#we don’t hate brown people! we just think they should leave the story because they could do better!

[st4rluvrr]

Friends

☆ “tell me we weren't just friends"

synopsis: fem!reader x jealous! ellie williams. you and ellie used to be friends before she randomly stopped talking to you and you bump into her at a party. based on friends by chase atlantic.

wc: 1.7k

warnings: smut, metions of alcohol, dom!ellie, sub!reader, degregration, overstimulation, blood, no aftercare

an: another chase atlantic song. this is not proof read and im not proud of this so yeah.

Lights flicker over Dina's face, painting her skin blue as she talks. Music plays loudly over a stereo, making it difficult to hear. The beat pulses through your body, leaving your heart pounding and ears bursting.

“So then she says that I’m being overdramatic. And I’m like you cheated on me, the least I should do is break up with you.” She says, irritated as she retells the details from her weekend.

You try to listen to her story, truly interested and wanting to be a good friend. But you were on edge, constantly checking the door, to see if she would be here. You didn’t want to face her, never wanted to see her again, you only agreed to come to this party because Dina promised that she wasn’t going to turn up but it was like your body craved her, needed her.

“Oh, you said she wouldn’t be here,” You say when you see Ellie walk through the door. Your heart raced at the sight of her. Her hair is cut short, shaggy against the back of her neck, fringe swept to the side. A brown button-up shirt is rolled up to reveal her tattoo, the top buttons were undone. There was no need for you to find her that attractive when you were still so mad at her.

You roll your eyes when you see everyone move towards her, desperate to greet her. You look over at Dina, and she at least looks a little apologetic. She knew it was better if you never saw each other again as you would be unable to resist her.

“She wasn’t supposed to, she told Jesse she was staying in,” As much as you tried to avoid Ellie, it was difficult when your friends were also her friends. They never truly knew what happened between the two of you. You couldn’t explain it yourself. Just that one day you both couldn’t stand to be in a room with each other. Jesse always insists that you will become friends again.

You don’t think you can, not after she left you. Abandoned you for her. Cast you aside like you meant nothing to her.

But she meant something to you. She made you feel wanted and needed. Your name was the one she was moaning at night when she would stay over, and she would fall asleep in your arms, only to be gone before the sun rose.

She didn’t need you. She proved that every time she left. She just needed someone to want her, and you would never be enough for her.

The longer she ignored you, the quicker the pain turned to anger. You finally had enough of her antics and swore to never take her back again.

You watched as a girl trailed after her, following everywhere she went like a lost puppy, begging for a drop of her attention. You hated to admit that that was you a couple of months ago. That you would have done anything for her. And deep down, you still would.

-

The room swarmed with heat, and your body flushed as more people began to turn up. As the night wore on, the alcohol started to take effect. You began to lose track of time, you becoming less and less aware of your surroundings as the night progressed. You found yourself getting lost in the moment, completely forgetting about Ellie and the girl she brought with her.

You were dancing with Dina, spinning each other around to the music. Laughing when she slips, grabbing onto her to stop her from falling.

“Oh sorry,” You apologise when you knock into someone while trying to save Dina. They turn to face you, your pulse quickens when you see their face.

Their hair is tied up, curls breaking out of the hair band, framing her face. Her lips were tainted dark red, perfectly complementing her skin. She was pretty, very pretty and you deserved to have a little fun. It had been months since you were last with Ellie, and you wanted to be wanted.

“Oh no don’t worry about it,” You lean in closer to her to hear over the blaring music. Her perfume wafts over to you. It’s sweet and flowering and pulls you in. “I’m Olivia,”

You return with your name, and when a new song starts to play, she places her hands on your hips, moving both of you to the beat. You step closer to her, shoes bumping as you dance with her. She starts to lean closer to you, your lips brushing over each other. You only need to move an inch, and her lips with be on yours.

A hand grabs your wrist, pulling you away for her. Their grip is tight and unforgiving and only tightens when you try to break free. You pull your hand from their grip roughly as she slams the bathroom door behind her, locking it.

“What the hell is your problem?” You yell at Ellie, walking over to the sink and leaning against it, trying to keep the distance between the two of you. 

“You shouldn’t be with her,” She says, her jaw clenching when you roll your eyes at her.

“What the fuck?” You state in disbelief. She has no right to think she can stop you from moving on. She is the one who left you. She is the reason you are moving on in the first place.

“She’s no good for you,”

“And what you are?” Her silence says enough. You both know you are too good for her, that she would never treat you right. “You don’t get to choose who I date.”

“Well, I should if that’s who you pick. You just can’t help acting like a slut for the first person who gives you the tiniest bit of attention,” She starts slowly walking towards you, and you press further into the marble, trying to escape her. You feel small under her piercing gaze. She is close enough that you can see her pupils are blown wide in lust. You know how this is going to end, and it becoming harder to deny her the closer she gets.

“Or is it my attention that you wanted?”

“You’re so full of yourself,”

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You feel her breath fan over your face as she speaks. She smirks when you don’t respond. Her lips brush over yours, and as you tilt your head, she pulls her head back slightly, making sure that your lips don’t touch. “That’s why you dressed like a whore.”

And her calling you that shouldn’t make you wet, but you can feel your arousal pool in your underwear. It makes your mind foggy, and all you can think about is her lips on yours.

You connect your lips with hers, roughly kissing her. She grabs onto your hips tight enough that she will leave bruises. Your hands wrap around her, tugging at the hair on the nape of her neck. You suck her bottom lip into your mouth, biting hard enough to taste copper.

“You fucking bitch,” Ellie pulls back. You can see blood pooling on her lip, and you grab her shirt to drag her mouth onto yours again. You lick over the cut, soothing the ache, and she moans into your mouth, giving you access to deepen the kiss. Her hand moves up to grab your tit, palming the flesh through your top. Her other hand reaches down to push up your skirt, leaving it bunched up around your waist.

“Fucking hell,” She whispers when she sees your lace panties, “You really are a slut,”

Her hand tugs on the fabric, pulling it tight against your clit, and you moan at the pressure you are finally receiving. Her hand drags your top down, making your boobs spill over the edge. She rolls your nipple between her fingers, pinching hard.

Ellie starts trailing kisses down your neck, biting the flesh and leaving behind a mark. You moan at the pain, the sting making your cunt throb.

Her hand slips under the lace of your panties, moaning at how wet you are. Her fingers graze your clit, brushing past it to dip the tip of her finger into your hole.

She pushes two fingers into you quickly, but you are wet enough that they slip in easily. Her thumb grazes over your clit, making your head spin. You are already close to the edge. It has been a while since you have felt someone else’s fingers on you.

She curls her fingers inside of you, reaching the spot that makes you see stars. The coil is tightening in the stomach so close to snapping.

She circles your clit faster, her fingers pumping in and out of you. And that’s what makes the cool snap. You moan loudly, your legs buckling beneath you, Ellie’s grip the only thing keeping you standing.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” She kisses your lips, slow and softly this time. Her hand cups your jaw, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

She lifts you up and onto the counter, before Ellie drops to her knees before you, her hands passing over your side as she kneels. She pulls your panties down, leaving them to rest on top of your thighs.

She lifts one of your legs onto her shoulder, trailing kisses down your thigh, sucking marks into the fat. Her hands push your thighs further apart before she kisses directly over your clit. You are still sensitive from your last orgasm, and you jolt backwards in pleasure. She licks a strip along your folds, swirling her tongue around the throbbing bud.

It’s almost too much, your legs close around her head, trying to push her away. But Ellie pins your legs open, and you cannot fight against her strength. She sucks your clit into her mouth, and the pleasure is blinding. You grab onto her hair, pushing her harder, making her moan into your cunt. The vibrations cause you to cum, and you can feel your juices flowing down her thighs and dripping down her chin.

Ellie stands back up, licking her lips and wiping her chin with the back of her hand. You sit for a second longer, catching your breath before it all comes back to you. The pain Ellie has caused you over these last weeks. The girl that’s probably still sitting on that sofa, waiting for Ellie to get back to her.

“I should go,” You pull up your underwear and readjusted your skirt. “You should go back to your girlfriend,”

“She’s not my girlfriend,”

“You should tell her that,”

[mostofthingsmostofthetime]

I finished the second episode of Heartstopper last night (wanted to post about it yesterday, but I was too tired from work), so here are some of my thoughts in no particular order for you now.

Good on Nick for checking up on Charlie after what happened. I found it odd, though, that he seemed more emotional about it than Charlie, but I guess they're in two very different places, mentally. One being 'why do I seem to like this guy way more than my other friends?' & the other being 'omg stop being so nice to me, your straight!' lol. Plus, I get that everyone deals with stuff in their own way & poor Charlie is probably so used to being mistreated that he might just be repressing the full weight of how his feeling as a copeing mechanism. It was also probably very cathartic to finally tell someone everything that happened between him & Ben (as I'm guessing he kept most if not all of it a secret from his friends & sister).

WE FINALLY MEET NELLIE!!!! And she is as cute as I'd hoped (though for some reason I expected her to be a different colour).

Sorry, Charlie, but Tori's right. Your hair looks exactly the same. Also, love that they kept the gag from the novel about her scaring him with her, always showing up suddenly without warning.

Nice to see that the outfits are on point for our boys so far with the plaid/black jeans (trying to impress someone, I see Charlie) & T-shirt/joggers (also what product is Miss Nelson using coz Nick's tops look soft as hell).

Wait, what season is it supposed to be because it looked really sunny when Charlie was walking to Nick's house (I know he was wearing a coat & hat but Charlie is always cold) but then suddenly it's snowing? Idk when Alice first came up with this story, but as a Brit, I haven't seen proper full on Snow since I was probably around eight years old. But hey, maybe in the Heartstopper universe, global warming doesn't exist.

I don’t care what anyone says, I will never get the fun of a snowball fight. If I go somewhere with a friend & they start throwing stuff at me, I'm leaving! Also, picking it up with your bare hands? One, it's been on the ground 🤢, and two, where are your gloves? Do you not feel the cold? Snow angles do look fun until I think about how my entire behind would be frozen/damp. Sorry if that makes me a "stick in the mud", I don't care 😝.

Damn, that is one photogenic dog & and aww, they already look like a couple. Also, give it up for Nick's freckles, the real star of the show 👏.

Omg, being in the same group as someone you hate must be so hard, but I get why Nick can't really say anything about what Ben did, at least not right now. Also, what is up with that Imogen girl? Mind your damn business.

I think it's good we get to see Elle longing for a bond with other girls that she just can't get from her male friend group. Makes her transition feel more fleshed out (for lack of a better word), you know?

Yay, we finally meet Tara & Darcy & they're exactly how I thought they'd be (except I imagined Darcy with brown hair for some reason). Ooh I didn't know Elle was artistic. I wanna decorate pencil cases now. Tara's pink puffa coat is so cute. What is up with adults dictating how long kids' hair can be? Like who gives a fuck! Also "gal pals" had me 😆.

Oh, thank god, it's just misinformation. For a second, I thought Tao was making shit up just to make Charlie get over his crush. Are kids really like that, though? I can't imagine kissing someone once & having people insist, I'm madly in love with them to this day, like move on already.

Ok, I officially really like the gay teacher, lol.

Love Charlie's sweater & Nick's coats are also very nice. Where are these kids getting their clothes? Coz I'm embarrassed by most of the stuff I wore as a teenager.

The big hoodie moment should be cute, but I just can't help thinking about how skinny Charlie is, which makes me ☹️.

Ok, so I didn't care much for the leaf animation in the first episode, but omg, the little fire crackles when Nick was trying to hold Charlie's hand? Screaming, crying, throwing up!!!!!!! & the hug before he left? Fucking crops watered for life, bitch!

Was digging Elle's outfit, very 70's vibes.

Ah, so their "secret" is out. Also obligatory: 🗣 LET'S GO LESBIANS LET'S GO 🗣

Can't wait for the next episode, but I practically passed out after watching episode 2 (manual labour is hard, kids 😭), so maybe I hallucinated, but did that Imogen girl ask Nick out? I thought she was daiting Ben? Or is that a different girl?

PS. I found out Aled won't be in the show, which I accept & the only reason I haven't talked about Isaac is because he hasn't really done much yet

[muiltifandomnerd]

Important Note: I finally got a new laptop. So now to all my followers who like this story @sugutoad @thecreatorandcreation @yuzuna123 @miuyuki-snowfall and many more, thank you for your patience. Eventually once Archive On Your Own accepts, I will post all of story content on that site.

Adventures of Chika Hanabusa: The Restoration of Earth

Disclaimer: This book follows the events of Percy Jackson and Heros of Olympus fanfic, this fanfic will not include Trails of Apollo, The Kane Chronicles, and Magnus Chase.

Chapter 28: Lovers Quarrel

Chika PoV

We pulled back from each other, but I could still feel our lips together. Reyna starts walking away from me while I look on from the steps of Rhea’s mansion. Suddenly a brilliant idea comes into my head, Reyna could still be with me.

“Wait don’t go just yet, maybe you could stay here and be with me,” I shouted and Reyna turned towards me and looked shocked.

“I know what you are thinking, but I can’t leave Rome. How come you just blindly agree with Rhea’s proposal?” Reyna questions with a loud voice and she just shoots a furrowed brow.   

“Didn’t you also agree with Rhea’s suggestion as well? You even admit that it was smart for me to stay here. I thought that you didn’t have a problem.” I said with my voice going louder, Is Reyna blaming me for this situation? I wanted to go with New Rome so badly, but unfortunately, I’m sharing a body with a human-hating genocidal goddess. 

“You’re right I did agree it was smart of you to stay with the Titan queen. But a part of me wanted you to be defiant and said no. I know this is just a messed up situation and there is nothing we can do about it, but I feel like we were manipulated to agree with that goddess. Part of me right now just wants to carry you to New Rome myself and say damn them all.” Reyna shouted and she walked toward me. I got close to her and our bodies were only inches away from each other.

I wanted her to take me to New Rome or wherever because now I felt this intense air around us and our bodies shaking in anticipation. I can see a bit of sweat coming down on Reyna’s forehead and even on mine.

“That’s just it, It’s always about New Rome. It’s like your whole life revolves around it?” I shouted back at her with the same intensity.

“ You’re right Chika, my life does revolve around New Rome. I never had a stable home and family, you are one of the lucky ones to have that. New Rome gives me a home and a future to look forward to, my people need me because I’m their Praetor.” I stare right back at her, it’s like she is stuck on that brainwashing. I don’t even know what to say to her, I want her to be selfish at the moment, she is sacrificing her happiness for that place. Maybe I am being selfish as well, but I didn’t care at the time. I move my forehead towards her and I just close my eyes.

“I should probably leave before we say something we will regret towards. This is goodbye for now.” I felt Reyna move her forehead away from me and just walk away to join my parents, My mother transported them away from Spiti. I felt tears coming from my eyes and I quickly wiped them away. A girl suddenly appeared next to me and it was Evangeline, my cousin's girlfriend. She’s wearing skinny jeans and a brown sweater, while her hair is worn down in blonde waves.

“So relationship trouble?” She asked in concern and I just nodded, and she just gestured to follow her. We went to a 1 story house with a mix of white and blue paint. As we got inside, we were greeted by Hyun, Isabelle, Camira, and Itri sitting on a cream-colored couch with the Super Smash Bros in the background on the Nintendo Switch. 

“So do you want to join us?” Camira asked and I just nodded yes. I picked Mario as my character and I just played the game, without thinking about the situation with Reyna.  So far I think I’m doing good at the game and I managed to knock down Camira, who was playing Link. Suddenly my character, Mario, got knocked out by Isabelle's character, Pit. I just quietly watch the other girls play the video game.

“I can tell you were pretty out of it already, something troubling you,” Camira says in a thick Irish accent as she puts her hands around my shoulder.

“It’s just relationship problems, we will have to be apart because of certain circumstances,” I say in a low, quiet tone.

“Hey it will work out eventually, you just need a break from all that drama and have fun.” Camira got out a bottle of alcohol and she gave me a small cup. I look on in uncertainty.

“Look just have 1 small cup and that’s all we’re getting. I did have to sneak it away from the adults. Maybe this will get you to relax.” Camira pulled the small cup with alcohol and she handed it to me. I look at the brown beverage and I just drink it without thinking. Suddenly my head was all over the place and I felt like puking.

“No offense Camira, but that drink is horrible and I will not drink it again.” my face went all red and my body is shaking all over the place.

“Fair enough, but hey at least you have a new experience. Anyway, wanna play truth or dare?” The other girls heard what Camira asked and they turned off the TV and eagerly sat on the floor with Camira and me.

“Oh, I love this game,” Itri says childishly  while she plays with a toy skull.

“Ok Chika, truth or dare?” Itri asks as she stares at me with her black makeup on. She wears black leggings and a black T-shirt with a crescent moon on it. She has dark brown skin and she tied her hair up with dreads.

“Truth” I answered and Itri looked mildly disappointed.

“Is it true that you do karate?” Itri asks in curiosity and every girl besides Isabelle stares at me with surprise.

“Yes, I did do Karate before I jumped into the demigod world and I’m assuming that Isabelle told you about it.” I answered truthfully.

“That’s awesome maybe you could show us some moves,” Evangeline says while the others just shoot a small smile.

“I thought cheerleader would be a good nickname, but karate girl is better.”Hyun chuckles while she just drinks more alcohol.

“Alright Hyuunn Truth or Dareeee?” I say as I feel my words slurring. The alcohol is taking effect now and I can now understand why characters always have slurred speech when they drink alcohol. Thank god I don’t have to drink it anymore. 

“Dare karate girl, I hope you come up with a good one since you are drunk,” Hyun says confidently. I have a funny dare in mind and just laughing like crazy. The other girls look on in concern.

“I darreed you Hyun to pie yourself in the face,” I say chucking and I lay down on the ground laughing.

“That's it, weak!!!!” Hyun shouted unimpressed with the dare created a pie out of nowhere and she just put the pie on her face with a bored expression. I laugh madly about it, Hyun looks funny with cream coming out of her face and tears coming out of my face. I’m having fun now, these girls are so cool.

“Oh right Ice Queen you’re turn, truth or dare?” Hyun says with a mischievous smirk as she turns to Isabelle. Isabelle, please pick truth, Hyun will make you do something so humiliating. 

“I picked dare, I’m not scared of you,” Isabelle says confidently. No Isabelle why you picked that? Hyun just laughed evilly.

“Alright princess, I dared you to dress like a little girl and wear diapers along with it for the whole night.” Hyun. Isabelle's face went all white and she looked on nervously.

“I hate you, I will get payback for this,” Isabelle says coldly and Hyun just sticks her tongue.

“Don’t worry my queen, I will avenge you,” Camira shouted as Hyun changed Isabelle's clothes to a snow white inspire costume that reached Isabelle's midthigh with a yellow bottom and a blue top with a yellow line and a puffy sleeve. The diaper appears underneath the skirt and fits snuggly around Isabelle's waist and a red bow attaches to Isabelle’s hair.

“You looked adorable” Hyun laughs like crazy and everybody else tries not to laugh.

“It’s whatever guys, you can laugh. It’s just a game and I didn’t have to flirt with an adult. But please don’t take a picture of this.” Isabelle looks shyly towards the other girls and Hyun looks on sheepishly.

“Hey Isabelle thanks for taking this lightly, trust me I’m not going to take pictures. I will do an extra dare for you.” Hyun says earnestly while Isabelle looks on to Hyun with no expression on her face. I was about to say something but suddenly I felt my stomach growling and I covered my stomach. My stomach is a bubbling volcano ready to erupt at this point and suddenly I start throwing up on the floor. The other girls looked in concern and I felt my body light. My eyes were suddenly about to close and my body just went down, but I felt somebody carrying and I’m losing consciousness.”

At  Night (3 Hours Ago)

Suddenly I woke in a bed with my mother, the goddess Demeter, holding a cup with what looked like milk. My mother is in her green pajama pants with a dark green t-shirt, and her hair is worn down. I suddenly took the cup away from my mother and drank the warm milk. I feel so much better and the head is all clear and relaxed. 

“So it was your first time drinking, you probably shouldn't do that again.” Mother warmly smiles and I just sobbed close to her chest. I let out all the pent-up emotions and just cried on my mother's chest and she just held me closely. I felt so safe in her embrace.

“What has been troubling you, my child?’ Mother asked in a soothing voice and she stroked my short hair.

“I just go-t in-to a f-i---gh--t with R--ey--na and I’m worr---ied if s--he ha--tes me?”  I sobbed between the words while my mother just gently stroked my shoulders.

“Relationships will always have arguments and conflicts, what’s important is that you girls won’t give up on each other during said times. You girls were probably very stressed out with this situation, and just needed a small break from each other. I’m sorry that my grandmother put you girls in this spot.” Mother says apologetically.

“I hope you are right Mother, I hope it’s just us being stressed about this. Hey Mother, do you mind staying with me for the night?” I asked and she did a tender smile and kissed my forehead.

“Anything for you my love” Mother says in a soft voice and I just dozed off in the night.

[staticscreenwriting]

maybe the night would take me home II Frankie Morales

Part 1 : "Divorce And The American South"  & "The Thunderbird Inn"

a Frankie Morales Story inspired by the album  "We Don't Have Each Other" by  Aaron West and the Roaring Twenties.

A/N : This imagine series will deal with sensitive topics please see my tags for TW. Please proceed with caution. Also there’s mention of smoking and alcohol. English is not my native language, go easy on me please. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated

There's a hole in the wall and a square where the wallpaper is a lighter shade of beige than the rest. There probably used to be a painting or a mirror. The ceiling fan is missing one of its blades and there's a huge rip in the ugly brown curtain that's blocking the street lights from flooding the room.

He can just about make out the glow coming from the street light in front of his window. There used to be more color permeating the thin curtains and throwing kaleidoscope patterns into his motel room but people have started to take down their Christmas lights leaving him with just the ugly yellow of the street lamp.

The motel room is dull and gray and hopeless and broken and ugly and Frankie thinks it's fitting because that's exactly how he feels and really, he doesn’t mind it all that much.

The clerk at the front desk, he wants to say his name is Steve, is nice, and always pours him a cup of coffee whenever he finds Frankie sitting in the tiny lobby area of the Motel where the vending machines are. The coffee isn’t good but it’s warm and that’s enough these days.

“Long night?” he asks and every time Frankie nods and says “Sure has been.” Steve then grants him one of those smiles that lets you know the person is looking straight through your lie but they’re way too nice to call you out on your bullshit. 

“Well, tomorrow’s a new day. Hope that one is better,” he replies, every time.

Frankie nods again knowing full well it won’t be.

He’s given Frankie a break on the rent this week. 

“Look don’t you worry about it. Just make sure you pay me back with next week’s rent. I know you’re good for it.” 

“I probably am.” 

Steve was laughing then. He probably won’t laugh when he hears that Frankie’s coming up short again this week.

Back in his tiny motel room, his clammy hands grab the room's phone tightly. It will probably cost him a fortune to use it — again — though after throwing it against a solid brick wall, his cell phone is but a piece of junk left somewhere by the side of the truck stop. 

He doesn't really need it anyway. Too many pictures and memories and shit he doesn't want to think about because he can’t get it back.  

He takes another sip from the bottle. He thinks it's whiskey but he might be wrong. It all tastes the same these days.

Calling her won’t do any good and he knows but he can't help himself. It's like an itch that he just has to scratch. It's like a desperate need that he has to satisfy. It's like an addiction he has to feed.

It's 2 in the morning and she's most likely asleep and Frankie hates himself for waking her up. She's lost enough sleep as it is. But his mind is so loud and he needs to get all of these things off his chest. All the things he didn't say when he should have, when it counted, when it meant something, when she needed him to.

It's not the first time he's called either. He wonders if she'll ever pick up.

There's a perfectly clear picture burned into his mind of the first time he'd called her after he left. He had been stranded at some run-down truck stop that could've been the perfect location for the first kill in a horror movie. There was a bottle of water in his hand and the phone receiver in the other.

He can't recall how long he'd spent inside the phone booth reading her number out loud and trying to work up the courage to call her but he knows it's been quite a while. And when he did he was met with the dial tone. With every beep his heart sunk a little further, felt a little heavier.

" Hello this is Y/N, I can't pick up the phone right now but feel free to leave a message after the tone and I'll ring you back. Ok, bye. "

Her voice sounded so cheery and he remembers the tears threatening to leave his eyes at the sound of it. She hadn't sounded this cheery in a long long time and his heart broke knowing that was partially his fault.

" Hey Y/N, It's me .... Frankie. If you’re listening can you please pick up the phone? I know you're home. "

He could still recall her daily schedule better than anything, after all, they had been living together for years.

" I know where I went wrong. I really do. I uh— I'm at a truck stop. Not sure where I'm going yet but I'll call you. Please talk to me, baby. I love you. "

He remembers his heart breaking and breaking more and shattering and it hasn't been fixed yet. There's that little cynical corner of his brain that tells him it never will be fixed. All good things come to an end sooner or later and this is THE good thing in his life. She is the best thing. She was the chance he never thought he’d get. A shot at redemption.

That other day he found a bar just outside the township line. He goes most every night now whenever he can feel a bad night coming. All nights are bad nights now. The floors are sticky and the bar is dusty but the drinks are cheap and the barkeeper doesn’t bother to get him tangled up in any kind of conversation. All Frankie gets is a look of pity as he pours him another drink. Fuck, he didn’t know that he looks that pathetic. 

The alcohol doesn’t numb his heart the way it used to. Back when he woke up in a cold sweat with visions of a life he tried so hard to leave behind he could always count on the inside of a bottle to make the demons disappear for a while. Then when that stopped working, the drugs managed to do it. 

And then when he hit rock bottom, for some inexplicable reason, life chose to send him her and she made every other coping mechanism pale in comparison. Her love did not make the demons go away, or the fear, or the guilt. Her love made him realize that he could live a good life regardless. That even the worst parts of him are worthy of love. 

He thinks she might’ve been wrong.

There's a half-empty pack of cigarettes laying on the nightstand. He hasn't touched them for a while. Got them at that same truck stop where he smashed his phone but only smoked half a pack before he remembered that promise he made her a long time ago, back when she had first told him, back when they were happy.

And he failed. Because for a while he’d felt like the reason he stopped smoking in the first place had vanished. If there was no one to promise something to, was there even a promise to begin with? 

The cigarettes bring back memories of the second time he'd called her. It was right after he arrived here, at this very same motel. With the very same peeling wallpaper and the chipped door and the ceiling fan that is missing one blade and the carpet with the burn marks. The same motel he is basically succumbing in right now.

He was less nervous the second time he'd called her, less nervous but more fucked up. Half drunk on cheap whiskey and half drunk on the infinite sadness he's felt ever since their life went to shit.

This time he didn't make himself believe she'd pick up. He knew she wouldn't and maybe that was a good thing. Frankie didn't want her to know he was shitfaced, that he tried to numb the pain with past vices he promised to leave behind.

" Hey Y/N "

As the words rolled off his lips there was no doubt in his mind that she'd still know. He sounded drunk. He hated it.

" Just wanted to tell you that uh — I uh I've been trying to quit. I went from a pack and a half a day to this e-cigarette bullshit. "

It had been a stupid idea, thinking this e-cigarette shit would do anything for him but it was worth a try. Everything was worth a try for her.

" It stops the coughing fits. I know that you always hated my smoking habit. I hope you can be a little proud of me. I know I don't deserve it. I love you, bye."

There was a time, Frankie thinks and scoffs, when he thought love was enough. What a fool he'd been. Now he knows that's all proper bullshit.

It isn't like he doesn't love her, he loves her entirely too much for his own good. 

It's that too much love can destroy you. It eats you up from the inside out.

He can't keep himself from loving her though, and from holding onto that little spark of hope that she might still love him back. After all they've been through, all they had to endure, the thought that she might one day forgive him and love him again was the only thing still keeping him afloat. Without her, he'd sink. And maybe, he thinks, maybe love is enough. It's enough to make him go on.

There's a fly buzzing around the room, sitting down on Frankie’s arm from time to time. He doesn't have the energy to swat her away.

A little voice in his mind wonders what would happen if he just kept laying here. Maybe if he only lays here long enough, maybe the bugs will eat him alive. Maybe the night will swallow him and take him home. Maybe she’ll come looking for him.

His mind wanders off to places he tried hard to forget. To the tears and the pain and the way she didn't yell at him. Not once.

She didn't scream or yell or throw stuff at him. She just stared and let it all wash over her as if she was invincible.

He knew she wasn't. Knows she isn’t now. She wasn't invincible but she was too deeply wounded to care anymore and that was the most terrifying part of it all.

He wanted her to yell so he knew she still cared.

He thinks of the dream and how he saw himself, lifeless, alone. How everyone was looking at him as they lowered his casket into the ground. How his friends were there, his brother, his family, and even the neighbors. Not her though. She wasn't there.

His fingers are dialing the familiar numbers before he can even fully register what's happening.

There's the dial tone that he's grown to know so well lately. Three more and he gets to hear her voice.

Two.

One.

" Hello this is Y/N, I can't pick up the phone right now but feel free to leave a message after the tone and I'll ring you back. Ok, bye. "

Lies. She won’t call back. But that's okay, he understands why she doesn’t. Why she can’t.

" Y/N It's me again. Frankie. "

He combs his fingers through his hair nervously.

" Of course, it's me, who else would call you at this time? I'm sorry. "

He's been saying sorry an awful lot lately. Especially considering the fact that he hasn't been very generous with that word when it really mattered.

" I had a dream. About you. Well not exactly about you. Actually, you weren't in it and that's kind of the problem. "

Remembering the dream sends a cold shiver down his back.

" I uh — I was on a plane. I flew back north, no idea where I wanted to go. All I know is that I didn't make it there. Plane went down like it was made of paper. They were all at the funeral. My funeral. Everyone. Not you though. You — You weren't there Y/N. That scares me. I hope you'd come to the funeral. I'd want you there. "

He knows it's time. She's not gonna pick up anytime soon so this might be his only chance of ever getting to admit his faults of ever talking about the actual problem, the root of all the pain and heartbreak. It's not face-to-face but it's the next best thing. It's his only shot.

" Y/N, I know I fucked up. I do know. It's just after it happened. After — "

Saying it out loud will make it real. It will break his heart once again. He's an adult though and has been running from his issues long enough. This stupid urge to flee made this all so much worse.

Take a breath.

And face the reality.

" After it happened. When we lost the baby I just, I shut off. I shut you out and I am so sorry. I just, I needed to be strong for you but I wasn't. All I did was push you away. I never listened. I wasn't there. I should've been there for you to help you get through this but I was too busy keeping myself from bursting at the seams. Fuck, I was so selfish. If I could change the way I treated you, treated the situation, trust me I would. I would. I miss her so much Y/N and I never even got to meet her and I didn't want to put this all-consuming sadness on you so I pulled away. I didn't want to make you hurt even more than you already were but that's exactly what I did and I will never forgive myself for that. I hope you can though. I love you so much. "

There's a hole in his chest the size of a newborn.

It's the size of a little baby girl he never got to meet. A little baby girl he always imagined would have his eyes and her mother's breathtaking smile. A little baby girl he'd raise to be brave and generous and smart and wonderful. 

There is a hole in his chest the size of a little baby girl and he knows it will never fully heal.

He should've been there for her, his wife, the mother of his child. He had tried so hard, so hard to hide his sadness and pain from her instead of embracing it with her by his side. He should've been there with her so they could hold each other above the waters. But he let her drown by herself and he would never fully forgive himself for that.

" I love you Y/N and I'm coming home soon I promise. That's if you still want to see me. I won't let you go through the darkness alone anymore though. I love you. "

He hangs up the phone and without a warning, the tears roll down his cheeks. They're the silent kind, the painful kind. But for once, since it all happened they're not entirely from sadness, a small part of him is feeling a little lighter now that he's faced reality. A small part of him cries tears of relief. A small part of him still believes that maybe things with his wife can work out again if only he can show her how much he cares and loves her. That he can hold her hand even through the darkest of times.

A small part of him knows that it can't get worse than this.

A small part of him, a small part knows she loves him back. Even with that gray cloud hanging over him reminding him of the paperwork that might be waiting for him at home. 

There's a hole in the wall and a square where the wallpaper is a lighter shade of beige than the rest. There probably used to be a painting or a mirror. The ceiling fan is missing one of its blades and there's a huge rip in the ugly brown curtain that's blocking the street lights from flooding the room.

is dull and gray and hopeless and broken and ugly and Frankie thinks that things can only get better from here on out.

It’s 2am when he sneaks out of his room and past the lobby. Steve will forgive him, he’s sure of it. For the two weeks' rent and for not saying goodbye. 

The world is fast asleep as his car takes him down the empty streets towards the bar he found some resemblance of comfort in for the last few weeks.

One last drink, he tells himself. But this one won’t be for the bad days ahead. This one will mark a page turned, a step taken.

“Whiskey?” the barkeeper inquires, already pulling the bottle from the shelf. 

“Gimme a beer instead. Whatever bottles you have in the fridge is fine.” 

No more words are exchanged as the barkeeper hands Frankie the cold bottle.

This one’s for the daughter he’ll never meet, he thinks, and the wife who shouldn’t love him no more but god does he hope and pray she still does. Even when he doesn’t deserve it.

He’s got half a tank of gas left and as soon as the bottle is empty he’ll make his way home.

Not the motel. 

Home. Their apartment.

And he’ll face whatever is waiting there for him. 

That’s the thing about losing everything — things can only get better from here on out.

[seaside-writings]

Hiya, all you holly jolly people! It's time once again for me to post another part of my "12 Days of Prompts.*

I will admit this prompt list is a little all over the place considering that it's a lot of quotes from a lot of different Christmas movies, but I still think it works lol.

AS always if you do use these prompts please tag me so I can see what you’ve made!

I hope you all stay blessed and safe throughout your day.

Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays: Celia ❤💚❄⛄🎄

❄ “Faith is believing in things when common sense tells you not to,” - Fred Gailey (Miracle on 34th Street)

❄ “This is extremely important. Will you please tell Santa that instead of presents this year, I just want my family back?" - Kevin McCallister (Home Alone)

❄ “It’s Christmas Eve. It’s the one night of the year when we all act a little nicer, we smile a little easier, we cheer a little more,” - Frank Cross (Scrooged)

❄ “You can mess with a lot of things. But you can’t mess with kids on Christmas,” - Kevin McCallister (Home Alone 2: Lost in New York)

❄ “Just because I cannot see it, doesn’t mean I can’t believe it!” - Jack Skellington (The Nightmare Before Christmas)

❄ “Strange, isn’t it? Each man’s life touches so many other lives. When he isn’t around, he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?” - Clarence (It’s a Wonderful Life)

❄ “What if Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store? What if Christmas perhaps means a little bit more!” - The Narrator (How the Grinch Stole Christmas)

❄ “You say you hate Washington’s birthday or Thanksgiving, and nobody cares, but you say you hate Christmas, and people treat you like you’re a leper,” - Kate Beringer (Gremlins)

❄ “Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals!” - Kevin McCallister (Home Alone 2)

❄ “Of course. Santa. The big man. The head honcho. The connection,” - Ralphie (A Christmas Story)

❄ “A toy is never truly happy until it is loved by a child,” - King Moonraiser (Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer)

❄ “No one should be alone on Christmas,” - Cindy Lou Who, (How the Grinch Stole Christmas)

❄ “Oh, Christmas isn’t just a day. It’s a frame of mind,” - Kris Kringle (Miracle on 34th Street)

❄ “A true selfless act always sparks another,” - Klaus (Klaus)

❄ “I will honor Christmas in my heart and try to keep it all the year,” - Ebenezer Scrooge (A Christmas Carol)

❄ “For when the first snow is also a Christmas snow, well, something wonderful is bound to happen,” - The Narrator (Frosty the Snowman)

❄ “You know, I think this Christmas thing is not as tricky as it seems,” - Jack Skellington (The Nightmare Before Christmas)

❄ "But sir, Christmas is a time for giving, a time to be with one’s family,” - Bob Cratchit (A Christmas Carol)

❄ “It’s all humbug, I tell you,” - Ebenezer Scrooge (A Christmas Carol)

❄ “I don’t know what to say, but it’s Christmas, and we’re all in misery,” - Ellen Griswold (National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation)

❄ “Son of a nutcracker!” - Buddy (Elf)

❄ “The thing about trains, it doesn’t matter where they’re going. What matters is deciding to get on,” - Conductor (The Polar Express)

❄ “I never thought it was such a bad little tree. It’s not bad at all really. Maybe it just needs a little love,” - Charlie Brown (A Charlie Brown Christmas)

❄ "This is Christmas! The season of perpetual hope!” - Kate McCallister (Home Alone)

❄ “You’ll shoot your eye out kid!” - Mrs. Parker, Ms. Shields, Mall Santa, & Ralphie (A Christmas Story)

❄ “You have such a pretty face, you should be on a Christmas card,” - Buddy (Elf)

❄ “Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings,” - Zuzu Bailey (It’s a Wonderful Life)

❄ “That’s the one good thing about regret: It’s never too late. You can always change tomorrow if you want to,” - Claire Phillips (Scrooged)

❄ “The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear!” - Buddy (Elf)

❄ “Seeing is believing, but sometimes the most real things in the world are the things we can’t see,” - Conductor (The Polar Express)

❄ “I suppose it all started with the snow. You see, it was a very special kind of snow. A snow that made the happy happier, and the giddy even giddier. A snow that’d make a homecoming homier, and natural enemies, friends, natural,” - The Narrator (Frosty the Snowman)

❄ “Tomorrow is Christmas! It’s practically here!” - The Grinch (How the Grinch Stole Christmas)

❄ “Cheer up, dude! It’s Christmas!” - The Grinch (How the Grinch Stole Christmas)

❄ “Isn’t there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?” - Charlie Brown (A Charlie Brown Christmas)

❄ “Oh, Christmas isn’t just a day. It’s a frame of mind,” - Kris Kringle (Miracle on 34th Street) ❄ “God bless us, everyone!” - Tiny Tim (A Christmas Carol)

[armory-rasa]

This week in “Gremble Goofed Up :(”

Two cautionary leatherworking tales for you, my friends, one with a happy ending and one without -- and how to avoid these tragedies yourself.

Story #1

So when I’m tracing my pattern pieces onto leather, I usually use a fine-tip sharpie:

(Behold, three simultaneous pairs of Wonder Woman greaves in progress, from back when that was a Thing.)

Many people use a scratch awl to trace their patterns, so they’re actually pressing and leaving an indentation in the leather, but I prefer not to -- ink is easier to see, pens are easier to control than awls, and I can change the arrangement of the pieces if I find a more efficient way to orient them, whereas if you’ve pressed lines into the leather, those lines are there to stay. Since most things I make get dyed black anyway, it doesn’t matter if a bit of the ink marks are visible on the edges (and beveling them usually shaves off all the remaining ink anyway).

Except this time I was also making Link’s bracer from Breath of the Wild (which is brown), and I accidentally left a different piece face-down on it when I was casing them. For all that sharpie is a “waterproof” ink, it does bleed some, and I wound up with the outline of a Loki bracer right smack in the middle of my Link bracer. 🤦‍♂️ I didn’t think to take a picture of it, but here is the goof recreated with scrap leather:

BUT! I remembered the time when I was making the Anders brigandine, and I had painstakingly numbered the backs of the plates in sharpie so that I would remember how to arrange them -- only for the alcohol-based dye bath to completely strip the sharpie away. So this time I decided to use that to my advantage, but I did want to make sure it would work before I sunk any more time into the bracer. Before doing any tracing or carving or stamping, I took the damp leather and submerged it in dye --

And then the rare I’d been camping in WoW suddenly spawned, and I accidentally left the bracer sitting in the dye bath for fifteen minutes. 🤣

S’all good. The dye bath is very dilute, so by the time I remembered to take it out, it was a nice rich brown, and the sharpie outline was gone.

BUT there’s a reason why you don’t dye until after you’ve done your tooling -- because the leather isn’t dyed all the way through, and the undyed core will show when you start carving lines with your swivel knife:

S’okay! I knew that was going to happen, we can fix it in a later step. And even though it looked kinda funky, it hadn’t been sealed yet, just dyed, so it still behaved as veg-tan ought to, and took the stamping just fine:

And after applying antiqueing paste to it, and getting it into all the undyed crevices, it came out indistinguishable from a Link bracer that had been done correctly from the start:

TA DA! Happy ending. 😊

~

And then the costrel. 

Yep, that’s right -- I fucked up on the very last step, let it overheat in the oven when I was melting the wax to make it waterproof, and it is now permanently ruined. 

The melting point of beeswax is 140-150 F; the polymerization point of leather is around 200 F, which means that you’re walking a fine line between getting the wax hot enough to soak through, without overshooting and killing your leather. Because when leather polymerizes, it shrivels, and there is no fixing that, or ameliorating it, or walking it back. 

(This is why I hate waxing -- because it’s the final thing you do to a project, and it runs the risk of destroying the whole thing. I know it would be less stressful if I were better at it, but waxing leather isn’t something I get a great deal of practice with, so I am behind the curve on this particular skill.)

My mistake here was not putting adequate padding between the costrel and the metal tray it was resting on -- I had put down a couple sheets of butcher paper, but what I should have done (wound up doing for the rest of it) was crumpling up some paper towels for it to rest on, to keep it elevated from touching the metal.

Live and learn. =/

I did go ahead and finish it, for the sake of getting more familiar with the process -- and the costrel did indeed turn out waterproof and completely functional. I’m just mad at myself for making a mistake that cost me a day and a half of work, and ruining a project that came out otherwise perfect.

[shinymisty-blog]

Characters of Authority (Queen Aleena and Robotnik)

I am putting Aleena and Robotnik together because they are both characters of authority…and they are often associated with each other anyway. I enjoy an Aleenabotnik ship when it is done right. That isn’t going to happen here, mind you. But I do enjoy it.

Not only that, but I feel they both suffer from the same general problems. A lot of telling us about them but never really showing us. Aleena suffers this a lot more than Robotnik does, but did get to a point I did notice a bit. But I guess I’ll get to that later. 

Disclaimers and notes for this particular post: ❗❗There is a strong chance I’ll be mentioning a bit of child neglect on Aleena’s side. ❗❗There may also be a chance of physical/mental abuse mentioned on Robotnik’s side. •Be warned: These posts are often just MASSIVE walls of text! I have the "Keep Reading" tab there for a reason! •While there is no real order to these, I’ll try to keep things in order of relevance. •There will be times when I'll reference something that involves things that would be more relevant after the 40 episodes. During these headcanons, I'll place a nice little ✨ to indicate that it is one of those headcanons. (Everything mentioned will have some sort of explanation if needed). Think of it as a sneak peek at the story I am working on. •If I happen to update anything within this post, I’ll reblog it with the tag #Sonic Underground Project Update, along with a note on which information was updated. 

Links: Master Post | The Origin’s Arc 

·.¸¸.·♩♪♫ Queen Aleena ♫♪♩·.¸¸.·

…Would everyone hate me if I admit I don’t like Queen Aleena…

I like her concept. A regal, seemingly loving Queen who had to lose everything including her children to keep her people safe. 

I look at everything she does in the show… And then it hits me.

What did she do? 

I guess that is the point of her character. A mysterious figure the triplets are trying to find. But it leaves her feeling very…neglectful of her kids and people. There are no signs that she is trying to do something aside from the rare few times she becomes a bit of a “Deus ex-mother” and saves the day from the background. Leaves me wondering if Mobius believes she abandoned them.

I may just be remembering wrong, and she has done a lot more than I remember. But I just know she frustrated me during my first journey.

•♫•♬• Headcanons •♬•♫•.

➣Like her children, Aleena was born in Mobodoon. Unlike her children, it was not on the same day. That’s because she grew up in Mobodoon. 

➣Her eye color is brown, paralleling Robotnik.

·.¸¸.·♩♪♫ Robotnik ♫♪♩·.¸¸.·

…I wish you were written more threatening, Robotnik, I really do. He has his moments. The line where he says that Sanctuary, a place full of young children, will become a cemetery was a GREAT line. 

But man. If you are going to constantly threaten your lackeys with roboticization when they misbehave…maybe act on that threat?! I get why the writers never did that. If he roboticized Sleet and Dingo, we’d no longer have antagonists for the trio. But we also see how effective it is for him to just hint that he’d do it, during the Chaos Emerald Crisis Arc. So maybe he should have done that a little more? Maybe…use a limb as a warning? 

Anywho, I also hate how he always HAS to wait for all three of the triplets to be caught to roboticize them. I GET it. He wants to watch as they suffer. But…DUDE! You know the prophecy! You KNOW that, if one is gone, then the prophecy can’t happen! It’s just…Oooh man, it gets frustrating sometimes. 

•♫•♬• Headcanons •♬•♫•.

➣While I usually headcanon Eggman to have the first name of Ivo (that being ī-vō, not ē-vō), I headcanon Robotnik (at least this one) to have the first name of Julian. This is due to some confusion I had reading through the wiki at a young age and not understanding anything that I was reading. It has stuck ever since. 

➣Robotnik mistakenly roboticized his arm while testing the first Roboticizer, meaning he knows firsthand how roboticization feels.

[kirikoto]

A Night Stroll Where I Meet A Potion Seller

I met a potion seller.

The kind that you would see in a medieval world, with knights and dragons and princesses.

Except he was in an alley along Beach Road.

“One more time, one more time.” I mused to myself, like it was a little mantra.

I’m sorry but we are unable to provide you with the relevant advice as you are not a member of the three-

I slammed the phone down on the receiver, cursing under my breath. Not a member, my ass.

I exited the phone booth, feeling like I was being watched for--

--existing--

-slamming the phone in the booth.

I felt embarrassed at my brief outburst that no one saw, because no one cared. Probably. But I still felt embarrassed anyway.

I had no direction, I just decided to walk along the road, thinking I might have been lucky if a car veered off course and crashed into me at maximum velocity. And maybe if it took too long for that to happen I could always consider taking the initiative and—

Clink.

I heard the distant sound of glass bottles hitting each other.

Strange. Except it wasn’t strange because there were many restaurants along the road and we were bound to hear glass bottles. But I knew it wasn’t just a restaurant because I’m in the middle of a story about me meeting a potion seller that would supposedly change my life so let’s agree that I thought it was strange.

I heard it faintly from a back alley, and I decided to find the source of the sound.

And that’s how I met the potion seller.

The man wore a mystical-looking cone-shaped hat and sat behind a simple table which was draped with a tacky cloth that looked like it was purchased just an hour ago from a nearby convenience store. I must have clearly lacked common sense and rational thinking to have walked up to his stand and ask him about his activities.

The man barely spoke a word. He just gave me a potion that looked particularly foamy and bubbly. It was pale yellow in colour.

“It will make you cool.”

And that was a good enough reason for me; I downed the concoction in one gulp.

And I waited.

And waited.

And nothing happened.

I was mildly discontent that I had gotten my hopes up, and I told the potion seller that it didn’t work and that—

--I still felt like shit.

“Will I be able to have advice on—“

The potion seller laughed from behind his unrecognizable profile, interrupting me. “Why would you need anything else once you have potions?”

The seller had a point. I bought another tonic from him. It was pale brown and it reflected faintly in the moonlight.

I drank it.

And I—

I felt a ringing in my ears. I suddenly felt exposed and cold. Distant voices were heard in my ears, some foreign ideas that seemed to be from another version of my life.

What’s that about wearing pants?

People were laughing. I felt hurt for some reason.

“I don’t like this potion. Do you have another?”

I bought another potion. This one was a dark brown colour, but clear all the way through. The voices were still ringing in my ears, and I wanted it to stop. I downed the third elixir quickly.

The voices stopped and I felt normal once again.

But I still felt a pang of sadness. It felt like a deep-rooted issue that I should have ruminated about, but I decided to instead blame it on me wasting my money on 3 potions that made me feel horrible and then not horrible.

I thanked the potion seller regardless, and I took my leave.

As I left and I walked down the road, I suddenly felt myself lose balance, like my cerebellum decided to stop functioning at full efficiency. I sat on the sidewalk.

And I craved another potion.

As if by miracle, I caught sight of the potion seller once again. Except it was probably a different potion seller, but he still gave me interesting concoctions.

“Give me one that makes me feel happy and smart and strong.”

He gave me 3 different potions, one for each, he had said.

I drank all 3 at once.

3.

I hated that number. I bought a fourth drink just to make the number disappear from my mind. A beautiful blue liquid that seemed to illuminate. I didn’t hesitate, like the previous potions.

I couldn’t remember anything after that. I woke up to myself muttering, “One more time, one more time.”

I touched my eyes. I had been crying.

[d3pressed-0taku]

My Misunderstood Monster

Hey, I'm back again with another unwanted story. Tbh idk why I decided to make this, but my only guess was out of boredom. Btw sorry, the ending is trash; it's just that I kinda got unmotivated literally have way through and didn't feel like doing it, so I just rushed it, so my bad. But hope you enjoy it anyways.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was lying in my soft, swan-like bed, reading the book that took me a whole week to write. I’ve always loved writing stories; I don’t know why but it’s just a hobby of mine. Right before I was getting to the end, someone burst into my room worryingly, and someone was my step-brother, Asriel. I wasn’t all that fond of him, but I didn’t have a choice since he lived with me. “Mary!!!” yelled Asriel, “Come on! We're going to be late for the morning prayer!” “Ugh!” I’ve always hated morning prayer, I don’t know why I don’t, but it just annoys me how early we have to get up for it. I roll the cover off my marshmallow-like white skin and put my book down. My (step) brother and I get ready for the morning prayer; we put on our white robelike clothes and put our shoes on. We then walk to the church.

 Once we enter the church, we immediately get yelled at by the priest, Ms.Charol. “Why are you late?!”We are so sorry, Ms.Charol. We accidentally woke up later than usual!” Asriel quickly said in a worried tone. “Sorry isn't going to cut it! Cleaning duty for the both of you!” I looked at my brother, then back to Ms.Charol, and without thinking, I blurted out something I’d never thought I would do: “I can do the cleaning duty by myself.” You may think it’s normal for most people, but not me. If I'm being honest, I'm not the type to help other people. So being nice to Asriel was somewhat surprising. After a couple of seconds, I realized what I had said and was wide-eyed. ”Well, if you insist,” said Ms.Charol, smirking devilishly. “Mary?! Thank you so much!” I shrugged at his statement.

 *Time skip to cleaning duty* I went up the church stairs as I had to start cleaning tasks, sadly. Still, as I was going into the church, I heard a rustling noise from one of the bushes beside the church; at first, I thought it was just a roaming animal, but then I heard a loud groan which I could tell wasn’t anything on four legs. I decided to check it out (which you should never do) to ensure. I slowly walked toward the rustling bushes, hoping it was a stray dog or cat. As I got closer, I heard more groans. I start to become anxious. I finally see what's in the bushes, a brown monster with black highlights. It had a long slimy dark brown tail that looked like a shark's seat, with legs of maybe a cricket that looked like a robot. Its arms almost resembled gloves because the bottom part looked shiny and as if the region where the elbow would be was a flame stuck in place. There were also slits all over its body, containing what seemed to be some blue liquid. The head looks like the “Predator”; if you know, you know. I was frozen in shock at the horror before me. Out of fear, I fainted on the grass.

 After some time, I finally woke up inside a dark, cold, and slimy cave. I frantically looked around to see if I could spot anybody. I slowly get up from the hard ground of the cave and look around some more. I then decided it was time to get out of there. I frantically ran into the seemingly endless cave to find an exit; after running for what seemed like forever, I started to lose hope, but then I suddenly saw a sliver of light. I light up with joy at my upcoming freedom; I run as quickly as possible and finally see the grass and sun in what seems like forever. But just as I was about to leave, something grabbed my arm. I turn back in shock at the sudden grip and see what seems to be the brown and black monster from earlier.

I gasp in awed horror and try to get its grip off me, but it's too strong. But then, in a raspy, robotic voice, the monster said, “Please don't leave! “. I stopped trying to pull away and looked back at the monster. “W-what…?” I say in shock. “Please don’t leave me all alone! I'm so lonely here in this cave all by myself; I just want to be friends!” I stare at the monster in shock. I couldn’t believe my eyes or my ears. “You can talk?!” I say in a confused voice. “Of course, I can talk.” The monster said as it loosened its grip on my arm. “Oh, so you don’t want to eat me or rip me into shreds?” “Heavens no, why would I do such a thing?!” “I don’t know, that's what the priest told me…” “Oh, well that priest is wrong, I would never do anything as horrid as that to anyone!” “What do you want from me? Why did you kidnap me? What even are you?!” I say in a worried tone. The monster then looks at me for a bit and back into the cave. “Well?” I say in an annoyed voice. “Well, you see, all I want is a friend, but everybody I meet screams at me and runs away like I’m some kind of monster, so I thought maybe if I could bring someone to my place and show them I’m not a bad person, then maybe, just maybe they’ll want to be friends with me….”

I looked at the monster with sad eyes because it was just like me. As I was growing up, nobody wanted to be friends with me either. The other kids told me I was a freak and if I was some kind of….monster. All because I had red eyes and was albino, meaning my skin was all white, including my hair. The other kids and adults despised me for something I couldn’t control. I can’t help but be born like this. I look at the monster and feel pity for it. I was thinking of it as me. I give the beast a soft smile.

‘If you want a friend…then maybe I can help you.” I say softly, “Maybe I can show the rest of the village how nice you are, and you can make even more friends!” The monster was too stunned to speak. “I-...thank you so much!!!” said the monster with some white liquid coming from its big red emerald-like eye in front of its head. “No need to say thank you, it's the best I can do.” I and the monster then started their trail back to the village. They heard a rustling noise nearby one of the trees in the forest. We looked to where we listened to the noises and spotted some jet-black curly hair. I instantly realized who it was; it was my step-brother, Asriel. “Asriel?” “M-Mary?...Is that you?’’ “Yes, can you come out of those bushes now?” “Okay-’’ as soon as Asriel stepped out of the bushes, he spotted the tall monster standing beside me. “AhHhHhH—” I put my hand over Asriel's mouth to stop him from screaming. “Calm down! It’s alright; it isn’t going to hurt you. I promise!”

Finally, Asriel calms down, and I help the monster and Asriel gets to know each other. We finally got to the village. Once we get there and show everyone the beast, they all freak out. But Asriel and I help them get accustomed to the monster and tell them that it’s not dangerous. At first, everyone was very skeptical and still quite scared of the beast, but over time, they (kind of) became more comfortable around it, and people started not to be so mean to me. I finally gained some friends. Eliza and Gregory are both my new friends and very nice to me. I also became fond of Asriel and started hanging out with him and the monster more. Overall, people became nicer and learned from the monster. Me, Asriel, Eliza, Gregory, and the beast all lived happily ever after, or not?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Word Count: 1365

[whateven-is-my-aesthetic]

Writing a Latine character

Here’s a little PSA for people who would like to write a Latine/ Latinx/ Latina/ Latino character in their stories and want to be a decent writer.

The great thing about writing is that you can make whatever you want, come to life. You can create characters and plot points and twists and all that good stuff. 

You can also chose to not be a fucking racist piece of shit. 

Recently there was a book written by a white woman called Drive which involved a lot of racist tropes, jokes, and stereotypes that deal with a Mexican girl. I feel like this should be talked about. 

The writer issued a bullshit apology on IG but she turned off the comments so here the fuck we are. The examples listed are from said book as well. 

If you don’t know how to write ethnicities that are not your own make sure you  get a sensitivity reader to help you, or just don’t write them. However, this author had a “Mexican friend” who informed the general public that the author had lost her v*iginity to a person with a Hispanic sounding last name... yeah idk. And that she had lots of Hispanic people on her team because she is color blind, but “not in a bad way”. So idk get someone that doesn’t know you and is confined to a very racist state, again she’s from TEXAS. 

However if you would like to make your list of characters more diverse without being a racist these are somethings you can avoid doing. 

Don’t add r*cist jokes (that should go without saying, but here the fuck we are). Or unnecessary race jokes even if they are being said by your Latine characters. You aren’t us, so leave these things out of your writing.  

For example: 

Immigration jokes, specifically border patrol jokes. (Below is a screen shot from the book I mentioned)

Internalized racism “She doesn’t speak Spanish because she thinks she sounds stupid. She hasn’t used the lounge enough, and she doesn’t like being half a b*aner.” (This was written by a White Texan woman in 2017. I wonder what was happening at the time that made a lot of Mexican and Latine people the target of xenophobia and racism). 

Inquisition jokes: “’No, it’s the Latina Inquisition,’ he said with a twist of his lips.”

Colonization jokes

Fetishization “’There’s the cocky little Latina I know and love,’” 

Tropes

The spicy latine (angry/ loud/ jealous):“’You’re so rough around the edges, my little Latina.” And “’Yeah, well, you were getting a little fucking feisty back there, Stella.’ I laughed. ‘You don’t like it when I show my Latina.” WHAT THE FUCK!!!

The maid 

The self hating brown girl: “And every dark girl want to know what it’s like to be a light girl at some point in their life.”

The dancer: “’Come on, woman, you’re half Mexican. You were born with rhythm.’” “’I’m Latina,’” I corrected “’And I have rhythm. Shut up.’”

Certain mentions of one’s ethnicity where there shouldn’t be

“’GO!’” I screamed at the top of my Latina lungs...” (Ah yes to show that she thought we are very loud.)

“‘How about you kiss my Latina ass.’“

“Paige, I’m fine,’ I said, trying to keep the angry, tequila-filled Latina at bay.’“ (Because we are always pissed off and prideful) 

DON’T USE SLURS, even if you have heard people use them with each other, You aren’t us so stop. If you don’t know if a word you are using is a slur, look it up, thankfully Google is free, or don’t use that word you are unsure of. No one should have to remind you not to be a piece of shit.

Avoid racist situations towards your characters in your books especially if you are writing in a fantasy setting. Most readers like to escape to a different reality, why the fuck are you making them take these things with them as they read your book. 

Just because you saw some racist shit go down from one Latine to another, DON’T WRITE IT IN! FFS

If you are a latinx/e person who has experienced these things and your main character is also Latinx/e that is fine because it deals with YOUR experiences, everyone else stfu. 

And if any of you feel some kind of way about this post, figure out why and change that shit because what the fuck?

- Sincerely a Mexican- American woman that shouldn’t need to be writing this. 

[prettyboypucey]

Weird ~ G.W.

Summary: George is gorgeous. Charlie is a meddler. The snow is cold. (this summary sucks...just read it) 

Pairing: George Weasley x Y/N 

Word Count: 2,404 (who do I think I am?) 

Warnings: mentions of bullying. mentions of food/eating. george is unknowingly triggering? reader cries. idk? let me know if i missed something. 

A/N: part 2? maybe? translations are for romanian via google translate. do not come for me if they are hella wrong. 

Translations: draga - darling; dragoste - love; tampit - stupid 

     I had never been normal. From the time I was a toddler I had stars in my eyes and dirt on my knees. While the other kids in my grade were playing with dolls and dressing respectably, I was riding imaginary dragons and wearing mismatched socks with dungarees and a butterfly headband. Normalcy evaded me even further when at 11 years old, I got a letter declaring me a witch.

     When I first came to Hogwarts I spent the majority of my time alone. It appeared that even children who could wave a stick around and makes things fly wanted nothing to do with the colorful little girl. Meeting Luna Lovegood in my second year was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Here was a girl who allowed me to be exactly who I was with no judgments. And then she introduced me to Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley, and suddenly that little girl who thought her only friends would always be the rocks she painted faces on, had found her people.

     Of course, being friends with Ginny Weasley meant knowing her many brothers. So after graduation when I went off to Romania to work with dragons it made me feel slightly better knowing Charlie Weasley would be there. He quickly took me under his wing and became the older brother figure I had never had. After working together for three years, and electing to stay at the sanctuary for the last two over the holidays, he had finally convinced me to come home with him. I was reluctant to leave the sanctuary - the one place I truly feel safe (despite the massive fire breathing creatures).

     Charlie had warned me that being with one or two of the Weasleys was very different from being with the entire Weasley clan. Obviously I knew Charlie and Ginny, Ron had always been nice to me, and I had met Molly a handful of times in passing. However, Bill was known to be quite intimidating, Percy was supposedly very no-nonsense, and the twins (albeit never cruel) had a reputation of being hell-raisers.

     Apparating to the edge of a marsh with Charlie by my side I could see the rising structure haphazardly balanced slightly ahead.

     Pausing, I glanced at the back of the familiar red covered head, “I don’t know Charles, maybe I should just go back. I really don’t want to be a burden.”

     Charlie very quickly rounded behind me to continue guiding me towards his home, “No, no, no, no, no. No. You’re not a burden to anyone draga. Keep your head up and if any of them give you grief - remind them of the giant, winged beasts you can feed them to.”

     Quickly placing a kiss to the side of my head Charlie bounded ahead again to open the door and announce your arrival. Before I could toe off the first boot to leave next to the dozen other pairs in the entryway, a pair of arms had flung around my neck.

     “Y/N! I missed you so much!”, Ginny pulled back, keeping her grip on my shoulders, to inspect for any major injuries.

     I held onto her elbows, keeping her close, “Hi Gin, I missed you too. A lot. I’m loving this new look by the way.”

     She reached up to brush the now short locks behind her ears. A grin on her face as the two of us looked the other over for the first time in months. Ginny was wrapped in a pretty baby pink sweater with shades of red and white running through it. The material was soft against my palm as I hooked it around her crooked elbow to follow her into the living area.

     “You know”, she started, “I was starting to think maybe Charlie had let you get eaten or burnt to a crisp in the land of dragons. It’s been so long since you’ve come to see me or left the sanctuary.”

     “I’m sorry Ginny. It’s just that after everything, I had to keep myself busy.”

     Ginny’s smile softened into one of understanding. The war had taken a part of all of us. Although Fred had recovered after many months, that fear of almost losing such a vital part of their family had rocked the entire Weasley family to its core.

     “I get it, I do, but I worry about you. I just want you to know you’re not alone Y/N.”

     I pulled the girl into another tight hug, “I know.”

     Ginny pulled away first, clearing her throat, “Okay! Now that’s out of the way - it’s time to introduce the one and only Y/N L/N to the Weasley’s.”

     I hummed, “Hmmm and which of us should be more scared?”

     “Oh definitely the Weasleys.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

     Meeting the Weasley family had gone much better than expected.

     Molly had opened her arms and home to me as if I was one of her own children. By the time the night was over she had me stuffed full of warm food and drink and donning my very own coveted Weasley sweater, the lavender initial in the middle marking it as my own. Arthur had been very interested in my muggle parents and upbringing, questioning me about the functions of a rubber duck. Bill and his wife Fleur were the most stunning couple I have ever seen, and not nearly as intimidating as people portrayed them. Fleur was pleased when she found out I spoke a bit of conversational French and promised to have me over to Shell Cottage (apparently they have an amazing collection of wind chimes that I am dying to see). Percy was a bit more refined. Completely polite and friendly but he seemed reserved. Ginny had explained in one of her letters how much guilt Percy carried after the Battle of Hogwarts over how he had behaved in the years leading up to that day.

     The twins were much different than I remembered them being from the few times we were around each other in school. The physical differences were clear - George’s missing ear and Fred’s dragging limp were both signs of the prices they paid in the war. More than that however, they had matured greatly. They were still happy and made sure to pull at least two pranks over the night, poor Molly nearly lost her voice after they blew up the turkey. However, there was something in their eyes that had been dimmed. Especially in George.

     His twin almost died that night, and it reflected in George’s eyes each time he looked at his older brother. It was clear that he was still afraid because whenever Fred left a room George followed, never letting his brother out of his sight, and if he happened to lose track of him a panic began to swirl in his brown orbs.

     I was in the middle of watching as George yet again made his way to Fred’s side, clapping a large hand on his twins shoulder and throwing his head back in laughter.

     “So which one are you staring at dragoste?”, Charlie whispered as he appeared out of nowhere.

     I ignored the burning in my cheeks as I looked away from the scene in front of me.

     “I am not staring at either of them tampit.”

     “Mhmm, sure, absolutely, I believe you.”, after a quick pause he said, “It’s George isn’t it?”

     I turned and scoffed at him, “No!… How did you know?”

     Charlie let out a chuckle, “Because I know you my little dragon. I also know my brother, and just between us, he definitely likes you as well.”

     At this I let out an incredulous laugh and glanced back to where George was now telling a story, his hands moving animatedly. There was no way that George Weasley had even a remote attraction to me. He was kind, strong, clever, and so bloody gorgeous it truly was a privilege to look at him. And I am…me. Nothing special. Just a girl who had more dragon friends than human ones and whose hands were covered in scars and callouses and whose socks never matched and had never even kissed a man before. So no, there was no way that George Weasley would ever like me.

     “Hey. I know that look Y/N. Stop those thoughts right this bloody second.”

     “Charles it really is annoying when you read me like that.”

     Throwing his arm over my shoulder he began to lead me towards the twins, “Yes I know and I am sorry in advance but this needs to be done. Fred!”

     Charlie’s voice had gone from a rushed whisper to a jovial shout when we reached George, Fred, and Ron by the fireplace. George’s smile as he turned to look at us sent a million butterflies off in my tummy.

     “So Freddy, I was hoping you could help me out with a top secret project tomorrow for mum and maybe show me around the joke shop. I heard you added some new displays that I want to check out.”

     “Sure Charlie”, Fred glanced at George as he spoke, “I’m sure we can make some time for our favorite brother.”

     Ignoring Rons protest, Charlie gripped my shoulders and pushed me in front of him, “Actually George I was thinking you could stay here and show Y/N around the area. She mentioned wanting to talk a walk tomorrow and I would hate to disappoint her on her first Christmas out of the sanctuary.”

     “Um-”

     I interrupted the rejection coming from George, “No please, I would hate to be a bother and make you be stuck with me all day. I’m sure Ginny can take me.”

     George smiled and shook his head, “No it’s completely fine Y/N. I would be happy to show you around.”

     “Okay great! It’s settled then!”, Charlie looked rather too pleased with himself and obviously missed the look exchanged by his identical younger brothers.

~~~~~~~~~~

     The next morning the Burrow was a flurry of movement as everyone began their day. Apparently Charlie and Fred weren’t the only ones on their way out. The others still had some last minute gift shopping to do and Ron was spending the day with Hermione’s muggle family. After breakfast, a quick wink from Charlie, and a slam of the front door - George and I were alone in the house.

     The two of us stood facing one another in the living room for a few awkward moments before George spoke, “Well, um, did you want to head out as well?”

     “Oh sure! Yes, let me just grab my boots really quickly.”

     George led me out the door and onto the snow covered path towards the small, iced over river. Nothing was said for a while, the only sound was the crunch of snow under our boots and the occasional sniffle from one of our red noses. I was mentally imagining all the ways I was going to kick Charlie’s ass when he got back for suggesting a walk in the middle of winter when we came to the top of a hill and stopped.

     Everything as far as the eye could see was blanketed in sheets of white. Stomping my boots down into the fresh snow, I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as the snow gave way underfoot. Feeling a pair of eyes on me I remembered that I wasn’t alone and turned to see George watching me with an unidentifiable look on his face.

     “Sorry, sorry. That was - I don’t know why I did that. I liked the feeling of the crunch of the snow I guess. Sorry.”

     George grinned, “You don’t have to apologize. It was cute.”

     I could feel my face flush at his words. His smile grew even wider at the sight of my heated face. My gaze dropped from his pretty face down to my boots. I could feel the thick socks I had on beginning to grow cold and wet from how long we’d been outside. Looking back up I could see George’s deep eyes glaze over. Assuming it was because he had been apart from Fred so long I glanced out at the view one last time before turning back the way we came.

     “We should probably get back. We’ve been gone a while and my toes are getting wet. I feel bad enough that Charlie forced you to do this anyways without you getting frostbite or something. I’ve had frostbite, it’s not fun. And now I’m rambling. I’m sorry. Sorry”

     George was shaking his head at me and said, “You are so weird.”

     Ouch. My chest tightened and the small smile I had been wearing dropped from my face. If I had been able to see past the tears forming in my eyes that were making my sight blurry, I would have seen George’s face do the same. Unfortunately, all I could focus on was that word. Weird. Strange. Abnormal. Freak. 

     Weird weird weird.

     The walk back was silent. A thick tension surrounded you both as thick snow flurries began to swirl down in the midmorning air. Just as thick was the lump forming in my throat as I fought back tears. I know I shouldn’t let his words affect me. He’s just some guy. But deep down I also know that he’s not just some guy. This is George fricking Weasley. With his stupid perfect face and gorgeous eyes and his loyalty to his family. I couldn’t help but be enamored with him from the moment I walked in the Weasley’s front door. So it hurt to hear the man I liked call me that nasty word that has haunted me my entire life.

     When we finally reached the Burrow, George tried to reach for my arm but I pulled away and ran into the house. I could hear that some of the others had returned and really wanted to avoid a confrontation. Once again, luck wasn’t on my side. Charlie came walking out of the kitchen and saw me in the entryway. His face immediately became concerned at the sight of me and he lowered the sandwich he had from his mouth.

     “Draga?”, Charlie’s voice followed me as I finally reached the stairs and launched upstairs.

     As I reached the first landing I heard him speak again, his voice rough and hard.

     “What did you do?”  

[galatially]

❝𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝❞

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 x 𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫!𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — it’s harder knowing you’re without me in the world than just missing you

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 —2.6K

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — strong language, fluff, angst

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — i’ve decided to put up some stories from my old account (@/constellvte if anyone ever came across it lol) because they’re gathering dust and i’m in between ideas right now so, y’know, birds and stones and all that

as always lovely banners and dividers by @firefly-graphics / @maysdigitalarts

There were two things James Buchanan Barnes knew to be true in his life: one, he hated the smell of gunpowder and you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever had the blessing of gazing upon. 

So when he was brought back after being turned to literal dust, you were the first thing on his mind. Not the teary, blubbering Steve Rogers, not the knowledge that his dearest friend, Natasha, was dead. 

He thought of Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N. 

“I think you should wait until I talk to her. Explain what happened,” Sam said. They were in Avengers’ Tower, mugs of coffee in their grips as they sat across from each other in the kitchen. 

“I want to see her, Wilson. I’m owed that much.”

“I’m not sayin’ that you can’t. I’m sayin’ that you should let me talk to her first. She mourned you, James. She deserves a heads up.”

Bucky snorted. He knew that Sam was right, he did. But since his resurrection, everything was heightened for him, more so than usual. If he’d been repentant before The Snap, the aftermath was his own baptism into forgiveness. His brown eyes find Sam’s darker brown ones. “How was she?”

He lifted a shoulder. “It was hard for her at first. Harder for her than it was for Steve being that she was the last one to get to you before…you know.”

Flashes of you holding Bucky as he faded into nothing came to mind. Your eyes were watery and red-rimmed, fat tears falling from them. You cradled him in your arms, swatting your free arm out at the others as they pulled at you. He hated seeing you cry, always did. It twisted his gut to know that someone so kind, so pure, could be reduced to tears. And over someone like him, of all people. 

“She wouldn’t leave your room for weeks, didn’t eat.” Sam shook his head. “She wouldn’t even play her music, never mind listen to it.” Bucky’s throat clenched. “Then, six months after, she left. No note, no phone calls, just gone with the wind.”

Bucky’s grip around the mug tightened. “’S my fault she left.”

“You dying in her arms is what started it, yeah, but that ain’t the only reason she left.” Sam set his mug down and crossed his arms over his chest. “She watched people she loved — her family — die in front of her. Being here with us, helping us find Captain Marvel and setting up patrols, was too much for her, I think. She’d put on a brave face but Nat and Wanda would take turns sleeping with her just to make sure she did.” He sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “You sure you want to do this? She could be better than she was when she left.”

“She could be worse,” Bucky reasoned. He carded a hand through his hair. “I don’t care if she wants nothing to do with me, Sam. I — I want to know that she’s okay.” 

Sam pursed his lips, giving the White Wolf a once over. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

A genuine smile cut across Bucky’s face. “More than likely.”

Sam rolled his eyes and knocked back the last of his cold coffee. “We leave in thirty.” 

The hour drive from Manhattan to Brooklyn did nothing to calm Bucky’s nerves. 

If he wasn’t grumbling about Sam’s music selection (“Why are you playing ‘See You Again’?” “Of course I know what that is! That Parker kid and his nerdy little friend play it all the time at the compound. I’m not that out of touch.”), it was his own anxieties getting the better of him. 

Would you look different? He could remember everything about you; the way your brown eyes lit up when he walked into a room. How your curls would frame your face as they came undone from your buns. The way your laugh filled the space of his chest and warmed his heart after a particularly rough day in the field.

But that was five years ago. Five years was a long time for someone to change. 

The car came to a stop and Sam turned to Bucky. “Here we are. Casa de Y/N.”

The front of the your apartment complex looked nice: faded brick and a small garden of sunflowers on its left side. It was calm and quiet, the perfect place for someone to run away to. 

Bucky turned to Sam. “Which one is hers?”

“256B.”

“We goin’ in?”

Sam chuckled and clapped a hand onto his shoulder. “I’m not, but you are.” 

Bucky tensed, his eyes widening. “What?”

“Y/N knows that if she wants to see me, she can. But y’all need to talk. Alone.” He leaned back against his the driver’s seat. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Bucky’s words died on his tongue, stealing another glance at the bricks and mortar in front of them. “What if she doesn’t want to see me? She’s seen the news by now, yeah? She knows that I’m back.” He shook his head. “I can’t do this anymore. Let’s just go back.”

“Bro, you made me get dressed and drive you halfway across town to talk to your girlfriend. You’re takin’ your ass up there and talkin’ to her.” Sam tipped his chin to Bucky. “Go on now. Go get your girl.”

Bucky threw him a dirty glare but opened the passenger door and started towards the building.

Staccato breaths left his mouth as he climbed the stairs. He’d passed by a few tenants — an elderly woman who threw him a polite smile, a mother throwing an apology over her shoulder as she ran after a chubby toddler — and his breathing started to relax. It was when he got to the second floor staircase when someone finally spoke to him. 

“You the Winter Soldier?” The kid was scrawny, black and blond dreads obscuring his eyes. He was sitting on the foot of the staircase and he had his phone in his hand. He shook his hair out of his face, his brown eyes hardened. “Well? You Bucky Barnes or not?”

“Who’s asking?”

The kid held up his hands, a smile on his full lips. “Just askin’, bro. Be cool.” He nodded towards the top of the stairs. “She’s home. Her spare key is under her doormat.”

Bucky arched a brow. “Who are we talking about?”

The kid gave a flat look. “I’m not stupid. You’re here for Y/N, right? Lives in 256B?”

“Who’s she to you?”

“She’s my neighbor. I found a picture of you two when I was helpin’ her move in.” He shrugged. “Figured if she kept pictures, she must still like you.” Bucky bowed his head. “Look, dude, you goin’ to see her or not?”

“I am.” The words came out choked. 

“Well get up there. She got home not too long ago.”

Bucky nodded and started up the stairs. “Hey, kid?”

“Name’s Gerald.”

“Thanks, Gerald,” he said, a smile on his face. Gerald gave a short nod and went back to his phone. Bucky nodded and opened the door that led to your floor. As his eyes scanned door fronts, the numbers getting closer to yours, blood roared in his ears. His footfalls were harder, determined. It took all of him to keep from sprinting down the hall, her name echoing from his mouth. 

256B.

Bucky stopped in front of your door and a thin film of sweat veiled his skin. On impulse, he reached up to tug at a tuft of his hair, remembering he’d shorn his hair months ago. 

You can do this, Barnes. 

He raised a fist and knocked once. No answer. He knocked again, more force behind his fist, and still no answer. He looked to the left of him and threw a glance to the doors behind him before moving your doormat and grabbing the spare key. When Bucky heard the click of the door unlocking, he let out the breath he was holding. He put the front of his boot to the bottom of the door and pushed. The smell of jasmine and cotton made his jaw clench. 

It was your signature fragrance. 

He used to joke that he was going to bottle that scent and keep it for himself when he was away from you for too long. He carefully closed the door behind him and peered into the living room. Your kitchen was small but neat, the way you liked it. The hardwood floors gleamed under the soft sunlight spilling from the drawn curtains on the window. The framed artwork he’d gotten you for your twenty-fourth birthday hung over your TV; you were eyeing it at a local art fair you both had gone to in San Francisco that summer. It was the first trip you had taken as a couple. 

There were hanging ferns and other potted plants around the apartment, so green and vibrant they looked fake. You had tried teaching Bucky to care for plants of his own but after the fifth trip to Home Depot in the span of four and a half weeks, you decided to continue being the green thumb of the duo. 

He crossed the room to where her dining table sat and picked up a baby blue mug. It was the mug he’d made you on your first date. His thumb glided along the imprints of three of his fingertips that had cured because he’d almost dropped the damn thing on his way to the kiln. You teased him all night. 

The familiar click of a gun safety made Bucky tense. “Don’t move.” He heard footfalls to his left. “I’m armed and you’re trespassing.”

Bucky raised his hands and turned to face you. His eyes went to your gun and he smiled. “Good to know that you remembered your training.” 

Your stance wavered. “Buck…?” 

You lowered your gun and reached out to him with one hand. Your fingertips pressed against his chest, so feather light he thought he imagined them. You snatched your hand back and held your gun with both hands again. 

Bucky tensed. “Y/N…”

You held up a finger and put the safety back on the gun. “I was about to drop the gun and hug you but I forgot it was still on.” You set the gun on the table and faced him. You put a hand to his cheek, your thumb running along the curve of his mouth. Tears fell from your eyes and stained your cheeks. 

“It’s good to see you, Bucky Barnes.”

He kissed your palm. “I’ve missed you, too, sugar.” He moved his hands to your waist, a question in his brown eyes. “Can I hug you?”

You nodded and looped your arms around his neck and pressed yourself into him. His arms wrapped around your waist and he wanted to stay entwined with you forever. Silent sobs spilled into his shoulder and one of your hands curved to the back of his neck and held him tighter. 

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m back,” he cooed. You fisted his jacket collar. “I’m sorry.”

You pulled back and smiled, your hand cupping his stubbled cheek. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for, James.” Bucky pursed his lips. “I’m serious. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Why did you leave the Tower?” The words sounded so small and pitiful, like a child asking why his mother had to leave. 

“I had just lost my best friend. Would you have stayed if it were me?” He looked down at your palm. “Exactly. I wasn’t well and staying there wasn’t helping.” You chuckled. “I’m sure I scared the shit out of the others but when I moved here, I wrote to them all and explained. Sam and Wanda come over on Wednesdays to watch The Masked Singer and I visit Peter and May whenever I’m in the neighborhood.” Your eyes went to his shoulder. “I visit Pepper and Morgan whenever they’re in the city.”

“That’s good. You ever visit Steve?”

A half smile. “Yeah, the old geezer tried to come for a visit a couple weeks ago and I about had a heart attack.”

Bucky frowned. “Why?”

“He was trying to climb two flights of stairs, Bucky! What if he fell!”

“Serves him right then.” You swatted at him. “What!”

“He’s one hundred ten that looks like he’s in his late sixties, Bucky,” you deadpanned. “He could’ve hurt himself, healing factor or not.”

“Your building has an elevator, right?”

“If by have you mean that there’s a defective one in the lobby that the super refuses to fix, then, sure.” 

Bucky flexed his bicep. “Want me to go talk him straight?”

You rolled your eyes and snorted. “So you can get me evicted? No, thank you.” You walked out of his arms and pushed him into one of your dining chairs. “You want something to eat? Something to drink?” 

“Not yet.” Bucky took hold of your wrist. “We need to talk.” 

You tensed. “What about?”

He guided you back towards the table, his heart pounding in his chest. “I was gone for five years, Y/N/N.”

“I’m aware.”

“And it’d be selfish of me to assume that we could pick up where we left off.” He ran his thumb up and down the back of your hand. “I mean, I’ve only been back a few months and I still feel the same. But you. You could have moved on with someone or decided that I’m not what you want anymore.” His eyes found yours. “I’m saying that if today is the last day you want to see me, I’m fine with that.”

Silence sat between them before you spoke. “Remember San Francisco?”

He blinked. “Of course.”

“I told you that you were stuck with me that first night in Romania.” His cheeks reddened. “I told you that you were stuck with me when you came off the ice in Wakanda.”

“Y/N…”

You knelt in front of him, your hands closed over his large ones. “I��m not leaving you.” You smiled. “What is it that you and Steve say? ’Til the end of the line?” 

Bucky nodded, tears blooming in the corners of his eyes. 

“That’s how long I’ll be here.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to your. The seat under him started to vibrate and he groaned against your mouth. “Hold on.” He reached into his back pocket and fished out his phone. “Wilson.”

“You’ve been in there for thirty minutes. I thought she killed you or something.”

Bucky smirked at you. “She had me at gunpoint.”

“I thought you were an intruder!” 

“Is that Y/N? Hey, Y/N!” Sam said. 

“Wilson says hello.” 

You took his phone from his grip. “Why aren’t you up here, Sam? I’ll go out on a limb and say you told him where to find me.” Pause. “Sure, sure, whatever. So, did you want to come up? We can catch up on The Masked Singer and expose it to Bucky.” Your gaze cut to Bucky. “Yeah, sure. No, no, it’s fine. I have a couple shirts of his that I sleep in so he should be fine.” You snorted. “Don’t be gross. If he needs anything, I’ll call you. Miss you, too. Bye.” 

Bucky raised a brow. “I’m staying the night?”

“Or the next few nights. Sam said he wants you to get out of the Tower more.”

He scoffed. “I get out!”

“Missions don’t count, Barnes,” you deadpanned. The tips of his ears turned red. “If you don’t want to stay, I can drop you off.”

Bucky stood from the chair and crossed the room, pulling you into his arms. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — don’t y’all just love cutesy bucky? i love my brown-eyed, soft baby more than anything else lol

[taestefully-in-luv]

The Island | KTH (One)

Summary: You’re just two strangers waking up in a room on a lonely island where a company in the business of love has placed you. They believe that thanks to their in depth research you two are destined soulmates. What happens when your ‘soulmate’ and you want nothing to do with each other but falling in love is the only way to leave?

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, slight enemies to lovers, soulmates au, roommate au, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, slight crack, and drama.

Word Count: 9.3k

Warnings: swearing

Notes: Alright here is the first ch to my new story! I am super nervous to post this because it is a completely different vibe. But I hope you guys enjoy! Don’t worry, it turns fluffier later:) let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or send an ask if just want to chat!:)

Taglist: @ggukkieland @monvieesdaebak @707sblog @peacedreamer14

© taestefully-in-luv

Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your room is blinding from the soft yet striking sunrise, each beam of light swims through the blinds in piercing waves. The intense glow hits you in your sleepy state, causing you to wake from your glorious slumber. Too bright. You sit up in your bed, attempting to rub away the sleep that crusts your eyes. You begin to slowly open one lid at a time, taking in the neat appearance of your room. Your room looks the same as always—there is a nightstand next to your wooden framed bed, it holds a pale lamp and a photo of mountainous scenery. A dresser sits comfortably in front of you, it is dressed in simple décor and a large mirror. Yup, the same as always. You glance over to your sheer curtained window where the sun very offendedly washes over the room—wait. Hold on a god damn second.

Quickly, you begin to open your eyes just a bit wider—where is your royal purple ottoman? The art that hangs on your walls? Your dresser is brown not black for Christ’s sake! You ball your hand in the sheets…these don’t even feel like your sheets, yours aren’t this silky. This is not your room. Your eyebrows climb to the top of your forehead as you jerk your head around. Where the hell are you? Suddenly, you feel something rustle against your side. No…not something—someone.

Your eyes dart to the right of you, where this someone moves against the sheets. Not just someone. A man. His dark, ruffled hair sticks out between the sheets and pillow below his head. Why is there a man in bed with you? Is it…his bed? Oh god. Immediately, your mind tries to recall the night before. Did you go out and drink too much? Go home with a rando? Super unlike you though. You pull your hair as your mind races.

Sitting up in bed, worry crosses all of your features. You try to face all the possibilities that could maybe end up being your reality. But going out and partying is nowhere in your memories. You begin gnawing on your bottom lip, knowing you stayed home last night. And that you fell asleep in your own bed…alone, you might add. So where the hell are you? And why is there another person? Fear enters the picture now, this is the last place you wanted to go. You know, that horrible, terrible, dark place? The one that says your reality is that some creepy man kidnapped you and plans on doing murder-y type things to you. Yup, that place.

You tug on the end of your hair again, you know, you know, a bad habit. But you can’t help it as anxiety grows deeper within you. Were you really kidnapped? Fuck. You have to think. You’re trying to, at least. But breathing is becoming a chore. Your breaths are quick and sharp like you are on the brink of a panic attack. Shit, maybe you are. You try to eye the room again, taking in its appearance more carefully. You can’t help the shiver that speeds down your spine when you notice how perfect this single bedroom is…it actually almost resembles your guest bedroom at home. Which is creepy in itself. You continue to eye the room curiously, while staying absolutely frozen.

The dresser has more photos of pretty scenery sitting on top, as well as a few small vases that complement the rest of the décor. Anxiety continues to grow within you, shaking you to the core. You hate the way your hands tremble in your lap. You want to do something. You truly do but fuck, you can’t even move a muscle. Your breathing begins to pick up even more. Where are you? Why are you here? Who is this man sleeping so fucking peacefully next to you? Your thoughts are going 100 miles per minute, screaming at you, taunting you, giving you the middle finger.

Before you can think through your many obvious questions and answer them, the man next to you begins to stir in his sleep. You watch with wide eyes as he slowly moves to his back from his side. You stare down at him, too scared to move. Too scared to scream bloody murder. Too scared to do anything. And nothing disappoints you more. That you are nothing but a coward. You look down at your future murderer and wait for him to wake.

Future murderer slowly opens his eyes but he shies away instantly from the beaming sunlight.

“Ahhhh.” He lets go in one long breath, rubbing at his eyes in a sleepy manner. You sit still, your own breath caught in your throat. You want to move but fear has you frozen like an evening in the arctic. The man, or Future Murderer as you seemed to have named him, begins sitting up, stretching his arms out above him and yawns a song of sleep. He finally opens his eyes fully and soaks in the room before him. His head moves around quickly, his expression becoming rather…confused.

“What the fuck?”

Yup, those are his first words. Should have been yours too, if you’re being honest. This guy gets it.

Future Murderer’s facial expression grows bewildered as he looks around the room and when he finally feels your presence, he turns his head your way.

“Uh…” the Murderer narrows his eyes at you, “Hi?”

You don’t even realize the sigh of relief that pushes past your lips, but his confusion seems…genuine. And this allows you to relax your shoulders a little bit. Maybe he is a victim to whatever is going on too? You take in his disheveled appearance; he has brown wavy hair that rests above his brow line, eyes darker than the deepest part of the sea and full pouting lips. You would totally admit he’s attractive as hell but considering the fact you’re trying to convince yourself he isn’t going to murder you and the state you’re in, you’re going to push that thought away.

“Uh, who are you?” His brows knit together as he expectantly waits for an answer.

“No, who are you?” You squint at him. How dare he ask like you aren’t the one totally frazzled here? But somehow it’s comforting that he seems as confused as you are. Mystery man (his new name, since he doesn’t appear to want to murder you) (maybe) raises a single brow at you before answering,

“Taehyung.”

You listen to his name roll off his tongue and absorb it. Taehyung, huh? You hesitate for a second before finally giving your own name.

“y/n.”

Taehyung then, has the audacity to pinch his nose in annoyance. To be fair, it looks like the one he’s annoyed with is himself and not you.

“Look, sorry…” he begins, “If we hooked up last night, I don’t really remember and I—"

Your eyes widen at his words and you begin to frantically shake your head,

“No! We didn’t—we didn’t…”

“Oh?” Taehyung gives you a curious look then has the audacity to scoot several inches away from you. Then you feel his eyes on you, they search you from head to toe. You’re wearing your cat printed PJ shorts and a simple purple t shirt. You admit your hair is probably pretty wild, so you card your fingers through your locks. You start to feel insecure under his gaze as he so shamelessly eyes you.

“I don’t know who you are or where I am…do you know where we are?” you question, looking off to the side.

Taehyung pulls his eyes away from you, his head moving around to look around the room, his arms flailing.

“Does it look like I know where I am?”

You only blink at him and he rolls his eyes, “No, I don’t.” he admits.

Moments of silence pass between the two of you. You don’t know what to say at this point even though you have a million things you would like to say. But you can’t form one, coherent sentence apparently. You don’t know anything. You’re fucking clueless and you hate it. You’re trying to gather your thoughts when you feel Taehyung rise from the bed, startling you like he just committed a crime. God, you are such a coward. What? Do you really think the bed is apparently some super safe place that will protect you from the evils of the world? Taehyung walks toward the dresser and other corners of the room, inspecting it carefully.

“Fucking weird, but nice room, right?” he asks under his breath. Taehyung throws a glance over at you. “You don’t know where you are…I don’t know where I am…we both wake up in a strange room and neither of us have any recollection of how we got here.” Taehyung takes a pause to gather his thoughts. “Have you heard anything? You know, from outside the room? There could be other people.” He waits for you to answer but you stay quiet. Yes, you are on that level of coward.

You stay in the bed, anxiety building up, growing fiercer by the second. While it seems Taehyung’s attention is being stolen by the large window where the sun invites him to come take a peak. He tip toes over to the window, lifting the blinds and exposes something you imagine takes his breath way due to his audible gasp.

“Where…the fuck are we?” he asks breathlessly.

Instead of looking for yourself, you stay seated. But are we surprised? You study Taehyung’s expressions, watching for his reactions. His face falls into one of awe but after only a few moments in settles back into confusion. He reaches for the bottom of the window sill and lifts upwards, opening the window and releasing the sound of…is that waves? You continue to observe him, too afraid to see for yourself. He stands there for several long moments before turning your way and he clears his throat.

“I—I don’t…I don’t know where we are, like, really.” He takes a hesitant step towards the bed. “But something tells me neither of us are from here.”

You need a minute. Yeah, you need a minute to process his words. Because what the fuck does he mean by that? You aren’t ‘from here’? Are you on another planet or some shit? This man needs to work on his wording, for Christ’s sake. You feel your hand move just the slightest. Then your other hand. Your toes curl in and out. Seems you aren’t so frozen anymore. Things are, yes things as in waking up with a total stranger and him saying you are in an unknown place, are starting to wake you up. You’re so ashamed your solution to all of this was to stay seated in bed…but for some reason a rushing sensation of bravery washes over you.

You rise from the sheets and step one foot on to the floor. It’s not lava. So you step down with both feet and make your way over to Taehyung. You stop in front of him, tilting your head up since he has several inches over you—but nothing too intimidating, you decide. His eyes find yours and you lock eyes for a few moments. Both of you trying to search the other for answers. You break contact to face the window and wow. Your eyes animatedly widen at the sight. Palm trees and water for miles and miles it seems. No other buildings or sign of life. An island? But not the kind of island where this room is a part of some fancy resort, no, not that kind. Instead the kind where a plane crashes and a group of people have to survive.

You blink down at your new reality. First of all, you live nowhere near an island, so there’s that. You feel the anxiety and frustrations begin to surface again and you can’t help that your eyes begin to gloss over. You snap your head back to get a look at your fellow victim and he looks just as lost as you feel.

“We need to find out what’s going on.” Taehyung takes a deep breath, lifting his head up. He locks his eyes with yours again but you break contact to look at your feet.

“We don’t know anything…would if it’s not safe?” you quietly try to reason.

“Exactly, we don’t know anything and that’s a problem. You don’t expect us to stay in this room forever, do you?”

He has a point and you know it. You want to follow him out of this room but your feet seem to be glued to the floor.

“Well, no. But—”

“Didn’t think so.” He turns away from you, his body shuffling towards the bedrooms door but before he can become out of reach your hand flies to his shirt sleeve, tugging it softly.

“Wait! Just hold on—” Your voice wavers and Taehyung rolls his eyes. Rolls his fucking eyes at you!

“Listen, come. Or don’t. I don’t really care.” Taehyung releases your hold on his shirt, unsticking your fingers and throwing your hand towards your body. “Decide.” He states before swiftly turning around to head towards the door.

Oh. So this guy is a fucking asshole. Noted.

You end up following him because although he was rude about it, feeling someone’s touch when you feel so scared was slightly comforting and yes, you are aware of how fucking pathetic that is.

Taehyung stands in front of the door, his hand reaching for the knob when he turns his head to say, “Just trust me.”

And now you are the one rolling your eyes. Trust him? You just met the dude! 10 minutes ago his name was Future Murderer. How could you possibly trust this asshole?

“How can I trust you? I literally just met you.” The scowl on your face deepens when he smirks.

“Are you always such a fucking baby?”

“Are you always such a fucking baby?” you mock, eyes rolling so far into the back of your head. Okay, you admit you aren’t being the most mature here. But Taehyung doesn’t seem to take offense to it by the way he gasps and throws a hand over his heart as if wounded.

“Oh? She’s got some sass?” His question and raised brows only piss you off.

“Whatever. Let’s go.” You aren’t entirely sure where the confidence comes from but you don’t question it. You’re breezing past him, your shoulder knocking into his as you approach the door.

You feel Taehyung’s eyes on you and hear him mumble a lame, ‘that’s the spirit’ from behind you. And with that, in one swift action you are opening the door.

You stand in the open doorway, once again frozen in place. Not feeling as confident as you were 15 second ago—maybe you just need this dude to piss you off again. Speak of the devil, Taehyung steps besides you, poking his head out into the hallway searching for any sign of life.

“It’s quiet.” He takes a few steps forward, now in the middle of the hall. You glance around, the hallway has walls full of beautiful artwork, and to the right is 3 doors and to the left is a wide staircase. An exit. Bingo.

“Let’s check each room.” And of course he wants to do the opposite.

“No, let’s just get out of here.”

You turn on your feet towards the stairs and stop at the first step and raise a brow over your shoulder, “Aren’t you coming?”

Taehyung looks conflicted to say the least. He exhales deeply, looking between you and the 3 doors.

“Shouldn’t we just—”

“No! come on…” You must sound pleading and convincing because you can see him falter, just a bit. “I just want to go home…” You say, averting his gaze. Taehyung only stares at you for what feels like an eternity before he’s finally agreeing with the nod of his head.

The two of you very cautiously step down the stairs, each foot that follows the other slightly trembles in the fear of the unknown. You two finally reach the bottom and your eyes go wide at the sight. This is basically your fucking dream house. The floor plan is very open. At the center is a gorgeous grand piano, you don’t play but it’s aesthetically pleasing you guess? To the right is a long table with picture frames and décor and down the hall there seems to be more rooms.

You scan the downstairs as you slide your fingers along the edge of this table and stop when you come across a framed photo. What the actual fuck. Your eyebrows rise and your eyes grow twice their size. You very hesitantly pick up the picture as your eyes blink down at the frame in hand when your breathing begins to pick up again. It’s a framed photo of you and your sister . Now why the hell would this be here? Why is there a picture of you and your sister?? Why would someone have this? The framed photo sits in your trembling hands as you stare down at it. Taehyung notices your shaky grip on this picture and takes it from you to take a look himself. His eyes also go wide…you look between him and the picture.

“Why…why the hell is this here?” your voice betrays you as it shakes with every word.

Taehyung glances down at the table and notices his own photos with friends and family that are disgustingly and proudly displayed.

“What the actual fuck?” Taehyung whispers to no one but himself. What the hell is going on? Why does this house have pictures of the two of you? Who is doing this? Is this some sort of sick joke?

“What’s happening Taehyung?” you step closer to him feeling entirely…creeped out.

“Does it look like I fucking know?” he snaps. He sees you flinch and his eyes soften, “Sorry…Its just… this is going too far.” He finally looks as disturbed as you feel. The two of you stay quiet for a few moments, neither of you knowing how to react to this eerie discovery.

You shudder at how ominous this all is. This is becoming way too much. How much more of this can you handle? You almost want to jump into this assholes arms and sob into his navy blue t shirt.

“We should…” Taehyung wipes his sweaty hands on his sweats, “keep going.”

The two of you nod your heads in unison and turn to your left where there is an entry way to the kitchen and living room. Taehyung stops before stepping through while you join him at his side. You two glance around to soak in your surroundings—it’s also an open space, the two open areas sharing a space. The kitchen is covered in black granite and wooden cabinets with a door that probably leads outside. The living room has two matching sofas, a wide screen TV that hangs on the wall over a fireplace and built in shelves on either side, full of books, movies and games.

Taehyung and you share a look before walking through to the kitchen and living room. You approach the rooms slowly and carefully, afraid of what you might find. What surprises could be lurking. Suddenly the white glow of the TV can be seen, making you jump with its sudden brightness. Why the hell did the TV just turn on? Is this like, a haunted house? Are you being fucking haunted? Okay, maybe that’s dramatic.

The screen is bright white with nothing else on it. You turn to face Taehyung who is already staring at you with brows pinched together in confusion. Same Taehyung, same. The two of you decide to walk closer to the TV when dark, bold numbers appear.

“10….9…8…..”

The sound of soft music can be heard playing from the TV, similar to the music that’s played in an elevator, as numbers counting down from 10 begins. You feel your insides twist and turn.

“….7….6…..”

Panicked, the two of you inch closer and closer. You two stand here waiting for something, anything to occur because these might be the longest 10 seconds of your life. The millions of questions you have only multiplying. With the seconds counting down and getting closer to zero, your breathing about fucking stops. What is going to happen? You can feel your palms grow sweaty as your heart beats out of your chest. It feels like the countdown to the end of the world.

“….5….4….3…”

You don’t think Taehyung realizes just how close he is to you, his shoulders bumping into yours. You guess fear does funny things even between strangers.

“….2…..1…….”

And then it finally happens. The timer finally reaches fucking zero. And it is safe to safe your attention has been caught…anyone’s would be if a screen greets them with their god damn names.

“Welcome Kim Taehyung and Y/N Y/LN”

Your names on the screen has you automatically feeling nauseas. What sort of sick game is this? Is someone setting you up? Pranking you? If so, shits not funny. But also, why is Taehyung here? Your eyes focus on the screen as it moves to the next slide.

“It is a great honor that you two have made it this far. You have been carefully selected in this company’s project. After a lot of consideration and impressive results—we have decided to move you to the next phase.”

Naturally, very naturally you become even more confused than you fucking started. What projects? What company? You can hear Taehyung swallow hard, his nerves spiking with each word he reads. Then the slides continue.

“To put it simply, we are in the business of love.”

Huh? Huh?

Taehyung and you break your focus on the screen to steal a glance as one another very briefly before turning your heads back to the TV. What the hell they mean love? What is this absolute nonsense?

“Our use of science, technology and logic has got us here today. We test and heavily observe our chosen subjects and decide if they are the perfect match. We then move them to the final phase: The Island. This is where the two subjects meet and get along for the first time. The place they will undoubtedly fall in love.”

You can’t help that your mouth falls open, you are sure your eyes are bulging out of your head. You dare to turn to look at Taehyung and he isn’t looking much better.

Before you can really gather any thoughts the slides continue.

“Our success rate is 99%. You WILL fall in love here, it is most probable. Other subjects will come to fall in love quickly, other will take their time. BUT don’t take too long~ If two subjects are taking too long to make progress we will send a ‘Request’ to move things along and if you fail to meet said request there will be a penalty. And you have 24 hours to complete the request. This is to help you.”

You shiver while reading the words before you. You are now too anxious to even look at Taehyung right now…you don’t want to even see his reaction to all of this. Is he anxious like you? Is he laughing because there’s no way this is real? Is he nodding along taking notes because he believes it? You don’t want to fucking know!

“We give soulmates the opportunity to meet and thrive. This particular project has been in the works for well over a year.”

You blink lazily at that. Well over a year? WELL OVER A YEAR? They’ve been watching you for over a year?!

“We have carefully observed each one of you in great detail. There is nothing we don’t know. We have matched you two to be most compatible.”

Nothing they don’t know? What the hell does that mean? How exactly did they fucking observe you two? You stand here with eyes wide open and mouth agape. Taehyung mirrors your expression. He doesn’t want to believe this either.

“And you two are finally ready to proceed with The Island.”

The two of you stand in the living room, dumbstruck. Absolutely dumbstruck. You aren’t even able to look at one another for more than a hot second. A harsh blush creeping on your face and you cringe because there’s no way you could blush for this asshole.

You just…you cannot believe any of this. You refuse to. This is ridiculous. Insane.

“This island is only for the two of you. Designed specifically for you. You are being constantly monitored. Hidden cameras are placed all around the house. Minus the bedrooms and bathrooms. The décor and food is to each of your likings, we want you to feel at home as possible. Everything including books, movies, games and rooms are to your likings and match your hobbies.”

Wait a minute. You frantically shake your head, blinking furiously. Constantly being monitored? AKA you’re being fucked spied on? How are you supposed to do anything knowing you’re being watched?

“Your families have already been notified of your absence.”

You feel your heart drop. You didn’t even consider how they might feel.

“You will return safely once we feel we are satisfied with the results. This can be 3 months, 6 months, a year or even more.”

You feel Taehyung spin to face you in complete shock.

“We understand this may seem awkward at first but things will evolve naturally. So you should not worry.”

These words do not bring the least bit of comfort.

“Besides the ‘Requests’ we will not interfere. This is YOUR time to fall in love.”

“Thank you so much for your ongoing participation and please enjoy your new home and of course, each other. <3”

The added heart at the end of the last slide has both of you scrunching your faces in disgust. With that, the TV shuts off, showing nothing but the dark black screen and the reflection of two ghosts. What. The. Fuck.

You’re sure your expression is as clear as day; a mix between anger and hopelessness. You don’t want to look at Taehyung, not after everything you just read but you know you should. So you tip your head to the side to get a good look at him. Worry. All you see is worry. Look, he might be hot as hell but there ain’t no way you can fall in love with this dude. But also, you don’t know anything. You gulp, there is one thing you know. You’re going to be sick.

Your nausea is so built up, it’s at the entrance of your throat begging for release. You stand here, running a clammy hand through your hair. You are going to puke, you know it.

Without any further thinking, you run towards the back door in the kitchen that thankfully leads to outside. You run down a path that you pray to the God’s that this path does lead to the ocean so you can drown yourself in some good ol’ waves. Your anxiety has you out of breath before the run does. You finally reach sand that is warm and grainy under your bare feet and follow it to the shore.

It’s beautiful actually. The view. You wish you could really take it all in and let the calmness of the waves relax you but you are seconds away from upchucking last night’s pizza rolls. But it never comes. Your guts never make it out of your body but the anxiety remains. Falling to the ground, you pull your knees into your chest, trying to breathe and most importantly trying not to cry. This is no use though and to be honest you don’t try very hard because tears are cascading down your face within seconds. You can feel the burning in your chest as hot tears fall onto the warmth of your cheeks and it breaks you further. You sit here and wonder if you are really stuck here in this place and with a complete and total stranger. The same thought stays with you as you ball into yourself.

You sit here, indulging in quiet sobs until they finally ease into soft sniffles. You reach up to wipe your eyes, ridding yourself of tears and the thoughts that came along with them. You need to think more clearly. Okay, positive thoughts. Come on y/n, you can do this. Positive thoughts. First off, you’re not alone. You are not the only victim here. You have an acquaintance here who you are sure isn’t very pleased about this either. But wait—would if this guy is a total weirdo? A psycho? Okay, maybe being positive is harder than you thought. Plus he was a total asshole to you earlier. But maybe that will change?

You stand to your feet, feeling more determined than before. You are going to try to make the best out of this shitty situation. You brush away the annoying leftover grains of sand from your legs and your behind and turn around to make your journey back to the house, your ‘home’. Ew, you did not just call it that, you shudder at the thought. Before you start walking, you spot Taehyung aka your ‘soulmate’ ew, you did not just him call him that— sitting, leaning against a tree. Yup, right next to where you just had snot running down your nose. Before spiraling into embarrassment, you take a good look at him and oh. You step towards him and his eyes follow your movements until you are seated next to him. He’s tense, that’s for sure. But you can’t really blame him, now can you? You are a little bit selfish, aren’t you? He is clearly freaking out too yet you ran out on him. You can see his expressions now: confused, anger, upset. And something you can’t quite figure out.

Taehyung looks your way and offers you a small, tense smile and then turns his head away from you to face the ocean again, a sigh escaping his lips.

“I’m not going to fall in love with you.”

You really don’t want to feel offended because hey, that’s fair. But still, this asshole doesn’t even know you so you roll your eyes.

“I’m not going to fall in love with you dude.”

Taehyung glances at you and gives you a look, like he knows that’s impossible.

“Sure.” He says.

“You don’t fall in love with me.” You snap back, feeling like you won something.

“Yeah, that won’t be a problem.” He deadpans.

“Listen…you’re not a psycho, are you?” You narrow your eyes at him. Taehyung stares at you for a second before he dramatically rolls his eyes at you, then he narrows his own eyes.

“I’m not a psycho,” he defends, a serious expression drawn on his face. “But how do I know you’re not?”

You bite down on your lip as if really contemplating,

“Fair point.” You smile cheekily but then your face falls into a frown. “This isn’t…real, right?” you try to brush back your hair behind your ear but the wind makes it difficult. “The TV…this is a joke, right?”

Taehyung looks on towards the ocean, the big blue waves crashing in the distance. He is silent for several long, annoyingly long moments. You can’t help but wonder what goes inside his head, what is he thinking? What is he feeling? It’s got to be similar to you, right?

“Let’s say it is real. There’s a company who…who…spied on us for a year. What does that mean? They hacked our phones? Hacked our homes? How far did they go? They said they know everything…” Taehyung pauses, flinching at his own words. “So, say they do. They believe after all their research we make a good match…the perfect match, apparently.”

“Yeah, I highly doubt that.” You cut in. “We couldn’t even get along in the first 10 minutes—”

“That’s because you were being a baby.”

“That’s because you were being a—Shut up.” You huff.

“Who’s being rude now?” Taehyung smirks. “Listen, I think it’s best if we just play it safe. But I am serious…I won’t be falling in love with you. And I am not a psycho.”

“And I am serious too, I won’t.” you remind him, annoyed. “It’s you who should be careful.” You poke your tongue out and Taehyung rolls his eyes.

“So do you like pancakes? Mister Not Psycho.” You look at him with a playful smirk and he wastes no time to curve his lips downwards.

“Pancakes?” he lifts his brows but then a scowl takes over, “I’m not falling in love with you even if you make me pancakes. I still can’t get over this…they spied on us for a year y/n. Invaded our privacy…this is too much. Too much to be thinking about god damn pancakes”

“Yeah but it seems like we’re stuck together,” you reason, “Whether we like it or not. So you can maybe try not to be such an asshole to me? When I’m just as much of a victim as you are. And we still have to eat.”

Taehyung’s mouth drops a little, then he closes it, screwing his eyes shut. “You’re right…I’m sorry,” he stands to his feet. “This is all just so crazy and a lot to take in…”

“I know…” you pause, “It’s sort of like being on a vacation—”

“Just stop.”

Taehyung walks past you, heading back inside the house. Leaving you alone with nothing but the ocean.

You stare off into the wide unknown, the oceans blue emptiness swallowing you whole. This looks like a dream vacation spot, if you’re being honest. But this? This was about to be the vacation from Hell.

~~~~~~~~

You and Taehyung walk through the door back into the kitchen, a look of grimace on his face while you frown. You two decide to check out what this place has to offer. You’re both clearly skeptical of this whole entire situation, well at least he is. He feels like the only one who is acting appropriately. But he can safely assume you probably are feeling a bit skeptical yourself. You two check to see is there is anything safe to eat—if there even is food. He doesn’t know what to believe. Was this situation, he doesn’t know…real? True? Every word he read, is a loud echo in his mind screaming at him. How could he even take this seriously? How could you take this seriously? This is fucking insane! He looks over at you, who is rummaging through cabinets, you look the same as a few minutes ago—calm with an unsure expression painting your features. He hates how calm you look, he can’t help but feel so annoyed by you.

He takes a look in the large, silver fridge and is pleasantly surprised to see many foods that he likes; lots of fresh fruits, juices, milk, sandwich meats, so on. It is fully stocked. He reaches inside the fridge for a bowl a fresh fruit, his other hand grabbing for a can of whipped cream. He gives you a look and nods towards the bowl.

“Should we test them? See if we die from poison or some shit?” he half jokes, his bitter tone shining through. You try to ignore his bad attitude and smile.

“We’re testing them with a can of whipped cream?” you go for a lighter approach but he just rolls his eyes.

“Go big or go home, am I right ladies?”

You snort. Real life snort. And you consider being embarrassed but you see Taehyung’s eyes light up in amusement before they’re darkening again.

You reach for a strawberry and pop that thang in your mouth, so he does the same. You two chew cautiously, the flavor and juices bursting. These might be the best god damn strawberries either of you have ever had. Such a shame they are being enjoyed in such a situation. He turns to face you, the you who is now stuffing your face with strawberry after strawberry, he can’t help but let a chuckle slip between his lips.

“What? Go big or go home…” you pause, a smirk playing at your lips. “Right ladies?” Taehyung only rolls his eyes at your smart mouth, he won’t allow himself to laugh.

Taehyung is still trying to gather his impression of you. When you first met you were a total cry baby, then you were just annoying and now you’re trying your best to be calm. He recalls how you ugly cried just outside—god, you have been a roller coaster of a person but considering your situation he understands why.

He believes he was more unbothered and brave after having first woken up…but after seeing those framed photos he got freaked the fuck out, to put it simply. Then the TV…everything just went downhill from there. And he sees what you’re doing…you’re trying to be strong. And he hates you for it. Why is he being the weak one here? How are you doing it with such ease? He’s spiraling. His whole life just got put on pause. His dreams and aspirations? Pause. Friends and family? Pause. His love life? P-Pause? He can’t help but worry over every detail, not to mention…is any of this the truth? Are you two just supposed to believe the god forsaken words that you read on the TV screen? And you went on about this being like a damn vacation. Unbelievable! But all he can do right now is breathe in and breathe out and try to be himself. Which at the moment is a really unhappy person.

You and Taehyung continue reaching into the bowl for more refreshing fruit, your fingers brushing against one another like this is a god damn Hallmark movie, but you don’t seem to be fazed by it so he won’t either. Even though it’s driving him crazy, he doesn’t want to touch you. He wonders what your thoughts are on the whole ‘love’ thing? It’s ridiculous. Don’t get him wrong, in a different situation he could see himself getting along with someone like you, maybe even hook up…but fall in love? Not likely. Plus he already has someone. Sort of.

“Ah, wait…” He pauses mid bite.

“Hm?” you hum, mouth full.

“Aren’t we like, supposed to be finding pancake mix or whatever shit you wanted to find?”

With a roll of your eyes, you lick your fingers clean while the other hand lays rest on you hip. (And no, his eyes did not linger when you sucked on your fingers and no, they did not travel down to your hand that rest comfortably on your nice hips.)(And no, he did not just think your hips are nice.)

“Couldn’t find any!” you dramatically yell out, “You guys FAILED us!” you then look over at him with a smirk, “So much for being experts right?” you scoff, he almost wants to laugh at your dramatics but he just stares at you blankly.

But soon that blank stare is changing into a sour one when he realizes just who you are talking to…the very company that trapped you here. The one that’s watching over you right now. Or so they say.

“We should inspect the whole house.” He says seriously, “You know, get to know this ‘vacation home’ or whatever bullshit you said.”

You look down at your feet, feeling fucking embarrassed.

“Sorry for calling it that I—”

“I know,” Taehyung kind of smiles, “You were just trying to make us feel better. I get it.” His tone is softer than even he intended.

“It didn’t really help, did it?” you scratch the top of your head, feeling sheepish.

“Not really.” He answers honestly, with hard eyes. “Now come on, let’s check things out.”

You nod your head with an eye roll, he still chooses to be dickish.

The two of you walk into the living room to the entertainment center. The TV is surrounded by shelves of books, movies, and games. Apparently all to your liking, so you guess you will see how true that is.

“Woah, there’s Mortal Kombat. Sweet.” You comment, the game case in your hand.

“Woah, I can kick your ass at Mortal Kombat. Sweet.” Taehyung plainly responds while shuffling other games between his hands.

“Don’t even. I will play you right now.” You try lightening the mood but he just rolls his eyes.

“We have other important things to do, need I remind you?” he begins lecturing you and you scoff.

“You don’t need to remind me our shitty situation. Your stupid face is reminder enough.” You bite.

“Oh?” Taehyung continues to look through cases, barely paying attention to you.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat. “There’s tons of movies here and TV shows as well,” you gesture toward the bottom of the shelf. “Some I have never seen before,” you squat down, your fingers brushing against DVD cases until you stop at one in particular, pulling it out. “Like, what the hell is ‘Castaway on the Moon’?”

Taehyung’s eyes widen, “UH, only my most favorite movie ever?” he says, taking the case from you.

“Looks weird.” You comment plainly.

“Weird—it’s not weird! It’s actually really good I swear, actually you know what?” Taehyung huffs out, it’s the first time you’re seeing him get so worked up. It’s amusing. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.” He pouts, clearly wounded you would think to call his favorite movie ‘weird’.

“Plus, who’s weird?” he asks, “What’s with all this anime? I know it ain’t mine.”

You jut out your bottom lip in guilt, your cheeks turning a rosy pink.

“Well, well…”

“Well, well…” he mocks, feeling satisfied.

You raise your eyes to meet his and walk an inch towards him, never breaking contact.

“I’ll give yours a shot, if you give mine a shot?” you challenge, sticking out your hand. He guesses you want him to shake it.

He takes a moment to let his eyes linger on yours. They’re dark. Plain. Boring. Nothing special. He looks away and scoffs but the idea of sharing his favorite movie with someone does pique his interest.

“Deal.” He says, going in for the handshake. He feels your hand in his and doesn’t expect your skin to be so soft.

“Deal.” You say with an evil glint in your eye. “I’m going to make you watch so much good shit.” You continue to hold on to his hand, you look down at them and become slightly shy. You just remembered your situation. You keep staring for an odd amount of time before you drop his hand and shake your head.

“Should we check out the other rooms?” you start walking towards the entry way back into the main area of the house, but stop to turn and look at him.

“Yeah, I suppose we can do that.” He answers back, trying to sound as neutral as possible.

The two of you walk back into the main area where the rooms are located. He hesitantly creaks open the first door. He’s met with a room so fitting. A room full of art supplies. Drawing boards, brushes, paint, etc. He feels his palms pool with sweat.

“Do you make art?” you question, looking up at him.

“Yeah.” He gulps, feeling creeped out all over again. “They really did their research, huh?” he whispers to himself.

You two stand in the doorway, taking it all in. Taking in what this could really mean for you two. It begs the question: Were they really spying on you for over a year? Do they really know everything there is to know about you two?

You softly nudge Taehyung, “Why don’t we move on to the next room?” you suggest. He turns his head to face you as he swallows hard, nodding his head in agreement.

The next room is nothing spectacular, just a home gym.

“You work out?” he asks.

“Barely,” you admit, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I always have the excuse of not having time or not wanting to go all the way to a gym. Guess I have no excuse now.” You look up at him with a sheepish grin. It’s hard to believe you don’t work out, Taehyung thinks. You have great legs.

“I see.” He turns his back to you, exiting the room.

The next room really wows Taehyung. He doesn’t mean for it to. He wants to hate this place.

It’s a room full of musical instruments and recording equipment.

“Holy shit.” He accidentally lets out. He walks around the room, touching things with just his fingertips. “This is like grade A equipment, I could only dream of owning shit like this.” He truly does not mean to be in awe of the music room, you know, because the enemies gave it to him but holy shit!

There’s only one room left and you swear to god it better be for you. You two slowly open the door together to reveal an interests of yours.

“Is this…? Like, a dance studio or something?” He questions, glancing around the room, “Are you a dancer?” he finally looks at you and he seems quite impressed.

You look…surprised, to say the least. Your brows shooting up all the way toward your hairline, your eyes darting all around the room.

“N-Not exactly…I mean, kind of?” you admit, your eyes falling to your hands. He tilts his head in confusion.

“I…I just have a serious interest I guess you could say,” you look all around the room again, “But I,” you play with your fingers. “I have never said it out loud to anyone.”

“Oh.” Taehyung breathes out in understanding. So, these fuckers really did spy on you guys. In depth. You both feel goosebumps rise on your arms, making you both feel a chill.

“Let’s head upstairs. Shall we?”

The upstairs has 4 doors in total. You both know the door closest to the staircase is the bedroom you woke up in.

“There’s no bathroom in this room,” he motions towards the door. “And the closet was empty. So, it’s not the master and that—”

“That means there’s multiple bedrooms.” you finish for him, and you both sigh in relief.

He means, this place has a goal of getting you together, so he wouldn’t be surprised if they only offered you one bedroom, but thank the God that he doesn’t believe in that there’s more than one bedroom.

“Yeah exactly,” he breathes out. “I’m willing to bet the door at the end of the hall is the master. Wanna just skip ahead?”

“Sure,” you agree, walking past him to beat him to the door at the end of hall. But you wait for him to reach the door as well before you’re reaching for the knob and slowly turning it, swinging the door open.

The room is big, a huge king size bed in the center of the back wall. Thankfully, the drapes are dark so not a lot of natural sunlight enters the room, Taehyung thinks.

“Hell yeah, dark curtains.” You say excitedly. Obviously reading his mind.

He follows behind you, keeping his comments to himself as you ooh and aah at your surroundings. He is impressed by the rooms simple yet he guesses you could say intriguing décor. Definitely fits his style, but he won’t say that out loud. As an artist himself, the paintings on the walls are very pleasing to the eye. He wonders if they suit you as well. If you’re his ‘soulmate’ they would, he thinks bitterly. He could see himself adding his own artwork to this room. He wonders if you would be okay with that as well—wait. What is he saying? It’s not like you two will be sharing this room!

You drag your fingers across the comforter on the bed.

“Soft.” You mumble to yourself.

He chews on his lips for a moment before speaking, “You can have it…” he shifts from one foot to the other. “The room, I mean. I’ll just take the other bedroom.”

“Really? You sure?” The excitement is evident in your voice. “Wait no—that’s not very fair. We could thumb wrestle for it or—”

He raises a brow, “Thumb wrestle? Really?”

“Mortal Kombat?” you offer.

“That just wouldn’t be fair, I would win too easily.” He says, not impressed. “Just take the room. I’m sure.”

“Fine…thank you.” you bow your head down in defeat.

The two of you walk towards the master bath and your eyes come close to popping out of your heads. It is huge! And super fancy! He’s not good at fancy words but he’ll put it simply, the countertop is long with two sinks. Two sinks. The shower has one of those rain shower head things and woah. That’s for like, rich people. The way you are gawking at this bathroom tells him you’re having the same thoughts as him. Yours are probably fancy like, “This extravagant marble bathtub looks exquisite against these cream colored walls. Very…dashing.” Or some wild shit like that.

The closet is next, He’ll be completely honest. He forgot you would need clothes and shit. But holy moly, there are rows and rows of clothes, both yours and his. There is jewelry (Not really sure why that’s necessary but like, okay) and shoes on shelves against the walls. It was more than he owned himself back at home.

“Honestly I forgot about needing clothes…since we like…live here now.” The words are sour leaving your mouth, he can tell. But also, you are obviously reading his mind again.

“What? You thought you would be wearing your cute little PJ’s 24/7 or what? Wear nothing at all maybe?” he asks, shuffling from one foot to the other. He’s uncomfortable.

“ha-ha.” you deadpan. “I just haven’t really thought about what this all entails is all.”

He frowns at your words,

“We should probably talk about it, right? What this all means, I mean.” His questions causes a shift in the atmosphere. The air becoming a little thicker.

You only nod and turn on your feet to head back into the bedroom. He quickly follows behind you, both of you stopping at the foot of the bed.

“Let’s talk then.” You bite your lip, swaying side to side.

He needs to be honest. He is clearly so confused about all this. Fucking puzzled. He means, what if just what if this company was real? And this company was…right? Are you really a match made in heaven? No, that can’t be. That would be fucking ridiculous. He’s being ridiculous for even considering it. But you two obviously need to talk. Have a fucking chit chat.

You plop down on the edge of the bed and he follows your lead, finding a spot right next to you. Your knee shakes up and down quickly while you play with the hem of your shirt. You’re obviously nervous as fuck, which he can’t really blame you. He watches you for a few moments before hesitantly placing a hand over your shaking knee, trying to stop the anxious movement and hoping to God he is not crossing any serious lines, he’s just really getting annoyed by your shaking knee and needs that shit to stop. You turn your head to face him and he is met with a look of frustration. He turns his head to face straight ahead and with a heavy sigh he says, “I feel that way too.” Because it’s true, you both must feel the same. It’s not like you want to be stuck here with him either. Right?

You finally let out a long breath, “How long?” you whisper. “How long will we be stuck here?” you begin to sniffle as your eyes become wet. Shit. He brings his hands to his lap and interlocks his fingers together.

“I…I don’t know.” He answers honestly. “But what are your thoughts? On what we read…” he clears his throat, clarifying as if it wasn’t already obvious.

You suck in a sharp breath, “I don’t know what to believe.” You admit. “But we are…” you gesture between you two, “This is—This is not happening.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes as if that wasn't the most obvious statement in the world. He. Could. Not. Agree. More.

You continue, “Someone deciding for me? On this part of my life? That doesn’t sit right with me. No fucking thank you.”

“Yeah, me either.”

“I mean,” you turn to face him, “You seem decent and all, when you’re not being an ass, but this is all insane. Just insane.” You wear an annoyed expression, shaking your head in disbelief. He breathes out of his nose in attempt to laugh.

“Yeah, you’re telling me.”

“But…” you pause, choosing your next words carefully…you have to be careful with this next part. “But if it’s real? What are we—” and yup, just as expected, you are cut off with just a look. He furrows his brows together and pushes his head back in surprise.

“This can’t be forced y/n.” he states firmly. You raise your hands up in surrender.

“Oh my god, Taehyung. I know that! I fucking know, jeez. But we have to talk about all the possibilities.” You say firmly, “We’re stuck here for who knows how long and you read the same thing as me, right?” you push on, “3 months? 6 months? A fucking year?” you drag a heavy hand down your tired face. “And don’t even get me started on these damn ‘Requests’ and whatever they are!” You are clearly very frustrated…Taehyung looks at you with the same pity you’re sure he feels for himself.

“Okay, okay.” For the first time Taehyung speaks to you much more softly. “Listen, they can’t keep us here forever? We are going to prove we are that 1%. We just got to stay out of one another’s way and just wait it out until they return us home.” Then his frown deepens, “But wait, what about the ‘Requests’?” he asks, concern lacing his voice.

You strum your fingers on your thigh, staring down at your lap, in deep thought.

“I know this is weird but…” Taehyung starts.

“I know, we have to talk about it.” You finally look up at him and your entire face has gone pink.

“If the ‘Requests’ are, I don’t know, “pure” enough, we could just like do them?” you look at him with doe eyes, “Or like, if the penalty isn’t that bad…. I don’t know.” You ramble on.

The thing is, neither of you know what to expect from these ‘Requests’ and their penalties. It’s one huge mystery. And neither you nor Taehyung are a fan of mysteries. Taehyung watches as you begin shaking your knee in total panic again when he clears his throat.

“Hey…I think we can worry about that when or if the time comes, okay?”

“When or if…” you repeat slowly. “Okay.”

He stands from his place at the bed and begins walking towards the bedroom door.

“As long as we stay out of each other’s way, we should be good.”

“Stay out of each other’s way…” you nibble on your lips, “Like, we don’t talk or anything?”

“Precisely. You do your thing, I’ll do mine.”

“But—”

“That’s just the way it’s got to be.”

“Fine.” You speak bitterly, “Fine by me.”

Stuck on a beautiful island in a beautiful house with a beau—with a man. What could possibly go wrong? Vacation from hell, here we go.

[2jaeh]

TRUE FRIENDS | MARK LEE

Genre: angst, smut

Warnings: mature themes, dom!Mark, jealous!Mark, slight jaehyunxreader, mentions of alcohol

Word count: 3,6k

Author: SIN

You’re trying to figure out why Mark has been so mad at you since you both agreed on being friends with benefits, Mark on the hand is trying to figure out why the rules between him and Jaehyun were...different.

A/N: it’s angsty but it gets cute I promise! Also I wrote this after listening to Heavenly - cigs after sex! About a thousand times.

—————————————————————————

“When are you guys going to just speak to each other ?” Johnny groaned, following you into the fifth floor dorm kitchen as you placed your mug into the sink.

You turned around and sighed, leaning against the counter as the eager, tall browned haired boy waited for your answer.

“I told you I tried talking to him at Joy’s party last week but he snubbed me...what do you want me to do ?”

Johnny furrowed his eyebrows as if whatever answer you had given him was still not enough. He knew there was more to the story because how can a friends with benefits situation turn so fucking sour in a matter of four weeks ?

“You guys are childish” Johnny huffed, “this is why it should’ve never happened in the first place.”

“You’re the one that pushed us into his dorm that one night knowing we were drunk, what else did you expect to happen ?” You shot back, gripping the sides of the marble countertop.

“Uh...not fuck ?” Johnny shrugged and you shot him a glare before he raised his hands to defend himself,

“All I’m saying is that Mark ain’t the meanest guy around so if he’s mad then maybe it’s serious.”

————————————————————————

Mark was stuck in the booth at the company building, unknowing that it was already past 11pm and most of the staff had gone home. His tired eyes ran over his lyrics for the 20th time, analysing each section, trying to improve what he had, but his mind was elsewhere.

“Knock knock” Mark swivelled his chair to the door and half smiled when he saw Jungwoo’s head pop in with a bottle of soju and chicken.

“What are you doing here man ?” Mark rubbed his eye, placing his lyric book on the soundboard and stretched his arms above his head. Jungwoo took a seat on the couch and unpacked the meal on the wooden coffee table in front of him,

“You’ve been here all day, you didn’t even meet us for dinner” Jungwoo pouted and handed Mark a cup filled with a mixture of soju and sprite.

Mark shot back the drink and sifted through the pieces of chicken, “yeah I was working, kinda lost track of time”

“You’ve been out of it for the past week, is everything okay ? Is this about....y/n ?” Jungwoo’s voice was cautious as he noticed Mark’s eyes narrow at the sound of your name.

“I told you all of that was over” Mark took a measly bite of the chicken and threw it aside, opting for another cup of soju instead.

“You never told me what happened though,” Jungwoo interjected, “all I know you guys were hooking up and next minute every time you two were in a room together it was tense as fuck.”

Mark chewed on his bottom lip and slumped in his chair knowing Jungwoo was going to pester him until he gave him a valid answer.

“Well after that first night we hooked up y/n laid down some ground rules, the usual you know” Mark explained, his thoughts going back to the first night that he spent with you,

“No feelings, freely hooking up with other people, no spending a full night together, no holding hands, like just none of that shit.”

“So just hooking up and leaving ?” Jungwoo raised his brow, his mouth filled with chicken.

Mark nodded, “yeah apparently to preserve our friendship and not make it weird for the friend group or whatever.”

As Mark spoke he felt the pain he felt 13 days ago, when everything had crumbled right before him. When instead of ignoring the matter he pondered on it, made it play in his mind and ruin him.

“What changed ?” Jungwoo poured the both of them another drink and joined Mark in downing their fourth shot for the night.

“What changed was, “ Mark let out a dry chuckle, “what changed was that y/n was also fucking Jaehyun but his rules were obviously very different.”

Mark’s mind flashed to the night he finished work late and when he walked by Jaehyun’s bedroom he heard your voice. You were softly moaning out Jaehyun’s name and not his.

“Y/n stayed the night in Jaehyun’s room and in the morning she barely greeted me and the two of them were being lovey dovey  in the kitchen while making breakfast” Mark topped off his glass with a little more soju than the usual ratio and gulped it down.

“I had no right to get mad right ? Well a couple days later y/n came over I had to hear about how much Jaehyun’s date wasn’t good enough for him or why it was the reason y/n never got into relationships”

Mark’s head was spinning at this point and normally he hated over sharing but it just felt so good to finally let everything out. He had liked you for ages and even confessed to you once before the two of you actually hooked up. As usual you had brushed it over and Mark settled for hooking up instead, as you were “emotionally distant” you had told him.

But the way you reacted to Jaehyun seeing someone else told a different story all together. You were just like him, your feelings weren’t considered, you were only there for a quick no strings attached, that was all.

It made Mark so mad that he decided to cut you off completely. He stopped answering your texts and tried his best to avoid you at all costs. When you tried to contact him at Joy’s Party last week he wanted to tell you everything but then he heard you tell Haechan that he was not talking to you because “he was temperamental.”

You were so careless with his feelings that he wanted nothing to do with you, but every single time he caught a glimpse of you, he just wished he could’ve ignored his feelings and just continued the way you wanted to.

“We should get back to the dorm it’s getting late” Jungwoo sighed and cleaned up the takeaway boxes and stuffed the empty soju bottle into his backpack.

Mark mumbled a yes and got to his feet even though the room spun around him. He had no idea when he had gotten so intoxicated but it numbed the pain he felt...for the moment.

Jungwoo swung open the door of 10th floor and dragged Mark in, hoping everybody would’ve been asleep by now.

“Yooooo did we miss a party or something ?” Johnny yelled from the lounge and Jungwoo groaned under his breath.

Mark looked up wondering why the fifth floor boy was here and then he noticed Jaehyun seated next him followed by you sitting up close next to Jaehyun.

“Great” Mark mumbled under his breath as Jungwoo tried his best to hold him up.

Jungwoo propped Mark up on the bar stool as he got the younger boy a glass of water to ease his state.

“What the hell happened ?” You asked, slowly approaching the kitchen yet still keeping a safe distance from Mark who was practically  sliding off the bar stool.

“Hey be careful” you scolded him, rushing to his side to prop him back onto the seat.

“Leave me alone y/n” Mark muttered as he shrugged out of your hold and propped his elbows up on the counter, burying his head in his hands.

Y/n is just trying to help man” Mark heard Jaehyun say followed by his footsteps approaching the kitchen alongside Johnny. Mark rolled his eyes and took a sip of the water Jungwoo had provided for him before pushing away from the counter and got to his feet.

“I don’t need help from any of you” Mark slurred his words as he tried to find his balance but to his dismay only had him crashing into Johnny.

“Seems like you do” Johnny pursed his lips and held the black haired boy up.

Mark uttered a few curses under his breath until you had enough and dragged him down the hallway into his bedroom and shut the door behind you.

“What the hell is wrong with you Mark Lee ?” You folded your arms as the boy stumbled back onto his bed and sunk into the soft mattress avoiding your eyes.

“Get out y/n” he said under his breath.

“No” you replied sternly and Mark groaned at your stubbornness.

“Why are you here ? Shouldn’t you be in Jaehyuns bed right now ?” Mark’s words made you frown, oblivious to his distaste toward the idea of you and Jaehyun being together.

“Mark” you cautioned and sat next to him on the bed, “can you please tell me what’s going on ?”

“You, him, us, everything” Mark rubbed his eyes and looked over at you, “y/n I’m trying to get over it and you’re not helping right now.”

“Get over what Mark ??!”

“You! Damn man, get over you” Mark yelled, his voice slightly breaking and his heavy breathing turned to soft sobs. You swallowed hard as you watched the guy you always had known to be the positive energy in the room sob over something you had done to him.

This was all your fault.

“Mark when did you-“

“Since a while ago, come on I even confessed to you” Mark wiped away his tear with his black sweater.

You Ofcourse remembered his confession but at the time you weren’t ready and neither was he, and the two of you agreed to stay friends. Then the hook up happened and in order to honor the deal of staying friends you enforced the rules. It was about two weeks of your escapades did Jaehyun kiss you unexpectedly while you were rummaging through his vinyl collection. One thing led to another and you were in his bed, allowing him to have his way with you and even let him convince you to spend the night.

You didn’t think much of it but Jaehyun was a sweet guy and for a second you entertained the idea of having a tiny crush on him, until the very next day he had mentioned Mark.

‘Mark really likes you y/n, how do you feel about him?’ Jaehyun had said while the two of you prepared breakfast.

Mark was great. He was more than great and someone like you didn’t deserve him you thought.

‘Mark’s cool’ you casually replied to Jaehyun knowing you suppressed a lot of feelings when it came to Mark, especially since you had already scrapped the idea of you two being together when he confessed.

‘I think you guys should give it a try’ Jaehyun had told you, which confirmed you and him were just going to be a one time thing.

When you had met Mark a few days later you kept thinking about what Jaehyun had said and the effect it had on you but you weren’t ready to make the first move. You went on to Mark about Jaehyun thinking he’d speak up about it and let you know that Jaehyun wasn’t good for you and you’d respond by kissing him and fixing everything,

But what happened after was not what you had planned.

You hurt him and played it off knowing Mark was head strong and he’d be back to normal the next week. You expected him to be back to his goofy self, ranting to you about God knows what and ending it with his classic “should we make out now or -“

You bit down on your lip as you looked over at Mark who had now fell asleep, his black locks falling over his swollen eyes as he peacefully fell into his slumber.

Not wanting to wake him or leave his side you opted for the floor, pulling an extra pillow from the closet and a rolled up foam mattress that was hidden at the back. Your heavy eyes finally closed but your heart still raced, not knowing how to overcome the situation you were in.

————————————————————————

A few hours later Mark felt a throbbing in his temple and winced when he noticed the first light of morning shine through his window.

All those soju shots were now a regret as Mark sat up wishing his sleep never broke. As his mind recollected his thoughts of last night he quickly remembered you were the last person he spoke to before he passed out. About to step out of bed his hazy eyes quickly cleared to the sight of you, sound asleep on his bedroom floor.

“Y/n ?” He whispered, carefully stepping over you and crouching down to meet your frame.

“Mmm” you answered, eyes still closed but shifting uncomfortably thanks to the rising sun and the wooden floor.

“Y/n sleep on my bed, I’ll close the blinds” Mark rubbed your head until your eyes slowly opened and you began making your way into the warmth of his bed.

Mark felt uneasy as he watched you tuck yourself into his bed unsure of what to do with himself or where to go.

“Mark...” you mumbled.

“Y-yeah ?”

“You should get more sleep, you have a free schedule come here” Mark watched you shift over in the bed creating a space for him to lay down next to you.

In any other circumstance he’d just do it but now it was different. After last night it was all different.

“Mark...”

“Coming...” he responded to you and slowly slipped under the covers, turning on his side to face you. He didn’t expect your eyes to be staring straight back at him.

“I’m so sorry” you said softly, lifting your hand and placed it on his cheek. Mark stayed still and quiet, still wary if you fully understood his outburst or not.

“I- don’t like Jaehyun like that, and he’s way more into you and I being together than me and him” you chuckled dryly,

“Mark I like you just as much, and I always have I’m just stupid, I was just...afraid.”

“Afraid of what ?” Mark raised his eyebrows cutely which made you smile from ear to ear and roll over onto your back to stare up at the ceiling.

“I don’t know, dating is scary and if anything happened we’ll never be friends again” you whined and you heard Mark giggle next to you,

“How can you think about what would happen if we break up before we’re even together ? That’s so stupid” He scoffed and you nudged him in his side.

“I’m serious, I’m sorry I was such a jerk and I want to continue whatever we have this time on your terms” you turned to him and Mark pressed his lips together and nodded,

“I want us to try it out, it doesn’t have to be serious, but I want you to stay over, I wanna hold your hand whenever I want” Mark pouted and enveloped his hand with yours, “and please no more Jung Jaehyun, dude can sing, cook, and God knows what else I can’t compete with.”

“You don’t have to compete because I only like you stupid, you’re perfect” you playfully pinched his cheek and Mark shifted closer to you.

“Officially dating ?” His large eyes looked up into yours,

“Officially dating” you giggled and Mark wasted no time in shifting his body until he was hovering over you. his thumb brushed over your bottom lip and he pressed his mouth against yours, sighing into the deep kiss. Your lips attacked each other excessively and passionately. Mark brought his body down onto yours as your hand tangled in his hair and the other grabbed onto his waist.

Mark pushed his hips into yours roughly, and you groaned at the friction of his Jean clothed member pushing against your core. Mark used your moan as a means to slip his tongue into your mouth as the two of you desperately tried to remove the constricting clothes between you.

“Fuck” Mark sat back on his heels and watched you reach between his legs to palm him through his jeans.

You quickly undid his button and pushed him back as he quickly shimmied out of his jeans and removed his sweater, leaving him in nothing but his black boxers.

Mark licked his lips as he watched you discard of your own clothes before bringing your face down to where his member was just begging to be touched.

Throwing his head back, Mark uttered a curse word as you pulled down his boxers and stroked his length slowly and skillfully. You watched him squirm beneath you as you teased his tip, bringing your tongue to it and flicking it while you pumped his member.

“Baby....” Mark said huskily, sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes were hooded as he looked down at your mouth wrapped around his dick, just waiting for you to suck him off.

You abided quickly and messily took him in your mouth while still using your hand to rub his length. Mark’s curses got even louder until he finally made you stop and pinned your back to the bed, looking down at you with devilish eyes.

“I’m not the one who needs to be punished here” Mark raised his brow as you shrugged innocently,

“But you’re a nice guy, you wouldn’t punish me” you pouted and Mark stuck his tongue in his cheek before giving you a quick smack on your thigh, “yeah that’s not gonna work on me.”

Your heart raced excitedly as Mark rid you of your bra and panties, spreading your legs enough for his frame to sit in between your thighs.

A shudder went through your body when Mark’s index finger traced your inner thigh and abdomen, making sure to dance close enough to your core but not giving it any attention.

“Seriously ?” You groaned, throwing your head back in frustration.

“What?” Mark asked innocently still tracing circles and tried to hide the obvious enjoyment he had from teasing you.

“Do you want me to beg you to touch me ?” You whined, arching your back hoping to somehow get to his touch.

“Hmm” Mark hummed and pulled his hand away, “sounds like a good idea.”

“Mark please touch me, please I -“ you didn’t care how desperate you sounded or if the whole dorm could hear you right now but there was nothing more you wanted than have Mark touch you.

“Okay but that’s only because I’m a nice guy” Mark smirked and slipped two fingers into your dripping core with ease. You let out a loud moan and normally Mark would silence you but right now he couldn’t care less. The more you moaned the faster his fingers moved and when you mentioned you were about to cum he added a third.

“Holy shit” you breathed as you came undone and felt even more light headed when you witnessed Mark lick his fingers clean.

Once he allowed you to catch your breath Mark positioned himself at your entrance and slowly slipped inside, the already wetness made him groan with satisfaction.

Finding his rhythm Mark began thrusting inside of you, grabbing your breast with one hand and your hip with the other to help him keep his pace.

You felt him stretch you out and it was the most exhilarating feeling having him inside you again. Mark was confident in bed and that was one of the most attractive things about him. For someone with a sweet face and an innocent demeanor he was so dominate and tantalizing in bed.

“Mark I’m gonna-“

“Me too” he grunted before flipping you over and grabbed a fist full of your hair and slammed inside of you again. The new position built your orgasm even faster as your ass hit against his abdomen every time he thrusted into you. Mark pulled you up, turning your head to the side as he bit into your shoulder and you screamed out his name continuously.

“Cum for me” Mark growled in your ear and those words were enough for you release your second orgasm. Mark quickly pulled out of you and stuffed his length into your mouth, groaning as you swallowed every bit of him and even cleaned up any remaining mess with your tongue.

“I missed that” Mark collapsed on the bed trying to catch his breath while you did the same.

“Me too” you hummed and rested your head on his chest as the two of you drifted off to a sweet slumber.

———————————————————————

It was mid day and Mark and you snuck into the bathroom to quickly clean up after a quickie in the shower Ofcourse and arrived in the kitchen where the rest of Mark’s bandmates were.

The tenth floor boys and Johnny were all enjoying their lunch but their smug faces when the two of you walked out said it all.

“Well we’re dating now, so that’s out of the way” you grabbed a fry from the table and popped it into your mouth.

“Congrats” Jungwoo clapped, more interested in the food in front of him than the announcement he obviously saw coming.

“Hey maybe they didn’t hear anything after all” Mark whispered into your ear and placed a soft kiss on your cheek before sitting down to join the meal.

You shrugged and slipped into the seat next to Johnny, and watched as Yuta, Jaehyun, and Taeil shared a quick glance and smirk,

“I really didn’t take Mark for a begging kink kind of guy”  Johnny said nonchalantly while the entire table erupted in laughter as you hid your reddened face and Mark choked on his glass of water.

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

I Don’t Like A Gold Rush || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: Jungkook is the golden boy, an excellent student, the star of you college's football team. Rumor has it, there's simply nothing he can't do. The same cannot be said about you, but you've never had an issue with that. You're happy with your small group of friends and your lack of talent in sports. And then, Jin befriends Jungkook, and you find yourself spending a lot of time with him. Before you know it, you've taken an interest in him — and you're sure you shouldn't. There's no way this can end well for you... right?

Also available on Ao3.

Word count: 17.3k

Genre: College AU, strangers to lovers, slice of life, mostly fluff

Warnings & Tags: discussed insecurities, alcohol consumption, reader almost has a panic attack at some point, shy jungkook, jungkook is bad at Feelings, Reader is bad at feelings too, mutual pining kinda, Jungkook has long hair, sfw, New Year’s Day themed.

A/N: I don’t know how I would name my stories without Taylor Swift. Anyway, this is more or less centered around the New Year (it was supposed to be more and then... it didn’t happen), and I hope you’ll enjoy it! Happy New Year everyone!

The first time you hear Jungkook’s name, it’s in the sentence “Man, is there anything Jungkook can’t do?”. You look up at your friend Jin from the book you’re studying. You have no idea who Jungkook is, but that doesn’t mean anything. Jin is always complaining about how you don’t know anyone on the campus, which you think is quite unfair.

…but then you really don’t know that many people on the campus.

“What’s going on?” you ask him, because he sounds extremely annoyed, and he shows you his phone. On it, there is a score for a basketball game. You think.

Your college is famous for its basketball team… Right?

“Uh-uh,” you still say with a nod, trying to make it look like you have any idea what you’re talking about.

“This kid is crushing it at school, the girls love him, and now this!” Jin complains, a little too loud, and shushing noises come from a spot behind you. You turn around to give the group an apologetic look. “I really shouldn’t have bet against him.”

Ah, there you know what to say.

“You really need to stop making bets. You never win them.”

Jin glares at you.

“And you are a terrible friend. You’re supposed to comfort me!”

“I’ll comfort you when you stop making the worst choices imaginable,” you mutter, going back to your work. Jungkook’s name, his supposed excellence, and that basketball match — if it even is basketball — leave your mind as fast as they entered it, without leaving a trace behind.

“So the school’s won another basketball game, huh?”

You look up at Namjoon who’s just arriving to the table, holding his tray in his hands. You know he can’t possibly be talking to you about that, so you’re not surprised when Jin appears behind him. That doesn’t stop you from throwing Namjoon a disgusted look.

“Really, Joon? Sports?”

Namjoon shoots you an amused glance from behind his glasses. It’s notorious in your friends’ group that you despise conversations around that subject. You hate anything that involves objects flying around and anything that’s played in a team, and, apparently, those are the only sports that people care about. They could discuss athletics, or swimming, which you wouldn’t enjoy but you wouldn’t hate, but that never happens.

“You were right, Jin. That Jungkook guy really is impressive.”

You tune them out. You don’t care about basketball.

“You’re talking about yesterday’s game?” Yoongi asks, coming out of thin air, and you sigh. You had been hoping you would have at least one person to talk to during lunch.

“Jungkook’s friends with Hoseok,” Jin says, leaning forward conspiratorially, which does get your attention. If that’s true, then that Jungkook guy can’t be a completely terrible person. Hoseok is probably the nicest person you’ve ever met.

That being said, he might have very low standards for his friends. You know him enough to appreciate him, not to judge his tastes.

“So I’m going to become friends with him,” Jin announces triumphantly, only to be rewarded by a chorus of groans and protests.

“But why, Jin?” you ask. “Please don’t talk about popularity. This isn’t high school anymore.”

“And that stuff was already stupid back then,” Namjoon adds, and you nod. You can always count on Namjoon to support you.

“And I hate people,” Yoongi says.

“And Yoongi hates people!” Namjoon immediately picks up. “Do you really want to make him go through that?”

You grin at the question. Yoongi’s misanthropy always comes in handy. Jin, however, is not amused, but he just shakes his head disapprovingly. He’s used to the three of you teaming up against him by now. Usually, it’s on academical subjects, but he isn’t phased by it anymore regardless of that. Not that there’s much that can phase Jin anyway.

“First of all, I said I was going to be his friend, not you lowly peasants, and second, he seems like a nice guy! Do I need another reason to want to make friends?”

You tilt your head.

“He’s protesting too much,” you say.

“I agree,” Namjoon nods. “That’s suspicious.”

“Very suspicious.”

“Come on,” Jin rolls his eyes, “do you really think that little of me?”

“And now he’s trying to guilt-trip us. Joon, can’t you analyze that conversation and figure out what it all means?”

“You know that’s not how literary analysis works, right?” Jin asks you, but you ignore him.

“Actually, it is,” Namjoon says, pushing his glasses back on his nose. “I’d say you were right with your comment,” he adds, looking at you. “I’d say… this is about parties.”

“You’re not going to actually believe—”

“Thanks, Joon,” you say, and the two of you high-five without looking at each other. Yoongi lets out an appreciate whistle.

Even if Namjoon and you aren’t being serious about this, parties actually make sense. Jin… isn’t quite a social butterfly but, unlike the three of you, he does enjoy people’s company to some degree. You know first hand that he’s been to a few this year — you had accompanied him for moral support — but they were pretty tame, and you’re aware that he at least wants to try some more intense stuff. The problem was that those were harder to be invited to. Hoseok could probably do something about it, but he tends to avoid parties on campus.

“Okay, then you should go for it,” you nod.

Yoongi and Namjoon, sitting on either side of you, approve. Jin looks a little surprised at your reaction.

“That changed your mind?”

“You said you wanted ‘the full college experience’,” Namjoon explains with a shrug. “If you think that’s part of it, we wouldn’t want to hold you back.”

“We will judge you for it, though,” Yoongi warns without batting an eyelid, pokerface perfect, and you laugh. You won’t be mean about it, of course. You just might tease him a little.

“Thank you,” Jin says. “I’ll do it, then.”

Good. If you’re lucky, it will be out of his system next time you all have lunch together.

Lady luck had never been on your side, for as long as you could remember. It wasn’t like you got the worst of things either, but usually, things that could go wrong, did go wrong. Because of that, you tried your best to remove those things from your path. Sometimes, though, you just didn’t manage to identify them.

And that’s why, when you hear Jin’s voice and look up from your food, being the first at the table as always, you see he’s accompanied by two people.

One of them has fluffy, dark brown hair, falling on either side of his face and in his eyes. He’s talking and laughing, and there’s something that you can’t help but identify as mischievous in his smile. The other is slightly taller, with jet black hair held up in a bun. He’s quiet, mouth opening for silent laughs when his friend jokes. Between them, there’s Jin, and you think that they look good together. All handsome, all holding themselves with confidence.

You had realized before that Jin felt out of place in your group, from an outside point of view at least, but it’s never been as striking as it is now, as he’s walking with people he clearly belongs with.

It makes you really thankful that he’s your friend.

“Hey,” Jin says, smiling widely, “these are—”

“You’re untying your hair before eating?” you say, looking at the guy with the bun who just sat opposite from you and took off his hair tie with a sigh. He looks up at you with wide round eyes, like you just caught him red-handed — doing what, you’re not quite sure.

That is the first thing you ever say to Jeon Jungkook.

“Um. Yes?”

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll get hair in your food?”

You know people find you too blunt sometimes, think you come off as aggressive, but you almost never intend for that to happen. In that case, you just think the logic here is a bit surprising.

“That’s… a good point, actually.”

“(Y/N),” Jin sighs, “let me introduce you to Jungkook” (he points to the man who’s now tying his hair back up) “and Taehyung.” (he points to the other guy, who’s flashing you a smile.)

“Oh,” you say, looking back at Jungkook. “You play basketball.”

He lets out an awkward laugh and avoids your eyes. Instead, he grabs his fork and focuses on it, twirling it in his hand.

“Yeah, I do— I do that.”

Huh. It takes you a second to piece things together, and you think Namjoon will be of great help once he’ll be there, but for now, one conclusion comes to you.

Jungkook is shy.

“I play basketball too,” Taehyung says, leaning over the table, grinning at you, and you can tell that it’s his way of swooping in to save Jungkook. You can appreciate that.

“She hates basketball,” Jin warns.

“That’s a strong word,” you say, but only half-heartedly, because, well, you definitely don’t like it.

“I think it works.”

“You think what works?”

Jin’s face falls while you grin. If Taehyung is Jungkook’s savior, Namjoon is yours. Your friend sends you a questioning look as he sits next to you, facing Taehyung. He gives polite nods to the two basketball players, like they sit with you at lunch every week, but you notice that he doesn’t quite meet their eyes. Namjoon is not particularly shy, nor a misanthrope like Yoongi, he just isn’t too comfortable around people he’s just met.

You and Jin, well, you’re perhaps a little too comfortable. Not everyone likes it.

“He says I hate basketball.”

“But that would imply you care about basketball.”

“Exactly.”

“And you don’t.”

“I know.”

“Which means you don’t hate basketball. As always, you’re wrong, Jin.”

Jin looks extremely, extremely done with you, but when you and Namjoon high-five, Jungkook laughs quietly and Taehyung nods in appreciation — for the gesture, not the debate.

That is the moment when Yoongi drops his tray on the table and sends a weird glance towards Taehyung and Jungkook.

“What did I miss?” he asks. His tone is a bit dry, and you see Jin’s shoulders straightening. He knows Yoongi is going to be the most difficult one to win over. Not that you’ve been won over yet, but you’re not that difficult. Usually, people don’t like you, not the other way around. You don’t blame them. You’re not sure you’d like yourself very much if you were in their place.

“Oh,” Jungkook says spontaneously, “we had a class together last year! You’re majoring in engineering, right?”

Yoongi looks at him. His eyes are shining with suspicion, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. Knowing him, he’s definitely wondering why Jungkook would even remember him.

“Right,” he finally confirms, slowly.

There’s a moment of silence, which Namjoon breaks.

“I’m a literature major, by the way.”

“That’s really cool,” Jungkook comments honestly, with the same spontaneity he displayed earlier.

“And I’m in mathematics,” you say.

“Wow. I thought you people existed only in legends,” Taehyung says while Jungkook avoids your eyes. You decide that, yeah, you like Kim Taehyung.

“Don’t say that, I like maths,” Jungkook protests, voice soft, much to your surprise — and, judging by his reaction, Taehyung’s.

You were right, you decide. Jungkook is not a completely terrible person.

You didn’t expect it to become a routine, for Jungkook and Taehyung to eat with you guys, but it does, and as time goes on, other people join your little table. You’re not sure you like that. It’s clear that those people are orbiting around Jungkook, which, good for them, but you don’t see why you need to be there for that.

You do see that Jungkook is not completely comfortable with all of it. He’s good at handling people, good at making jokes and at laughing at the right times, you notice, but there is a stiffness in his shoulders more often than not, and it looks like he’s well-trained at it rather than enjoying it. It kind of reminds you of Jin, except Jin is not as quiet the rest of the time. Taehyung obviously does his best not to let his friend deal with things alone, which is sweet, but he can’t do everything for him.

You barely exchange a word with Jungkook during that time period. You’re usually trying to be forgotten when the table is buzzing with noise, finding refuge in Namjoon and Yoongi’s company. You thought Yoongi would be an ally in reclaiming what’s always been your spot, but it quickly becomes obvious that he has a crush on Taehyung’s friend Jimin, so he never complains about the recent invasion of the table by strangers.

You hear a lot of basketball vocabulary. More than you care for, to be honest. That’s one of the few moments when Jungkook’s face lights up and he gets truly excited, with an almost childish happiness. His demeanor changes, from shy to confident, and the transformation never ceases to amaze you. As soon as the conversation ends, his shoulders fall, he smiles awkwardly, and focuses back on his food or his phone.

You’ve met his eyes a few times in those moments, because he often looks around him like he’s afraid someone’s noticed. He averts his very quickly, though, so you’ve never said anything about it.

So, really, there’s not much that changes. You still only speak to your three friends — you think Taehyung is a good person, and you don’t think he hates you, but you don’t have anything to say to each other —, and sure, you have a little less space when you eat and more noise around you, but aside from that, it’s pretty much the same. You think that’s a relief. You’re not too fond of change.

Usually, you’re pretty decent at spotting it coming. You did miss it when Jin said he was going to become Jungkook’s friend, but other than that you’re able to do your best to avoid it. You don’t see anything coming the day Taehyung calls out your name, though. You look up at him from the book Namjoon is showing you, surprised. He has an arm slung over Jungkook’s shoulders, and Jungkook isn’t looking at you, of course.

“Do you think you could explain a maths-thing to Jungkook?”

You blink at him.

“What’s the ‘maths-thing’?”

“Does it matter?”

You raise an eyebrow, and Jungkook groans. You get the feeling that he didn’t really want Taehyung to ask you about it. He sends an annoyed glance to his friend, who is still smiling brightly at you, while pushing a lock of hair out of his face. His hair is tied, but this one traitorous lock always escapes.

“I’m struggling a little with probabilities,” he admits, glancing at you for half a second. “But I’m sure I’ll be fine once I can get my head back into it, I’ve just been training a lot recently and—”

“I can help you, if you want,” you say. “I’m not the most fond of probabilities, but it should be okay.”

“Great!” Taehyung says, patting his friend’s shoulder before Jungkook can answer. “You should do that then.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Jungkook asks, actually looking at you this time. You meet his eyes, notice that he looks worried about it. You can’t figure out why.

“I really don’t,” you shrug.

He smiles at you, a small, hesitant smile, but a smile nonetheless. Probably the first one he directs at you. It’s a nice sight, you decide, and you smile back.

Jin’s sentence “is there anything Jungkook can’t do” takes all its sense on the day you meet Jungkook at the library to study. You don’t know what you expected. You never thought Jungkook was dumb or anything, but since Taehyung asked you to help, you thought he would have some difficulties, at least. However, as it turns out, he either understands immediately when you explain something to him, or he’s already understood it. He asks for some clarifications here and there, but all in all, you feel kind of useless.

“You don’t need me at all,” you say after a little while, and Jungkook looks up from the book with the worried wide-eyed look you’ve gotten used to.

“No, no, you’re doing a great job,” he protests. “You’re really helping me out here.”

“No I’m not. It’s obvious that you could do that all on your own.”

He deflates a little at that, looks away from you.

“You help,” he mumbles. “I have a hard time focusing when I’m alone.”

Oh.

That makes a lot of sense to you, actually. You’re good at focusing all of your energy on one thing, perhaps even too good, to the point where you easily get obsessed and become unable to take care of anything else, but even you need the right conditions for that.

“Okay,” you say with a nod.

Jungkook gives you an anxious look.

“So you don’t mind helping me out?” he asks, and there’s something in his voice that catches you, but you can’t tell what it is exactly. Maybe it’s the hope, or maybe it’s the fear. You don’t understand what he’d be afraid of. Worst case scenario, you would say no. That wouldn’t be the end of the world.

“We can work together,” you offer. “You can ask me if you need help for anything and I’ll just work on some other stuff.”

He seems relieved, and again, you just don’t understand it. It’s not like you’re his only option. There are plenty of people out there who could help him. Plenty of people who would jump at the opportunity of helping him. You know that, because he’s always surrounded by those people, and everybody in school seems to know him. Even when you walked into the library with him earlier, before you got to the table you’re sitting at now, a few students greeted him. You don’t see why he would attach any importance to you, specifically, helping him. You barely know each other.

“Thanks,” he says, and he gives you a small smile. For some reason, that makes you drop the subject. Instead of asking about it — which, knowing yourself, you probably would have — you shrug it off and reply with a nod.

The silence that follows feels comfortable, to you at least. You’ve never minded silence. Jin hates it, though. You get to work, watching absent-mindedly as Jungkook goes through the lesson he was working on. He does ask you a couple of questions, but it’s probably to make you feel like you’re doing something rather than because he actually needs it. You still answer them, and watch him grin, satisfied with himself, when he turns out to be right every single time.

“Are you coming to Taehyung’s party this week-end?” he asks out of the blue after about an hour.

You look up, surprised. The two of you haven’t exchanged much, and certainly have not talked about anything other than— well, other than maths. His eyes are on his notebook, as usual, and you don’t get any insight as to why he asked the question.

“I don’t know. Is Jin coming?”

“Uh, I guess? Taehyung’s probably talked to him about it.”

“Then I’m probably going.”

Jungkook mulls over your answer for a few seconds, twirling his pencil between his fingers, and you feel like you have to clarify, which is not an urge you have often. Usually, you let people decipher for themselves what you meant. That works very well with Namjoon, sometimes with Yoongi, not so great with the rest of the world. Including Jin, though Jin compensates with his impressive ability to interpret everything you say in his favor.

“We always go to parties with Jin. For moral support.”

For all that you tease him, you genuinely care for him. You know he wants you to go with him, so you do. It’s as simple as that.

Jungkook doesn’t look at you, but he still smiles at what you say, and it’s— it’s interesting. There’s something about his behavior that makes you curious, like you are when you’re trying to solve a complicated equation.

“That’s nice,” he comments.

“So… you’ll be there?” you ask. It’s taken you a long time to come up with that simple question. It often takes you a long time to find things to say to keep a conversation going. You’re pretty bad at it.

“It’s at my fraternity,” Jungkook informs you, glancing at you briefly, and you smile. This is exactly the type of party Jin wanted to go to. He’s probably happy about it. “The entire basketball team should be there.”

Great. People.

“That’s nice,” you say, because you have no idea what to add at this point. Jungkook simply nods, and the conversation dies an awkward death.

It’s another half an hour until Jungkook looks at his watch and starts putting his stuff back in his bag.

“I have to go to practice,” he tells you, clearly in a hurry. “Can we— Would you mind if—”

“We can do this again. If that’s what you meant.”

He gives you a bright smile, and that actually surprises you. He looks relieved that you finished his sentence for him.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely.

And just like that, he’s gone, practically running out of the library. For someone who talks as little as he does, he sure leaves a void when he goes away, you think, looking at the empty chair.

But you quickly shrug it off. You’re used to being alone. You like being alone.

Jungkook isn’t going to change that.

You realize very quickly that, while accompanying Jin to parties was never something you particularly enjoyed, going to this one was downright a mistake.

You have this unspoken rule, with your friends, that you shouldn’t stick together the entire time. You’re supposed to wander off, find something to do for yourself, maybe talk to some people. Get that college experience. You’ve never had a problem to do that, even if you ended up quietly sipping soda in a corner more often than not.

Here, though, you simply cannot shake off the fact that you don’t belong here, that this is not your scene. The people here are loud, energetic, garish. They make you feel like a black and white picture, like a silent movie. You want to run away, but you can’t. You don’t want to leave Jin, Namjoon or Yoongi behind, even if you doubt they’re having the same kind of problems you do. You’re pretty sure you saw Yoongi talking with Jimin, and last time you saw Namjoon, you think a cheerleader was holding him by the hand and leading him out of the room. You don’t know what Jin’s doing, but you’re trusting that he’s okay.

You walk around aimlessly, find Jungkook and Taehyung playing beer-pong with some people. Maybe you should be happy to see people you know, but you’re not. If anything, it only drives the point home even more to see them so comfortable: you don’t belong here. Your chest tightens, and you turn around. You need a little peace and quiet. You need to get away.

“(Y/N)!”

You jump at the sound of your name. No one’s said it since you’ve entered the house. No one knows you here.

Except Jungkook, who’s right behind you.

He’s more confident than usual, and you guess, based on his slightly hazy eyes, that it has a lot to do with alcohol.

“Are you having fun? How long have you been here? It’s nice to see you!”

He’s speaking fast, excitedly, and as he does, he runs his fingers through his hair, which he’s let down. It looks good on him, you decide, even as you reply to him with a tense smile.

“Hey, you should join us, we’re—”

“Do you have a closet somewhere?”

Jungkook blinks.

“A closet?”

“Yeah.”

There are probably very few things that are less weird than asking a guy if he has a closet you can get into because you’re on the verge of having a panic attack and you can’t stay outside surrounded by people a second longer.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything about it, though. He just leads you through the house and opens the door to a closet for you. You get inside without giving it much more thought, and he looks at you, puzzled. He’s actually looking at you, which you decide confirms that he is drunk.

“Do you— Are you waiting for someone?”

“No,” you say. “I just need a little break.”

He thinks about your answer for a while, probably longer than needed, and nods.

And then, he gets into the closet with you and closes the door.

Inside, it’s dark, with only a ray of light coming in. You can’t see his face, which doesn’t help you understand why he just did that. The space is cramped, and you can smell alcohol coming from his breath, can feel the heat radiating from his body, but it doesn’t bother you that much. It’s still better in here than outside.

“Why did you do that?”

“I thought I would keep you company. Like you’re here to keep company to Jin, you know?”

He’s drunk, definitely, and yet you feel genuinely touched by his words. You shouldn’t, because you doubt they hold that much meaning, but you can’t help it. You don’t need company, but that’s besides the point. His intentions are what matters.

“Thank you,” you say.

“It’s not a problem. You’re helping me with my maths.”

Your first reaction is to laugh at that, because it feels completely unprompted, but then the logic of the reasoning kind of appears to you.

“I mean it!” Jungkook protests. “You haven’t talked about how I’m good at everything or how I’m the one who should help you.”

You frown.

“You shouldn’t help me. You’re good at maths, but I’m better than you.”

It’s Jungkook’s turn to laugh, and just like his earlier smile, it takes you completely by surprise. It’s not one of those quiet laughs that he usually has. It’s light and pleasant, and you briefly wonder what his face looks like when he laughs like that. You kind of want to see it.

“You’re a scary person,” he tells you when he’s stopped laughing. “You always say those things directly. It’s like you don’t even care.”

You’ve heard that before. Well, you haven’t been called scary until now, but people have said that you were intimidating. You, personally, believe you’re the least threatening person to have ever walked this Earth. You couldn’t hurt a fly if you wanted to.

Jungkook makes some sense here, though. Your filter is very limited, and there are a lot of things you say that feel acceptable to you, and that other people… don’t think are acceptable. You don’t mean to do it. It just happens.

“I think you’re good at a lot of things, though,” you say slowly.

Jungkook lets out a long sigh and then you hear him sliding down to the ground. You hesitate for about half a second before joining him down there. You fold your legs, holding your knees against your chest while you wait for him to say something.

“People are always saying that,” he finally mumbles. “But what if I’m not that good? What if I fail one day?”

It’s strange. You understand what he’s saying, understand the feeling of pressure, but you don’t understand the emotions that should come with it. In your case, you know that no one holds you to a higher standard than you do. It can be unhealthy, the way you can torture yourself if you don’t meet the standards you’ve set for yourself, but at least you’re the only one you have to answer to. Obviously, it’s not Jungkook’s case.

“Then you’ll try again,” you say, because that’s what you do when you fail. “Or, if you think it’s not that important, you won’t.”

“But what will they say?” he insists. “What if we lose the next game? Or the one after that? What if I fail a class? I can’t get anything done these days.”

“You’ll be fine,” you say soothingly, half-wondering how you ended up here, comforting the college’s golden boy in a closet after fighting off a panic attack. “It’s not like you’re the only one in your team. People will understand.”

You think they will. You hope they will. They should.

“You would understand.”

It’s true, but then, you really do not care for basketball, and it’s not like you have that sort of expectations for Jungkook. You wouldn’t think much of it, if he failed at something tomorrow. If it was the maths test you’ve helped him with, you would be surprised, but that’s because you saw him studying and it was obvious he had understood everything, not because you think he can inherently succeed at everything he does.

Which you guess might be the heart of the problem here.

You reach out to put your hand on his shoulder. It’s not that easy in the dark, and you wonder for a second if you’ve grabbed something else, until you feel hair tickling your skin. Yup, you were right.

“You have the right not to be good at something every once in a while,” you say softly. “No one can be on top of their game all of the time.”

You hear what sounds like a choked sob.

“I like that they’re counting on me, you know? I like that I’m helping them out by playing. I just— I don’t know what’s going to happen when I stop being as good.”

He said when, not if, and that breaks your heart.

Without thinking about it, you slide your hand down his arm and grab his hand. You squeeze it in yours, gently, and then you inch closer to put your head on his shoulder. You remember reading that physical touch was good for people who were in emotional pain. You hope it helps him.

“You locked yourself in here with me because you thought I needed company,” you whisper. “There’s so much more to you than just being good at sports or having good grades. And if people don’t see that, it’s their loss. Because you’re a great person.”

He hums, but the sound is quiet, and it’s then that you realize how tense he is.

Shit. You must have crossed a boundary. You start to remove your hand, but he closes his fingers around yours, keeping you in place. He’s still tense, you can feel it everywhere his body touches yours. But he doesn’t let go.

“You mean that,” he says. There are so many emotions in his voice that you can’t identify them all. Relief, happiness, amusement… You don’t know where to start.

“I usually mean what I say.”

“I’ve noticed,” he says, and you can hear the smile that’s dancing on his lips.

He’s still not letting go of your hand, but you don’t mind. Staying here, with Jungkook, in this small closet is as good a way of spending your evening as anything else you could do out there.

So you stay.

“Where did you all vanish Saturday?” Jin asks, and Namjoon, Yoongi and yourself immediately find your food a lot more interesting. You exchange panicked glances that mean ‘did none of you stay around? This was poorly coordinated’ before finally daring to look up.

“I talked to Jimin,” Yoongi says, face as inexpressive as always.

“I played some beer-pong with Taehyung,” Namjoon says.

That leaves only you.

“I talked to Jungkook,” you tell Jin. That is technically true. It omits the part where the two of you were together in a closet, but if you said that, there would be a lot of questions you don’t really want to answer to. Somehow, you think you would be more embarrassed to tell them that there was nothing going on there than if you told them you hooked up with him. You’re not sure why.

“Jungkook disappeared for a long time,” Jin says, narrowing his eyes at you.

You do your best to keep a straight face while you poke at your salad. You don’t want anyone here to have the wrong idea, and you finally manage to put your finger on what you’re afraid of. Humiliation. You’d feel humiliated at having to tell them that nothing happened and that there is nothing Jungkook could possibly see in you. They would be nice to you, of course they would, but you don’t want to see the look in their eyes.

“Did he? Maybe that was after I left. I didn’t stay that long.”

That’s a lie.

“Really?” Jin asks, clearly skeptical. “I think I saw you there pretty late.”

Maybe when you went down to get some snacks and drinks to bring back to the closet. Damn Jungkook and his stomach.

“Well, that depends what you mean by ‘late’ and ‘long’,” you say.

That’s you calling Namjoon for help, and he recognizes your SOS for what it is. From the way Jin’s face falls, so does he.

“She’s right,” Namjoon comments, so nonchalant you would almost believe he’s doing it naturally. “What is ‘late’, really? Isn’t it always—”

“Please stop,” Jin groans, burying his face in his hands. “Just because you’re a literature major doesn’t mean you’re the only one who understands words.”

“Actually it does,” you say with a nod. “That’s exactly what it means.”

You start lifting your hand for a high-five, relieved Jin’s attention is off you, but he sends the two of you a dark glare.

“You two are unbearable. Don’t do that.”

“We have to,” you protest. You would hate to miss a chance to high-five Namjoon.

“No you don’t, you—”

“Actually they do,” Yoongi says, and your jaw drops. Yoongi never intervenes, and you had always thought that if he did, it wouldn’t be in your favor. “That’s exactly how gravity works.”

Jin looks like his soul has left his body. He only comes back to himself after you, Yoongi and Namjoon have all exchanged high-fives.

“I hate you,” he says, sounding terribly tired. “I hate every single one of you.”

“Sorry Jin,” you smile warmly.

“No you’re not. You’re the worst.”

Except he sounds fond, affectionate, and you laugh before going back to your salad. You miss the quick glances your three friends exchange after that. They’ve all noticed you eluding and changing the subject. They don’t want to rush you, know you would hate it and that it’s better to drop it.

But they’ve noticed.

Working with Jungkook on Wednesday afternoons easily becomes a habit, so easily you don’t even notice it until it’s something you look forward to during the week. It adds to the time you already spend eating with him and Taehyung. Jungkook is, slowly, starting to become a part of your life. It’s a thought you refuse to dwell on, because it sounds so strange.

The Wednesdays afternoons are something special, though. You and Jungkook don’t really talk at lunch, even if he’s clearly more relaxed around you now, which you suspect is the reason why you’re ‘Taehyung-approved’. On Wednesdays, you— Well, you don’t talk much, either, but it’s different. It’s a time that only belongs to the two of you. You like that.

You slowly find out things about him, his family, his life. It’s never the main subject of conversation, but it makes you feel like you’re solving a puzzle.

“My father wanted me to focus on my classes and forget about basketball,” he comments once. “But I could do both.”

It makes you laugh, because he says it with obvious satisfaction, but it also makes you wonder if there’s more to it. Jungkook doesn’t add anything, though, and you don’t want to probe into his life, so you don’t ask. After that, small pieces of the puzzle keep falling into place.

“My high school coach told me I could train more if I didn’t work so hard for school.” But he could do both.

“My friends said I never hung out with them anymore and that I shouldn’t work so hard.” So he did both.

It’s always the same story. People telling him things, giving him opinions on what the should and shouldn’t do, and him stretching himself thinner and thinner. It’s almost a miracle he’s still doing as well as he is, honestly.

But his tone changes when he talks about his former relationships. He’s usually light and genuine, sharing with you just because. It’s clear that, as much as the stories make you frown, he doesn’t have an issue with them, and you guess that’s all that matters. The first time he says something about an ex-girlfriend of his, though, he’s guarded, almost careful. He sounds like he doesn’t want to tell you.

“My ex said I worked too much.”

He doesn’t add anything. Whatever it was she wanted, he couldn’t do it and work. Didn’t manage to do both. After that, he doesn’t look at you for the rest of the day, like he did when you first met.

You never get a name for the girlfriend. He talks about relationships again, but you don’t even know if he’s always talking about the same one. You doubt it, though, and it only makes things worse.

“My ex wanted me to attend fewer practices.”

“My ex said I didn’t care enough to make time for her.”

“My ex dumped me after I lost a game.”

That last one hurts you, because you remember him crying in the closet because of that exact fear. You want to take his hand again, but you can’t dare to.

“She’s stupid for that,” you say instead.

Jungkook looks surprised first, because you never comment on what he’s telling you, then a smile slowly forms on his lips.

“If the only reason she was with you was because you won a lot of games, you’re better off without her,” you add.

“That’s what Taehyung said.”

“Taehyung’s right.”

Jungkook goes quiet for a little while after that, to the point that you look up, worried that you might have offended him. When you do, he’s looking at you, something you can’t identify shining in his eyes.

“Everything okay?”

He blinks like he’d just woken up for a dream, then nods. He doesn’t tell you that he hadn’t believed what Taehyung said — until you said it and he looked at you and thought that yeah, maybe he was better off without her indeed.

You’re surprised to run into Jungkook late one night, as you’re walking back to your dorm. It shouldn’t shock you — you do go to the same college — but you’re so used to only ever seeing him in the library or the cafeteria that meeting him outside is almost confusing. At least he seems taken aback as well, if the way his already round eyes widen is anything to go by.

Then, his surprised face morphs into a smile, and a wave of warmth hits you without a warning. You don’t get any time to think about it before he waves at you. His shyness is not completely gone, and you see him waver, hesitate, even as he’s walking up to you. You’re quick to close the gap between you, meeting him in the middle. Just in case.

“Hey,” he says, voice a little raspy. He has what you identify as a sports bag, slung over his shoulder, and you wonder what he was doing out so late. You were working at the library until it closed, which is far from being rare for you, but that obviously wasn’t his case.

“Hey,” you reply, smiling back. “Were you— training?”

Amusement flashes in his eyes at the careful way you chose your words, afraid to get it wrong. As he grew more comfortable around you, he also started making fun of you for not knowing the first thing about basketball. Strangely, you don’t mind that much.

“I was at the gym,” he says. “Practice was earlier today.”

“Oh,” is all you can muster. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do. Should you ask what he was doing at the gym? The answer would only leave you with more questions, you’re sure.

You’re still debating it when Jungkook clears his throat. He reaches for his ponytail and undoes it, shaking his head so the hair fall back into place. The sight is— interesting. Pretty. You’re not sure why you’re so fascinated by it.

“Do you want me to walk you back to your dorm?” he asks, slight concern in his voice. “It’s late.”

“Is it on your way back?” you question, frowning. You would hate to be a bother.

“No, but—”

“I’m fine, then. I do that several times a week, I’ve never had a problem.”

That was, apparently, not the thing to say. Jungkook only looks more worried now.

“Several times a week? That’s really not careful.”

“I don’t see a problem, there’s no one around.”

“That’s exactly my p—” He stops and shakes his head, but gives a look you’ve seen before. A lot. It’s a look that says ‘I can’t believe someone as smart as you can also be so stupid’, in those exact terms. “Expected value,” he then says, and your eyes widen a little. Maths! Great. You can do maths. “Let’s say there’s a 99% chance nothing happens. Your gain is still minimal.”

Well, you get to study late and enjoy a walk home alone at night, but you’re willing to humor him.

“But in the one per-cent where something bad happens…”

He doesn’t have to finish his sentence. You know exactly where this is going, and you let out a sigh. He’s not wrong. On that aspect, at least.

“Fine.”

He grins widely.

“I just beat you at maths.”

“You didn’t beat me, I—”

“I just beat you at maths!”

You roll your eyes, choose to let him have that. It’s not going to change anything to your behavior after tonight, because the day has not come where you’ll let probabilities rule your life, but, after all, you don’t mind sharing your night walk with him.

Jungkook starts showing up to walk you home whenever he can. It’s not every time, which you’re kind of thankful for — you like his company, but you like being alone just as much, and you need a healthy dose of that every week —, but it does happen regularly. You find him sitting in front of the library, freezing cold, and you take pity on him, buying him a coffee from the vending machine inside, seconds before they lock the building.

That’s how you find out he likes his coffee tasting as little like coffee as possible.

Sometimes, he joins you later, and you hear him jogging to catch up with you. You don’t have the heart to tell him that that defeats the purpose of everything he’s doing, because it’s absolutely terrifying.

As the days turn into weeks, the air becomes colder, and you start seeing Christmas decorations appearing over the campus. You don’t know who is in charge of doing that, but they must be excited about it, because tinsel and few strings of fairy lights start appearing around the campus at the end of November. Jungkook is delighted by it, and you enjoy watching his reactions. You’re not big on Christmas, personally. You enjoy the tradition, the gift-giving, spending time with your family — you’re visiting them briefly this year — but you mostly see Christmas as an excuse for all of that. Jungkook loves it, though, and you decide that his excitement makes you like the season a little more.

“Hey, we should make a stop,” he tells you one night.

You look at him like he’s crazy. It’s the middle of December and it’s already half past nine. You’re cold, it’s dark outside, and you want to go home.

“A stop?” you repeat.

“Oh, c’mon,” he says, and he has that wide, childish grin that you’ve seen only a handful of times. You haven’t learned how to resist it yet. “C’mon!”

You sigh. But you follow.

As it turns out, he takes you just a little way off your usual trajectory. Behind a building you’ve never really paid attention to, Jungkook leads you to a small basketball court. You eye the place suspiciously. It’s empty, well lit, but you never know. A ball might come out of nowhere to hit you in the face, as they had a tendency to do when you were in high school and playing for a team that had picked you last.

By the time you turn around to tell Jungkook that, okay, you’ve seen it, let’s go home now, he’s taken off his coat and pulled a basketball out of his bag. You don’t even want to ask. His grin is even wider than earlier.

“C’mon,” he says.

“Absolutely not.”

“Let me show you, okay?”

You want to say no but— It can’t hurt, right? And Jungkook loves basketball, and you’re his— friend or something, so you should try to take some interest in it.

You take off your coat and let him lead you onto the court. There, you watch him as he dribbles in what you guess is an effective way (you can’t know for sure, you’re barely able to catch the ball after it’s bounced once so your standards are incredibly low), and then demonstrates his ability to score a handful of times. It’s not that you’re not impressed — again, you can’t do anything with this unpredictable, devilish round thing — but you also can’t say this is a quality you think much of.

You liked it a lot better when he convinced you to let him walk you home by talking about the expected value.

“You want to try?” he offers, holding the ball out for you.

You would rather die.

But you take the ball from his hand and eye the basket like it’s personally offended you. That makes Jungkook laugh.

“You can get closer than that,” he says.

You hold back a groan, aim and, of course, fail. It’s almost a relief. You can cross that off your list, again, just like you did as a kid first, then as a teenager. You’re bad at sports, always have been and, considering the effort you’re putting into it those days, always will be. That’s something you can count on.

Before you can say anything, Jungkook’s caught the ball and is running back towards you.

“Okay, let me show you.”

Is he going to— No, he’s just demonstrating it. You’re kind of disappointed not to get your typical ‘guy teaching girl anything sports related’ moment, disappointed that he doesn’t come to stand behind you to show you like they do in movies, but you can’t unpack that right now. You do watch with some degree of interest as he shows you how to position yourself.

“So you really aim for the line above the basket, not the basket, okay?”

“If you think that just because I aim for something I hit it…”

He chuckles, then gives the ball back to you, and you sigh. This. This is why you hate sports. It’s not the one-off failure, that would be fine on its own. It’s the constant humiliation whenever you even try it. You’re going to fail this attempt, and the next one, and the one after that. You’re a lost cause. You’re fine with it, too, but you don’t particularly want to go through that again.

You do your best, though. Not because you think it will change something, but because you kind of want to prove that this isn’t all you. That, even if you’re trying your hardest, there’s just something that refuses to let you score or do it right.

“Wait!” Jungkook walks over to you, puts his hand on your back, and you freeze. “You need to straighten yourself a little,” he says, placing his hand between your shoulder blades, and you nod. His hand is warm and large, you can feel it even over your sweatshirt. “There.”

He removes the hand, and you’re left a little off balance without him by your side. You shake your head quickly, shoot, and, without any surprise, miss.

Jungkook is on the ball just as fast as before, but you’re as quick as him to grab your coat and put it back on. You’re already feeling warm all over, though.

“You don’t want to try again?” he asks, sounding genuinely disappointed.

Of course, you take pity on him.

“Maybe next time,” you say.

He gives you a bright smile, so genuinely happy, and you know that you won’t be able to deny him next time either.

Jin is the reason you’re here, and that is the version you will stick with. No, you didn’t want to go see a basketball game, even if Jungkook is playing. No, you didn’t feel the slightest bit curious about it. No, you would not be there if Jin hadn’t asked. It’s Jin’s fault if you’re here on a Friday night instead of being, well, at your place, likely doing something equally as unproductive.

You don’t even understand what is going on in the field. There’s a lot of running and throwing the ball, that’s for sure, but then, you’ve just learned that scoring from different places in the field and at different moments will not earn the players the same amount of points.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen your friends look at you with such consternation as when they had to explain it to you.

In that situation, you can’t say that you get much from looking at the field. You definitely follow Jungkook with your eyes, cheer and clap when he scores, and let out cries of disappointment with the rest of the crowd when he doesn’t, but truly, the only way you have any idea what’s going on is by looking at the score board. And the truth is, that score is a little too close for comfort.

You hate that it has that much of an impact on you, but it stresses you out. Your leg bounces on the floor, an habit of yours Jin hates, but he’s too focused to notice, which is only more stressful. Jin always notices, and if it doesn’t, it must mean that the situation is dire.

The remaining seconds are slowly ticking down. Jungkook’s team is ahead by only one point, which means that if the other team scores, they will win. You think. You’re not entirely sure, but for your defense, you’ve just heard about it. Jungkook seems to be everywhere on the field. Taehyung is his shadow, perhaps not as noticeable or as spectacular in his actions, but certainly effective.

Again, you have no knowledge of basketball whatsoever.

Jin grabs your thigh, and only then do you realize that something’s happened. The action was so quick, so smooth, that you missed it entirely — but maybe you were also kind of thinking of something else.

Someone from the other team — you don’t even know your school’s team’s players, you’re not going to learn the other ones — just made a break for it. Based on what you can tell, Taehyung blocked his path, pushing him straight into Jungkook’s arms. In a movement you cannot begin to comprehend, Jungkook takes the ball from him, without ever stopping his run.

After that, he’s unstoppable.

He crosses the field, looking almost like he’s dancing in the way he avoids his opponents, and, of course, scores.

The time falls to zero. The crowd stands up like one man, screaming and shouting, and you yourself find yourself jumping up to hug Jin. He hugs you back, but the two of you quickly separate, patting each other’s backs awkwardly.

Jin starts talking with Namjoon and Yoongi, but you tune them out — it’s not like you understand what they’re saying anyway — to look at the field. The players have lifted Jungkook on their shoulders and he’s laughing, holding on to them so he doesn’t fall, and you grin.

“Come on,” Jin says, “let’s go congratulate him!”

That sounds like a terrible idea, you think. You won’t be the only ones, as the crowd has already invaded the field, and you doubt you’ll be able to get very close.

You still follow him. You alternate between clinging to his arm and to his shoulders so you don’t lose him, and trust him to elbow his way through the crowd. You hear him apologizing profusely in front of you, but he does not stop. Slowly, you make it down. Once you’re off the stairs, people are not as compactly gathered, and you can just walk between them. Jin grins at you, and you give him a thumbs up. Yeah, he did good here. You can give him that.

“Hey, Jungkook!” he calls out.

Jungkook was talking with some girls, but he looks up at the sound of his name, excuses himself, and jogs towards the two of you.

And it is then, in the few seconds it takes him to get to you, that it hits you. Like a ton of bricks.

You had known that Jungkook was objectively attractive, of course. There was no ignoring that. But Jin was objectively attractive, too, and that had never changed anything between the two of you. With Jungkook, right now, it does. His skin is glistening with sweat, and he wipes his chin with his shirt, and oh no, you can see his well-defined biceps and the line of his abs, and some hair is escaping from his ponytail, and he’s grinning with a happy, proud smile, and his eyes are shining and—

Jungkook is hot. That’s your realization. You had been aware of it, technically, but it’s like it only clicks for you at that exact moment.

“You came,” he tells you with a bright smile, and you can feel your entire face heating up. You pray that it’s not visible.

“Yeah,” you squeak out. “Great, um, great game?”

It sounds like an interrogation because you have no idea if it was one. It looked difficult, but maybe that was because they played terribly today. You don’t know that.

Jungkook’s smile widens a little, and you know that he has you all figured out. He knows you don’t understand the first thing about this whole thing.

“Thanks,” he still says.

His chest is still heaving quickly, and it draws your attention to his— his everything. The way he’s leaning towards you as he’s trying to catch his breath doesn’t help either. You wait for Jin to say something, to save you, but when you look around, you realize the traitor has abandoned you completely.

Okay, he hasn’t technically abandoned you, he’s just gone to congratulate Taehyung, but it’s the same difference.

You hear someone else calling Jungkook’s name before you’ve figured out what to say. He looks around, then gives you an apologetic look.

“Sorry, I—”

“No problem, you should— I have to go anyway.”

This is not like you. You’re an awkward person, and you struggle in social situations, but you don’t usually trip over your words like that. You kind of hate it.

“Okay, so, um, I’ll see you…?”

“Wednesday, yeah. Or— before. At lunch. If you’re there.”

This is terrible.

“Okay.” Jungkook gives you one last smile, and then he’s off, and you’re standing alone in the middle of a crowd. Your chest is heavy and it feels painful.

You hate this.

It’s only after that that you start realizing how big of a part Jungkook now plays in your life. He walks you home at night sometimes. You eat with him once or twice a week. You study together for an entire afternoon on Wednesdays. He’s just— everywhere. And it’s not that it’s a bad thing, because the feeling you get when you see him is a pleasant one, but it is disconcerting. It’s something that you have no control over whatsoever and that’s not— that’s not good for you.

You realize how much attention you were already paying to him, too, which is even more annoying. The signs were there. You should have understood this sooner. If you had, maybe you could have prevented it.

Because that’s the thing. You know the situation is ridiculous. You believe Jungkook sees you as a friend, and you’re happy with that, but there is no way he thinks of you as anything else. That is not an idea you should even begin to entertain. You can handle rejection, you’re used to it in so many aspects, though it’s rarely romantic, but you cannot take getting your hopes up only for them to be crushed.

The thing is, you can’t help it at this point, can’t force your feelings back in. There is so much to like about him. The way he plays with his hair, the quiet laughs when he’s in public, the loud ones when he’s walking you home, the sparkle in his eyes when he asks you a question in maths and it turns out he already had it right, the look on his face when he talks about basketball,… There’s so much.

You briefly consider avoiding him, but that’s not really an option. You like being his friend. You see your feelings as annoying, pesky little things that have no business being there in the first place. You don’t even hate the rush that goes through you when you see him, the way just looking at him brings a smile to your lips that you simply can’t hold back.

But you really, really hate the wishful thinking. The hope.

The feelings are fine, as long as you don’t think too hard about it. As long as he doesn’t have a girlfriend. Because that would break your heart.

And it’s only a matter of time before that happens.

You really considered declining when Jin asked you to come to this New Year’s party. Your last experience had effectively convinced you that those new parties he was getting invited to were not for you. That was fine, to each their own, but that did mean you didn’t really want to go. He clearly didn’t need you there anyway. You didn’t even know why he asked.

But he did, and he insisted, and he gave you his best puppy eyes, and that’s the thing about Jin: he’s very, very good at giving puppy eyes.

So that’s why you’re there, wearing a red dress that’s way too flashy for you, leaning against a wall and staring into the void. You feel empty and, though you’re not alone, lonely. You’re surrounded by strangers, and there are people everywhere in the house, but you don’t know them, and you can’t just start a conversation with them. It’s not something you do, it’s not even something you want.

You haven’t felt the urge to lock yourself inside a closet yet, though, so you guess that’s an improvement compared to last time.

Looking around, you can see Jimin, perched on the counter, listening to Yoongi talk with a smile on his face. Jin is somewhere else in the room and, though you can’t see him, you sometimes hear him, so you know he has his flirting voice on. Namjoon is nowhere to be seen, but that’s probably a good sign. He always get lucky at those parties. You don’t know how he does it. It’s impressive, honestly. Hoseok showed up earlier, and everyone greeted him like he was a star — which is kind of accurate, actually, at the campus’ scale.

You know, of course, that Jungkook and Taehyung, as inseparable as ever, are by the pool table. You also hate that you know it, because now your mind is constantly wondering if it’s weird that you haven’t been there yet, or if it would be weird to show up. Neither, probably, because exactly no one cares except for you, but you’re the master of torturing yourself with useless considerations.

God, you hate having a crush. It’s just so— unpractical. You also hate that you didn’t see that one coming, and that you didn’t do anything about it until it was too late. Usually, you’re pretty good at nipping those kinds of feelings in the bud. Now, you can only wait it out.

With a sigh, you push yourself away from the wall to wander aimlessly around the house. You promised Jin you’d stay until midnight, and you intend to keep that promise. It’s not like there’s anything for you to do, but still, that way you can look like you’re doing something and look a little less weird. Or maybe you don’t. It doesn’t really matter anyway.

Passing in front of the room with the pool table, you realize that Jungkook is gone. Taehyung is still there, playing with Hoseok, both looking pretty wasted, but Jungkook has vanished. That’s not good. You don’t want him to spring up on you out of nowhere like he did last time. You won’t know how to react if that happens, probably fumble for words, and it will be very unpleasant and very embarrassing for everyone.

You consider finding another closet, then decides against it. There’s just fifteen minutes left until midnight, anyway. That’s not too long. You can just wait it out.

You slowly make your way through the house. No sign of Jungkook anywhere. Maybe he left. Maybe he’s already back to the pool table and you missed him completely. Maybe he’s locked himself in a room with a girl and—

Oh you hate this. You hate feeling jealous. You hate that you have no control over it, you hate that it makes you sad, you hate that you have no right to feel like that. Jungkook isn’t yours. He’s probably even considered you for anything. You should consider yourself lucky you’re even friends with him in the first place.

You do your best to push everything out of your mind. Alcohol has never looked more tempting, but you don’t want the hangover with the morning, so you ignore the inviting bottles of beer and walk out.

It’s freezing — of course it’s freezing, it’s December you idiot, is there anything you can do right tonight — and you shiver, but you stay there. The cold is both numbing and soothing, and while you’re mentally complaining about it, you’re not thinking about anything else, so that’s good.

The door opens and closes behind you, and you guess someone is coming out to smoke. You move over to give them some space, but just as you do that, a jacket falls over your shoulders. You jump at first, and then the warmth makes you sigh in relief.

“You shouldn’t go out without a coat,” Jungkook says, because of course it’s him.

“I feel that you’ve been scolding me a lot recently,” you chuckle, glancing up at him.

He pouts, buries his hands in his pockets. He’s obviously cold as well, but at least his shirt covers his arms.

It also hugs his muscles real nice, but that’s besides the point.

“That’s because you make very poor decisions,” he mutters, looking at his feet. “You have to realize that.”

“You’re right. I could have taken my coat outside.”

“You know that walking back all alone in the middle of the night is way worse,” he protests, and then you laugh, because that’s exactly what you wanted, and he goes quiet for a second. “Don’t make fun of me,” he mumbles, looking away from you again.

“I’m not,” you say, and you take a step in his direction so you can bump your shoulder against his. “You shouldn’t worry that much, but I think it’s nice that you do. I was just trying to get a rise out of you.”

“That worked really well,” he says, and he sounds surprised about it. You wonder if it’s because he usually doesn’t get angry for stuff, but you can’t tell for sure. “Hey, you—”

People start shouting numbers inside, and you turn around to look at them.

“It’s midnight,” you say.

“Five!”

You look up at Jungkook. He’s significantly taller than you. Not as much as Namjoon, but still.

“Four!”

Jungkook looks back at you, smiles, and it takes your breath away. His hair looks very good like that, you think absent-mindedly, with the way it falls on either side of his face.

“Three!”

It’s too late to go back inside now. It would definitely be a weird thing to do. Which means you’re here, alone, with Jungkook.

“Two!”

Your eyes flicker to his lips. You wonder what it would be like to kiss them. You haven’t let yourself even consider it before, but right now your brain isn’t functioning all that well. Probably because of how loud your heart is beating in your chest.

“One!”

You look back up and his eyes are wide and focused on you. There’s that same tension in his shoulders as when you first met him, except, back then, he couldn’t look at you, and now it seems that he can’t look away.

“Happy new year!”

You decide you shouldn’t think about your next move. You get on your tiptoes to plant a kiss at the corner of his lips, right at the border between friends and something else, but he leans forward right at that moment, and his hands cup your face, and then he’s kissing you.

It’s like an explosion. You don’t know what you should focus on. How warm he is, how soft and large his hands are, how his lips move against yours, how he tastes, or simply the fact that he’s kissing you, Jungkook is kissing you!

The door slams open, and the two of you move away in a jump.

“Happy new year Jungkook!” Taehyung shouts, obviously drunk, soon joined by several other members of the basketball team. If he’s seen what happened, he doesn’t say anything, and you doubt Taehyung would have that kind of control over himself.

Soon, Jungkook is surrounded and they start to drag him back inside. He gives you a brief, apologetic look, then follows them, laughing. You remain there, frozen, unsure of what to do. You take a hesitant step towards the door, only to see a girl planting kisses on his cheeks while he blushes. What gets to you, though, is the arm he’s wrapped around her, the way he’s tracing circles on the naked skin of her shoulder. It makes the gesture look… intimate. Personal.

You let out a brief, bitter laugh, that there is fortunately no one to hear. You feel confused, but mostly, you feel stupid.

Fuck that.

It doesn’t take long for you to drop the jacket onto a chair and find your coat. You wish a happy new year to Namjoon, when you pass by him on your way out, and he looks a little surprised, like he hasn’t heard the shouting. You don’t want to know what he could have been up to.

You’ve kept your end of the bargain, you think as you leave. Jin won’t be able to complain to you. You feel some petty sort of satisfaction when you step outside and find yourself alone alone, finally. You like this. You like being alone. You’ve never asked for anything else.

You give one last look to the party, then vanish into the night. You’re better off on your own anyway.

“I don’t think I’ll be coming,” you say, nonchalantly, as everyone around the table is talking animatedly about a party for the next week-end.

You had hoped it would go unnoticed in the middle of the conversation, but, unfortunately, that doesn’t go as planned. Taehyung turns horrified eyes towards you, Jin, Namjoon and Yoongi all look surprised, and Jungkook… You don’t know how to read him. There’s that surprise, as well, but then he looks down before you can tell anything else. Not that that changes much. He’s barely looked at you today.

You haven’t talked to him since New Year’s Eve. You had other things on your mind, and then he didn’t show up at the library last Wednesday.

“What do you mean, you won’t be coming?” Jin asks. “You always come to parties.”

You shrug. You don’t miss the alarmed looks your friends are exchanging, and you’re sure Namjoon can see through you. Because it’s not like you to do something like that, whatever reason you may give.

“I don’t like them. They’re too loud, and I can’t say that I really enjoy standing alone for half the night.”

“You could stay with us,” Namjoon offers.

“And watch you pick up a girl every time? No thank you,” you reply with a disgusted shiver.

“You could stay with me,” Yoongi says.

You give him a look, and he grimaces, backing down immediately. Okay. He can see why you wouldn’t want that either. Plus he’s pretty sure that Jimin and him are about to get it on after weeks of flirting, so it’s probably not a great idea.

“What about me?” Jin asks. He doesn’t sound as energetic as usual, his voice almost quiet, and you realize that he probably feels bad because of what you said. He knows you come to those parties because of him, so knowing you don’t have fun at all when you’re attending — you understand that he might feel responsible.

“I think I would bore you very quickly,” you chuckle. “You’re not going to get the fun you want with me. But it’s fine, really. I tried it, and now I know it’s not for me. I can just—”

“No,” Taehyung says.

You blink.

“No?”

“I’m taking this personally,” he tells you, looking you dead in the eye. “You’re coming to this party and I’m going to make you enjoy yourself.”

You’ve never seen him so serious, and you can’t help it. You burst out laughing.

“Taehyung,” you say softly when you’re done. “I appreciate that, I do, but I don’t want to do that anymore.”

Taehyung opens his mouth, then winces and closes it. You’re not sure what happened there, but he gives Jungkook an offended look.

“I’m sorry,” you add. “I’m sure your parties can be great, but—”

“I get it,” he sighs. “But you owe me.”

You’re not sure why, but fine.

“And you can’t say anything bad about those parties, to anyone. Ever.” In that moment, he looks almost threatening, and you blink, confused. He can’t possibly take it that seriously, can he?

Then he yelps and rubs his leg. He gives Jungkook another annoyed look, but Jungkook doesn’t even look up from his food.

“Leave her alone,” he just mumbles.

Taehyung rolls his eyes, but doesn’t add anything. He does give you a long, pointed glance, though, before muttering under his breath something that sounds a lot like “I won’t let that slander stand,” and you think that’s hilarious too.

When you risk a glance at Jungkook, his arms are folded over his chest, and he looks deep in thought. He’s chewing on his bottom lip, eyes focused on his meal, though he’s not touching it. It’s stupid, but the image of a child that has just been scolded flashes in your mind.

“Jungkook? Is everything alright?”

He jumps at your question, looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. Your eyes meet, but it’s extremely brief, and your chest tightens. This sucks. You thought the two of you had gotten past that now, and you hate that you lost what you had. It’s not like it’s your fault. He kissed you, and then he bailed on you first chance he got. Why would he do that, why would he risk it, if he was going to react like that afterwards?

“I’m fine,” he says with a tense smile, and you doubt it’s true, but you don’t know what you should ask him to confront him about it. You don’t want to talk about the kiss ever again. You certainly don’t want to do it in front of your friends.

So you jump on the first chance you get to leave the table. You don’t ask yourself if it’s a weird thing to do. It probably is, but fuck it, you’re weird, and everyone else can deal with it. You refuse to subject yourself to something unpleasant longer than absolutely necessary.

Except the looks you get are mostly concerned ones, from Namjoon and Jin. Jungkook does look up as you walk away, eyes following you almost longingly, and then he lets out a long sigh that catches Taehyung’s attention. He doesn’t say anything, but he narrows his eyes at him.

God. He really has to get everything done here, doesn’t he?

At first, you think that this is it. Your— your whatever it was that you had with Jungkook is over. You’ll see him around every now and then, and maybe he’ll give you a polite nod, though it doesn’t look like he would even do that right now, but there won’t be anything else. You’ll go back to being basically strangers, and it will be fine, because really, nothing happened there, right? You had a crush on him, he kissed you once, and then nothing. It’s fine. You’ll be fine.

Sure, it makes you a little sad. Sure, you catch yourself looking at him while he’s surrounded by girls who are all so much better for him than you ever were, and it hurts a little. Sure, walking back home alone at night is a little more unpleasant than it used to be, but that’s the thing. It’s only a little. You would almost pat yourself on the back for it. Congrats, (Y/N). You made it out before you got too attached. You probably avoided a world of hurt.

Because you know. You know that if you had gotten in too deep, it would have hurt like hell to not have Jeon Jungkook. And sure, it hurts right now.

But only a little.

You’re good. You’re safe. You know that Namjoon and Yoongi would nod if you told them about it. They understand, in a way a lot of other people don’t. You don’t think that Jin would, for example. He would tell you to take the risk, not understanding that people like Jungkook used to pick you last for their teams when you were in high school, not understanding that as far as you’re concerned, you’ve handled more than enough rejection throughout your life. But Namjoon and Yoongi… They’re definitely more successful than you in matters of the heart, but they would still understand. Not that you’re going to tell them about it, because it’s a stupid story, because there never was anything there, and because you’d feel really dumb talking about how you thought, how you hoped that— You’re not going to tell them anything. At least everything’s okay now.

And then, Jungkook appears at your usual table at the library on a Wednesday afternoon. He drops his bag on the floor and takes a seat next to you. You’re surprised to see him when you look up, too focused on your studies to notice him approaching. He has big, wide doe eyes, and he watches your reaction carefully.

“You’re— This seat isn’t taken?”

You shake your head. No. People rarely come here, and you don’t really study with people. Well, didn’t, you suppose.

“Do you mind if I sit here?“

“The seat’s free. You can take it if you want.”

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know how to react. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You never considered that Jungkook would— That he would—

“I, um, I like studying with you. It helps me focus,” he says, eyes flickering away from you. “So, if you don’t mind I’ll— Can I come back here on Wednesdays?”

You want to tell him that you can’t stop him, that he can do whatever the hell he want, but even though it’s on the tip of your tongue, you don’t.

“Of course you can,” you say instead.

Jungkook looks up long enough to flash you a smile, and you know. This isn’t over, and you’re not going to be fine. You’re probably going to feel crushed, sooner than later, and you could have stopped it all right now.

You think about Yoongi and how not like him it is to be doing what he is with Jimin. How he’s taking a risk. How it could oh so easily not have paid off.

It’s going to, of course. You just need to look at Jimin’s eyes when he’s talking to Yoongi to know that. But Jungkook doesn’t look at you like that. Jungkook doesn’t look at you at all.

And yet here you are. Taking that exact same risk.

God. You can be so stupid some times.

Jungkook glances at you quickly while you’re deep in thought, tapping your pencil against your cheek, and a small smile forms on his lips. He’s quick to glance away, because he would hate it if you caught him, of course, but the smile doesn’t fade.

He couldn’t have forced it to do so if he tried.

“You have to come to the next game.”

“Taehyung, hey, nice to see you to, I’m doing fine, I—”

“I’m serious, (Y/N). I know you hate basketball and everything that breathes, but—”

“I don’t hate you.”

“—this is really important and— Wait, really? Thank you. I feel that means a lot coming from you.”

“Is that how you see me? I don’t hate everyone, Taehyung.”

“Can you give me a list of people you don’t hate?”

“Well, you, Jin, Yoongi, Namjoon…”

“Jungkook?”

“…Sure. Jungkook. Why do you want me to come to the next game?”

“Because we might lose.”

“And I’m supposed to change that how?”

“You owe me, remember?”

“I— Because of the parties? Seriously? I need to sit through hours of you guys running after a ball because I don’t like parties?”

“I would really appreciate it if you could avoid describing basketball as ‘guys running after a ball’.”

“I would really appreciate not having to go watch the game.”

“Don’t you want to support your friends on the team?”

“Ugh. Fine. I’ll be there. Just— stop that thing you’re doing with your eyebrows. Why are you even doing that?”

“You’re so slow. How are you so slow? I thought you were supposed to be smart!”

“Taehyung…”

“Just be there!”

“I will.”

“You better!”

“Or what, what will you— Taehyung! You can’t just run off like— Well. I guess he could.”

You hadn’t thought sitting through a basketball game could become a more painful experience to you than it already was. As it turns out, you were wrong. It was so much worse when the people you wanted to win were losing. Despite yourself, you found yourself getting invested, standing up and shouting encouragements along with Jin and Namjoon, and protesting loudly when things didn’t go your way.

You were not cut out for this. Not because you still didn’t understand half the rules — you could have by now if you had made the effort of memorizing them — but because of the stress. God, how did your friends handle that regularly? How did the players handle it? You kept looking at Jungkook. You could tell how unhappy he was with the situation, could see the disappointment settling in. He also seemed to get more nervous as time went by, which didn’t help his performance, and his words kept echoing in your mind.

”I don’t know what’s going to happen when I stop being as good.”

You’re half way through the game and things are not looking good when Taehyung waves you over. You run to the railway, straining to hear him, and when you finally understand what he’s saying, you regret making any effort at all.

“You can’t possibly be serious!”

But he is.

“You owe me, (Y/N)!”

“I’m already— What’s it even going to do?”

“Trust me on that one, okay?”

You glare at him, but he’s looking at you with his beautiful brown eyes, and there’s nothing you can do against that. You sigh deeply. Your heart is beating wildly in your chest just thinking about what he’s asking you to do. Maybe it’s not such a big deal for him, that sort of stuff, but for you— For you it’s downright insane to even consider.

“Kim Taehyung,” you hiss through gritted teeth, “if this goes bad, I’ll kill you and plant your head on a stick outside of my door to warn my enemies not to underestimate me.”

He has the audacity to shrug at that.

“It won’t go bad.”

You look up. Take a deep breath. And call Jungkook’s name.

The gym is insanely loud, and it takes both you and Taehyung’s efforts, as well as a lot of waving, for Jungkook to notice you. When he does, though, he runs towards you, worry obvious on his face. He’s looking directly at you for once, and the intensity of his stare almost makes you shiver.

“Is everything alright?” he asks when he gets there, eyes scanning you quickly to make sure that you’re okay.

“It’s fine, I just—”

“What are you doing here? You hate basketball. Did something happen?”

You shake your head. You don’t know how you’re supposed to do this, especially when he’s looking so puzzled and when he’s questioning your sanity for showing up at one of his games. You glance over at Taehyung who gives you a decided nod.

Ah. Fuck it.

Leaning over about as far as you can go, you cup Jungkook’s face, and as his expression turns to one of surprise, you kiss him. If people around notice or have a reaction, you can’t tell, because Jungkook pushes himself against you and buries his hand in your hair as he holds you. There’s not much space left for thinking in your mind, instead entirely consumed by thoughts of him. He’s completely sober this time, and you don’t taste alcohol on his tongue. He’s also not going as slow, almost desperately kissing you back, one strong hand supporting you so you don’t fall over, and you just melt.

It takes everything in you to push yourself away. When you do, you’re breathless, and he’s staring at you with eyes even wider than usual. You’re pretty sure Taehyung would want you to give an encouraging speech right now, but you don’t want to do that right now.

“I really don’t care if you’re winning or losing games,” you say instead. “If you’re sad, I’ll be sad with you, but it’s never going to change anything in how I see you. But I’ll be here encouraging you.”

He grabs your hand, squeezing it tight.

“Promise?” he asks, almost childishly.

You’re not sure which part he’s referring to, but they’re all true, so you nod.

“I promise.”

He smiles, and then both him and Taehyung are running back across the field and getting yelled at by their coach, but even from where you’re standing, you can see their smiles.

You guess that means you’re not going to murder Taehyung.

“This is actually insane. How is Jungkook even doing that?” Yoongi asks in disbelief after Jungkook scored extremely impressively yet again, and you fidget in your seat. You’re very happy to see that, though you don’t how you feel about the smug looks Taehyung is sending you, but you don’t want—

“It’s the power of love,” Jin says, nodding like he just gave an essential truth to the meaning of life.

—this. You, very specifically, don’t want this.

“Jin,” you sigh, “there’s no such thing as—”

“Actually,” Namjoon interrupts you, “I think he’s right. The power of love is a thing, and I think this is a perfect demonstration of it.”

You gape at him, in shock. He betrayed you?

“Did you just—”

“Namjoon’s right,” Yoongi nods. “This is how the power of love works. You take love, and you turn it into strength.”

And then, him, Jin and Namjoon high five, and you gasp. Traitors. All of them.

But after that, Jimin says off-handedly “Maybe you should come and kiss me before my next competition” and Yoongi’s brain visibly stops functioning, so you consider yourself avenged.

After the match, you wait for Jungkook outside of the locker room. Jin insisted you should go celebrate on the field, but you had declined. It felt like the situation required something a little more private, so now you’re here, leaning against the wall, looking at your phone so you’ll seem busy, even if there’s nothing on there to occupy yourself.

You’re not the only one there, and that doesn’t help soothing your nerves. There are a lot of girls, all pretty and smiling. It makes you feel like a groupie, and you don’t like it. You’re relieved for a second when the door opens and the team comes out, but it doesn’t last long, because the girls are soon surrounding them. You remain where you were standing, watching the whole thing happen. It takes a few moments before you notice Jungkook’s bun standing out of the group, and it makes you smile.

You catch Taehyung’s eye first, and, after you’ve sent him a glare that you hope was threatening, he pushes Jungkook out of the group. At first, he seems confused, before he finally finds you. You wave at him hesitantly. He blinks a few times, his eyes wide, then walks towards you.

“Hey,” he says when he joins you. He’s towering over you. Usually, you don’t like that, and you’ve complained about having to look up at Namjoon more than once, but you don’t necessarily mind right now.

“Hey,” you reply.

Silence stretches between the two of you as you try to think of something to say. You should have prepared a speech, you know that, but you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t have been able to say it either.

“Taehyung told me he told you to kiss me,” Jungkook blurts out after a while, looking away from you, and you give him a surprised glance. “So, you don’t have to—”

“No, I wanted to kiss you,” you interrupt him, a puzzled frown forming on your face.

Jungkook’s head whips back towards you, and you just stare at him in confusion.

“Do you really think I would have kissed you just because Taehyung asked me to?”

“Well you— you came to the game because he asked you to, right?”

“That’s not the same—”

“Jungkook!” someone from the team calls. “We’re going to grab a bite to celebrate, do you wanna come?”

Jungkook sighs, then gives you a sharp look.

“You wanted to kiss me,” he repeats.

You nod.

“Why?”

You bite your lower lip, and you’re not oblivious to the way his eyes fall to your mouth when you do.

“And I’m the blunt one,” you mumble.

“Sorry, I–”

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s just— I wanted to kiss you because I like you. Obviously.”

Jungkook swallows, and you can see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He looks over his shoulder at his friends.

“You can go without me!”

There are some protests, but he ignores them to give you his entire attention. It’s… not an unpleasant feeling.

“You disappeared after I kissed you the last time,” he says.

“You left,” you protest immediately. “You kissed me, and then the second your friends arrived, you acted like nothing happened and you left.”

“I didn’t want to— I just— They’re really annoying about that stuff, you know? I thought it would probably be better if I talked to you after— ‘m sorry. I didn’t— didn’t realize it—”

You look at Jungkook, watch him fumbling for words, and it hits you like a ton of bricks, how much you do like him. Those words really don’t do it justice, and maybe you’re not quite ready to talk about love just yet, but you like him so much, so much it makes your heart swell, so much you don’t think what what he’s trying to tell you would change anything to it, and yet what he’s trying to say is exactly what prompts your realization. He didn’t want to hurt you. Wanted this to be private, for just the two of you, wanted to see how you felt about it. And maybe he went the wrong way about it, but it means everything that he was trying.

“Walk me home?” you ask.

Jungkook finally stops his rambling.

“Are you sure?”

Of course, he has to ask that now, after weeks of trying to convince him to let you walk on your own. Still, you smile and nod, and when you start walking side by side, you grab his hand. He freezes temporarily before grinning and squeezing your hand, pulling it into his pocket so you won’t be too cold, because the air of January is chilling.

“Congratulations for the game,” you say after a long, comfortable silence. You had almost forgotten about it.

“Thanks,” he chuckles. “I had some help.”

And then, he winks at you, and your heart misses a beat. That’s when you understand something you hadn’t even considered before: if Jungkook stops being shy around you, you’re done for. You’ll be the one constantly flustered.

“So,” you say, slowly, trying to keep yourself composed, “why did you kiss me?”

“Um. Same as you?” Jungkook’s confidence disappears, and he returns to his awkward self, and you see that, as much as you like it, you want him to be comfortable around you. But that doesn’t mean you can’t tease him a little.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask innocently.

He gives you a horrified look that soon turns to an offended one when he notices you grinning widely.

“You’re so mean,” he says, but he’s smiling too, “you’re the meanest person I know.”

You’re laughing at that point, as you stop in front of your dorm.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Fine,” he sighs dramatically. “I kissed you because I like you.”

It’s funny. You knew that was what he was going to say, knew it was coming, and yet it gets to you all the same.

“With you, I don’t feel like I have to be the school’s star, you know? I can just be— Jungkook. You don’t expect me to be anything else.”

He’s right. You like Jungkook. With his insecurities and his flaws. You don’t want him to perform for you, and you don’t care what he’s doing right and wrong. Just studying maths in the library with him makes you happy.

He eyes your dorm and takes a deep breath.

“I should go,” he says.

You hum.

“Yes, it would be a really bad idea if you came up tonight.”

But you’re not letting go of his hand, and he’s close to you now, close enough that you can feel his breath catching in his throat. It makes you smile.

“You’re so mean,” he repeats.

This time, instead of laughing, you kiss him, and it’s completely different from the two previous times. There is no uncertainty in this kiss, no surprise, no pressure, no fear. It’s perfect. Jungkook’s hand comes to cup your cheek, his lips soft against your own. His long fingers gently stroke your jaw as he keeps the kiss chaste and sweet. It only makes you yearn for more and when he moves away, you can see in his eyes that he wants more as well.

You just don’t think he wants it now.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” you ask.

“I’ll meet you for lunch,” he says solemnly, and it rings like a promise, which makes you smile.

When you move away, though, he doesn’t let go of you, and a pouty expression appears on his face before he releases you.

“I— Yeah. You should go.”

“You can come up if you want to, you know?”

He hesitates, rolls his lips together.

“I want to savor this,” he admits to you in a near whisper.

“Then I’ll go.”

“Yes. Good night.”

“Good night.”

You feel light and giddy as you walk through the door. It’s a nice and strange feeling, like you could just start floating any second.

You already can’t wait for the next day.

People are definitely weirded out by your relationship with Jungkook. Or, rather, by Jungkook’s relationship with you. You’re pretty sure most of the people who give you weird looks when you sit next to him and he wraps his arm around you, or when you walk hand in hand, wouldn’t pay attention to you if you went to class naked. But they all know who Jungkook is, and you guess it is weird to see you in conjunction with him.

They could ignore it and consider you mere part of the scenery when he ate with you, you suppose, but it is harder to do now. You’re not too fond of being the center of attention, to be honest. You don’t know how Jungkook does it.

What takes you by surprise the most is people being nice to you. That confuses you to no end, because you know for a fact they don’t care about you, not really, and you cannot fathom what they think they’re going to get out of this. You’re pretty sure there are a girl or two who are doing that to get closer to Jungkook, and some, you think, have decided to be nice to you because they think that if Jungkook likes you, you can’t be a total lost cause.

You don’t like that feeling. Not at all. You don’t like it when you’re going to class, you don’t like it during lunch, and you definitely, definitely do not like it when people rush towards you the second you get to a party.

Yeah, you’re giving Taehyung what he wanted, in the end. He said that both you and Jungkook owed him, because without him you wouldn’t be together, and you eventually gave in.

You thought it would be fine, now that you have someone to spend time with, but you understand with horror that your status has changed now. You’re not invisible anymore. You’re Jungkook’s girlfriendTM. Because of that, you spend much longer in the entrance making small talk than you would have wished to, and you’re stopped a couple of times while you’re desperately looking for your boyfriend to save you from this hell on earth.

You’re not surprised at all to find him playing beer pong with Taehyung and other guys from the team. He hasn’t gotten time to get drunk yet, so he’s quite impressive, but then again, they all are. That’s why they usually end up wasted.

The second he sees you, though, he abandons the game completely, and the smile on his face threatens to make your heart explode in your chest. Some of the guys turn around to look at you, give you a wave or a smile. Taehyung shouts a greeting.

“Hey,” Jungkook says, leaning in to press a quick kiss on your lips. He doesn’t like PDA all that much, but he never misses a chance to kiss you, and the thought makes you all giddy.

“Hey. Are you, um, having fun there?”

He shrugs.

“It’s not that bad. Wanna play?” He waits for your expression to turn to one of horror as you try to refuse politely before laughing. “Just kidding. Don’t worry about it.”

You let out a relieved breath. You know you and Jungkook are very different people, and you’re doing your best to take an interest in the things he likes. You’ve been learning the rules of basketball, for example, and though you still don’t believe you get the point, you like the way his eyes shine when you say something right about a game.

But you don’t take part in any of that stuff. Okay, you stop at that field that’s on your way home from the library every now and again, but that doesn’t count. It’s just you and him then, and you feel good and relaxed. You’ve even scored a couple of times now.

“Come on, I want to grab a drink,” Jungkook said, taking your hand in his, and you follow without protesting.

It’s probably your second mistake of the night: not realizing that getting a drink with and without Jungkook are two very different ordeals. On your way there, you get roped into several conversations. Those are fine. You can’t say you enjoy them, but they’re fine, and it’s not like those people are actually talking to you anyway.

What you genuinely dislike is that, when you’re by the table with the drinks, a girl starts openly flirting with your boyfriend. It’s not subtle, either, with the way she keeps touching his arm and how she laughs at his every word.

For a while, you just stare in disbelief. You know Jungkook is oblivious to that sort of things — probably one more reason why he likes how blunt you are — but you can’t believe her. You wouldn’t necessarily blame the girl for trying, either, if she didn’t know about you. Jungkook’s quite the catch after all, and you understand liking him better than anyone else.

No, it’s the fact that she’s doing it right in front of you, while Jungkook is holding your hand. It feels so— dismissive. So insulting. She’s not exactly saying to your face that she doesn’t take you seriously, but she might as well.

You watch incredulously when she puts her hand on his arm one more time. You don’t know how you’re supposed to handle that, so you just tug on Jungkook’s hand a little awkwardly. You’re pleased by how quickly his attention snaps to you, even while the girl is in the middle of her sentence. It’s a petty sentiment, for sure, but you can’t help it.

“Everything okay?” he asks. “Is it too loud in here?”

“Kind of, but—”

“Let’s find you a quieter place.”

He forgets about the drink he wanted to get, forgets about the girl, who he abandons there unceremoniously, gently pulling you through the room. Next thing you know, he’s carefully closing the doors of the closet he’s found for the two of you behind you.

“There,” he says, sounding satisfied with himself. “Better?”

You chuckle at that and, guessing for him in the half-light, you pull him towards you for a kiss. You press your body against his, pushing him against the back of the closet, and a groan forms in his throat. His hands tighten around you, sending shivers through your entire being, and you only lean into him more. You run your fingers over his chest, just to feel him tremble under your touch and he does, hissing with pleasure at the contact.

“Fuck,” he mumbles into your mouth. “Was that— was that what you had in mind?”

You shake your head, and he’s close enough to feel it.

“That girl was flirting with you,” you tell him.

“Oh. Are you sure?”

You are.

“So… are you jealous? Because that’s kind of hot.”

You laugh softly. Truth is, you really, really don’t want to be the jealous girlfriend, but Jungkook actually sounds happy about the idea.

“You really didn’t notice?”

There’s a moment of silence.

“I didn’t. Does that— Did it bother you, that she was doing that?”

“Kind of,” you shrug. “What about you? You’re— cool with that?”

“If it bothers you I don’t like it,” he replies simply, one of his hand leaving your waist to grab yours and squeeze it gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”

That makes you chuckle.

“How didn’t you? She would have made it barely more obvious if she had started undressing herself.”

Jungkook has an awkward laugh, and you can feel his breath on your face. He starts fidgeting, but then you press a kiss right at the corner of his lips, and he calms down, if just a little.

“It’s— You have to promise you won’t make fun of me.”

“I won’t.”

He hesitates a second longer, as though he’s trying to judge your sincerity by looking at you — except, of course, he can barely see a thing in here. You kiss him again, following his jaw, and he finally gives in when you start making your way down his neck.

“When I’m with you, it’s like my vision narrows on you,” he says, voice low. “I know everything and everyone else is still there, but I just think about you. Sorry, it’s really stupid.”

“It’s not,” you say, shaking your head, wondering if he can feel your heart beating stupidly fast in your chest, all because his words make you feel like nothing else ever has before. “But I’m— I’m kind of boring. That can’t be fun.”

“You’re not boring,” he protests. “You listen to people, even when you don’t look like it. You always look like you have a thousand things on your mind but you always make time for your friends, and when you’re studying here, you play with your hair.” He twirls a lock of your hair around one of his fingers before releasing it, as if to demonstrate. “You’re a very, very interesting person to look at.”

The only thing you can do is stay there, frozen in his arms, after he’s said that. You may be blunt, but Jungkook is honest. Devastatingly so. His vulnerability always shatters the walls that you’ve built around yourself, and you still don’t know how to react when that happens.

So you push yourself on your tiptoes to kiss him again, except this time it’s slow and gentle and you’re trying to put everything he means to you into it. The tip of your fingers are on his cheeks, your mouth barely moving against his, soft noises filling the closet. Jungkook remains still, letting you in complete control, like he’s afraid he could break you if he moved.

“Thank you,” you whisper when you pull away from him.

“For what?” he asks, breathless.

“For being here with me tonight, and for coming with me at that first party.”

“Of course. Any time.”

He lets himself fall to the floor, taking you down with him and keeping you into his lap once he’s done that. You rest your head against his chest. You hear the noises of the party still going on outside, but Jungkook is your island of peace in the middle of the chaos.

“I think I’m going to stop basketball,” Jungkook blurts out without a warning, and you look at him, surprised.

“Really?” you ask.

“Yeah. Really. I just— I don’t want to be doing that anymore.”

You think about it for a few seconds, then nod.

“You probably should stop, in that case.”

“People are… not going to be happy about it.”

“I’m sure Taehyung won’t be mad at you. Well, not for too long.”

He laughs softly, but his hold on you doesn’t relax, and you know that this was hard for him to even consider. You know it’s a terrifying decision to take, too.

“Thank you,” he says. “For being here with me tonight, too.”

“Any time.”

The truth is, you wouldn’t give that moment away for anything in the world, and something tells you Jungkook wouldn’t either. It’s not ideal, it’s not perfect, but you don’t believe there is such a thing, and you’re happy to satisfy yourself with the imperfect.

But any moment you can spend in Jungkook is as close to perfect as can be.

“I love you,” he whispers in your ear, and you think that he might feels the same way, which almost makes you burst with happiness.

“And I love you,” you whisper back.

Not perfect, perhaps. But close enough.

[bubblyhoney]

can i request a fic where sapnap takes the reader to his hometown? like the classic going to places he went to when he was younger. maybe playgrounds and ice cream shops idk

places i used to go

warnings: language of course, an allusion to virginap, my uneducated guess of what sapnap was like in highschool, tiny detail of long haired!sapnap, singular canon detail of underage drinking, jokish about marriage

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

words: 2191

A/N: you are a god, anon. i love comfy and nostalgic fics like these and it was so fun to write. if you hate it dont tell me but if you like it lemme know akskdjd

inbox/requests: open

-

The wind whips fast on your bare fingers, cool and quick and raising goosebumps in its wake. You blink in the haze of the early sunset, head lolled to the side of the headrest. It feels good.

“That’s where I went to high school.” Sapnap interrupts your thoughts and points a finger at a collection of tall brick buildings down a side street. The silver of the lettering is dull, but you can still feel the nostalgia.

“And you’re about to see the park that me and my friends used to hang out at after work and—actually, nevermind.” His arm drops to the middle console and he looks straight ahead with slightly pinker cheeks.

“Do what?” You ask, voice all sweet, and a grin grows on your face. You turn towards him and wiggle your eyebrows.

“Nothing. Homework.” He avoids your eye contact and hikes his hand up higher on the steering wheel. “Anyways— Do you want to get some food before we head out? I know a great place.”

You two were just coming to a close on your little trip to visit his family; it was his step-mom’s birthday and you decided to make a week of it. It was your first long-term trip with Sapnap, and also your first time meeting his dad’s side of the family. You were proud to say she loved you. His little sister took a little more effort to talk to you of her own volition, but soon enough she was on your side.

You have a couple hours to kill before making your flight back home, so Sapnap has taken it upon himself to give you a quick tour of his hometown.

“Yeah,” you decide, bottom lip popped out. “Can we get ice cream after?”

“Uh, duh.” The Neighbourhood’s Stargazing starts through the speakers and he reaches to turn it down. “I’m so ready to get home and sleep.” He stretches his neck in his seat, letting out an uncharacteristically inappropriate grunt when his bones pop. You make a disgusted face, nose wrinkling, but stretch your own back, slumping down in the seat. The day had been full of packing up and this horrible hike his dad liked to do early in the mornings, so you two were pretty beat.

“Okay, we’re here,” he announces three sleepy minutes later in his best attempt at a whisper. Lifting your head off of the corner of your seat, you blink in the setting sunlight as a yawn splits your face. “You’re so cute.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, and struggle to get your seatbelt off in that post-nap haze. You’d barely been asleep for thirty seconds, damn it. The air is a swampy heat when you step out of the car onto rocky gravel and nearly twist your ankle climbing over the curb. Sapnap catches you by the lower back, trying to hide his laugh but failing miserably. You slide him a dirty look, smacking his shoulder as hard as you can manage while limping towards the front entrance.

The door jingles when you two breach the doorway, alerting a bored-looking hostess that the circus has arrived. She looks at Sapnap a second longer than she should, eyebrows screwed together in silent confusion. But she leads the two of you to a booth near a large window, handing you sticky menus and promptly fucking right off to the host station. She nearly runs.

“Do you know her?” You ask, inconspicuously hiding your face in the search for their 24/7 breakfast menu. You feel his eyes on you.

“Don’t think so.” He leans on one elbow and slides his phone out of his jeans’ pocket. In the 25 seconds it takes for you to find their french toast and sides menu, he has browsed and closed his phone with an animatedly shocked look on his face.

“What?” You give him a weird look and put down the menu.

“I totally went to homecoming with that girl.” He eyes the hostess. You glance over at her again, meeting her gaze, and offer a polite smile. She turns away quickly, eyes wide.

“She’s cute,” you say, voice high and fake, and he drums his fingers on the tabletop as an amused look makes its way onto his face.

“Are you—?”

“What?” You reply right back.

“Nothing.”

Thank God the server comes up to your table then and starts asking for drink orders, or else you’d have to admit (sheepishly) you were a tiny eensy-weensy bit annoyed. Only a tad. But after requesting a Dr. Pepper and a water the conversation surrounding the nervous-looking hostess dies.

“I’m so hungry I think I feel my stomach shrinking.” You flop your head onto your arm on the table top and make a whiny noise into the stack of napkins your server left at the table. Sapnap rubs his thumb into the side of your forearm, touch warm and nearly dissolving the pangs of hunger and jealousy.

“You weren’t hungry an hour ago.” He lifts your hand to his face and plants a kiss on the back of it. Oh, pulling out the big guns, huh? “I would have made you something.”

You tilt onto your chin, pouting, and stare up at his cute face. His cute, scruffy, perfectly-kissable face.

“I think I got hungry staring at you for half an hour.” A mischievous grin grows on your previously-petulant face and he just shakes his head.

“I do have that effect,” he admits with cockiness in his tone, lifting his eyebrows and leaning back into the booth with his lips pursed.

The server returns with two glasses and takes your food orders onto their little yellow notepad. You chug the water down when they leave for the kitchen, getting your lap and chin thoroughly wet in the process. Sapnap just snorts at you and shoves the napkins your way.

“So,” you start, patting dry your jeans. “tell me what you were like in high school.” You cross your arms and settle into the booth, smirk on your lips.

“What I was like?” He parrots, sipping at his soda, looking thoughtful. “Firstly, a virgin.” You make a noise. Duh. Dude had a buzz cut his junior year. (You’ve seen the pictures. His step-mom particularly likes them.) “Secondly, I was actually— well, I wasn’t popular, but I had a lot of friends. We were all semi-athletic lonely band kids but we had fun. Had one girlfriend senior year but she went to Cal Tech in the fall and I didn’t. I, um, worked at a Dairy Queen in the summers and gained so much weight I had to lose all over again for Unified Track.”

“Relatable,” you comment, drinking noisily at your water. He fiddles with the paper straw wrapper and crunches it up into a ball. It goes soaring into your drink with a quiet “Kobe” and you just give him a look. He smiles toothily right back at you. “Stop being cute, I’m trying to listen to your story.”

“Oh, my bad,” he mocks. “Anyways. That’s what I was like in highschool.” You fish the paper ball out of your water and flick it wetly at his arm. It sticks and you choke on a laugh, cheeks puffed.

Two plates of warm food are set down loudly onto the table and you thank the server with a surprised smile, Sapnap mirroring you.

Two minutes of wordless chewing passes, minds occupied just by “food, me eat” instead of anything related to your previous conversation. You realize that Sapnap is one of the loudest chewers ever, and he realizes that you fail to notice the streak of maple syrup in your hair.

“C’mere,” he mumbles through a mouthful of omelet and hash browns and beckons you with his hand. You lean closer, chewing slowly, as he pats a napkin at the strands of hair trapped in syrup.

“Thanks, baby.” You take the napkin from him and pause your assault of the warm french toast before you to clean the sticky sugar out of your hair. He just watches you, half of a smile on his lips.

You two finish your food in record time. It’s borderline vacuum-like. There’s a short grace period where you just sit like two lazy cats, slumped down in the booth and holding your full stomachs. But the check comes soon after, and you both pay your way and are out of the restaurant without any mad dashes for the bathroom. A miracle, really, because of the American-like amount of butter you both consume.

“I’m a much more functional person now,” you mutter into the cotton of his shoulder, swinging your hand in his. He just hums in agreement.

“I guess we’re not getting ice cream, then,” he teases, and you just groan in response.

“I don’t feel like having diarrhea on a plane, unfortunately.” You sigh heavily when you have to split and get into your respective sides of the rental car.

The entire trip (somewhat roundabout because of the amount of side quests to show you things from his childhood) to the airport Sapnap is a chatterbox. He’s like this when he has sugar: either bouncing off the walls with energy or talking your ear off.

“That’s where my dad proposed to my step-mom. I was kinda young but I remember being surprised at how big the ring was— dude broke the bank for her.” It’s a little gazebo you catch a glimpse of through the trees in a park. It probably was an incredibly picturesque moment, and you can sense how much she must have loved it. With just meeting them this weekend, you can already see how much love those two have for each other.

You hope people can see how much you love Sapnap.

“Oh my God, it’s still there.” He points out the side of your window to what looks like a Dairy Queen that has been through World War 3. “My buddy Eric and I once spilled a gallon of that liquid ice-cream-shit all over the men’s bathroom.”

You shoot him a horrified look. “Why was it in the bathroom?”

He just smirks.

“—And that’s my Uncle Ron’s house. Had my first beer there.”

“And last, hopefully,” you add, pulling a disgusted face. The two story bungalow is cute, and one of your favorite colors: olive green. “That shit is nasty.”

He just shrugs and continues down the side street.

“Is this the park you were talking about?”

He pulls into the gravelly parking lot of a small clearing of tall trees, a picnic table and campfire sat squat in the middle. But he doesn’t respond, just turning the car off and climbing out. He reaches the passenger door without speaking, and opens it for you. You climb carefully out, confused.

“Come on.” He takes your hand and starts for a small path to the left of the picnic table. The mid-sunset shade envelopes the both of you.

“I hope this isn’t where you kill me.”

“No,” he snorts. “I just wanted to show you something.”

It’s just a few moments of stumbling through the damp underbrush before you’re coming face to face with a small, mossy pond that sits right underneath an incredibly old willow tree. He stops right on the edge of the rocky path and turns toward you.

“This your make out spot?” You ask between a grin as he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush to him. Your innocent smile fades when you feel the press of his lips to the side of your neck, light and ticklish. Oh.

“No,” he murmurs, and just breathes you in. “I came here once—the night before I graduated highschool. And I told myself when I really really loved someone I’d take them here with me.” He sways with you in his grasp, a gentle and song-less dance.

You grip his shoulder tighter in your hand and lean into him.

“That’s— awfully romantic, huh?” Your voice is quiet. Almost nervous. He just makes a noise of agreement.

“So here we are.” His voice is the opposite of yours, all strong and confident.

You two just move together for a moment. The sun breaks through the tree canopy, shining bright orange down onto the glassy surface of the pond. Crickets and frogs chirp back and forth as the willow vines swing in a cool evening breeze. You watch nature come alive around you, suddenly grateful for the man in your arms.

“Don’t propose,” you whisper, breaking the gentle tension. A laugh breaks the silence and he’s pulling away to look at you. Maybe in disbelief. A strand of hair falls into his eyes and you brush it away, fingers stilling on his temple and sliding down onto his cheek. Stubble scrapes against the skin of your palm and he stares at you through those meadow eyes.

You realize in that moment that he is exactly himself. Of course he is. He’s Sapnap, and everything that encompasses that. Dark and light and fiery and cool. He always has been, and always will be.

You realize you wouldn’t mind if he proposed.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. let me know what you think