She screams then bolts over to you, trying to force intimidation. "Who are you fucking, huh?" She screams again.

"I was at a friend's...(f/n)." You slightly dismiss her and wander off to your shared bedroom, undressing yourself as she follows closely behind.

"So why the fuck couldn't you say so? You need to respect me more! Do you know that at any moment I could fuck you over!? WHO DO YOU THINK THEY'LL BELIEVE?! Me!" She lashes out snatching your phone from your hand, shattering it onto the wooden floor below.

You went into a state of shock, your eyes hyperfocused on her enraged person, everything that wasn't here seemed to look like static. You began to get dizzy. You held your head as you almost lost your footing. Levi, you need Levi. You can't breathe.

You shove past her, she falls to the ground forcefully. You just want to go. You need comfort, why is she like this? This wasn't who she was when you first met her! The rain is heavy outside as you push past the front door and onto the sidewalk, cars rush past you, adding to your anxiety. Your breathing gets heavier and heavier. It's hard to see due to the rain, you're uncomfortable & soaked. The rain wasn't the only thing dampening your face, but your heavy, warm tears.

Finally, the familiar door number 255 came into sight. You banged as hard as you could on the door. Crashes of lightning roar through the sky.

Levi opens the door & your soaked body immediately crashes onto his. He understood without words. You hyperventalate & try to explain but he hushes you, he already knows. Your eyes red & teary holding onto Levi tight, & likewise him to you.

Everything began to fade to nothing.

[del-thetiredwriter]

Mafia au/Good luck while running away from mafia

intro , part 0.5 , part 1 , part 3

Notes: Hello its been a while . First of all its little longer ususal but I hope you like it. And because of some health issues and some personal stuff I couldnt post anything. I'll try to post whever I have time.

Tags: @morokumi , @hrhqueenfox , @hasty-desert , @oceanside-pixie , @lianreine ,@h3apm3ch4n151m, @cecilebutcher, @ayachansan

Warning: my poor English, gn reader, fight scenes , running away from yandere ...

As you did the paperwork that Leona should have done but didn't, your eye fell on Leona's phone. Someone has been texting nonstop for the last 15 minutes. Whoever texted finally called. It was Vil. You took the phone to Leona. Disturbed by his sleep interruption, the executive of Savanaclaw answered the call and gestured for you to leave. You thought 'weird'. Meeting of executives who don't like each other to death.

"Leona-san, is there a problem sir? May I ask why Vil-san called you?" you asked. "It's not a big deal. You don't need to know."

"Is that so."

-

You gripped the steering wheel tightly. Your hands were shaking with adrenaline because of that fight at the restaurant an hour ago. They found you. Of course they did, but you were so used to your life in this last 1 month that you were taken by surprise for a moment. You should have cleared your mind now. Heartslabyul had already attacked. You could be attacked at any time. You should have been on the alert.

"Well, Y/N pack yourself up. You know them, they know you. There must be a way out. They probably have their men stationed at all the entrances and exits of the city. So it's almost impossible to get out of here without getting caught." you thought.

You opened the glove box. The situation was dire. Since you came to work with Alex this morning, you forgot that you 'cleaned' the car. "Damn" you cursed. All you had now were 3 bullets, a gun , an electroshock device, two morning sandwiches and some cash.It didn't seem like enough for an escape at all. 'I could have gone home and stocked up on some supplies and ammo, but since they found my work place, they probably found the house too. ' you thought. Your thoughts were interrupted by the vibration from your phone. The alarm of the security system you installed in your house was going on. When you looked at the cameras you saw 3 familiar face. You'll recognize those green predatory eyes wherever you see them. "Leona-san."

-

"Looks like the little herbivore has put some little toys in here, huh. Ruggie, turn those alarms off, they're too loud." said Leona as he surveyed the house.

"Leona-san, I told you to sneak in. It was obvious that someone like Y/N-shii was going to install a security system in the house. Now we've cleared our spot." Ruggie whined as he searched for the shutdown system. "Leona-san, what are you trying to do, sir?" ' Jack asked the reclining department manager. " Don't worry , They will come." said Leona lazily. "After all, they have no choice ."

-

"I don't have a better option than this." you sighed.

According to the cameras around the house, there were no men around. You did not know the position of the other executives. But looking at all your years in the mafia, one of the things you knew was that departments weren't going to work together to catch you. Leona was trying to get you on your feet by knowing your current situation, and it seemed like it was the best choice.

You checked inside the cameras one last time. Ruggie and Leona were in the Hall at the entrance, while Jack stood guard in the garage. "Damn, I wish I had a secret passage to the house." you said. Getting Jack first seemed like the best option to get in. "I'm on my really unlucky day… against two different departments in one night, huh."

-

Jack was lost in thought. He was thinking of you as he paced the garage. A month and a half ago, he suddenly couldn't reach you, then found out that you had left the mafia. Why did you leave, what was your reason? Why didn't you say anything to him? Jack felt betrayed. He paused with a small click. The garage door was slightly ajar. You jumped on him before he knew what was going on. You attacked him before he could come to him because of the blow he received and you used the electroshock device. "Sorry Jack." you said while tying it. "But while hunting, always pay attention to the hunt, otherwise you will be the hunted while you are the hunter." you said. Those were the words he said to you when you first went on a mission with Leona. You took the remaining strings and took one last look at Jack and locked the door on him.

-

"Ah~ all the hustle and bustle made me pretty hungry." said Ruggie, taking a bite of the donut he found in the fridge. "But you have to give it credit. Y/N-shii really tried hard. Security systems, cameras. soundproof walls… Who knows what else is in here , right Leona-san?" ' Ruggie asked the man lying in the armchair a few feet away. But the only response that came was a vague grunt. "Oh really, I'm going to Jack's. Call me if you need anything."

Ruggie began muttering to himself as he made his way down the hall. "This soundproofing thing really sucks. I feel like I'm in a horror movie." When he finally reached the garage door, he paused. There was something amiss. The door was locked. "Jack?" 'Oh no!' and with a sharp blow his vision darkened.

'I am indebted to the awful assassination training I received in Pormefiore.' you thought as you tied Ruggie. If Rook saw you in this state, he would surely utter some French nonsense and cry out of delight.

'last hunt' you thought. You had no chance to surprise attack this time, the fight was inevitable.

"You came." said Leona, his back to you as he sat on the sofa. He slowly turned his face towards you and grinned like a hunter playing with his prey. You pointed your gun at him. "Ah~ really, how cold you are. But I wouldn't do that if I were you." he said You looked at the table in the middle of the sofa set, Leona had found all your ammo. Then suddenly he stood up. "Don't you dare do anything wrong, otherwise-" "What," he interrupted. "Are you going to shoot me?" You didn't reply. "You know, I've been thinking a lot about why you left the mafia." He took a step towards you. "After all, you suddenly disappeared without any of us knowing. It was okay, we were very close." He took two more steps. "Don't Approach!" you warned. "Then why? You either wanted a normal life or -" "I said don't Approach !" and you pulled the trigger. Leona fell to the ground with the blow. First a few seconds of deep silence, then a chilling laugh. "Do you really think I'm not prepared for such situations?" he said. Before you could take your guard on, he made a move towards your gun and your gun fell to the ground. "Things might be more comfortable for you if you surrendered easily." said Leona, like a parent scolding his child. You grabbed a knife from the kitchen counter, but Leona grabbed you by the wrists and prevented you from attacking.

"You were supposed to behave yourself when you realized everything. Not running away stupidly." he said, tightening his grip.

You grit your teeth, You hit him in the face with your head. With this unexpected blow, Leona staggered backwards. With your freed hands, you took a handful of black pepper from the Black Pepper jar on the table and punched him in the face with your black pepper-filled fist. Roaring with pain from the dust in his eyes, Leona tried to attack you, but you got ahead of him and activated the booby traps. and Leona suddenly found himself in a ditch.

"You underestimated me, Leona-san. Remember, this is my territory. Even lions can be prey in the territory of the ridges when they are alone."

Without wasting any time, you started filling a bag with supplies and ammo. Meanwhile, Leona's phone started ringing. You picked up the phone on the table and saw the calling number,it was Boss.

"Hello Y/N, how are you?"

You didn't answer. Your old boss, Dire Crowley, was talking as usual as if nothing had happened.

"First of all, congratulations, defeating two of my managers in one night is not easy for everyone." You locked the door of the house while he was talking.

"You know, I'm a very generous person. That's why I wanted to let you know that the arrest warrant has been taken against you and that the whole mafia is after you." '

Oh, what a generosity. Like I didn't know this." you thought.

"But remember, I'm on your side. If you can escape from all, I'll give you your freedom."

"What if I Lose?"

"Then we both know what will happen." And the phone has turned off.

-

"Agh! I was so sure the Kingscholar would catch them." groaned former Savanaclaw manager Ashton Vargas. "But he didn't catch them. You've lost the bet so please let me demand the money." Sam smiled. "It was unexpected even for Y/N." said Trein, taking a sip of his tea. "Would you like to change your bets on who will win?" Sam offered. He grinned mischievously as he pocketed the check from Vargas. "The rightfully of what we're doing is debatable, but it looks like it'll be fun. A little fun never hurt anyone." said Crowley. While looking at Crewel, who is silently watching outside. "Okay, then let me take your bets."

[hidefdoritos]

Patch on a Pocket

Hello everyone! I'm back with my latest DIY: fixing a cargo pocket that tore out.

I had my work ID badge in this pocket, and I caught it on a truck door. It's a messy tear! When I was brand new to mending, I would've given up. But I have two options: unpick this pocket and use it as a template for a replacement, or try a patch. I tried the patch.

Step one: Clean up the fuzzy edges.

Hmm. Yeah, since chunks of the original fabric are missing, I can't whip the edges back together. I need a patch.

If I'd actually torn the shorts fabric, I'd have put a patch on the inside and another patch on the outside, so the raw edges would be encased in a "patch sandwich." However, this is just the pocket. The inside of the mend doesn't have to withstand the washing machine. I decided instead to...

Step 2: Whipstitch around the tear.

I don't like the look of a whipstitch on a tear, and in my experience, when done on the outside, it disintegrates in the wash. But for the inside of a pocket, it's actually fine. I used marigold thread because I hate the color and have too much of it.

Step three: Prep a patch that's bigger than the tear.

I measured a 4-by-4 square-ish and pinned it flat onto the moving box that's protecting my carpet. Then I used my nail polish brush and my white mystery paint to paint a spiderweb. I've been inspired by goths lately, I guess.

Step four: Hem the patch.

This one isn't necessary--you can do it while you affix the patch--but I just got my machine back from the shop and wanted to try it out.

Step four point five: Pin the patch to the pocket.

I didn't measure well for the patch, and I'm extremely lucky that it just barely covers all the tear. Also I stuck scrap cardboard in the pocket so I couldn't actually sew it shut.

Step 5: Sew on and admire!

Here's the finished look! It took me a few hours (longer than making a new pocket would've taken), but I like it a lot. I did a few tiny stitches on the inside to keep that big corner of the tear anchored to the patch. I also put a few studs on the shorts because why not!

[monachopsis-11]

The infantilization of having restricted eating is crazy, I get treated like a kid on a regular basis by people who were treating me normal five seconds earlier just because of my sandwich order.

I have sat at a restaurant meeting while I was a hostess where all my coworkers laughed at how plain the food on the kids menu was and how kids had no taste and they were so glad they weren’t like that anymore. At the same job people questioned my orders when I got food at the end of a shift saying it was barely even the same thing anymore and wouldn’t I like something else? If I had wanted something else I would have asked for it, you don’t need to double check and use baby voice with me I’m fully capable of deciding what I eat.

I get judgmental looks and questions from people who take my food orders in public more and more often as I get older and it’s less socially acceptable for me to say no vegetables on things without being treated like a spoiled child who’s inconveniencing them. People look at me in surprise and ask if they heard right, scoff, roll their eyes etc. on a pretty regular basis.

When I need to send back food after someone makes a mistake on my order and I can’t eat it my family acts like they’re embarrassed of me and sometimes when I’m not paying they refuse to let me. I will go hungry every time and have been made to often as well.

For years school trips and meals with other peoples families were a terrifying ordeal and still give me anxiety. I was denied desert and sometimes the meal as a whole for not eating even though I asked what was being made ahead of time so I knew if I should eat before hand or bring something else and even knowing this people ignored it and changed meal plans to try and pressure me into eating more variety.

The worst part of all of this is that I wish I could eat everything other people can but sometimes the smell or look of food I don’t like on someone else’s plate is enough to make me feel sick, the thought of putting it in my mouth for any reason is unimaginable.

And maybe the whole “they’ll eat if they’re hungry enough” thing works at a certain point but I lived off beef jerky, raisins, and half a bagel for four days on a school trip where no one bothered to accommodate my eating restrictions and I would’ve gone much longer before eating what was offered.

I had a teacher who kept me in for six recesses in a row over me not trying a bite of food we cooked in class in third grade purely because they were annoyed and took it on themself to step into something that wasn’t their business.

I regularly get guilted and called out on my unhealthy diet and it hurts because I would do anything to be able to eat more foods, I hope that maybe I will in the future, but right now it’s not an option. I’m hoping if I find a good smoothie recipe I can get more fruits and vegetables in my diet but even then I won’t ever be in a position to just eat what is served and I shouldn’t have to endure judging and being treated like a child by random strangers who have no business in what I want the food I’m paying for to have on it.

It’s valid for adults to have restricted eating too, it doesn’t make us children, and it’s not a moral failing. It’s also not anyone else’s business.

[clockwayswrites]

*steeps fingers* In my continual efforts to eventually write Danny/Dick (without Wally adding to the sandwich)...

CW: BSDM subject matter (no smut) below the cut

Dick Grayson- the first Wayne child. The poster boy of the rest of them. Smiling, handsome, friendly.

Nightwing- the og sidekick now a decorated hero. Hell, he's been a hero longer than most. The golden boy and a leader. Smiling, intelligent, kind.

And he loves who he is. He loves being Dick Grayson and Nightwing. He's proud of what he's built with his family and the Titans. But it's hard. There's always been this small angry part inside of him and sometimes it thrashes and rages about how it's his roll to always smile and fix everyone else's issues.

And Dick is tired. He's tired of saving everyone else while he's struggling to tread water. Then an overheard conversation has him thinking about a new option. He doesn't need another 'mask' to wear, but maybe one where he doesn't have to be smiling, friendly, and kind would do him good.

He ends up joining a dungeon as a dom. He's careful to protect his identity- both of them- but it does him so much good. He can be harsh and he can hurt and do so in ways that are still good. He can make someone else happy by bruising them.

Of course, he doesn't expect to start falling for one of the subs that he keeps having scenes with. He doesn't expect to have to decided if it's worth the risk to let someone know all of who he really is.

[copperbadge]

In your opinion, does the pizza from the None With Left Beef meme count as a pizza? Or more of an open-faced sandwich? Or a secret third thing?

You know, I've been thinking about this, and it's tough to form a satisfying conclusion. (For reference, this is the original None Pizza With Left Beef, and it's just...very human that we have given this thing its own wikipedia page.)

My initial thought was that the dish begins as a pizza and then is reduced artificially, so it should remain a pizza -- ie, you are starting from a place of pizza and removing elements, but at the end of the day you are still ordering a pizza. On the other hand, the pizza is not cooked before you remove the ingredients, and if you remove, say, the flour from a muffin before baking without substituting anything else in its place, that is definitely no longer a muffin. Just because the pizza is unbaked dough topped with things doesn't mean those toppings aren't ingredients added before cooking. Mind you, you can't order a muffin to be delivered sans flour, and you can order a pizza without cheese. So this approach is really just chasing one's own tail.

I try to remember in this kind of debate that we are not really discussing objects or their fabrication as much as we are debating naming conventions (hence my "sandwich is not a noun, it is an adjective" stance). The word "pizza" is right there in the title -- we do call it "none pizza with left beef", so I think that in terms of the popular view we are going to have to consider it a pizza simply because by majority we call it one. But if we remove the title of it, and base categorization on the thing itself, we are faced with two questions:

If you were to look at none pizza with left beef without context, would you consider it a pizza?

If you didn't consider it a pizza, do we have a pre-existing category where it could be placed?

I don't think anyone is going to look at it and see a sandwich, whether or not we're prepared to categorize it as one. The originator refers to it as "tasteless bread with salty meat pellets". I think one could make a case for it being some kind of cracker, or perhaps a form of pita given that crackers aren't usually leavened. I think suggesting it might be a kind of nacho is relevant but also clearly the chaotic evil option and leads us into a whole "is it a nacho without cheese" area.

But in the end I think we should go with what Wikipedia calls it:

None pizza with left beef is not pizza nor sandwich nor pita nor nacho, but is "a pizza delivery experiment".

[olderthannetfic]

Since you've mentioned that you use Scrivener as a word processing software, I have a bit of a weird-ish question. I have looked at the programme and it seems incredibly useful, and then I looked at the pricetag and- gulp.

I currently use Word which costs 5 euros per year thanks to university, but am thinking about switching to another programme that isn't related to my uni as I feel too paranoid about my smutty fanfic ideas being looked at by my uni and them disapproving of my writing. XD (Word keeps marking "fuck" with a squiggly line and suggesting I choose another word to avoid offending my readers, but if canon doesn't give Barclay some holographic MMF action taking place during "A Fistful of Datas" and turning both his holographic partners into holographic Data and therefore inducing maximum tension and insecurity due to feelings in poor sandwiched Barclay whenever he meets actual Data after that, I will have to write it myself! :P )

According to the website where one can buy a Scrivener license, one pays for the current version of it and will have to buy later versions anew if I haven't misunderstood. You seem to have used it for quite a while, and I haven't managed to find out when the different versions came out. I know the current one is 3, but I am unsure how much time passed between 1 and 2 and 2 and 3, and am unsure whether it's a good idea to buy a license now or whether it would be wiser to wait if it's likely that another version might be released in the near future (that is within one year for example) because then I might wait a little while with my purchase, heh. It probably sounds quite stingy but I am solely getting it for my tiny and too seldom indulged hobby of writing fanfic, and currently have to kinda sorta pay more attention to my wallet and where its contents go, so to say, which is why I'm hesitant.

The question basically is: As a (probable?) long-time user, do you think it's likely a new version of Scrivener will be released within the next year or so or do you think it's likely the current version will be tha latest to purchase for a longer while than 1-2 years?

I hope this rambly mess makes sense, haven't really slept for quite some time, so I am sorry if this is terribly incomprehensible. Sorry for the weird stingy question. Have a nice day and I hope you have slept and will sleep better than I currently do, heh!

--

I've only used it for like three years.

A quick google suggests that Scrivener 2 was released in 2010. 3 was released in 2017 basically to keep up with OS changes.

(IDK what you searched, but this isn't hard to find, dude.)

Scrivener is a fairly... old-fashioned style of software, I guess I'd call it. Some dude wrote himself a program to write his own novel and then people liked it. Some other guy decided to port it to Windows.

They update approximately never. When they do, recent buyers of the old one upgrade for free and everybody else gets like half off. The trial period is 30 days of actual use. The current retail license for 3 is only like sixty bucks. It's a commercial product, but... not like you've been trained to expect by your average modern software that wants to nickle and dime you at every turn.

Do you need Scrivener? Well, no. Not unless you want customizable high-level ebook output formatting and fancy features like that. You could just use some other free option if you just want to type stories in something that isn't Word. But Scrivener is priced extremely low for what it is.