#and so when he fucks up we feel it ten fold because he was already so good

[dollypopup]

thinking about the 'I would never court Penelope Featherington' scene again and how angry our fandom has been at Colin for it for the last two years and wondering. . .what exactly was he meant to say?

Lord Fife and his friends are *slimy*. They are gross. They have 0 respect for women. Fife isn't *Colin's* friend. Fife is *Anthony's* friend. Fife runs in Anthony's circles. Misogynistic circles with misogynistic language. Fife and Co. are out here saying the debutantes are only good for being 'wed, bed, and bred'. Fife is the one out here, well into his 30s and with an established title, fucking an 18 year woman raw on her first year out in the marriage mart with 0 intention to marry her. That is 10000% an act of violence in this society. And you *know* he's bragging about it. Hell, he was probably bragging about it right before he asked Colin about Penelope.

Colin's not in those circles. Colin has female friends. Colin respects his mother. Colin cares for his sisters. The worst thing Colin has EVER said about a woman was to call her 'cruel'.

So. . .what is Colin meant to say? "No, we're just friends" isn't going to fly for people like Fife. As IF he wouldn't reply with 'Yeah, suuuuuure, wink wink nudge nudge'. Thus ruining Penelope and fucking over her future completely. A lesser man than Colin would have let them think what they wanted, and that would have still ruined Penelope in their eyes. Silence? Incriminating.

And he doesn't want FIFE of all people to know about his close friendship with Penelope. Fife who has never once been seen respecting a woman. Fife who has never once viewed a woman as a person and not a sexual conquest. Penelope is a safe place for Colin. Is precious to him. He KNOWS that conversation could have destroyed her reputation.

People talk about how he 'ruined her prospects', but in actuality, Colin responding the way he did. . .likely SAVED her prospects. There was NOTHING he could have said except for a vehement refusal, completely shutting down the conversation, that would have spared her from their judgement and cruelty. Sure, they laughed, and maybe it was at Pen. Maybe it was at Colin. (frankly, how good of a twist would it be if they WERE laughing at Colin? Colin the 'green' boy back from his travels after being oh so gullible and getting lied to by his ex fiance? Anthony made fun of Colin for being a virgin, we think these men, all 10+ years older than him, wouldn't do the same?) But at least they didn't go 'yeah, I guess she's a ruined woman' about it, because that *would* have destroyed her reputation

We talk about how Colin could have worded it differently, but honestly?

I think he said the exact right thing in those circumstances

#polin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #bridgerton #lord fife #lord cho #fife and company are so gross to me i do NOT understand the narrative of fife just wanting pen for himself #she's a little too old for him at this point considering he's looking for his girlfriend on a playground don't you think? #sorry not sorry i will forever be a colin apologist #no but really what should he have said???? #'oh yeah we're fucking six ways to sunday?' #'no she's just my friend'? - Fife doesn't believe for a MOMENT that a man can value a woman as a friend #colin is the best man in that entire bunch but somehow he's the one we've demonized? #make it make sense #and sure he should apologize for talking about her behind her back- but Penelope should also then apologize for the same #we talk a lot about him being 'knocked off the pedestal' but in reality we've put him on the highest pedestal possible #colin is a GOOD man #he is arguably the best man in the entire series #at least he's the man with the best intentions and the least harm #and so when he fucks up we feel it ten fold because he was already so good #but when gross dudes fuck up we just expect it of them and give them a pass #we expect colin to not only be better- but to be perfect #and he isn't he can't be #he didn't say it perfectly #but OBVIOUSLY his intentions in that scene aren't malicious #and it's not locker room talk either? #look at the optics: Colin is 22 being asked by these 30+ year old dudes 'sooooo are you boinking the girl'? #one season after his engagement blew up publicly #in the season where no one listens to his travel stories #the season after he was virgin shamed

[veryinnovative]

@jegulus-microfic | january 3, prompt: ruthless | word count: 1.422 featuring pornstars jegulus! NSFW

“They’re going off-script, why are they going off-script?” Barty grits out, confined to the sidelines since he’s part of the camera crew and not the main act, one hand firmly gripping the tripod’s handle as the other waves the booklet in front of Evan’s face.

Because Regulus is sprawled out on the bed on his back, his harness and strap-on discarded on the floor, purple rubber still glistening from where it had been seven inches deep inside James moments prior. His thighs are spread wide by the broad palms and pinned to the mattress as his set partner crawls between them, face still flush from exertion and hair in total disarray as a result of Regulus’ constant pulling and shoving.

The position is not a total mystery, no. Regulus had been in the industry for over a year now, a short span of time during which he had climbed the rank listings and breached the top ten, now striving after the top five together with James Potter, arrogantly self-proclaimed oral king by the looks of it, always needing something in his mouth to satisfy him or shut him up, take your pick. The entire set had been arranged by both their managers, going off on tangents about how they have impeccable chemistry on-screen (combined with Regulus’ superb acting abilities). It’s their second time shooting a video together, considering how their first had broken the record just three weeks ago, and neither Pandora nor Lily had wasted a second to get them together in a room again.

“What are you doing?” Regulus hisses as James’ mouth works a burning trail down his chest, tongue laving over the latticework of bruises and the lovebites blooming. He tries very hard not to lean into it, wards off the urge to chase after the hot cavern the ventures dangerously low.

“Going down on you,” James whispers into his stomach, quiet enough for the microphones not to pick up. Even if they did, it could be edited out afterward. 

“I was supposed to go down on you, remember?” Regulus retorts, mentally convincing himself he’s only keeping his legs open for the camera. It’s not like he’s been wondering if James’ mouth is the real deal as many others have made it out to be. Not at all.

“I already came and you didn’t, so I’m just returning the favor before we move on,” James mumbles into his thighs, masking the speaking movements of his mouth by kissing the skin.

“You’re wasting your energy.” Then, the little light of Dorcas’ camera across them flickers, indicating it’s Regulus they’re focusing on. He makes a show of letting out a pleased sigh, craning his neck, and throwing back his head so his face can’t be recorded. It allows him to talk. “I don’t feel like cumming, so just let me do my job. Besides, I doubt you could get me off like this anyway.”

Blatant fucking lie. James undoubtedly notices because he stifles a snort into his leg.

“Sure thing, love.”

Regulus’ jaw ticks and he winds his fingers into James’ hair, reprimand ready on the tip of his tongue, dying off into a choked gasp when the flat of a thick, broad tongue runs a long stripe through his folds.

And the thing is, it’s not just his mouth. Because James’ hands wander, alternating between gripping his hips and roaming upwards to flick his nipples, taking them between his forefinger and thumb to stimulate—rub, pull, gently squeeze all the while his tongue dips in and out of him, gathering the wetness there, swallowing it, moaning at the taste, stopping and only letting the hotness of his breath ghost over Regulus’ dripping core. Building anticipation. Teasing. Lips slick and just as swollen as he is, spreading him open wider just so the camera can get a clear-cut image of how James leans in again, thumb pulling up the hood, mouth this time aimed at Regulus’ cock.

James’ tongue is ruthless.

Licking, sucking, humming around Regulus and sending the vibrations roiling through his spine, static shooting into his skull, paralyzing the rest of him. Using his nose for friction if it’s his tongue that’s too occupied fucking in and out of him, thumbs eagerly pressed into the divots of his hips.

“Jesus fucking Chr—” The words pathetically drop in pitch, bleeding into a low whine as Regulus’ hips buck, James’ mouth only following the undulations. He swirls his tongue, pulls him into his mouth, and sucks until the wet, sloppy sounds of his mouth no longer rise above the ringing flooding Regulus’ ears. He moans, fingers pulling onto the thick curls until it leaves James whining between his legs as well. “Oh, fuck.”

“Oh, fuck, indeed,” Barty whispers from to the side. “Holy shit, he’s making it look so real.”

“Am I about to tell you something,” Evan mutters, adjusting the sound settings.

Regulus arches off the bed, writhing in place against the steel hold on his hips, the balls of his feet digging painfully deep into James’ back when he feels the pressure building low in his stomach, pleasure pooling low below his spine. 

“I’m not going to cum,” Regulus gasps out, not giving a fuck how loud it comes out. Between his clenched thighs, James chuckles, its rumbling reverberating through each and every one of his nerves as he pulls off his cock with a wet pop.

“Yes, you will,” James answers, kissing his cock before biting into his thigh. “Because I’m going to make you.”

The mouth leaving him punches a little, pitiful sound of protest out of Regulus, one he will most certainly deny and demand be edited out. Though, right now, he’s too strung out to care. Regulus’ eyes droop down, watching how James leaves the little space between his legs, strings of spit and wetness breaking off into the air as he crawls up onto his knees.  

Everything moves rather swiftly afterward. The excited noise filling the room might have either been his or Barty’s, but none of it matters when James grabs Regulus by the back of his knees and pins them down, nearly folding him in half before he continues his mouth’s assault, urging the tightening knot low in his abdomen to unravel.

There’s the tongue inside of him, on him, in him, around him—circling, pulling, teasing, drawing out the most guttural of moans when he feels the graze of teeth. The entirety of Regulus swallowed by James’ mouth, consumed with the sort of deprivation only the taste of him can alleviate if the desperate sucking is anything to go by. Regulus’ legs shake, body twitching in place, fingers curled so tightly around handfuls of curls when he chokes out a weak, “I’m not—I’m not going to—”

James groans a muffled command, fingers digging deep into his thighs, the splay of stray strands across his stomach, muscles pulled taut, the fluorescent lightning above, that stupid fucking tongue, the sole bane of his existence—

Regulus cries out a soundless rasp, like his voice has left him together with his soul, entire body convulsing, head thrown back on the arrangement of pillows as his eyes roll back into their sockets. 

Worst of all, James doesn’t stop, only grunts in response as Regulus gushes over his tongue, making a dangerous sound stuck low in his throat when the hand on his head tries to push him away.

“Stop,” Regulus squeaks out. Squeaks, because that’s how terribly low he’s fallen. The overstimulation is a lot, pleasure overwhelming like his brain is threatening to come oozing out of his ears, and next thing you know the video will be titled ‘James Potter managed to make exalted Regulus Black cry with his orgasm’. 

“Please, please s’too much—” Regulus tries again, almost sobbing out a breath of relief when James does finally lift his head with a gasp, his entire fucking face slick from where it had been buried inside Regulus.

“Fucking hell,” Barty hisses in the back, vocalizing Regulus’ internal monologue. “Cut! Fucking, cut the cameras! Pause! Water! Bring this fucker some water before he passes out—”

A flurry of movement in the background, the noises fading into white noise as Regulus’ legs are lowered back onto the bed. James hovers above him, the spit-slick grin almost blinding, or that’s just the stars blinking in Regulus’ vision.

“You were saying?” James asks, teasingly touching Regulus’ puffy cock, laughing when it rewards him with a full-body shudder.

Regulus weakly wacks him in the chest. “Go fuck… Yourself.”

#jegulus #james potter #regulus black #jegulus fanfiction #marauders #marauders au #jegulus microfic #starchaser #sunseeker #marauders fanfiction #this one is also for mil #happy birthday babygirl #hope u enjoy reading this and building the lego flowers #ino microfic tag!

[strangersteddierthings]

What's Eight Plus Seven?

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five

Alright y'all. We had the hurt, let's get some comfort started.

-

Steve leans against his door, expecting Eddie to follow him upstairs to continue their argument because Eddie's never been one to back down from an argument as far as Steve can tell, so he's using his weight to keep the door shut. It takes about five minutes of just leaning against the door before he hears a few light knocks on the door. He pretends he didn't hear them and soon starts to hear Eddie monologue-ing on the other side. He thinks he hears a 'sorry' and an 'I fucked up' but he doesn't really tune in until Eddie says something about cancelling Hellfire.

Spinning quickly, he yanks the door open and says, "You better not fucking cancel!"

"What? Don't you, like, want me out of your house?" Eddie looks startled and sounds confused.

"What I want is for the kids to get to play Dungeons and Dorks for an afternoon, just getting to be kids and fight against monsters that can't actually kill them," Steve says as he goes to put his hands on his hips (a move that Robin calls his Bitch Stance) but realizes he can't while still holding a book, so instead he folds his arms across his chest, cradling the book to his body.

He waits for Eddie to call him out for saying dorks instead of dragons, but Eddie just blinks at him, quiet for a moment before he says, "Oh. Uh, okay then. I'll just, uhh, I'll be back closer to noon, then. For the game."

"Don't you have prep to do?" Steve knows he's trying to pick a fight now but he's angry, and sad, and hurt underneath it all. Also, he doesn't understand the change in Eddie suddenly. Ten-ish minutes ago Eddie had shouted back I wasn’t exactly wrong, was I? You were a jock, a bully even! Where is that anger now?

"No. Not, uh, not really," Eddie says, avoiding meeting Steve's gaze, face turning a very light pink. "I was- I mean, yes, there was prep, but I did a majority of that already and what's left will take maybe three minutes so..."

Steve's confused now, still trying to cling to his anger. "But you called and asked if it was okay to come early specifically for that reason."

Eddie doesn't respond right away. He turns around to walk to the wall opposite Steve's door and thump his forehead against it. Steve is perplexed by the behavior (but he's been perplexed by Eddie since finding him at Reefer Rick's) so he just watches in silence as Eddie heaves a sigh and turns around to slump against the wall, facing Steve once again. He runs a hand through his hair, then drags that hand back forward and down his face. "Yeah. I did do that."

"So, what, you lied? Why?"

"I just wanted to hang out," Eddie whispers, like it almost hurts him to say out loud, which is such a weird thing to hear because it makes Eddie seem small in a way Steve's never seen him. Even during spring break Eddie was never small or quiet; his fear manifested as shouting, for fuck's sake. It chips away at the last of Steve's anger. He's long past the days of kicking someone when they're down.

"You... wanted to hang out," Steve repeats before heaving a sigh of his own, long-suffering man that he is. Maybe it is time to bury the hatchet and actual deal with this. If nothing else, it'll result in Steve being less defensive around Eddie when everyone hangs out, like for movie night or BBQs. Also, he knows that Dustin will never let him know another day of peace once he learns that Eddie and Steve don't get along as well as he wants them to so he says, "Listen, I think we've got some shit to hash out, or whatever, so that should probably be done or, like, things are going to be weird when we all hang out, but I can't do that right now, man. So, stay or go, just make that game happen at noon. I'm going to stay up here."

Eddie nods, weirdly sullen and quiet again, as he says, "Yeah. Umm, maybe after the game? If you're feeling up to it."

"Sure. After."

Eddie raps his knuckles against the wall behind him twice before pushing off and heading back towards the stairs. He pauses to look over his shoulder and say, "If you wanna watch, or listen in, or something, I don't think anyone will mind." And then he's heading down the stairs.

Retreating back to his room, Steve tosses the book onto his bed before flopping face first next to it. He groans into his comforter before reaching for the book. He props himself up on his elbows and stares down at the cover before opening it to see Christopher's handwriting on the inside cover.

It's been years since he thought about Christopher and even longer since he's laid eyes on the books. He was so sure his mom had just gotten rid of them. All this time, they'd been right where he left them, shoved just far enough back to be out of sight on the shelf. His last link to Christopher.

That's not true, Steve scolds himself. His cousins, Amber and Robert, are still alive and in Washington. His grandparents still live on that farm in Michigan. Steve just hasn't seen them since the funeral.

He hadn't gone back to the farm the summer after freshman year, or any year since. His parents thought he was old enough to stay home for a whole month in the summer alone now, instead of paying to ship him off to his grandparents. Steve's old enough now to know that was why he'd spent a month every year out on the farm; so his parents could go off on longer work trips. Once they'd decided Steve was old enough to stay alone for the summer, that quickly reached other seasons and by the time Steve was a junior, the were gone more than they were home.

He doesn't even remember when he last spoke to them in person. He thinks the last phone call was right after Starcourt. It was just to make sure Steve got to job hunting, since his place of employment had burned down and the bills wouldn't pay themselves. Which is true. He doesn't have to pay rent, but all the utilities are in his name now.

Jesus, he doesn't want to be thinking about them.

He goes back to the book, flipping through the pages absently. Halfway through the book he finds a couple folded pieces of paper tucked close to the spine. He doesn't have to open them to know exactly what they are.

It's the character sheets he'd made.

He closes the book back atop them and rolls over to face his ceiling. He wants to call Robin, but the phones are downstairs and he doesn't want to go down there just yet. He also kinda wants to cry. To get rid of all these emotions about Christopher, and Freshman First Day, and Eddie.

Fucking Eddie. Who haunts Steve's thoughts more than he'd like because despite the grudge Steve has been holding, Eddie has been fun to be around and so good with the kids, especially Dustin. Fuck, after having watched Dustin break down when they thought he was dead- but he'd had a pulse. It was weak but it was there.

After Eddie'd been cleared of the charges and the months rolled on into summer, they'd spent lots of time together as a group. Steve will admit he tried to avoid Eddie as best he could (he knows he's petty, okay) but could still see how he blended smoothly into their group.

If this Eddie had been the one he met on Freshman First Day, instead of the dick that mocked him, they might very well be friends now.

That's the crux of it all, Steve thinks. That he wouldn't mind being friends with Eddie if not for that bottled up grudge he'd been holding onto. He can't bring himself to let it go and Steve's not even sure why. Thoughts and feelings aren't something Steve processes quickly, and it usually helps to talk it out with Robin. She lets him stumble through his thoughts, and doesn't mock him for messing up, or mixing up, words.

Goddammit, if he's really going to try talking this out with Eddie, he's going to have be open and honest and maybe a little vulnerable and he doesn't know if he can do that.

But he'll have to. For better or worse, he can't just keep Eddie at arms length. They need to either come to the conclusion that they can be friends, or not, and then go from there. (Also, he knows that Dustin will never let him know another day of peace once he learns that Eddie and Steve don't get along as well as he wants them to.)

In the end, Steve's not sure how long he just stares up at the ceiling but a sudden shout breaks him from his trance. It sounded like Dustin. Hellfire must have started.

Steve leaves his room to go lean against the half wall of the hallway, so he could look down to the dining table where everyone has gathered to play. No one notices him, so Steve sinks to the floor and turns, so he can lean against the wall, closes his eyes, and listens in.

The room below is filled with noise. Shouts of excitement, and groans of pain, and sighs of relief. Dustin yells at his dice when it rolls a Nat 1. Mike curses up a storm over a barely missed perception check that makes the party fall into a surprise round. He hears Lucas whoop happily and then what sounds like him taking several victory laps around the table.

He used to be an imaginative kid, able to easily conjure castle, and knights, and dragons in his mind's eye. Listening to Eddie describe a new location, or NPC, or monster makes it easy to bring that part of himself back. Eddie is descriptive and uses so many voices that Steve would be embarrassed to even attempt. But because Eddie is being descriptive, so is everyone else at the table. Erica has adopted an accent of some sort for her character. Dustin and Will go into great detail describing what they want their character to do. The older members of Hellfire do the same, and one of them is using an Irish accent that if he used while talking to Steve, he'd would think it was his first language.

Steve's not sure how long he sat there, long enough that they've taken a snack break and are back at it again, before he decides he might as well watch, too. He gets up and goes downstairs. There's a pause at the table when he wonders in and plops down on the couch. He makes eye contact with Eddie and offers a small half smile. Eddie grins back, and starts back into the game, pulling everyone's focus.

Watching is interesting. He gets to see the Party jab at each other, or lean over and whisper about something. It's nice, to see them being kids. Having fun.

They end around five and Steve is surprised at how quickly five hours had passed.

"So, Steve, how was watching your first DnD game?" Dustin asks, pausing on his way to the door to do so.

Steve considers teasing him, but he goes for honesty instead. "Pretty interesting. It might not be my last time observing. I gotta see you get killed sometime, right?"

"Rude, Steve. Rude," Dustin is grinning though.

"Tell your mom hi for me, and let me know when she's making pork chops again. I'd like to crash that dinner."

Dustin rolls his eyes and shakes his head but he hugs Steve before leaving. Between all the older Hellfire members, they all have rides home that aren't Steve or Eddie.

Speaking of the latter, he's slowly packing things away at the table. Clearly killing time so it won't look like he's intentionally staying after everyone's gone.

Soon, the house is empty again.

"So, I'm not sure... how to start this conversation," Eddie admits to the silence. He's still at the table, standing behind where he was previously sitting, fiddling with a die. "But, I'm sorry. For that day. You were right, you know? When you said I was lashing out at you first."

"Thanks. For the apology," Steve stands from the couch and moves to the table, toying with the tablecloth instead of looking at Eddie. "I, uhh, I'm not sure where to go from here, either? I spent such a long time angry at you. For pointing out all the things I'm bad at in front of everyone there. For making me feel like an idiot."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Now Steve looks up at Eddie. "You say that, but like, why? Are you sorry because what you did was shitty, or because you want to be my friend now?"

Eddie blinks, apparently thrown by Steve's question.

"Because, like, you were pretty dismissive of Lucas before Spring Break and he helped save your life. So, it's like, are you okay with being shitty if the people you hurt aren't people you like? 'Cause I used to be that way, and I'm not going to be friends with someone who is."

"Yeah, no, you're right," Eddie nods. "For all that I scream about conformity, and how stupid it is, I've been rather quick to dismiss everyone outside my own... group. I held rather close to that nerds verses jocks crap for too long. Lucas is a jock, but he's also a nerd, and so very loyal to his friends. And you- you're really fucking awesome."

"I am," Steve interrupts with a cheeky grin.

"Ass. But yeah, you're pretty awesome, and I've been feeling all fucked up today because, we could have been friends, couldn't we? In high school. If I'd just let you take the damn flier and kept my mouth shut."

"Hey, that's not all on you," Steve says. "I would have still joined the basketball team, and the swim team. And, like, I was so desperate for any shred of attention from my parents that I would never have picked Hellfire over sports meetups. I could have joined and still ended up a bully by sophomore year."

"Well, I didn't help-"

"I made those choices, Eddie. And it doesn't matter because it's in the past. So, like, we can just move forward. Start over, or whatever."

Eddie looks him up and down before giving one sharp nod, then breaking out into a wide grin, sticking his hand out for a handshake. "Hi. Name's Eddie Munson."

Steve laughs, reaching out to shake Eddie's hand. "Steve Harrington."

"Great, pleasure to meet you. Do you wanna hang out? We can play 20 questions. Get to know each other."

"Sure," Steve chuckles, extracting his hand from Eddie's. "Let me order some pizza first."

First time hanging out with Eddie alone. Guess they'll find out if they can be friends after all.

#steddie #my fic #what's eight plus seven? #just one more part #not fully edited because im at work so apologies for that

[straylightdream]

what am I missing?

act twelve: “What’s your opinion on sex toys?”

feat: bang chan x f.reader, seo changbin x f.reader, han jisung x f.reader

↳ in your mid to late twenties you’re left wondering if you missed your sexual awakening. With a the help of friends you start to really find yourself.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: for the story as a whole angst, a little fluff, body image issues, and self doubt, cussing all smut warnings listed below for what is in this story.

series masterlist

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

𝐚𝐧: what is everyone thinking about each of the boys so far?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nipple play, clit and vaginal fingering, lots of dry humping and some dirty talk. for the story as a whole, oral (fem & male receiving), piv, unprotected sex, groping, threesome, use or traffic light system, choking, and spanking, the mc calls herself a slut more warning to come. Soft but dominant jisung, kinda sub reader for jisung. Being tied up during sex, anal play, use of a butt plug, names such as baby, princess and good girl

It’s your day off and you originally planned on staying home but Jisung asked you to go shopping with him. Shopping didn’t last long until you ended up back at your place.

You originally turned something on to watch but you don’t even think you actually watched ten minutes of it before you ended up sitting on your knees between his spread legs. He sat on your couch completely bare with his fingers threaded through your hair helping your movements. Each time you bob your head you take him in your mouth as far as you can. A slur of praises leaving his mouth with each drag of your tongue against his length.

“You’re such a good girl,” he moans. Your stomach flutters at his praises. “Baby if you keep it up I’m going to blow in your mouth.

You pull off his length with a little spit connecting you to his length. You wipe your mouth and smile up at him. Reach over he wipes your lip.

“How does the princess want it?”

You push your thighs together desperately wanting some relief. “I want you.”

“What did I say about using your words?” He raises his eyebrow.

You know he’s being stern with you because he wants you to be more confident when it comes to sex, but you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Do you want to be able to touch me while I fuck?” He moves to rest his hand on your neck. You don’t say anything as he gently applies pressure.

“Please.”

“What’s your opinion on sex toys?”

“What kind?”

“I bought you a pretty little butt plug I was thinking about testing out today.”

You’ve never tried anal but you would be lying if you said it didn’t intrigue you.

“Oh.”

“Do you want to try it, yes or no? I told you to use your words with me.”

“We can try it.”

-

Resting on your hand and knees he pours cold lube on your tight ring of muscle. This is a whole new experience you’ve never experienced before. He slowly runs his thumb over the muscle working on getting you to relax.

“I need you to relax,” he says before pressing his lips to your shoulder for a gentle kiss. “We’re using the traffic light system again. If you ever feel uncomfortable let me know immediately.”

“Okay.”

He runs his finger along the rim of your muscle. His finger slowly inside the place no one has ever been before. You’re not used to the feeling but you can already tell you’re going to enjoy it.

He takes his time getting you to relax while applying pressure to your ass. It’s not long before he inserts the lubed up plug.

“Fuck you look hot like this,” he groans. “Do you want to ride me? Or should I take you like this?” He runs his hands up and down your sides.

“I want to touch you,” you moan as he runs his fingers through your folds.

He pulls away before reaching into his bag and pulls out a condom. He slides it down his length before he sits with his back against the headboard. “Come here princess,” he signals at you. Without you saying a word you follow his command. You rest on your knees as you straddle his thighs. His hardened length is standing tall between you. He leans forward with a sly smile playing across his lips. His hand takes your breast roughly in his hand.

“Sit on my cock and once you’re full I want you to sit there until I tell you to move.” You silently nod your head.

Lifting your hips you align yourself with his length before you slowly sink down. The moment he’s fully inside you can’t help but moan at the completely full feeling of him stretching you out and with the silver plug snug in your ass. Your breathing is heavy as you take a moment to adjust. His hands roam your body. One squeezes your butt cheek before he slides his finger down to tap the gem on the end of the plug. You can’t help but gasp.

“Such a good girl.” You don’t say anything once again, you just silently nod your head. “What color?”

“Green,” you respond.

“I have one rule today. You keep your hands behind your back until I tell you that you’re allowed to touch me.” You knew that he wasn’t going to make this easy on you. You follow his orders and hold your hands behind your back. “Time to move.”

Lifting your hips, you slide up his length. You start with a slow but steady pace. Each roll of your hips you move up and down. His hand grip your hips helping your movements. Rolling your head back you can’t help but quietly moan his name. With this position your body needs more. You desperately need him to help you.

Closing your eyes you try to focus on the warm feeling in your stomach. He’s touching the spot inside you that makes you see spots but it’s not enough. You pick up your pace hoping that will help.

“Stop moving,” Jisung says, snapping you out of your thoughts. Your eyes pop open and you stare at him wide eyed. “What’s going on?”

“This isn’t enough for me. I need you to touch me.”

“The plug isn’t helping?”

“It feels nice but I need you to touch me. Please.”

“Okay princess,” he leans forward and gently kisses you.

“How do you want me to touch you?”

“Can you touch my clit?”

“Absolutely.” He kisses you again but this time he’s kissing you like he needs you to breathe. “What’s your color?”

“Green.”

“Princess, start moving again.”

You start moving your hips again. You move at a quicker pace this time. He kisses his way across your jaw as his fingers make quick circles on your sensitive clit.

Rolling your head back you give him more access to your neck. “Fuck I want to mark you up,” he groans against your skin.

“Ji-“ you moan.

You bounce up and down his length the quickest you can move. You’re chasing your high as the coil in your stomach starts to tighten more and more.

“Do you want to touch me?” He groans with his lips against your skin.

“Please,” you moan.

“You can touch me.”

He leans back with a smile across his lips. You reach out, running your hands across his pale skin. You touch every part of him you can reach. Leaning forward you press your lips to his for a heated kiss. Pulling your lips away from his you ask, “can I kiss you anywhere?”

“Fuck, yes.”

You kiss his neck leaving a trail of wet kisses in your path. He moves his fingers at a quicker pace knowing that you’re close to falling apart.

Leaning back you moan his name as you fall apart. You keep moving your hips hoping he falls apart soon. Your walls contract pulling on his length as he lifts his hips helping your ride out your high.

“Fuck,” he moans finding his own release.

Leaning forward your body slumps against his. Your head rests on his shoulder as exhaustion takes over you. He doesn’t say anything as he rubs his hand slowly up and down your back.

“You did so good,” he says softly.

You stay there with him still snugly inside you for a while as your high slowly fades away. When you slowly pull away you find him smiling at you.

“I’m so tired,” you say.

He rests his hand on your cheek and slowly drags his thumb across your skin. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes I’m just tired and my legs are sore.”

“Okay let’s get you cleaned up and then we’re going to cuddle.” Jisung is a man of his word. He gently removes the metal plug before helping you to the bathroom so you can pee before he lays you down in bed. He showers you in kisses as he cuddles up close to you.

“You know you’re my best friend right?” He wraps his arms around your stomach pulling back against him.

“You’re my best friend too.” You know that no matter what Jisung will always be by your side. You know that if at some point you have to stop this he’s still going to be your best friend.

Regarding my taglist: I’m tagging so many people like 300+ people and the the amount of reblogs and interactions I’m getting compared to my taglist make me quite sad. I kindly ask if you request to be tagged that you interact with my writing. It takes me a really long time to make sure I tag everyone. Im going to start removing silent readers and blank blogs to make tagging easier. If anyone wants to be added to this stories taglist I have decided to close it for now. I can’t add anymore people unfortunately. Im really asking for interaction if I’m spending the time to tag you.

Thank you to anyone who has been replaying to the post and reblogging them.

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #3racha #3racha x reader #3racha smut #stray kids fanfiction #3racha fanfiction #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan fanfic #Changbin #Changbin x reader #Changbin smut #Seo Changbin smut #han jisung #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #jisung smut #jisung x reader #jisung fanfic #what am I missing

[soulofapatrick]

Never Letting You Go - Pedro Pascal x Reader/OC part 2

Summary: Part two of Behind The Scenes. honestly just pure unfiltered smut. Perfect Date is part three

Words: 2k

Warning: pure smut

Y/N’s POV

The trailer door slams shut behind us, Pedro not even making it to the bed before he’s slamming his lips to mine, my back hitting the wall and my legs tighten even more around his waist. Somewhere in the back of my mind I’m impressed with how strong he is, able to easily hold me up with not so much as a break of sweat. It turns me on even more, my mind melting with the amount of love Pedro’s showing me. His lips have trailed down to nip and bite at my neck, tongue soothe every twinge of pain and my head is falling back against the wall in pleasure and he hasn’t even begun to touch me properly yet. 

He lets out a groan when I tangle a hand in his hair, tugging and the sound goes straight south, “Fuck, Pedro,” 

“Wait, wait,” He detaches his lips from my neck, pulling back enough to see me, “We’re doing this in the wrong order. I want to take you on a date. I want to prove to you how much-“ 

“Pedro,” I silence him, unbuttoning my shirt as I speak, so fucking glad I decided on the purple lacy bra I chose this morning with the way his eyes darken even more at the sight, “We will do all of that but right now.” I guide one of his hands up to cup my breasts, “I want you to ruin me.” 

“Shit,” He breathes, watching as I unclasp my bra, helping me throw it to the floor. I can’t help the blush or the sudden feeling of self-consciousness as I realise I’m completely exposed to the man I’ve had a crush on since forever, “So fucking pretty mama,” He’s mumbling more to himself that me as he surges forwards, catching a breast in his mouth. The spark of pleasure has my grip on his curly hair tightening as his teeth punish the nub before he swaps to the other, grip tightening on me at every sound that escapes my lips. 

Pedro’s setting my feet down, crowding my body with his as he finally pulls away, face oh so close to mine as he watches me. His fingertips trail down my stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake until he’s dipping under the waistband of my jeans. A thigh forced between my legs as the button on my jeans pops open and my eyes flutter shut when I feel those long fingers pressing against the cotton of my underwear. 

“You gonna be a good girl?” His voice is low, teeth nipping at my jawline and I just nod, not trusting my voice. I’m barely breathing as his hands begins moving, causing a whimper to fall from my lips and my head to fall forwards onto his shoulder. It’s been forever since anyone has touched me like this and the fact it’s Pedro makes it ten times hotter and harder to keep myself together. 

“P-please baby,” My voice breaks and without warning Pedro is yanking my jeans and underwear down in one quick move. It has me gasping, having the capacity to know to kick them both aside and try not to think about how I’m naked in front of the Pedro Pascal who is currently teasing me mercilessly with a knowing smirk on those oh so kissable lips. I’m gripping the back of his neck and yanking him into a hot and heavy kiss, not caring if we clash teeth or our noses bump, just wanting to feel the way he groans my name. 

It’s unfair he’s the one still fully dressed so I’m yanking at his shirt and he gets the hint, breaking the kiss to let his shirt join the ever growing pile of clothes. Before I can worship his bare chest a finger is being pushed through my folds and I’m gasping, head thumping back against the wall. There’s already a knot forming in my stomach at the look on his face as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip before he’s going back to marking my jawline and his finger begins to move. I’d promise this man anything, as long as he keeps going the way he is, making me malleable to his every touch. 

“Pedro,” I don’t know what I’m begging for but he seems to know because a second finger joins the first one. Oh fuck. He begins curling them and I have to bite my lip from being too loud as the knot in my stomach grows into a familiar coil. 

“No, no baby, I want to hear you,” His thumb from his free hand pulls my bottom lip from between my teeth before he’s kissing me again, fingers slamming into me almost painfully but I don’t care because the coil is becoming almost unbearable. 

“P-pedro, I’m… fuuuuckkkk.” I tighten around his fingers, face falling into the crook of his neck as I come with shaking legs and the corners of my vision whiting out as he helps me ride out the high, “Fuck me, that-“ 

“Yeah,” Pedro laughs breathlessly, fingers gone and leaving me empty as he has to hold me up because my legs are shaking too much for me to trust myself, “Can you go again mama?” 

“N-not standing,” It draws another laugh from him and he’s guiding me to the bed, laying me down and climbing over me. His body fits perfectly against mine as if we were made for each other which is a really fucking cliche thing to think because that stuff is-

“Shit, pretty girl,” He groans, head falling to my shoulder as he slides in, bottoming out. It’s almost too much, too sensitive, too spend but the sounds that leave his lips has those thoughts dissipating immediately. He thrusts at such a slow and passionate pace that has my hips raising to meet his, eyes slipping shut at the beauty of the moment, “Never let me go, could live in this pretty little cunt, oh fuck, so perfect-“ He whispers against my lips, drawing my pliable body into a kiss as another wave of heat rushes through me. 

“Pedro,” I whine, feeling that pooling building again and it’s building quickly. 

“I know baby, I know,” He practically murmurs, the rhythm becoming sloppy and a hand tangles in mine. Every action full of love and passion despite the situation and it makes my heart fill and want for this to never end. Just stay here with me and Pedro joined together forever. 

He doesn’t grunt and groan when he cuts but more lets out soft sounds of pleasure, gasping for air and he stills, eyes slipping shut. The look of pure bliss on his face has my joining him, squeezing around him and heels wrapped around his waist pulling him even deeper if that was even possible. 

“Fuck, darling,” He practically flops on top of me, face buried in the crook of my neck and arms holding me, “We’re going on a date tomorrow morning.” He mumbles, eyelids fluttering against my skin before he rearranges us so we’re cuddling. 

“Fine my me.” 

“Good, I’m never letting you go now mama.”

#pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #Pedro Pascal x female reader #Pedro pascal #Joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #Pedro pascal smut

[hockeyboysimagines]

hi!! Can you do romance prompt for Arber #9 “However many years we have left, I want to spend them all with you.”

you write him so sweet🥹thanks in advance I can’t wait to read it!

Thanks for this anon! Enjoy🤍

“Hey babe? What do you want for your birthday this year?” Arber asked from behind the laptop. You would be turning 20 next month, thankfully on a weekend free of games and practices. It gave him a free and open 4 days to cram everything celebratory he could think of for his favorite girl. You deserved it and now that he knew how unserious you thought of your birthday, he wasn’t going to let you get away easy. He’s gasped and nearly had a hissy when he found out you didn’t celebrate and hadn’t for a long time, scoffing at the suggestion that you continue with that theme. “Uh. No.” He said holding up a hand to silence you “We’re celebrating your birthday.”

“Nothing.”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head “Come on. Don’t be like that. I can’t take you out at midnight, so you have to let me get you something or throw a party.”

You leaned around the doorframe from where you were folding laundry to smile mischievously “Even if I was old enough, you would take me out where? You barely make it past 8pm every night.”

You weren’t wrong.

It wasn’t uncommon for Arber to suggest watching a movie only for him to asleep within the first ten minutes of it. He still glared at you either way. You were always giving him shit for the gap between your ages, though it wasn’t huge. Arber however felt most days like he was 80 years old, and being held together with screws and tape. So while he was only 4 years older, the constant beating his body took made the gap seem wider.

“What are you saying?” He turned completely around.

“I’m saying there’s no way you’d be able to party till all hours. Midnight is way past your bedtime.”

His mouth fell open “What did you just say to me?”

“You heard me. Old man.”

You immediately regretted it because the ‘Old Man’ in question was out of his chair and across the room before you even had time to scream. In one swoop he had you airborne and then on the bed with a squeal with an “OOF.” As you landed and bounced.

“Take it back.” He said fingers digging in to your sides.

You screeched and started to kick“Never.”

An all out wrestling war had started and you were losing until you heard a loud crack.

He shot straight up eyes squeezing shut “Oh Jesus!” He yelled, chuckling as he held his lower back.

“Careful grandpa.” You gasped out as you started laughing “You don’t wanna slip a disk.”

“You-“ but you had already slid out from under him and made to run before he caught you again and pulled you down on top of him.

“Okay okay you win. You win. Oh god, I think I threw my back out.”

You started laughing and took a deep breath attempting to untangle yourself and sit upright to straddle him “So when you kick it are you gonna leave me all your stuff?”

He made a face and closed his eyes “You say the sweetest things to me.”

You gave a little giggle and reached a hand forward to rub his shoulders. He closed his eyes and groaned head falling to the side “Oh my gosh that feels fucking phenomenal.”

“Your pretty beat up here.” You said tracing a finger over the scar from his shoulder operation and the scattered bruises from the game yesterday “How many good years do you think you have left?” He smiled and let out a low chuckle, eyes still closed and rested a hand on either side of your hips.

“However many years I have left, I want to spend them all with you.” A bunch of tiny butterflies started flitting around in your stomach and you smiled very slowly as he peeked at you out of one eye “Pretty smooth eh?”

“For a guy who’s almost halfway to 50 it wasn’t bad.”

He gave your hips a squeeze “Just promise me one thing. If there’s ever a time when I can’t get it up put me out of my misery.”

You gave him a smack and then a kiss.

“Deal.”

#arber xhekaj #arber xhekaj fic #arber xhekaj x reader #hockey fanfiction #hockey writing #hockey tag #hockey blurb #hockey tumblr #hockey rpf #hockey fic #hockey romance #hockey fandom #hockey x reader #nhl fanfic #nhl oneshot #nhl rpf #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl blurbs #nhl x reader #nhl writing

[babiesdreams]

Advent calendar

Day 7: Jungwoo and Jeno +18

Warnings: Teasing, choking, spitting, degradation kink, slapping, overstimuation, orgasm denial.

“Okay press your hand pushing up, not straight. If you push up she will not die, yet she will be breathless for a while. That’s what we want” Jungwoo’s voice sounds too differently from its habitual tone. It sounds so deep and serious that it makes both of you (Jeno and you) feel kind of terrified. Jeno’s hands copy his words instructions nontheless. 

"Can you talk?" Jungwoo asks. "Kinda" You say breathless. "It has to be looser then" He instructs and Jeno obeys. His length has been sitting inside of you for a while now, making you needy for some action.

"Move" you beg looking right into Jeno's eyes. Jungwoo chuckles. "Well aren't you dumb if you think that'd work" He simply replies with a half smile. "Remind me why I'm doing this" You say with a sarcastic tone. Jungwoo chuckles again. "Well because you're just a whore. I thought you already knew that"

You roll your eyes. "Well ain't you a fucking brat" He says pulling your hair, forcing your eyes to lock on his. "You're lucky. I know just how to treat brats like you" He says with a deep voice. You don't quite understand if you're turned on by the situation, Jeno's grip around your neck, Jungwoo's voice, his actions or his words, but you're going insane at this point.

Jungwoo smirks and spits on your face. His left hand keeps holding your hair, but his right one rubs the spit along your face. It's embarrasing on itself, but the fact that your cheeks are burning red doesn't help. "You know your place yet bitch?" You close your eyes, trying your best to swallow your pride. "Yes" you simply mumble.

"Yes, what?" He asks with a demanding tone. "Yes sir" You say under your teeth, letting go of the last bits of pride you had on your body. "Look at me when you talk" He orders and you instantly open your eyes and look at him "Yes sir" you simply reply.

"Good fucking pet" He says finally letting go of your hair. It somehow leaves behind a sense of emptiness, but it's quickly filled when you look up at Jeno's look. Something had grown within him, his eyes seeemed dirtier, darker. His hand tightened its grip on your neck.

"Jeno, say a number between one and ten" Jungwoo says, while he walks around the room. "Eight" He grunts. Jungwoo claps once and laughs. "I love it. You heard that Y/N? You're cuming eight times tonight" Your eyes grow bigger in disbelief. Jeno smirks at your reaction. "She's acting innocent now" He whispers.

"How sensitive are you Y/N?" Jungwoo asks, squatting down next to the bed. You turn your head to look at him. "What?" You ask with genuine confusion. He caresses your skin softly with his index's fingertips. You feel the goosebumps. He smirks. "I see" He concludes.

"Pull out" Jungwoo orders and Jeno obeys, standing back up and walking around the room again. His length exits your body, leaving a craving feeling behind. Jungwoo opens a drawer. You can't quite see what he's holding, since you can't move you head around too much, limited by Jeno's hand.

You feel something tingling your left foot shortly after. Jungwoo has a long black object on his hand, he moves it along your leg and you realize. A feather. It brushes ever so softly along your skin, all the way to your thigh and then, it goes back down through the other leg. It goes on for a couple more times until finally it stops over your cunt.

The feather brushes over your clit and you can't control the moan that comes out. The teasing had made your body weaker to the touch. Jungwoo moves the feather up and down your folds, it quickly gets wet with your fluids.

It feels so good that you stop trying to supress your moans. You're being quite loud. "You're close huh?" Jungwoo teases. "You have to ask for permission to cum" You roll your eyes. "Can I?" You simply ask, biting your lip, in your best attempt to stop your orgasm. He notices and stops moving the feather.

"No" He simply replies as he continues moving the feather. "Please. Can I cum?" You try again with a far more desperate tone. He chuckles. "No" He repeats again. "Fuck" You mumble. "Are you in a hurry or something?" Jungwoo asks with a smirk.

You look at him and your expression is obviously implying how desperate you truly are. "Cum" He finally gives in and you orgasm instantly moaning even louder. "Fucking slut" Jungwoo mutters. "You ruined the bedsheets with your cum bitch" He says pointing at the obvious wet spot on the bedsheet. "You better clean it now" He orders and Jeno's hand switches from your neck to your hair, he forces you to move towards the spot and buries your face on the bed.

"Lick, whore" Jungwoo orders and Jeno lifts your head softly. You stick your tongue out and start licking the spot your tongue gets brushed with the bitter yet sweet taste. "Good whore" Jungwoo replies before slapping your face. It hurts but if feels so good that you can't really complaint about it.

"That was one" Jungwoo comments with a raised eyebrow. "Are you ready for two?" He asks and your pride suddenly comes back. "Do I have any saying on this?" You ask with as raised eyebrow. He chuckles, once again and lifts your face by grabbing, ever so gently, your chin. "What's your safe word?" He asks. "Blue" You answer quickly. "That's all the saying you have" He clears out. "Well. Actually... Who do you like more? Him or me?" He asks pointing at Jeno. "Him" You say without a doubt.

He chuckles. "Okay then. Come here Jeno" The boy orders, letting go of your hair. Jungwoo places you as he wants. You're on your back, laying down, legs opened, in between them is Jeno's face, ready to receive more instructions. "Eat her out" Jungwoo says as if it was obvious. He is, once again, walking around the room, looking for something.

Jeno's tongue teases your clit, running wildly along your folds. He kisses your thighs and, eventually make circles around your clit. You can't help but push his head closer to you, growing desperate for his moves. He sucks, licks, kiss. You don't even know what he's doing anymore, just that it feels good. So good indeed that your moans have only gotten louder and louder.

You realise Jungwoo's come back from his walk when he forces your underwear into your mouth. Your moans and screams are now silenced by the piece of clothing. You mumble, asking for permission to cum. "What's that?" Jungwoo asks. "I don't hear you"

You spit the panties out of your mouth. "Can I cum? Please" You ask looking into his eyes. He smirks. "Of course" He replies and you let go, feeling your second orgasm finally coming. Your breath is completely agitated, but Jeno hasn't stopped. "Don't stop" Jungwoo orders. "She's gonna cum again right?" He asks looking at you with a smile. "Fuck you" You mumble, rolling your eyes at the overstimulating feeling.

"Have good manners whore" He says grabbing your face by your cheeks. "Open your mouth" He orders but you hesitate. "Open your fucking mouth" He shouts and you obey. He spits right inside your mouth, you close it to swallow it and he spits on your face this time. "Fucking brat" He mumbles.

Jeno's tongue had gotten faster and now you couldn't bring yourself to ask for permission for cumming. So you simply did. That lighted something on Jungwoo, who grabbed you by your neck and lifted your body, depriving you of the feeling of Jeno's tongue.

"You didn't fucking ask" He says looking right at you "Sorry" You reply with doggy eyes. He chuckles. "Unbelievable" He mutters. "Tie her down" He orders Jeno, and he goes and grab some rope. He ties your hands and feet to the bed. "So you came three times already. You have five more to go"

Jungwoo grabs something from the same drawer than before. A vibrator. He ties it down so that it's constantly moving against your clit. "I'm sorry" You beg him with teary eyes. "You'll be" he replies with a smile. The device is far harder to resist to than Jeno's tongue. Almost as soon as he starts it you feel your orgasm brushing all over your body.

"Can I cum?" You ask desperately. He chuckles. "Oh NOW you ask" He turns around and looks into you. "No" He replies. You hold it in, trying to breathe calmly, to stop it from happening. "Can I cum please?" You would ask every ten seconds or so. "No" Would be his answer all the times.

"Sir" You say with a desperate look "Please, Let me cum" He smiles. "Fine" That's enough to set your body on a neverending shaking state. The device, of course, doesn't stop. You cry out at the feeling of overstimulation. "Please" You say in between cries. "Cum again" He orders and you do.

He turns the device off, letting your body rest. You're crying, your makeup is smudged, your throat sore from screaming, your clit sensitive and your look tired. "You learnt your lesson?" He asks and you nod. "Yes sir" You whisper.

"Good because we have three more to go" He smirks and you don't have any energy to fight back.

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

Advent calendar masterlist

Masterlist

#kpop imagine #nct imagine #nct reactions #nct #kpop #jungwoo smut #jungwoo #jeno smut #nct dream jeno #lee jeno #nct jeno #jeno x reader #jeno #nct 127 #nct smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop masterlist

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Seven

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Jasper… because I’m horrible at holding out for a slow burn, but it’s tame don’t worry!

Notes: So sorry it’s a day late than normal, work has kept me heckin’ tired. Again, thank you for all the love so far! I can’t believe you amazing people actually like what I write!

Word Count: 1672

Series Masterlist

• March 9th, 2005 • Home •

Reader

Deciding to play sick to avoid going to school since my cheek is still tender from last night, I made a show of spending the morning pretend-vomiting. I managed to convince my mother that I was fine enough to stay home alone today from school. She ended up finally leaving for work twenty minutes late after some encouragement from me behind my closed bedroom door, but only after I heard her rummaging around in the kitchen - laying out supplies for soup, crackers, and bottles of water so that I didn’t have to search for it in my ‘state’.

I’m still fuming from my argument with Jasper last night. I’m beyond grateful for his rescue, but mad he couldn’t tell me how he pulled it off. What the fuck is he hiding? Did Bella manage to get an answer from Edward? I rub my head where my scalp still tingles from the rough treatment yesterday as I contemplate theories.

Grabbing my phone, I flip it open and type Bella a message: My house after school? Mom will be at work.

It only takes a few moments before my cell vibrates: Definitely, Edward told me everything.

I stare at my phone, surprised. Everything? Everything as in, last night? Or why they aren’t allowed on the rez? Why they’re so fucking cryptic all the time? Why no one has been able to penetrate their tight-knit group?

A knock on my front door disturbs me from my thoughts; glancing at the clock, it shows that it’s about halfway through first period already. Who would-

More insistent knocking. Alright, alright I think as I descend the stairs.

“Hello-“ I greet, swinging the door open, but I stop short at who is standing on my front porch: Jasper Hale.

“You’re not at school.” He says, standing there like I offended him by not showing.

“Very astute of you. I’m mad at you, Sherlock.” Folding my arms across my chest, I level him with a gaze that would normally melt a normal boy.

But he isn’t a normal boy and he can’t tell me why.

“Education is important.”

I laugh and fire back, “The truth is important.”

“Invite me in.” He asks, stepping up to the doorway. I know he’s giving me control instead of just barging inside - especially after what happened last night, but who is he to make requests right now?

“No.” I don’t budge, not giving him an inch.

“Then take a walk with me, darlin’.” I can feel my anger waver as I continue to stare into his dark eyes. I try to fight it, but a wave of curiosity douses my anger and I cave reluctantly.

“I need shoes.” I tell him in a clipped tone as I turn on my heel for the hallway closet.

“Grab a jacket too, doll.”

I huff at his request, not happy to take suggestions from him when I’m irritated and he’s being considerate.

“Okay what gives? Why are we tromping through the woods?” I stop next to a tree, refusing to walk any further in silence.

“Ask me. Ask me again.” He turns to face me head on, determination set on his face.

“What’s different from last night?” I ask, skirting what he wants.

“Fuck it.” His arms lift and then drop to slap his jean-clad thighs.

“Fuck it?”

“Fuck it, Y/n. Ask away.” He steps closer from where he stopped ten feet away.

“How did you know where we were-“

“We followed you. We were in Port Angeles after returning from our camping trip and saw you two leave the dress shop. Next question.” He interrupts me like he’s in a hurry to offload the information.

“What’s with your family?” He cocks his head as if asking for clarification. “Every single one of you likes to keep everyone at arm’s length. You don’t have friends, you don’t hang out outside of school. You aren’t allowed on the Quileute res-“

“How do you know that?”

“Bella and I talked to some people - did some research, answer me.” I demand.

“Shit.” I hear him whisper to himself as he takes another step closer and rubs his jaw.

“You’re cold as ice, your eyes change color, your temperament is old-fashioned, I’ve never seen you actually eat anything, you’re always gone on sunny days-“

“Say it.” He says, eyes hard as he closes in. “You did the research, what’s your theory?”

“You-you're a vampire?” I say uncertainly.

He’s backed me against the tree, arms boxing me in as he stares down at me in silence for a few heavy moments, our breathing the only sound in the forest.

He leans forward and my body stills, “With confidence - you smart, pretty girl.” He whispers in my ear, breath sending a cascade of goosebumps down my neck.

“You’re a vampire, Jasper Hale.” A sudden dose of confidence strengthens my voice.

The possibility this man was a vampire didn’t really cross my mind until now. Sure, looking up the answers with the information Bella and I learned had shown that as a possibility. But it’s entirely different saying it out loud, saying it to his face and having him not deny it.

“Good girl.” The praise weakening my knees and stealing the breath from my chest. The guy I have a crush on is a vampire and he just confirmed it.

More surprising, I’m not scared of him. Thrilled, high as fuck on the knowledge that I figured him out, but utterly unafraid.

“Are you scared?” He backs away, eyeing my trembling form.

“No.” I answer honestly.

“Then ask me what I eat. What sustains a vampire?” He’s egging me on to try and scare me, I can see it.

“Blood-“

“Blood.” He confirms menacingly as he turns to pace, burying his hands in his blonde hair.

“Is that all?” I ask, not really sure where to go from here.

He lets out a laugh like the world was just lifted from his chest, the kind you let out on a rooftop in the rain after a stressful day. “Is that all?” He says incredulously.

“Are you just going to repeat my questions? You just dumped something pretty monumental on me, I didn’t want to stop you if you were on a roll.”

He stops walking to face me, expression completely sober, “Where have you been all my life?”

Bella isn’t even all the way through my front door before I blurt, “He’s a vampire, they’re all vampires and he confirmed it.”

Her eyes widen, “You talked to Jasper?”

“You talked to Edward?” I counter, seeing as she isn’t denying my confession.

“I-“ she’s shaking her head speechless, exactly how I feel.

“I know.” I just hold her hands and stare.

“I mean - we did the research.”

“I know.” I repeat. What are we getting ourselves into? What now?

• March 10th, 2005 • Forks HS Parking Lot •

Jasper

“Tell me about being a vampire.” Y/n asks me after checking our surroundings for anyone close enough in the student parking lot to over hear our conversation.

I see Rosalie huff and slam the door to her red convertible, tearing it out of the parking lot. I catch her emotions as she flies by: irritation, anger, annoyance. That’ll be fun to deal with later.

“My skin is nearly impenetrable, it’s like granite.” I lift my arm as she reaches for me as if to inspect my skin. “I don’t need to breathe-“

“That’s why you hold your breath!” She whisper shouts and I’m surprised by her observation. “I can tell when you’re not breathing, you’re shit at pretending.” She says as she turns to throw her backpack in the backseat of her car.

I chuckle and shake my head as I look at the ground, this girl is a firecracker.

“What?” She asks, emotions giving away that she’s self-conscious and I meet her eyes.

In that moment, after a lifetime of being hated and lonely, I wanted something. Not just something, I wanted her. I wanted a mate, I wanted to be chosen, I wanted life.

I wanted her to want me.

Reader

“I want to take you out.” Jasper said, the words almost knocking me off my feet.

“Like in a murder sense?” I joke back, scared of the alternative.

He steps forward and cradles the back of my head in one of his hands as his mouth drifts towards my ear, a rare display of affection in a crowded parking lot and my heart constricts painfully in my chest.

“No silly girl, on a date.” Jasper’s lips tickle as he whispers, his chest rumbling with a light chuckle as his breath and words shoot goosebumps in a tsunami-type fashion down my body.

I inhale sharply, Jasper Hale asking me on a date? I clench my fingers in the front of his shirt, surely this isn’t real.

“Say yes,” he whispers into my temple, “you’re overthinking it.”

My brain function winks out at the feel of his lips on my skin, like he knows the effect he can have on my poor nerves.

“I can’t, I still have homework to do. And you know, chores and stuff.” I whisper back in a trance, squeezing my eyes shut.

Jasper tilts his head back and lets out a hearty laugh at my half-assed response.

“What?” I demand, my brows furrowing in confusion.

“Darlin, you’re so sure of everything until it comes to what you feel. The one thing you’ll never have to doubt is that I’m yours now, ready or not.” He tells me, a confident grin on his perfect lips. “And you didn’t have to take me up on my offer tonight.”

My cheeks burn as I grin at his words, I know he’s right. “I-it’s just-you-“ I stutter, words failing me at his confession.

“Shhh, I’m not going anywhere.” He pulls me back in to kiss my hairline, settling my nerves. “I can wait. For you, I’ll wait.”

Next

#bless-my-demons #redamancy series #twilight #jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock hale #twilight fanfiction #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper whitlock #jasper hale x female!reader #female reader insert #slow burn #romance

[dameronscopilot]

okay hi, I hope this okay, but I saw your post about taking a shot at Santi's knees every time you write about him-- but hear me out. This man is a filthy mouthed heathen (and I say that with so much love), but you cannot tell me that he wouldn't turn to putty in your hands if you reversed the roles, and called him out for being so desperate that is willing to blow them out on the spot, just to touch you (or to be touched). Just wanted to share that thought!

(This is more than okay, my inbox is ALWAYS open for spicy thoughts thots)

I'm so obsessed with this concept that I actually blacked out and well...you'll see under the cut 😂 !

Santiago's Shitty Knees Be Damned

Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!reader

Word Count: 700+ words of Santi's shitty ass knees versus the distraction of your goddamn sundress ✨

NSFW 18+ content below.

Santiago's spent the whole afternoon watching the way the short, teasing hem of your dress flutters delicately high up on your thighs as you flit about at the barbecue. And perhaps you've milked the whole situation just a tad, making sure he gets a generous peek underneath when you bend over directly in front of him.

He's ten shades of frustrated by the time the sun starts going down, so when you finally disappear into the house to use the bathroom, he makes a beeline to follow you.

Dick achingly hard in his pants, he's waiting outside the door for you when you finish. He crowds you right back inside the small room, pushing the door closed as his mouth latches onto yours immediately.

You idly begin to wonder what he has in mind, because the small sink has no counter for you to scoot up on top of. He takes notice of the predicament, and just when you're about to maneuver yourself to bend over the pedestal, you find yourself shoved up against the wall instead.

After shoving down his pants, Santi busies his lips with the swell of your breasts as he slides a hand up your dress, his palms running over the eager slick of arousal that's begun to drip down your thighs.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, palming at his thick, leaking cock with his other hand.

He presses up against you, rubbing his shaft through your slippery folds as his hands reach around to cup just under your ass, pulling you toward him.

He can't be fucking serious.

"Santi, what the fuck are you doing?"

He hefts you up, using his elbows to encourage you to wrap your legs around his waist. He grunts, and you don't have to look down to know his knees are bowing at the effort.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're two seconds from blowing out your shitty ass knees. This is why we don't have sex in this position."

You run a hand through his curls, and his eyes flutter shut for a moment as he leans his head into the touch. You can tell he's fighting off the pain by the way he pushes forward into you slightly.

As he moves, his shaft—which is trapped against his stomach—presses against your clit and tugs at your folds as it rubs against them, and you unconsciously buck your hips.

Santi's caught somewhere between a wince and a moan, but he ultimately grips you tighter, thrusting upward.

And it's hot. It's so fucking hot that this man is so desperate to fuck you, so desperate to get his cock inside of your wet cunt, that he's ready to destroy his busted ass knees just to fuck you up against a wall in the bathroom of a stranger's house.

You tell him as much, and he ruts against you again, nuzzling his nose against your neck, mouthing at the sensitive expanse of skin there.

He nods, and you continue, “You’re so pussy drunk already, Santi. You’ve spent all day thinking about how good it’ll feel to sink your fat dick inside of me when we get home. You’ve been imagining me riding you, my tits bouncing in your face, until you fill me up with cum.”

“Jesus Christ,” he chokes out, his hips trembling, more pre-cum dribbling out of his length.

“But you couldn’t even wait till we left, couldn't hold out to take me apart in the backseat of your truck, because you knew you’d blow your load right there in your pants if I bent over in front of you one more time.”

His breathing grows ragged as he rubs his forehead against your collarbone.

“So instead, you thought you’d fuck me right here, up against a wall, shitty fucking knees be damned."

You reach a hand between you, firmly squeezing his dick, and Santiago whines.

He fucking whines.

"Your legs are two seconds from giving out, and I bet all you can think about is my wet pussy clenching down on your cock."

You shift your hips and adjust his shaft, notching the head against your entrance, and your breath hitches at the teasing stretch to your fluttering hole. Santi's beard scratches your chin as he brings his face to meet yours, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss.

"You'll fight through the pain just so you can fuck me full of your cum and make me walk back out there with it sloshing around in my underwear."

A strangled sound leaves Santi's mouth, and he growls, "Fuck my knees," as he finally plunges his cock inside of you.

—

Comments, reblogs, and/or asks are always appreciated!

» OSCAR ISAAC MASTERLIST » SANTIAGO GARCIA MASTERLIST

#answers from the cockpit #santiago garcia #santiago garcia smut #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #oscar isaac #oscar isaac fanfiction #dee writes

[leiawritesstories]

Congrats on 500 followers! <3

A couple of prompts...

-I put you down as my emergency contact because I don’t know anyone else in the city, and we literally only met in passing, please forgive me but I am stuck at the ER and they won’t let me leave without you.

-First time meeting the parents

-“I would marry you again in a heartbeat.”

I got one from each list. Just leave Frederick on a leash? :)

🥰🥰🥰Thank you, my dear ❤️ *forcibly shoves Frederick back into the basement* You'll be pleased to know that Frederick has NOT been invited to the party 😂

also, both you and @renxzs asked for the "emergency contact" prompt, so I'll fill that one separately (and hopefully you'll like it hehe)

Word count: 814

Warnings: absolutely none :D

Enjoy!!

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

"I can feel my blood pressure going up just thinking about this stupid dinner." Aelin leaned back into Rowan's arms, biting at her lower lip like she always did when she was stressed.

"Fireheart, it'll be okay," Rowan promised, kissing the top of her head.

She blew out a sharp breath. "What if they hate me? What if my parents hate you? What if they decide we 'aren't right?' What if--"

"Hey." He cut off her rambling worries with a kiss, gentle and sweet. "Aelin, love, my mom and dad love you already, and they've only met you through my stories."

"Yeah," she admitted, her tense posture starting to relax. "I'm worried about my mom, though. Her standards are so fucking high."

Rowan flicked imaginary lint off of his suit jacket. "That's why I dressed to impress, love."

She chuckled softly. "You'll always impress me, love."

A soft smile curved his lips. "I love you, Fireheart."

"I love you too." She rested her head on his shoulder, drinking in the peace of the moment. "We really have to go, though."

He sighed. "Yeah, we do." Lacing his fingers with hers, Rowan led Aelin out of her apartment and down to where his car was waiting. He drove to the restaurant where they were meeting both sets of their parents for dinner, taking her hand as they got out of the car and headed across the parking lot. "It's gonna be perfect," he reassured her in a low whisper, squeezing her hand.

"I hope so," she murmured, squeezing his hand back.

The moment they walked entered the elegant, low-lit restaurant, they ran into the rush of Enna Whitethorn's enthusiasm. "Darling!" she chirped, folding Rowan into a breath-stealing hug. "Oh, it feels like we haven't seen you in forever, son!" She beamed, soft lines crinkling at the corners of her eyes.

"Hi, Mom," Rowan deadpanned, biting down on his mischievous grin. "It's literally been three months, calm down."

She pinched his cheek, which Aelin thought was completely adorable and something she'd never, ever let her stoic boyfriend live down. "That's too long, darling." Wrapping her hands around his arm, she steered him towards Aelin. "And who is this lovely lady? She's miles out of your league, my dear."

Rowan cleared his throat. "Mom, this is my girlfriend, Aelin."

"Oh, it's so wonderful to finally meet you, Aelin dear!" Enna embraced Aelin, who took a few seconds to realize what was happening before she hugged Enna back.

"It's wonderful to meet you," Aelin laughed. "I can totally see where Ro gets his sense of humor." She winked. "When he allows it to show, at least."

Enna clicked her tongue conspiratorially. "Mmm, yes, he's far too solemn for his own good. I'm sure you're fixing that, though."

"We practice his smile for twenty minutes every day," Aelin agreed, nodding along. "The goal is an hour, but twenty minutes is such an improvement from the ten seconds he started with."

Rowan muffled a groan. "You two are getting along far too well," he complained, affectionately stealing Aelin's hand and sliding it back into his.

Enna beamed at the two of them. "Let me take you back to where we're all sitting." She walked them towards the back of the restaurant, where Rhoe and Evalin Galathynius sat with Pyotr Whitethorn at a table set for six, chatting animatedly. "The young ones are here!" she announced.

The parents immediately stood up, coming over to the young couple for introductions. Aelin threw Rowan a dangerous smirk and wink before turning to her parents, greeting them with smiles and hugs and kisses.

"Mom, Dad, I'd like you to meet Rowan Whitethorn." She paused for dramatic effect. "My husband."

Halfway through shaking Rhoe Galathynius's hand, Rowan choked on air, coughing violently and blushing even harder. "Aelin!" he managed to wheeze as he caught his breath. "What?!"

Aelin burst into bright laughter. "Ah, love, the look on your face is too good." Her eyes twinkled with mirth.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack," Evalin gasped, muffling a smile as bright as her daughter's.

"Learned from the best," Aelin teased. "Rowan is my boyfriend, of course."

"Good." Rhoe kissed his daughter's cheek. "I won't start asking about grandkids, then."

"Dad!" Aelin's face flamed red. "You promised to behave!"

"That was before you decided to shock ten years off my life, Fireheart," Rhoe chuckled. "Fair play, hmm?"

"Fine," she acceded. After another few moments of greetings, they all took their seats, Aelin sliding in next to Rowan.

He took her hand under the table, sliding his thumb over the back of her palm. "Just so you know, love, I would marry you again in a heartbeat.”

She nudged his leg with her high heel. "That's still several years away, buzzard."

"Good luck convincing our parents of that," he joked. "They're already planning the wedding."

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

#my writing #leia's 500 followers thing #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #answered prompt

[ladylooch]

I have thots….

Mile high club

Timo is an obvi choice but may I present to you Barzy? Or MILES

And obvi if we’re talking OC’s for sure lio and con

Mmkay back to my bevies

😘🍻

I am having tequila high noons tonight… so it’s gonna be lit 🔥

The way you are making me choose about who to write this about.. what a predicament. 

But… my Woody girls are thirsty…. So let’s go with Miles MF Wood.

“Surprise!!!!” Miles yells as your sneakers hit the tarmac. The last fifteen minutes have been very confusing to you. You had arrived at the airport in Boston, ready for your new adventure together in Colorado. But everything took an unexpected turn when the car continued onto the tarmac of the airport. You were shuttled to a specific hanger that holds a private security area and the nicest airport lounge you have ever seen.

“We are flying private.” He wiggles his thick eyebrows at you.

“Baby, what…. This is… so…”

“Free!” He grins. “Paid for by our new team as a welcome to the Mile High City.” His arms stretch out to the side. The gap in his teeth is extra pronounced with his excitement. 

“Oh my god. I’m finally dating a real superstar.” You snort as you poke his stomach. His smile falls off. 

“Hey.”

“Sorry, you tee’d it up for me.”

You both get settled on the plane quickly taking off before you even register what is happening. Your take off drink of choices was mimosas due to the late morning time. 

“Cheers to our next adventure.” Miles clinks your glasses together. You take a sip, then his tongue chases the bubbles in your mouth, stretching out his seatbelt to maximum length.

“Babe.” You laugh at his aggressive kissing. Your plane is just hitting ten thousand feet and you feel a bit anxious as you always do during the first part of any flight. Something about being in a smaller plane isn’t very comforting to you.

“We are fucking before this plane ride is over.” Your boyfriend’s words snap you out of your anxious thoughts.

“What?”

“There is no way you’re getting off this plane without me being inside of you.”

“Babe!” You smack his huge thigh, glancing back at the flight attendant gathering together your cheese board appetizer. “No way.” You look at the lack of door between the cabin and the pilots as well as the openness of everything. Plus, you’re way too anxious of a flyer. “It would be so obvious.”

“I do not care.”

“Well, you’re not the only one participating.”

“You owe me. A bet is a bet.” Your face goes white. Shit. He is not actually making you pay up for your drunken bet that he wouldn’t go three years without getting replacement teeth. “You’re too vain.” You had giggled at him. Miles never “got around” to getting new teeth… and you didn’t really think anything of it because you love him and he’s so cute and sexy either way that whatever. Who needs teeth?

Damn, when did teeth get so negotiable to you.

Only Miles Wood could do that to you. And only he could make you unbuckle your seatbelt to straddle his lap. His prize for winning the bet was naming a time and place of his choice for you two to have sex. Apparently, this is the time and place. 

He reaches around your body to grab the inflight blanket provided. He folds it around your back. You have a full view of the flight attendant who has the cheese board in her hands, ready to walk it out to you. You make eye contact with her. You purse your lips. She immediately knows and turns around, closing the curtains.

“Oh my god. She closed the curtains.” You put your forehead on Miles’ shoulder in shame.

“Baby, they definitely deal with this all the time. With way grosser people than us. Let’s give them a show.”

“Miles, you fucker.” You whine as you reach for his belt. You cannot believe you are doing this. He is rigid beneath your fingers already panting at what you’re about to do. His blue eyes are wild with excitement as he grins at you. You take him out of his pants, unable to make eye contact with him as you stroke along his taut skin. He chuckles. 

“Baby, we don’t have to.” Him giving you the out makes you want it so much more. Your eyes meet his and he grins wider. “Yesssss, I knew you wanted to.”

“I see why you told me to wear the dress.” You had been debating between leggings and a dress, but he insisted on this.

“I’ve had this planned since I found out we were flying private.” He leans forward, sucking along your collarbone. “Fuck that feels good.” He moans as your fingers wrap tighter around him, stroking his length. “Oh.” He moans. 

“Okay you need to be quiet.” You say pointedly. He’s the loud one in this relationship. 

With his help, you shift your panties to the side. Miles leans his chair back, then guides your hips as you put him at your entrance. Your head falls back as you slide all the way down onto him. His thickness is intoxicating while stretching you to capacity. You roll your head forward again, watching the way his eyes flicker with waves of desire. His lips are pursed to keep his groans to himself.

Miles bucks into you. It’s a little awkward with not being able to move, but you find your rhythm quickly, wanting release.

“Ohhhmygod.” Miles’ head falls forward to your breasts, shoving between them as you squeeze his face between the mounds. “Baby.” He moans into your right breast, leaving a kiss there afterwards. 

Neither of you last long. It feels too good and so public and honestly, you needed this to relax and enjoy the rest of the flight. You rut into him with slow movements to bring you both down gently. Miles comes out from your breasts, puckering his lips for a kiss.

“I’m glad this is how we started our life in Colorado.”

“Me too.” You admit, brushing his curls off his forehead.

#Miles Wood blurb #Miles Wood X reader #hockey writing #my writing #NHL fan fiction #NHL imagine #colorado avalanche #<- wtf.... is that...? #NHL Smut

[joonary]

banana clip | jhs

↳ summary: he’s your roommate and your best friend. that was enough of a reason for the heartsick feeling in your stomach at the thought of him leaving, wasn’t it? 

but even so, with him in tokyo and you in los angeles, you can’t help but wonder if he looks both ways every time he crosses your mind.

↳ genre: fluff; angst; roommate au; study abroad au (is that a thing? i’m making it a thing); friends to lovers; jung hoseok x reader

↳ rating: pg-13

↳ warnings: swearing, mild alcohol consumption, pining and overthinking, timeskipping but all of it is denoted by timestamps, introvert hoseok indulgence

↳ word count: 25.1k

↳ a/n: can you believe i plotted this fic in 2019? and then it ended up being nothing like my original outline LOL. heavily inspired by hoseok being an infj and his s-tier instagram usage. unbeta’d as per usual, but dedicated to rose @kinktae​ for her roommate hobi dream (which i included, minus the **** ******** unfortunately). messed around a lot stylistically and characterization-wise in this fic, please feel free to hit me up and let me know what you think!

[date unknown, 2022; 1:46 AM PST]

Laundry is always best done in the presence of another. 

Well, not necessarily. If you think back to the days when you lived at home, you would purposely do your own laundry in the wee hours of the night, the presence of your mother or siblings in the cramped laundry room with you being more counterproductive and energy-consuming than anything else. 

Not even to mention your first year of university, where you had done your laundry in pockets of time between classes, feeling the awkwardness and dread bubbling up in the back of your throat the second you poked your head into the laundromat and saw another student doing their own chores at the same time as you. 

It didn’t matter if they didn’t even try to make conversation with you; you preferred to do household chores alone–often popping a playlist on and letting your brain run on autopilot as you cleaned–and there was nothing wrong with that.

But this–this is different. Hoseok looks just as sleepy as you and twice as stubborn, refusing to hit the sack until at least all of your shared and sorted piles of clothing have made it into the dryer. 

(Clothes today, sheets and blankets tomorrow. That was what your agreed-upon, riveting plans for the weekend with your roommate entailed.)

He makes for a good laundry partner though, the pair of you sitting cross-legged on the living room carpet (which was vacuumed this morning by the man himself, by the way), your shared Spotify playlist turned into white noise with the dozens of quick conversations you’ve thrown back and forth between the soft thuds of folding clothes. 

“I’m gonna get some water, want something?” you ask, standing up and dusting non-existent dust off your pants. 

(They’re not even your pants, actually, but a pair of Hobi’s basketball shorts that you were borrowing for the weekend alongside one of his sweatshirts. When it came to clothes, his closet outnumbered yours ten-to-one, which is exactly how borrowing his clothes while yours were in the wash for the weekend became just another part of your routine.

All of his shit was vastly more comfortable than yours was, anyways–it almost had you looking forward to weekends like this.)

“Mmm, maybe a CapriSun?” Hoseok decides, eyes lighting up like it’s the best idea he’s had all night. And it is.

“Shit, I might get one of those instead too,” you contemplate, already making your way to the refrigerator. 

“Wild cherry for me!” You know by now that that was exactly what he would say next. 

“You’re the only person who likes that flavor, I swear.”

“I only like it because you drink all the Pacific Cooler every time we buy.” He cranes his neck enough to make eye contact with you at your place in front of the fridge, a dramatic lilt to his voice. “It’s been so long that I don’t even remember what any non-Wild Cherry juice tastes like…”

Now he’s just fucking with you. With a roll of your eyes and a smile way too big to hide any fondness behind it, you toss the juice pouch halfway across the room towards him, which he catches effortlessly in one hand. 

You’re in the middle of puncturing the thin film of where your straw is supposed to go in your own juice box when the washing machine beeps to signal yet another finished load. Your roommate is already springing to his feet before you can react, muttering a quick “I’ll get it” as he squeezes past you into the hallway, one of his hands brushing against your upper arm and making your heart leap into your throat. 

The feeling doesn’t dissipate, even as you make your way back to your makeshift laundry-folding station on the floor.

Hoseok brings forth yet another basket of warm clothing from the dryer, and you fall back into your routine without addressing the incident. Like you always do–physical contact wasn’t anything amiss between you two, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t cause mild jolts of flusteredness every so often.

(Okay, sue you. It was perfectly normal to find your friends physically attractive without thinking about it any further, right? You were perfectly content with your relationship with Hoseok at the moment without wanting to take it any further.)

It’s nearly an hour later when Hoseok speaks again. There’s usually never this little chit-chat between you two for this long, but the late hour and the task at hand is mind-numbing enough for the pair of you to bask in at least a little silence. Or the effort of speaking is what’s truly exhausting–it’s not an uncomfortable lack of conversation, and the still-running playlist has you both occasionally humming along at random intervals to whatever track is playing.

(Yes, you’ve been at this for hours, and your music has yet to come to a halt. Living together for nearly two years and sharing a surprisingly large amount of taste in music from the get-go has resulted in a playlist of a whopping nine hours and forty-six minutes.)

Whatever the case, the next words out of your roommate’s mouth are ones that shouldn’t surprise you as much as they do.

“I’ve always wanted to study abroad.”

Now that’s something you’ve never heard him mention before. “Really?” 

He hums in confirmation before elaborating. “Yup. Deadline just passed for Fall semester programs, so I’d be planning for Spring instead.” 

“Aren’t we graduating next Spring though?”

“Yeah, I went to advising and depending on the program, I should be back before commencement in June. They don’t recommend it, but it’ll only be one semester,” he assures. The seam of his lips seals like it's a promise. “January to May, that’s it.” 

Shit, he went to academic advising for this? And the way he talks makes it seem like this is something that’s been on his mind for a while now, something he’s been planning and only just now geared up enough confidence to mention to you. 

“Yeah, I’ve always thought that studying abroad would be fun. But damn, six months is still a pretty long time.” You can’t even remember what you’d been up to six months ago. Off the top of your head, at least.

“Mhm, it’s just an idea though,” Hoseok says casually. But you can tell already that this is much more than that.

Months of preparation in advance before telling you or not, for you, he’d be willing to throw the entire idea down the drain and you know that. So you voice exactly what’s on your mind.

“I think it’s a great idea,” you smile. You revel in the way his eyes light up at your input. You value his input in your own turmoils just as much–it feels good to know that your friendship will always be mutually beneficial. “It’s not like you don’t have the money, especially now that Jiwoo’s out of grad school. Perfect setup for new experiences.”

“Experiences for what?” he can’t help but laugh, heart-shaped smile breaking yours in two. “The Instagram aesthetic? The chance to be humbled because I’m not really as trilingual as I put on my resume? There’s nothing I don’t have now that I could want out in Japan.”

“A girlfriend,” you joke. “You don’t have a girlfriend. But seriously, does there really have to be something in mind that you want in order for you to go? Sometimes you just gotta take the leap when you get the opportunity to, and the best experiences come that way.”

“Damn, someone’s getting existential,” he says with an expression of mock-surprise flashing across his brows, playing off your words easily. He takes another sip from his CapriSun pouch. Yours has long since been flattened and discarded to the floor. “Now it seems like you’re just trying to get rid of me.”

Brushing his snide remark aside with a playful eye-roll, you realize that he’s already got a country in mind. You shouldn’t be surprised, given the other extensive amounts of research he’s apparently done so far.

“Japan, huh?”

And for what feels like the hundredth time since this conversation began, he nods, only furthering your previous assumptions. It’s just like him to have all of his own thoughts organized before sharing them with you.

“Looked at other countries too, but their programs ran way longer than our own semesters do. Plus it just–I don’t know–caught my eye.” He elaborates even further, his interest in this endearing to you. “I went with my dad a couple times when he had business trips over in Tokyo and Osaka, but I think nine-year-olds appreciate vacationing completely different from how twenty-one-year-olds do.”

“I mean, it’s like two-thirds of a vacation, considering you still have to go to class and shit.”

He huffs out a small laugh. “Back then it was like two-thirds of a vacation too. I had a lot to learn.” 

“Guess so,” you sigh. You know he’s always had this immense pressure to manage a portion of his family’s country in the near future, but from what he keeps you updated on as of late, he’s much happier to be working in marketing, amongst other projects he’s taken on. 

When you first met Jung Hoseok nearly a year-and-a-half ago, he was a closed book. Not in the silent, mildly awkward mannerisms type-of-way like your neighbor Yoongi, but in the sense of where it was damn near impossible to know what he was thinking, and getting him to open up about anything about his personal life and work at all was like pulling teeth. 

You’re happy to know that he’ll gladly confide in you in just about everything now, but nonetheless, it always intrigued you with how good he was at only showing people exactly what he wanted them to see. Maybe it was all the wide smiles and loud outfits. 

Brushing your speculations aside, you propose another idea. “Hey, maybe now instead of being managing director of the Los Angeles branch of the company, you could be one over in Tokyo?”

Hoseok gives a narrowed eye smile. “Seriously, if you’re plotting to get rid of me, it’s not gonna be that easy.”

You smile with a wrinkle of your nose. “Damn. Back to the drawing board, then.”

Despite his words, you would never even dream of getting rid of him. Hell, even his proposed leave left something akin to loneliness to settle in the recesses of your mind. 

He’s your roommate and your best friend. That was enough of a reason for the heartsick feeling in your stomach at the thought of him leaving, wasn’t it?

[January 1st, 2023; 11:46 PM PST]

“You’re not bringing the condom shirt?”

Hoseok pops his head out of the closet at your question, the strips of tin foil in his hair gleaming in the change of lighting like a shitty 5’10” disco ball. 

“Should I?” he shoots right back, holding up a different button-up shirt by its hanger before laying it out on the bed beside dozens of other various articles of clothing.

“Ooh, I got a better idea. Lay it out over here and you can wear it to the airport instead, and I’ll take a shit ton of pics for you to post later.”

“You’re a genius, you know that?”

You’ve always admired Hoseok’s sense of fashion. From the brightly-colored ten pound shoes he wears to the plain white t-shirts, he manages to turn every place he goes into his own personal runway. He carries himself so coolly that he can make anything look good, honestly.

His organizational skills leave nothing to be desired, and this is no exception–for tonight, he’s just laying out all the clothes he plans on bringing with him to Tokyo, and tomorrow he’ll have that impromptu fashion show you’ve been begging him for as a secondary measure of what really should go and what should stay. Then it’s to the ironing board for all of it before hitting his suitcases. 

You’d think by now that you’d have picked up on at least some of his tidiness, but a side-by-side comparison of your closet to his would easily debunk that theory. 

This has been going on for hours, both of your opinions on certain outfits being thrown back-and-forth like a ping pong ball. 

(Remember what you said about him having trust in your judgment? Apparently that weight becomes lessened in terms of fashion, because Hoseok is having way too much fun debating you on how good his questionable outfit combinations were.)

Eyes beginning to grow heavy with sleepiness, you check the clock. His hair should be done right about now, right?

You approach him, standing while he sits on the edge of his bed, carding your fingers through the newly dyed mouse brown strands. You unfurl the nearest strip of tinfoil, triumph creeping into your smile when the highlighted strip turns out exactly the shade you pictured it to.

“Good?” he asks, eyes wide with anticipation.

“Nah, sorry but we have to shave your head now.”

He playfully shoves at your shoulder with a laugh before letting you pull him to his feet. And he follows you to the bathroom, making an incredibly good point when he tells you that even if it looks bad, he looks good in beanies anyways.

But the backup plan isn’t even necessary–he looks a little too good, if you’re being honest. You were by no means an expert at dyeing hair, but with the way Hobi’s highlights turned out, it might as well have been done professionally. He makes goofy faces at the mirror while you undo each chunk of tinfoil, growing more and more impressed at your handiwork as you go along.

“Holy shit,” is all you can say as you ruffle your fingers through his hair. 

“You like it?” he asks with a tilt of his head, meeting your eyes in the mirror. Always asking you for your input. He only laughs in disbelief when you nod your head vigorously.

“I’m serious! Like damn, I just got weak in the knees a little.”

He snorts this time. “You’re so ridiculous.”

You step beside him, inspecting his strands from a different angle. It’s seriously so unfair how pretty his side profile was.

“I can’t tell if you’re staring at me, or if you’re just tooting your own horn for how good it turned out,” Hoseok jokes pointedly, making his way back to the bedroom after you declare your answer that both were true. 

Aforementioned tidiness gets abandoned after a few more hours and tens of shirts later, when the realization settles in that Hoseok has too much clothes on his bed and too little surface area for him to be sleeping.

“Fuck this, we’re gonna do laundry again before I pack anyways,” Hoseok mutters, sleepiness overpowering his usually stable judgement as he shoves aside the pile of potential pants to pack to make enough room for the both of you to fit on his mattress. 

You honestly don’t even remember the exact moment that the both of you had nodded off to sleep, but you recall lying side-by-side like fish in a tightly-packed can while you chatter about all the things that are going to change in the coming months.

(Hoseok expresses disbelief, like he still can’t believe he’s actually going through with this. You flick his forehead while you reassure him that in ten years from now, he’ll be glad he went.)

You stay like that until the morning sun peeks through the blinds that he has perpetually drawn, the light scattered across the array of colored clothing that was now cast to the floor.

[January 7th, 2023; 3:33 PM PST]

The thing about California that you’ve grown to both love and hate over the years is the lack of a chill to the air, even amidst the peak of Winter.

It’s a welcome break from the sweltering heat that overtakes more than two-thirds of the year, but the lack of low temperature and wind leaves the air feeling stale. Or perhaps that was just you seeing the grass being greener on the other side where Hoseok will be going.

(In this case, the grass wouldn’t be greener, but covered in a blanket of snow like every romance drama’s winter. But you digress.) 

You feel as though you’re even more jittery than he is when you look at the boy through the rear view mirror, who has his phone out and camera aiming towards the LAX sign, the setting sun reflecting off the metal and bathing them in a lazy pink glow.

Yoongi’s behind the wheel and Hoseok insisted that you should sit shotgun, leaving him in the backseat with all his bags. Jiwoo had wanted to tag along as well, but she had gotten caught up at work and compensated by inviting you both over for dinner the previous night. There isn’t much being said currently, just the three of you humming along to whatever music you allow to come up on shuffle.

You can’t really blame Hobi’s uncharacteristically quiet attitude though. He’s been running around nonstop throughout the duration of this week trying to make sure that himself and all of his belongings would reach their destination safely, and even when he wasn’t moving physically, he was on the phone or sending emails back and forth with the university to ensure that the process was going smoothly. 

At least he’ll catch up on rest while he’s on the plane. Or perhaps right now too, with how (predictably) horrible LAX traffic was going.

“See, this is why we leave for the airport at least three hours early,” Yoongi says matter-of-factly. He takes his hands off the steering wheel to emphasize that your vehicle is currently at a complete stop.

“You sound like your dad,” Hoseok shoots right back, causing you to laugh.

Yoongi shakes his head. “Fuck, I am getting old, huh?”

Hoseok and Yoongi have known each other longer than you have known either of them, but the three of you get along so well that it feels like you’ve known each other your entire lives. Which is funny, honestly, considering that you and Hoseok hardly ever saw Yoongi to begin with. Not only because you have other friends and each other that you opted to hang out with more, but because Yoongi spent so much time working in his studio that even him taking a few hours off to take Hoseok to the airport–and to have lunch with you two beforehand, too–felt sentimental.

The car’s painfully slow movement leads you all to resort to classic road games to pass the time. By your sixth round of iSpy, you finally make it to the parking structure. 

Airports feel like liminal spaces to those who are immersed in it, but for those who are only there for drop-off and pick-up, all you feel is the chaos. From the traffic, to the checking in of bags, to finding the correct areas to go, you’re easily growing exhausted. The security line where Hoseok’s flight has directed him to go feels like a force field, knowing that this is where you’re going to have to say your final goodbyes. 

It’s a shame that Hobi can’t bring you and Yoongi all the way to the gate to wait with him. It only makes the countdown of time you have left together feel even shorter. 

Even with that in mind, no more sentimentalities are left to be said, you all opting for a much more casual line of conversation.

“What are you guys gonna do now?”

“Not even gonna lie, I’m hungry again,” you throw out. 

“Yeah,” Yoongi nods in agreement. “Figured you would be too, so I already planned not to be working for the rest of the evening so we can go somewhere.”

Hoseok looks just as shocked as you are at his planning ahead, but you’re the one who comments on it. “Damn, Yoongi’s just constantly playing 4D chess with himself, huh.” 

Hoseok throws his head back in a laugh so hard that you feel like you don’t even deserve it for your shitty quip. But the body language of his laugh is contagious, and you find yourself snickering right along with him. Even Yoongi lets out a pained laugh at his own expense.

“I’m already hungry too,” Hoseok nods after he settles down from his laughter. “I’m so excited. I love airport food.”

He’s so strange that it’s endearing. It’s not even the airline food he was excited for (which, understandable), but the overpriced Panda Express on the other side of the security check that he was setting his stomach on. Things he says like this only contribute to the ongoing list of things about your best friend you’ll never understand. 

Eventually, you know when you should leave though. Despite the fact that you almost selfishly want to stay here forever, if only to bask in the time you have left with Hobi, your excitement on his behalf reminds you that you’re stalling. The weariness you had seen in him in the car has also seemingly been replaced with the same enthusiasm you were feeling, now that he was alert and awake under the fluorescent LAX lighting.

“I’ll see you in March,” he promises. Just like what you had agreed on a few nights ago. He’ll be back for Spring Break for sure–but even with that promise in mind, there was three months separating you until then, so you hug him with enough strength for you to remember his presence for four. And he hugs you back equally tight, until you both can’t help but squeeze out a laugh at how close you are.

And then he does the same for Yoongi, and in place of where Yoongi will usually pull his tsundere act and resist Hoseok’s affection, he revels in it the same way you had instead. It’s so blatantly obvious how much the both of you are going to miss him, and how much he’s going to miss you in return. 

Yoongi and you can only watch as he proceeds forward towards the escalator, bag slung over his shoulder and head of brown hair fluffing as he moves. Every few steps he casts his gaze back, shooting you a smile and a wave before he continues onward.

He faces you one more time before the walkway meets the escalators, throwing another goofy grin your way as his facial features grow less and less distinguishable the further up he goes. Be it the distance or the growing anticipation in your gut that makes it so, but he’s disappearing out of sight and he’s disappearing fast.

You wave your last goodbye, and with the next blink that may or may not have had tears accompanying it, Hoseok is out of your line of vision and onto another chapter. And so are you.

[January 7th, 2023; 7:44 PM PST]

When you leave the airport, the LAX lettering is illuminated from below by a soft hue of blue against the canvas of a pitch black sky. The excess of city lights makes seeing stars nearly impossible, and absentmindedly you wonder if Hoseok has a better view of them from seven miles in the air.

“Don’t hate me.”

Your head cocks up and towards your companion from where you had been absentmindedly staring at the road, the blur of the city passing by. Yoongi’s hands have a tight grip on the steering wheel, like he’s expecting you to sock him because of what he says next. “You know how I said I figured you’d want to go out to eat after we leave the airport?”

You wait for him to continue in lieu of a response. “I invited a friend to come to dinner with us.”

A blink. Then, “Why?”

Great. As well-meaning as Yoongi was, you couldn’t believe he would spring something–or rather, someone–on you like this. He was just as socially awkward as you were, for crying out loud! You would have at least appreciated more of a warning than this. 

(Ideally four business days in advance, but you’ll take anything more than what he’s chosen to give, honestly.)

It’s not like you had any means of dodging the situation either–Yoongi was your ride home, unless you wanted to throw yourself into oncoming Los Angeles traffic instead of taking your chances with whatever friend-of-a-friend he was bringing along. You pretend you don’t actually contemplate it for a moment.

He shrugs, eyes forward and lips pursed in a slight pout. “Don’t know. He’s nice–I promise–and I thought it’d be nice. I figured we’d have more fun together than letting you just go home and mope about how much you’re gonna miss Hobi.”

You cock and eyebrow at him. “Don’t act like you don’t miss him already too.”

“I’m not pretending anything,” Yoongi pouts, raising his eyebrows and flexing his fingers against the steering wheel in self-defense. “But I know it’s hitting you five times as hard as it is me.”

“Pfft. I’d say someone is projecting a little,” you dismiss with a laugh. “And don’t say it’s a roommate thing, because if Namjoon were the one leaving instead of Hobi, do you really think you’d be as miserable as you think I am right now?”

Yoongi only wrinkles his nose in response. Cutely, you might add. “No. But that’s the difference between our households. You and Hoseok are best friends and do everything together. Namjoon is just some guy that lives in my house.”

You shake your head with a laugh. He’s unbelievable. “Yeah, whatever. And your brilliant solution to cure the loss of my best friend is to drain the life outta my social battery?”

He heaves out yet another sarcastic sigh as he puts his car in park outside of the restaurant. 

“Trust me, if I wanted to kill your social battery that badly, I wouldn’t have given you a warning at all. So speak to me nicely.”

[January 7th, 2023; 9:06 PM PST]

Per his word, Yoongi’s friend is nice.

The thing that strikes you the most about Kim Seokjin is his sense of humor, or rather, how much it contrasts from your own. And Yoongi’s too, for that matter–it makes you wonder how the hell the pair of them became friends to begin with.

They play off of each other well, though. Seokjin makes self-inflating jokes and outlandish claims, and Yoongi is always ready with a dry and quick-witted comeback. If Hoseok were here, he would say that the pair of them were like their own comedy skit. 

“Okay, hear me out. What’s your MBTI type?” Seokjin leans forward, as if to increase your engagement from where you sit across from him in the booth.

Yoongi lets out a groan. “Not this shit again.”

“Just shut up and let her answer, man.”

You frown, needing a second to think. It’s been ages since the last time you took the test. “An INTP, if I’m remembering correctly.”

“Perfect. Riddle me this then, Y/N,” Seokjin says, folding his hands together like he’s about to ask you a question on Who Wants to be a Millionaire?. “Do you like fishing?”

What? 

“I mean, I guess so.” You can’t remember the last time you’d even thought about going fishing.

“Yes!” he cheers, like he’s a physicist who just discovered a new subatomic particle. Yoongi full-on face plants into the table. The former takes that as an opportunity to clarify: “I’m trying to convince Yoongi over here of my theory that all INTPs like fishing. We now have three pieces of evidence to go into my thesis: you, me, and him.”

“For the last time, Jin, I’m not an INTP, I’m an ISTP. ‘S’–as in you’re a fucking Sucker for thinking this is a valid theory. And besides, Y/N’s answer was half-assed and the only reason I like going fishing is because you drag me with you all the damn time.”

You laugh. “My answer was not half-assed. If you ever need funding for further research, you know where to find me.”

Yoongi looks more and more miserable the further you and Seokjin drag along the bit. He begins to regret introducing you, the biggest enabler known to man, to Jin of all people, the man who definitely does not need any more enabling outside of what he undeservedly already gives himself.

He has to admit though, he’s glad that you’re entertained by tonight’s antics–that was all part of the plan. He wasn’t kidding when he said that he didn’t want you to be sulky over Hoseok being gone.

He knows that the pair of you were just friends, and had no plans of that changing in the future. But still, you didn’t have to be in a romantic relationship for you to miss him as if he were a significant other.

The set line of concentration between Yoongi’s brow is dissolved when Seokjin nudges him to ask to maneuver through and out of the booth, telling him that he needs to use the bathroom. 

As he scoots out, Yoongi wonders why the hell he didn’t sit in the deeper end of the table to begin with. Two drinks paired with Jin’s already fidgety nature made for a bad combination this early on in the night, especially before food had arrived to distract him. Bladder: 1, Seokjin: 0.

But with the new friend’s absence, you can converse with Yoongi more comfortably.

“This is so weird.”

“What is?”

“I can’t remember the last time I went out and Hoseok wasn’t there.”

You love Yoongi, you really do. But you wish he would stop looking at you from across the table like the “No Bitches?” meme of Megamind. As if he were any better.

“Don’t look at me like that! You act like I don’t know that you spend sixty-nine percent of your time cooped up in your studio.”

Yoongi sighs and shakes his head at you again, whether it be from your actual comment, or your inopportune choice of number. But either way, you’re spurred to continue your rant. “And you spend the other thirty-one percent of your time sleeping or with Hoseok and me! So don’t act like I’m the only one who misses him.”

“You know the more defensive you are, the more you’re only proving my point right?”

Before you can form a response to his dry and pointed question, Seokjin’s speaking to announce his return.

“The bathrooms are really nice here,” Seokjin says, eyes lit with approval as he sits back down across from you, as if he were commentating on the interior design and not the efficiency of their plumbing. “The toilets probably have the same sucking force of a black hole.”

And before you can even speak, Yoongi’s already shooting back his own deadpan comment. “That wouldn’t be possible because toilets have a max PSI of fifteen.” 

You really do wonder if they’ve considered starting a podcast together.

Small talk has never really been your forte. Which is why you’re glad that Seokjin seems to be comfortable enough to circumvent that, aside from initial questions about what the other is studying and what you both do for work. But what catches his interest the most is when you mention that you play PC games on occasion.

“Do you play MapleStory?” he questions immediately, eyes lit with anticipation. 

You think for a moment. “Haven’t in a good while, but I definitely used to play a ton in high school.”

“Oh my God,” Seokjin says. “Can we get married?”

“Jin!” Yoongi says, brows knit in concern at his friend’s sudden question. Only for the older boy to raise his hands in comical defense.

“In the game, in the game!” he assures, causing you to laugh. “If we get married, we get bonus items, plus we share all of our Mesos and materials.”

“Like a two-man guild?”

“Exactly like a two-man guild!” Seokjin smiles as he nods excitedly. “See Yoongi-chi! She gets it!”

Yoongi definitely decides that introducing the pair of you is either the best or worst decision he’s ever made in his life. He’s still unsure of which side it’s leaning more towards.

At the end of the night, Seokjin asks you for your phone number. But like Yoongi said, his intention wasn’t to set you two up. All he wanted to do was expand your friend circle now that you couldn’t spend twenty-four hours a day with your roommate. 

And if that comes in the form of a guy who wants your contact information solely to help him grind in MapleStory, so be it. 

When you finally arrive home and bid Yoongi goodnight before slinking into your own now-empty condo, you find a follow request from what appears to be Seokjin’s Instagram account. Moments after you accept the invitation, you find another notification telling you that you’ve been tagged in his story.

You inspect the photo to ensure you don’t look stupid (for the intents of purposes of uploading it to your own story, yes, but also because Seokjin has a hell of a lot more followers than you, and who wouldn’t get nervous over that kind of thing?), but you’re relieved to find that you admittedly look really good. 

You can’t say the same for Yoongi though–the poor guy looks as though he were mid-sentence when Seokjin snapped the photo, leaving him partially blurred and cheeks puffed out. Not that it has any negative impact on his appearance; as Hoseok once said, Yoongi looks cute doing just about anything.

Swiping into Seokjin’s DMs, you type out a quick message.

[9:54 pm] jin 😗: Mentioned you in their story

[10:06 pm] you: You mentioned jin 😗 in your story

[10:06 pm] you: nice meeting you today :) also can you send me this pic?

[10:16 pm] jin 😗: yeah of course

[10:16 pm] jin 😗: IMG_298.jpg

[10:19 pm] you: thanks!

[10:19 pm] jin 😗: mhm :)

[10:20 pm] jin 😗: nice meeting you today too!

You heart his message before promptly sliding your phone into its charging port on your nightstand, commencing in your nightly routine.

Without Hoseok here, there’s no music playing throughout the entire house. There’s no loitering at the sink while you wait for your turn in the shower, no menial conversations about your day and the funny things that you overheard while you were on campus. 

You twiddle your thumbs for a moment once you’re ready for bed. You contemplate calling Hoseok to check in, but he should be somewhere over the Pacific Ocean right about now. Even though it’s more likely than not that he paid for in-flight WiFi, you’d rather let him sleep to prepare for the long days ahead.

With that thought in mind, you find yourself settling into bed sooner than usual, and drifting off into a heavy sleep.

[January 8th, 2023; 8:27 AM PST]

When you awake, you habitually reach out towards your phone’s place on your nightstand. It’s part of the luxury that comes with the weekend that you awoke naturally, rather than by an alarm clock. You only have the next few days to bask in that though, with the upcoming semester starting next week already.

Fumbling to unlock your cell phone, you swipe away any notifications that could be dealt with later. But your sights focus on one bubble of an Instagram notification in particular.

[5:12 am] jung hoseok: Replied to your story: replaced me already? :(

Unplugging your cell phone from its charger before rolling back over in bed, you grin at your screen, uncaring about how silly it must look—who else was home to judge you, anyways?—as you type out your reply.

[8:29 am] you: you know i could never

[8:29 am] you: how was your flight?

You smile at the incoming call notification that greets you almost instantaneously. 

[January 14th, 2023; 11:21 PM PST]

It’s not until a week later that you hear from Hoseok again. Not that that’s a bad thing, per se; you’re sure he’s had a ton of things to settle in, from his room, to his class schedule, to even just the mundanities of his day-to-day life that he’s had to adjust to accommodate living in another country. 

[11:21 pm] hobi 🌱: I’M A LIAR AND A CHEATER

[11:21 pm] hobi 🌱: 😭😭😭😭💦

[11:22 pm] you: ?

[11:22 pm] you: also PLEASE do not use 💦 as a crying emoji

He’s always done this—using emojis without a single drop of irony in his tone, regardless of whatever implications it may have to the broader internet. 

[11:23 pm] hobi 🌱: JUST LISTEN

[11:24 pm] hobi 🌱: i know i said i wanted to study abroad because my japanese was rusty as fuck

[11:24 pm] hobi 🌱: turns out i’m REALLY rusty

[11:24 pm] hobi 🌱: BUT MY ROOMMATES ARE BOTH KOREAN

[11:25 pm] hobi 🌱: AND THE GIRL I MET IN CLASS YESTERDAY IS FROM TEXAS 

[11:26 pm] hobi 🌱: SO I’VE PRETTY MUCH ONLY BEEN SPEAKING KOREAN AND ENGLISH

[11:26 pm] hobi 🌱: I HAVE PROBABLY SAID THREE SENTENCES IN JAPANESE OVER THE PAST WEEK

Okay. Maybe he’s not quite as settled as you assumed he’d be this early on. 

[11:27 pm] you: LMFAO

[11:27 pm] hobi 🌱: that’s all you have to say

[11:28 pm] hobi 🌱: your best friend is committing cardinal sins as we speak and all you have to say is “LMFAO”

Why the fuck is he so fast? Whether it be text messages, Instagram likes, Twitter replies, you name it–he responds within seconds, like he’s somehow mastered the art of telepathy with his iPhone screen.

You quickly erase your initial message in lieu of responding to his sudden accusations. 

[11:29 pm] you: at least give me a minute to type 😟 goddamn

[11:29 pm] you: actually

[11:30 pm] you: are you good to call rn?

[11:30 pm] hobi 🌱: wait wait i don’t need to be roasted THAT hard

You snort, pulling yourself off your bed to make yourself look at least somewhat presentable before you hit that FaceTime button.

[11:31 pm] you: you’re an idiot

[11:31 pm] you: and you promised me a dorm tour so 

[11:32 pm] you: if you say no now then you’d REALLY be a liar

[11:32 pm] hobi 🌱: fuck

[11:33 pm] hobi 🌱: Incoming FaceTime Call

When you pick up, you’re suddenly hit with a wave of something that feels like relief when you see Hoseok. It’s nice to see his face–you didn’t even realize just how badly you’d missed him, too wrapped up in your own bustling schedule, until he was right in front of you. At least, the two-dimensional version of him was in front of you, trapped on the other side of your phone screen.

“Hobi!”

“What’s up!?” His smile is so big and bright that you’re nearly certain it has healing properties. 

There’s so many things that you want to ask him that you don’t even know where to start. You want to know how classes have been, how his dorm is, the people he’s met, the food he’s had–the list could go on for miles, so you settle on the first thing that comes to mind: “What are you doing right now?”

“Check it out!” he replies excitedly, lifting up his phone to show you a 360° of his dorm room behind him.

With his hand now in the frame, he points out several amenities in his new bedroom. “Bed. Desk. Window. Bathroom. Closet. Jimin.”

At the mention of his name, the boy you’ve never seen before spins around in his office chair from where he sits at the desk that runs parallel to Hobi’s. “Hi!”

“Hi!” You wave back in return.

The room looks a lot smaller than yours does at home. Hobi’s never dormed before, so you’re sure that it’s definitely a change of environment for him. 

(Not like the rest of the trip wasn’t, but you digress.)

As if reading your mind, Jimin chirps in. “Sharing a room shouldn’t be too bad. We would’ve let Hoseok-hyung have the single bedroom, but Taehyung arrived three hours before both of us so he got dibs. But I promise you that he’ll be in good hands.”

Your eyes narrow playfully as you joke. “He better be, because you’ll be the first person I’m throwing under the bus if anything happens.”

Jimin throws his head back with a laugh. Hoseok turns the camera and your attention back to him, flipping the screen to continue touring you through his desk setup. True to his tidy nature, everything is clean and color-coordinated, and essentially every study aesthetic blog’s dream setup. 

There’s only one thing out-of-place that you see amongst his desk, which is–

“Hey, your alarm clock is still set to PST!”

The digital alarm clock matches the exact time that sits on the corner of your phone screen. Hoseok doesn’t even bat an eye before he offers his response. “Oh, I know.”

When you tilt your head in confusion, he elaborates with a laugh. “I wanted to be able to see what time it is over there too, so I know if it’s a good time to bother you or not.”

“That’s genius.” You honestly had forgotten all about the time difference. Sure enough, you can see the bright sky behind clouds illuminating the university campus out the window in his background, when you know that the only thing out your own window is darkness and the faint twinkle of distant stars. 

You lean over your phone to reset your own alarm clock time to match the one it should be in Tokyo, clicking a solid sixteen times before the hours coordinate with his time zone. You shake your head in mock annoyance when Hoseok makes a remark about you being a copycat.

“C’mon,” he says as he stands up from his desk, as if you were physically there with him and not trapped behind his phone screen to go wherever he chooses to take you. 

“Where are we going?”

He places his phone on the floor so that you can see him lacing up his boots–he’s wearing rubber boots because it’s snowing over there, which was just another thing that you had forgotten about the distance between you: he might see snow frequently in Tokyo because it’s still winter, unlike Los Angeles where even in January the heat was hardly tolerable. 

Shrugging his overcoat on, Hobi regards you with a grin. “You haven’t seen the rest of campus yet.”

[January 25th, 2023; 5:14 AM PST]

You absolutely detest doing laundry with other people. 

But with one arm holding a basket full of sopping wet clothes, you have no choice but to knock on the solid door in front of you.

Yoongi’s puffy and sleep-ridden face greets you, but despite the dough-like quality of his features, you know that the reason that he’s even awake at this ungodly hour is not because he’s an early riser–but because he hasn’t slept at all yet.

He gives you a half-assed nod of acknowledgement as if to ask what you need from him. 

“My dryer’s broken,” you state simply. You don’t elaborate and you don’t particularly need to, as Yoongi shrugs and moves to let you in. 

“Stay as long as you need to,” he says as he maneuvers to the kitchen, starting up the coffee maker like it’s second nature to him. You murmur your thanks before approaching his washer and dryer system. 

“Namjoon’s not home?”

“Nah, they got him working night shifts at the hospital again,” Yoongi shrugs. “Honestly, a part of me thinks that he prefers night shifts over daytime. Crazy bastard.”

You cast a gaze down the hall to where Yoongi’s studio-slash-bedroom is, and sure enough, the door is cracked open and the light is shining through, further solidifying your earlier assumptions that he was up and active before you had even arrived. 

With that, you snort. “Yeah, I can’t imagine who else would willingly want to spend their night working.”

He only huffs a guilty laugh with his back turned in response. 

Like in your own home, the closet containing the laundry unit faces the kitchen, causing Yoongi to resort to washing dishes to keep you company in your chores, which you appreciate. But once he’s done with that and you’re a few loads deep into your laundry, he traverses to the bathroom to get dressed for the day. 

It’s at this moment that your phone rings. 

It’s still early enough in the day for anyone to be calling to be pegged as unusual, but a glance to your screen shows you that it’s Hoseok. 

You mentally count on your fingers how many hours ahead of you he is, before determining that it is a reasonable hour, for him at least. 

As soon as you pick up the video call, he’s going off on whatever story he had to tell you, similar to how he does when he’s at home. You miss the exposition of his story as you adjust your phone volume. 

“—so after the class ended I stood up, right? And then Jungkook—that’s his name—got up really fast too and then his camera bag smacked me square in the face! It was a little embarrassing because it didn’t hurt but I was just so shocked that I wasn’t sure what to say so I went ‘ow!’ and of course that made Jungkook feel bad and—wait.” Hoseok pauses his storytelling when he takes in your appearance. 

For one thing, even though you’re still dressed in pajamas—one of his hoodies, actually—you already look awake and alert, which isn’t what he had been expecting at all. He was anticipating you to still be sleeping and for him to be the minor inconvenience that woke you up. He blinks.

“Good morning,” you chirp in a deadpan tone, continuing to fold the pair of pants in front of you. “Night? Afternoon?”

You start counting on your fingers again to figure out exactly what time it is in Tokyo, but Hoseok isn’t even paying any mind, still trying to figure out what the hell is going on. 

At first glance, whatever residence you’re currently at resembles your own to a tee. But Hoseok knows that there’s supposed to be a crack in the ceiling above the kitchen island where you’re sat, caused by the time you threw one of your shoes up there to (in)effectively kill a spider. And also the stools at the island are a different color and shape. And it almost appears as if the entire layout of the place is inverted. What’s even more jarring is that the whole place looks vaguely familiar. 

Hoseok blinks. Again. 

“Mind if I ask what you’re doing at Yoongi’s place at”—He makes a show of leaning back his chair until he can see his designated Pacific Standard Time clock—“six-twenty-seven in the morning?”

You don’t miss a beat, eyes focused on folding the edges of your shirt properly rather than the phone screen when you reply: “Why, are you jealous that I found a new laundry partner already?”

The lack of response has your gaze snapping back up accusingly. “Oh my God, you are!”

Hoseok sputters, a laugh of disbelief bubbling out. “Am not! I’m just saying, it caught me off guard to see you guys together so early. Had me thinking you guys were a thing or something.”

You and Yoongi, a thing? Has he met either of you?

Laughing again, you don’t miss the opportunity of fucking around with your best friend. “Damn, that obvious? Hey Yoongi,” you begin, taking notice of the man padding back into the hallway with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. “Wanna come over and eat ramen? Do you want to come see my cat?”

The look on Yoongi’s face is one of downright horror, but what Hoseok can’t see through the screen won’t hurt him. “Okay, okay, you can stop now!” Hoseok says, waving you off to take the attention away from the redness in his face.

Hoseok is the dramatic one out of the pair of you, the one who laughs with his entire body to a point where he’s nearly falling to the floor—but right now you think his reaction is so funny that you’re about to fall out of your chair. 

“It was a serious question!” He whines. “But yeah, I called to tell you that I think I made a new friend today.”

“The guy who hit you with his camera bag?” you ask with pinched brows.

“Yeah, even though I said, like, two words to him after the incident. But I have class with him again tomorrow.”

“Damn. First impressions only happen once though.”

“Don’t remind me,” Hoseok groans. “Or else I’ll just be a hermit and skip going out with Jimin tonight. In fact, I just won’t leave my room again until June. Wait, seriously though, are you guys together now?”

You wrinkle your nose with another cryptic laugh at his lingering curiosity. “Go to dinner, dummy!”

And before he can get the last word, you beat Hoseok to the punch when the sound of you hanging up the FaceTime call rings in your ears. 

[February 14th, 2023; 7:58 AM PST]

You never schedule classes in the morning. 

But today, you find yourself leaving for campus much earlier than you normally would choose to. According to a girl you had spoken to briefly in one of your classes, some student society is giving out free boba in favor of Valentine’s Day, and you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity in exchange for another undeserved hour of sleep.

At least, that was the plan.

When you swing your front door open, a petite package sits on your welcome mat, your own name and address staring back at you on its shipping label.

You don’t recall ordering anything lately. With pinched brows, you bring the package to your kitchen counter to assess. 

Sliding the rectangular box out of the manila envelope, you turn it over in your hands. It doesn’t feel particularly heavy, and the box shape is reminiscent of the kind you would only find when you purchase jewelry. 

It couldn’t be a Valentine’s gift, could it? 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you do what you always do the second that you have a moment of doubt. 

“Hello?”

Hoseok picks up right away, like he always does.

“Hey Hobi, look at this. I got a package addressed to me that I don’t remember ordering.” You wave the box in front of the FaceTime screen to show. You were going to mention your suspicion that it was a potential Valentine’s gift from someone you didn’t know, but you opted not to out of embarrassment of sounding vain.

(If Hoseok comes to the same conclusion as you, however, then you’d feel a lot more confident in your own suspicions. You trust his judgment a hell of a lot more than your own, honestly.)

Hoseok leans closer to the screen to observe. “Holy shit, open it!”

“Are you sure that’s okay?” you ask, as if you aren’t already prying the lid off the box with curious fingers.

And inside the box sits a bracelet. It’s gorgeous, a thin silver chain with several deep green pearls lining the rim of it. It’s prettier than anything you’d ever buy for yourself. Your eyes widen and so do Hoseok’s, although for different reasons.

“Oh.”

“Oh!” Hoseok says, an embarrassed smile on his face like he was the world’s biggest idiot.

“That’s from me!”

It was?

“Look!” He lifts up his own right wrist, which adorns a bracelet that was identical to the one in the box in front of you. “I got this in the first week after I moved to Japan. It reminded me of you the second I saw it, so I knew I had to get one for you too.”

“Oh my God, you really didn’t have to,” you say worriedly. You can’t wrap your head around how pretty the piece was. “Thank you!”

“Of course,” he beams. “I forgot that shipping all the way to L.A. would take a few weeks before it got to you. I guess I just assumed you had gotten it a few days after I sent it.”

“And you just thought I wouldn’t say anything about it?”

Hoseok laughs. “I don’t know! Maybe you didn’t like it or something!”

“Hobi, this is beautiful, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shake your head. You can’t express your thanks enough. 

He smiles, satisfied at his pick and your reaction. He’s always had a good eye for jewelry, alongside his meticulous fashion taste. “When I was buying it, the lady said that green pearls are supposed to symbolize new beginnings. I thought it was fitting.”

“It really is, huh?”

“I’m glad you like it,” he says warmly. You feel like you could cry. “Hey, listen, I gotta head out now, but I’m really glad you called today. I miss you.”

“Miss you too,” you nod your agreement quietly, still at a loss for better words.

He says your name, causing you to look at his illuminated face on the phone screen one more time.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

And then he’s gone.

Even minutes after Hoseok hangs up, you still find yourself rooted to your place in front of your kitchen island. Screw the free boba. It probably sucked in comparison to whatever this was.

He got you a bracelet simply because he was thinking about you.

In your opinion, a hey-I-was-thinking-about-you-today gift from none other than your best friend had a hell of a lot more sentimentality than a secret valentine from someone random.  

He got you a bracelet simply because he was thinking about you.

You turn the sentence over and over in your head, the same way you roll one of the pearl beads between your fingertips idly.

[February 17th, 2023; 12:11 PM PST]

Your phone is propped up against your book bag across from you, filling the space where Hoseok would usually be. 

“Happy Birthday!”

Nobody ever looks good on a goddamn FaceTime call, but Hoseok always does. Even now, when it’s a little bit past 4AM where he’s at, even when there’s a drunken pink tinge to his cheeks and an irritable expression to match.

(You had joked once that Yoongi and Hoseok switched personalities when inebriated, which both of them had vehemently denied.)

There’s a happy little smile that decorates his face when he thanks you, dimples on full display. 

You wanted to call him right when it hit midnight in Japan, but he hadn’t picked up. You tell him just as much. He tells you that his friends planned a little get-together that started with plans for birthday dinner at midnight, and ended a mere twenty minutes ago after copious amounts of drinking.

You play up how butthurt you sound. “I wanted to be the first person to wish you a happy birthday.”

“Damn, you really had nothing better to do, huh?”

“The hell is that supposed to mean? It’s your birthday!”

“I don’t know, since I’m not there, you could always hang out with different people now, try new things!” You blink, and then your eyes narrow. What was he trying to say, exactly?

“You callin’ me a loser, Seok?”

He looks flabbergasted, like you had struck a nerve. “Of course not. I’d rather spend my birthday with just you and Jiwoo, honestly. Like last year.”

Last year, your lives had been majorly different. You had been approximately a year-and-a-half into your lease with Hoseok, and in that time you had already grown close enough to own the title of being his best friend.

When you first met Jung Jiwoo, you had admittedly been jealous of Hoseok. 

Not everyone had sisters like her–a constant stream of love and support, and not to mention damn good fashion taste to go with it.

But that envy that you had felt faded away easily, because Jiwoo was quick to adapt to treating you as if you were another one of her own siblings.

Like Hoseok, she just clicked with you. And even in Hobi’s absence, she still made time for you, still invited you to come to the mall with her and to take Mickey on walks. And when Hoseok was around, you had been around for all of her milestones that she allowed you to be a part of, including her wedding.

The memory makes you smile, actually. 

Jiwoo and Hoseok bickered very rarely, but they had gotten into a squabble that resulted in hours of not speaking to one another over what had happened first: Hoseok asking you to be his plus one, or Jiwoo asking you to be one of her bridesmaids. 

(“I asked her to be my date first!” 

“Well, she won’t just be a guest anymore! This is like an upgrade!” 

“But now her being my date won’t be the memorable thing!” 

“Memorable? Did you forget that this was my wedding we’re talking about? Being your plus one doesn’t mean shit because I would’ve invited her anyways!”

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t even have known her if it weren’t for me!”)

Even though the memory of last year is something to be cherished, you know that how he’s spending it today will be something just as great to reminisce about. “Yeah, but when are you ever going to spend your birthday like this again?”

“You’re right,” he huffs out with a satisfied sigh.

He looks radiant as ever, like the weather in Tokyo was working wonders for his skin over the past few months. But then again, his skincare game was top notch at home in LA too. The sun shines brightly no matter where it is on the map, no?

“Check it out,” you say, chest the only thing visible on your screen as you reach over your phone’s perch to retrieve something from your bookbag.

“What’s that?” Hobi questions, eyes wide like he doesn’t already have a sneaking suspicion about the plastic container in front of you.

“You’re so mean,” he whines. You only giggle in response.

“First, Jungkook thinks the most appropriate birthday gift for me would be for us to go skydiving,” Hoseok lists miserably. “And now you’re taunting me by buying my favorite cake knowing damn well that I can’t have any.”

“What am I supposed to do? Mail it to you?” You pout. 

Ignoring you, he only continues to whine. “This is so fucking foul.”

“What do you mean?” You feign ignorance, procuring a spoon to eat your cake with. “I’m just celebrating your birthday with you.”

“I can’t believe you’re torturing me even though you’re thousands of miles away.”

Smiling around the spoon in your mouth, you repeat the same words he told you before he was miles and months out of reach from you. 

“Well, if you were plotting to get rid of me, it’s not gonna be that easy.”

[February 21st, 2023; 3:51 PM PST]

The first thing you see when you refresh your Instagram feed after class is a story post from none other than your best friend.

It’s a mirror selfie showing off his outfit and the iced coffee in his hand, and despite it being a simple outfit of a white t-shirt tucked into acid washed jeans, he looks good as ever. He wears a closed lip smile, dimples on display. 

Pushing out the doors of your lecture hall with one hand, you don’t hesitate for a moment before throwing out your reply.

[3:52 pm] you: You replied to their story: why are you so cute? :>

“Oh my God, Y/N?”

Freezing, you pray that the voice isn’t who you thought it was.

The grin you had mustered up stays plastered to your face when you turn to face the source of the voice. “Yujin!”

You thought you’d have a mouthful to say the next time you saw the girl. 

You thought you’d want to rub it in that you’ve got a great roommate now, and that you’ve even got a job lined up for you after graduation. You were so petty that you wanted to do all that just because she was such a horrible roommate to you four years ago.

But now she looks like someone else entirely.

Long hair that was once dyed in that “new city, new me” shade of brown was replaced with a sleek but trim cut in its natural color. She stands up straighter than you remember; does her makeup with more refinement than that eye-catching quality that she always had four years ago.

She looks like she’s grown so much in the years since you last crossed paths, and the way her gaze is pinned on you makes you think that she must be thinking the same about you.

“How have you been?”

“Busy,” you summarize with a soft laugh. “You?”

“Same,” she murmurs.

As you continue to talk, you come to find out that she had taken a gap year last year due to family reasons so she won’t be graduating alongside you, but now she was a RA at the same dorm building you had shared. Yujin tells you that she’s glad that you have a solid roommate now. 

Your lives had branched out in such different directions, but even you can admit that it relieves you that there was no bad blood between either of you.

When she says she has to leave for her next class, you let her go, but promise that you’ll have lunch again sometime. Usually when you make plans like that, you don’t mean it, but you genuinely want another chance to catch up with her.

Exhaling a breath as she takes her leave, you spare a glance down to your new notifications and smile dumbly at your best friend’s words.

[4:09 pm] jung hoseok: why are you so cute too? :>

You grin with a shake of your head.

You had spent so many years thinking that Yujin was awful and selfish and a million other words that had negative connotations attached to them, but in reality, she was just a normal but mildly inconsiderate roommate. The childish and petty behaviors that you recalled from nearly four years ago were nothing atypical of the fresh-faced and wide-eyed college freshman that both of you were. She’s probably telling her current roommate horror stories of similar caliber about you, and honestly? You probably deserved all of it just as much. 

But then again, your time with her wasn’t anything like the dynamic between Namjoon and Yoongi that you’ve come to know. The pair of them are like passing satellites, on the same wavelength, but only communicate when necessary. They know each other’s schedules, but differ so much in personality and behavior that they see the other asleep more often than they do awake. They label everything in their refrigerator with names and never cross the doorway boundaries into each other’s bedrooms. And it works for them.

But Hoseok–he was in a category of his own. 

He takes care of you, and you know that you do the same for him without question. You both know when to joke around, and when to be serious. Even now, though technically living together, you still cared so much about each other.

That had to mean something, didn’t it?

[March 2nd, 2023; 1:21 AM PST]

“Man, I fucking hate this place.”

“Same.”

Your eyes are burning. You can’t remember the last time you’ve stared at a computer screen for this long for something that wasn’t academic-related, let alone a game with graphics that haven’t been improved whatsoever in the past twenty years.

You release your fingers from the keyboard and lean back in your office chair, your in-game character going stagnant. 

Jin’s character does not, and you continue to watch as his caricature falls from the tree branch platforms for the nth time. He’s probably ten seconds away from tearing his hair out, but so are you. 

“They don’t call it the Forest of Endurance for nothing. This has gotta be like what I imagine sitting on your own balls feels like.”

“Yeah, pretty accurate.” One thing you appreciate about your short-lived friendship with Kim Seokjin was the lack of a small talk phase; unlike a majority of the people you’ve met in university and lost contact with after the menial small talk came to an end, you and Jin jumped straight into the comfort level where vulgar jokes didn’t have any resounding tension or odd looks. “Next time, let’s just play League or something.”

You wrinkle your nose, despite the boy not even being able to see your face right now. “I’ll die before you get me to touch League of Legends.”

“Hm. Valorant?”

“Maybe.”

But like all activities where you can feel your social battery crash coming soon, you know a good cut-off point when you see one. “You gonna stay on?”

You hear the clacking of Jin’s keyboard through your earbuds. “Oh shit, are you gonna go soon?”

“Yeah,” you sigh out, concealing your yawn from the mic to avoid him hearing it on the other end. “I’m getting sleepy.”

“Oh, yeah go ahead,” Jin replies, and you watch his character continue to swing his weapon as he bounces around the screen. 

“I’ll probably stay on ‘til I hit Level”–He pauses as he contemplates the level needed to enter the dungeon he was telling you about a few hours ago–“207.” 

You hover over his character, confirming that his character was on Level 201. Yeah, he’s definitely going to stay online for a good while longer. “Damn. Good luck.”

Seokjin offers a small, pained laugh. “Tell me about it. Goodnight, Y/N. Sleep well.” You can practically feel his tiny, endearing smile through your headphones. 

“Yeah, goodnight Jin.”

Wheeling your office chair away from your desk as soon as you hang up, you flop backwards onto your bed in record time. 

Without even thinking, you find yourself with the phone app of your phone open and hovering over Hoseok’s contact information. 

He picks up on the first ring. 

“Hello?” There’s a pause on his end, like he’s taking notice of the odd hour for you. “Is something wrong?”

You breathe out a heavy, sleepy sigh. “Hey Hobi. Nothing’s wrong, I just felt like hearing from you.”

“Oh.”

“Man, I can’t wait for Spring Break already,” you sigh out, already daydreaming with eyes closed about the notion of sleeping in after midterms.

“Dude, same. I’m so burnt out.”

“Got plans?” You wonder if he remembers his promise. You really, really hope that he does.

“Leaving as soon as my last exam is over on Friday. I have some business to take care of with the company in Seoul, so I’ll be staying there for a few days.” A beat. A breath you didn’t even realize that you’d been holding. “And then I’m coming home.”

Home. To you. 

Because you don’t know how the hell you could ever doubt your place in his life when he’s always said otherwise. His school was in Japan, his work was in Korea, and his home life? Well, that was wherever you were. If you had joined the study abroad program alongside him, he’s sure that his home would be found in that quaint dorm with the pink-glowed lighting. 

“Good. You better come home–I’m sick of doing the dishes,” you smile with your lips sealed, masking your relief from eyes that can’t see you. “Anything new happening with you?”

“Yeah, actually!” He says, and you can feel rather than hear the way he bubbles with excitement. “You know how I got promoted to Project Manager a few months ago? Well, I just got approved to lead my own project from start to finish.”

That’s incredible. You’ve always admired the inner machinations of Hoseok’s mind, so to see him finally get the opportunity to express that fully makes you almost as excited as you’re sure he is. From the concept, to the name, to the packaging, Hoseok is so meticulous with every aspect of his life, and you have no doubts in your mind that this will reflect that perfectionism and hard work. 

“Any ideas yet?” You question.

He pauses, like he’s contemplating telling you or not. You can feel the dimpled decisiveness on the answer he lands on. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

You sigh out both your content and discontent in the same breath before Hoseok continues. “What have you been up to?”

“Me? Not much. Just finished playing MapleStory with Jin and now I’m exhausted. Just glad I don’t have work tomorrow, to be honest.”

“Oh, that’s why you’re still up, huh?” Attentive as ever. “You should sleep then, since your social battery is probably drained as hell.”

“You’re my battery,” you let out a yawn. Hoseok laughs at your nonchalance, imitating the iPhone charging noise just for kicks.

“I’m serious,” you say. “Talking to other people exhausts me, but I never feel that way about you.”

You’re so fucking tired. 

Your phone is thrown onto the pillow next to you, and with the way you roll onto your side, the muffled rasp of his voice through the pillow almost makes it feel as though you’re laying on his chest.

Your eyes drift shut, and you almost bask in wondering if he would run his fingers through your hair if he were actually here.

Wait, what?

This was Hobi you were talking about, for crying out loud! You must be more sleep deprived than you initially thought, or maybe your hormones were fucking with you or something, because there’s no rational explanation as for why you were indulging in the sheer thought of receiving such affection from your roommate. 

Pumping the breaks on your own mind, you shoot straight up in your bed, stiff as a board. Your heart is racing for reasons you don’t want to think more about, and it’s at this moment that you tune back into what Hoseok is saying. 

“Are you even listening?”

“...Yes.” You weren’t.

“Liar!” he accuses, knowing all too well the telltale signs that your attention span had dropped off. If only he knew that the reason wasn’t drowsiness, but something way out of left field that you hadn’t even seen coming.

If you’re not mistaken, it sounds like Hoseok is also settling into bed.

“Wait, what time is it over there?”

A pause. Shifting around, like Hoseok is checking the time himself. “Almost six. I have a group project to work on with Jungkook and some others around eight, so I have time to get a nap in.”

Hoseok never takes naps.

At least, not routinely, and judging from what he’s debriefed you on about the details of his day so far, there’s nothing in particular that would invoke him to do so.

Naturally, you question it. “A nap?”

“I’d be sleeping too if I were over there, no?”

Well, yeah. But he wasn’t here and you weren’t there, so what reason would justify syncing your sleeping schedules?

“I guess so,” you say. You wish your heart rate would slow the fuck down so you could just fall asleep already. “Doesn’t mean that this makes sense still.”

“Shh,” he giggles, and the sound beams brighter than the sun even through the receiver. “Just go to sleep.”

“Maybe I could if you weren’t so loud!” you shoot right back, pinning the blame on him rather than your own racing heart.

“Is this better, then?” he whispers. If his normal voice was enough to sufficiently scramble your thoughts, then it's a wonder that you weren’t flatlining right now at the hands of his low rasp.

Fuck.

The laughter peters out immediately, and there’s such a long pause of silence as your breath catches in your throat that it almost appears like you had fallen asleep.

More shuffling on the other end of your phone line, and you have half a mind to wonder if he was going to hang up now that you were no longer at attention. But he doesn’t. You hear him settling down comfortably once more, and with a clearing of his throat, he whispers two more words so softly you feel like you could melt: “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You can’t find your voice to respond, and you can only pray you don’t talk in your sleep. Even versus your overactive heart and mind, slumber finally wins. 

He stays on the line until he too has fallen asleep and had to awake once more, but he lingers in your mind for much, much longer.

[March 27th, 2023; 9:46 AM PST]

You don’t feel like getting out of bed. You should really be using the empty schedule of your Spring Break for good rather than evil, but the storm raging outside makes wanting to be a productive member of society exceedingly difficult.

It also makes for soothing background noise to your slumber.

You really don’t have anything of importance today, save for picking up Hoseok from LAX later in the evening. You’d be on your own tonight, with Jiwoo away and visiting her husband’s family in Seoul and Yoongi claiming he was busy with work tonight. 

You don’t mind, honestly. You just want to see Hoseok already.

Because he was your best friend, and because he’s been gone for three months, of course. Absolutely no other reasoning or feelings imposed any influence on your desire to see him.

But two words that light up your phone screen are enough to dampen your mood, like the rain that dampens the clouds like a wet rag outside.

[9:49am] hobi 🌱: flight’s delayed 🥲

It’s funny, how you were across the world from one another, yet the weather was just as abysmal where the both of you were. Except you were in bed–rumpled sheets that smelled like no one but yourself weighing you down into your own bubble of safety from the rain–and Hoseok was stuck at the airport for God knows how long now, wet shoes and the impatient travelers attached to them surrounding him. 

It’s not funny at all. 

Because you’re so similar in nature that it feels like there’s no physical distance between the two of you sometimes, and even after three months apart you find yourself waiting to exchange mundanities with Hoseok each night only to be greeted with an empty bedroom.

The bedroom that will apparently remain empty for even more hours than previously anticipated.

The only thing that can reel you back in from your negative thoughts was the notion that his bed will only be unoccupied until tomorrow, whereas the past months felt as though there was a hole in your heart and in your apartment that you simply needed to get used to.

But to be honest, you’re nervous as fuck. And you’ve never felt this way about Hobi of all people, not even when you had first met him from that stupid roommate ad he made and plastered around town.

You’ve told yourself again and again that this week together would either confirm or deny those recent blips where you felt as though you and Hoseok had the potential of becoming more. Like when he bought matching bracelets because he knew you’d like it. Like when he fell asleep with you on the phone. Like all of the sweet promises he’s made to you in between the lines of texts and through imaginary phone cords.

Fuck. The more and more you replay those memories, the deeper you fall into your own turmoil. 

What if you’re imagining it? What if Hoseok has always talked and acted like that, and the distance has really gone to your head, making you think that you were more significant to him than you really were?

You don’t want to be heartbroken if you get your hopes up. 

If heartbroken were even the appropriate term to be using. You weren’t sure how to interpret Hoseok’s intentions, but hell, you weren’t even sure how you felt and how you wanted this to go.

With mussed hair and an even messier mind, you drag your hands across your face, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

You shouldn’t think about this any harder than you need to. Overthinking has never done you any favors.

You draw out a response to Hoseok’s text message, typing and retyping as you figure out what it is that you want to say, before you finally resign and call him instead.

“Hey!” There’s a big grin on his face when he answers. He’s wearing a pair of yellow-tinted sunglasses that he looks ridiculously good in. He looks exhausted–and judging by his Spring Break plans that he had outlined to you a few weeks back, he had every reason to be.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired and wish I was on the plane already. Sorry.”

You blink. “What is there to be sorry for? It really isn’t your fault.”

Hoseok breathes through his nose, a laugh that you can tell through the phone line does not reach his eyes or even the corners of his lips. “I dunno. I just wish I could be on my way to see you already.”

You pretend that that simple sentence doesn’t have your heart leaping out of your throat. Your next admittance doesn’t help at all to mask that: “I wish you were here already too.”

There’s a few moments of staticy silence that you know can’t be attributed to shitty airport cell service. You wonder if your words carry as much weight to him as his do to you.

“We’ll see each other soon, okay?”

There he goes again, making promises to you at the drop of a hat. And he has still yet to break a single one. 

“Okay.”

The thunderstorm doesn’t let up, but neither does the one in your heart.

[March 28th, 2023; 1:31 AM PST]

You’re awoken by a jarring noise that definitely was not thunder, but a rapt knock against your door. 

Grabbing your pepper spray off your nightstand, you make your way over to the door. You feel both startled and relieved to find that the man on the other side of your door was none other than Jung Hoseok.

“I don’t have my keys,” he explains simply.

You shrug. You don’t know why you had expected him to, considering all the ways his routine has changed in the past months, likely including the tidbits of his life that he keeps on hand. Or rather, in his back pocket.

Once let in, he drops his suitcases to the side in favor of enveloping you in a vice-like hug, the kind that makes up for three months without any physical contact. 

Through your sleepy haze, you follow him through the apartment like a lost puppy as he rolls his suitcase around to settle in. And when you make your way back into your own bedroom, he follows. 

You flop down on your side of the bed, still warm from where you had been curled up and sleeping just half an hour ago. Hoseok sits on the opposite end, legs dangling over the side. He fishes his cell phone and wallet out of his pocket before setting them down gently on your nightstand, and that’s when you notice something else odd that he’s placed down with them that has your brows creasing.

“You smell like apples, by the way.” There’s a heart-shaped smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, revealing the same pretty teeth you’ve gotten acquainted with over the past three years. “Don’t tell me you finally caved and bought that custom shampoo you were eyeing?”

“You’d be surprised at how much I can get done without you here and constantly distracting me,” you joke with a wrinkle of your nose. There’s irony itching at the back of your throat, considering Hoseok is quite possibly all you’ve been able to think about in his absence. You wish it didn’t feel like you were lying to him. 

Your friendship wasn’t built on lies. You can’t be a good roommate based on that either.

“Your keys are on my nightstand.”

At your statement, Hoseok looks caught, but not guilty. “Oh. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you the real reason I didn’t use them.”

“Bet.”

You’re not expecting much. Maybe he just didn’t want to catch you off guard if you had been sleeping? You certainly would have taken that into consideration if you were him and he were you, given Hoseok’s jumpy nature. Or maybe he just–

“I just couldn’t stand the thought of waiting another night to see your face.”

What the hell are you supposed to make of that?

You try to stop your heart from leaping into your throat, now wide awake. Keyword: try. Because friends don’t say that to each other. You’d never say that to Jiwoo, or Yoongi, or Namjoon, hell, even Seokjin. 

But friends also don’t say the next words that come out of your mouth. 

“Then it’s a good thing you’re sleeping in here, ‘cause you can look at me all you want.”

The sarcastic lilt to your voice makes it easy for you to pass off your own words as an empty invitation. Your eyes are already falling shut, body comfortable in your sheets and your heart content with the knowledge that Hoseok made it home okay. You hear Hoseok let out a laugh, the infectious kind that forces your eyes open to question him what the hell he thought was so funny.

“I’m sleeping in here?”

It’s at this moment that you take in the weight of your previous words. But blame it on the sleep deprivation–or the years of friendship, or the funny feeling in your chest that you’ve only just begun to acknowledge–for your refusal to withdraw the offer. “I mean, it’s not like there’s sheets on your bed.”

There’s a slight crease in Hoseok’s brow that disappears before you can even think about why it was there. “Guess so,” he tosses out casually, getting up quietly to pull back your duvet on the side where he once sat. He’s not even in pajamas, just whatever comfortable clothes he had worn on the plane, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this close to your roommate–not even the time you two got stuck in the elevator at IKEA three days into your lease could compare to the tension that you suddenly feel. But as always when it comes to this boy in particular, he finds a way to shatter it.

“Your feet are so fucking cold!” you yelp, flailing to put as much distance between you and him as possible without falling off your own end. 

The laughter that fills the air eventually simmers down to a near silent chit-chat of all the things missed over the last three months, stories bridging the gaps of time between your semi-weekly phone calls. 

It’s nice, the way that your lowered volume makes the lack of physical distance between you and your best friends palpable. You almost still can’t believe that he’s right in front of you and not trapped behind the glassy exterior of your phone screen. 

And just like that, the contentedness in the pit of your stomach makes way for sleep to pull you under. 

[March 28th, 2023; 1:31 PM PST]

Falling back into your old routine is easier than you expected it to be.

You and him sit sprawled on the couch, just like old times, as if he was never gone at all. One of his legs is tucked over yours, effectively trapping you to the fabric-lined couch prison, a water bottle tucked snugly against his lap. You don’t let your eyes linger.

You two always sit like this, partially out of the comfortable usage of your entire couch space, but also because it became something of an inside joke for you to remain trapped until you two definitively pick something to watch. Yes, even with Hoseok’s physically energetic nature, he notices that you become extra hyperactive when you find yourself indecisive over something. 

Your thumb roves over the remote, scrolling past movie selections that you don’t even bother to read the descriptions of. 

Biting your lower lip, you contemplate your options. You and Hoseok had opted to stay in today, courtesy of the rain showers just outside your building, and also to give him another day to recover from the jet lag. Maybe you should watch something you’ve already seen before, just in case he nods off to sleep?

(As annoying as it is to rewatch an episode when the other falls asleep, you both do it every single time the incident occurs, just because getting to see each other’s reactions to the plot happenings is half the fun of binge watching together. 

At least, that was your reasoning. You’re not sure if the same applies to Hobi.)

You stop your scrolling while some new Netflix suspense film is on the screen, the trailer automatically playing. Not because the title caught your eye, but because the boy right beside you did. 

His hair roots are recolored in a way that is nearly identical to how you had done it, and while you initially whined your disappointment that he hadn’t waited for you tou do a touch-up, you have to admit that you’re glad he stuck with the same style you had decided on together.  

(“Like a Smucker’s Goober Jar,” you had said, reminiscing on the look of those peanut butter jars that you haven’t seen since childhood. “Which is perfect, since you’re such a goober.”

“Such an asshole,” he complained with the world’s biggest heart-shaped grin on his face, and with that he knocked the three boxes of the dye and bleach you had held up into the shopping cart.)

You had chosen his hair color together, dyed it together, but days after it was said and done he was on the other side of the globe. You hadn’t gotten to fully appreciate the look until now.

It suits him really well, but you said that already. Numerous times, but it will never really be enough. The fluffed quality of it provides the most beautiful juxtaposition to his sharp jawline and the distinguished slope of his nose.

Fuck, his side profile really is a work of art. 

You catch yourself staring before he’s able to, and with a swift lick over your dried lips you resume flicking through potential shows to watch. 

You can’t watch anything horror because that wasn’t exactly conducive to winding down from jet lag, especially if the person in question was Jung Hoseok. But you also aren’t in the mood to watch any romance movie, because no matter how grown and mature you become, you still get awkward seeing sex scenes in films. 

Damn, your entire mouth is dry.

Indecisive and growing restless, your thumb drops from the remote scroller again. Maybe you should get up to get drinks and snacks and then come back to choose something with a fresh pair of eyes? Yeah, that could be good.

Except there’s one very burdensome barrier in the way: Hoseok’s leg. 

He doesn’t even notice the way you squirm, once again caught up in whatever nondescript trailer has begun playing when you relinquished control of the remote.

You don’t even try to fight your way past him, already accepting your fate that you’re stuck here until further notice.

There’s still the water bottle sitting on his lap.

Your stupid fucking brain connects the dots of what you’ve done a second too late, too caught up in the very obvious problem (dry mouth) and the even more obvious solution (drinking water) that lay less than an arm’s length away.

It’s when Hoseok curiously turns his head towards you that you realize that the water bottle now pressed against your lips was definitely not your own. In fact, you didn’t even have your own presently, nor could you even remember the last time you drank water.

But he doesn’t react in any way to your actions, even with the wide-eyed pause that you give when you become cognizant of your actions. He just shrugs like this was regular Tuesday behavior, and you take an excessively large gulp of water, as if to challenge him.

He laughs, shaking his shoulders, before proceeding with what he wanted to say. “Just pick whatever you wanna watch. It’s already been like twenty minutes.”

“How about The Haunting of Hill House?” you ask, scrolling over to your to-be-continued list. You lower your other arm, the water bottle now settled in your own lap.

“Isn’t that scary?” Predictable. You shrug.

“I watched a couple episodes with Yoongi and Namjoon. It’s scary, sure, but it’s more like… introspective horror? If that makes sense.”

He snorts. “Of course Joon wants to watch something that can be called introspective horror. And you too.”

“It’s good, seriously!” you pout. “Yoongi’s just as much of a chicken as you are, and even he could manage to watch!”

“Put it on,” he nods, caving easily. For some reason you don’t think that using his other friends as ethos was the reason he agrees. “But if I get scared again, I’m sleeping in your room anyways.”

There it is. “Yeah? Says who?”

He smiles his dumb, heart-shaped grin. “I don’t have sheets on my bed, remember?”

When you smack his chest in annoyance, he only offers another laugh, mirroring your prior actions when he reaches his hand across you to pluck the water bottle back from where you held it in your lap and bring it to his mouth. 

Letting it go with a stunned loosening of your grip, you realize that him reciprocating what you had done made you even more flustered than before.

You taking his water bottle from him was one thing, but him taking it back just meant that he didn’t mind sharing back-and-forth.

You don’t know what to do with your empty hands now–now that you know yourself far more than you’ve ever let yourself before. It feels like you’re new to this. New to this feeling in your chest, new to being human. 

Clearing your throat, you proceed to hunt down your series of choice in your Netflix list. You can feel Hoseok looking at you from the corner of your eye, and you avoid it for as long as you can before you offer him a soft turn of your head.

There’s this look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before, and it’s so warm. Not in the same way that his smiles felt like sunlight filtering through an open window, or how the softness of his voice felt like a gentle summer breeze. No, this warmth felt like it was for you and could only be felt by you, the kind of warmth that seeps into your bones and stays there, the kind that couldn’t be described by any analogy in any language. 

Has he always looked at you this way? How the hell could you have never noticed?

No–it didn’t matter how long this gaze of his had existed, if it even did before this very moment. What mattered was that it was there now, and where you go from here. 

Hoseok only tilts his head at your gawking. He looks like there’s something else on his mind, something more that he wants to say to you, but he swallows it down alongside another sip of water he takes from the same bottle you had drank from.

Perhaps you were both guilty of the same thing.

[April 1st, 2023; 5:27 PM PST]

Hoseok pokes his head into your room the same way he always does.

He may be a good roommate who kept his boundaries, but one thing for certain was that you almost never spend a moment alone in his presence. Maybe Yoongi was right, you were attached by the hip.

But his presence was never bothersome and this time was no different, with him entering your room to sit cross-legged on your bed, a cardboard box no bigger than a loaf of bread sat on his lap.

When he asks if you’re busy, you explain that you were just restarting your computer because Seokjin finally begged hard enough to convince you to install Valorant. Hoseok tells you that he wants to meet Seokjin sometime.

“I think you and Jungkook would get along really well,” Hoseok thinks aloud.

“How come?”

“He’s afraid of microwaves.”

“Seriously?” You swivel your desk chair around to face him. You’re asking both for confirmation of Jungkook’s oddities, and how the hell that would make him similar to you.

“Dead serious.” You don’t know which of your questions Hobi’s response refers to.

“You’d like all of them, honestly,” he hums, and from what you’ve heard through the grapevine about each person, you don’t disagree. “Y’know when you were a kid and you wished that you and your friends could all live in the same neighborhood with all your houses side-by-side? That’s how I feel about all of you.”

When you laugh, Hobi throws up his hands as a soft defense. “Hey—it’s not childish! I just wished that everyone’s schedules would align and you all could finally meet.”

After hearing your PC whirr back to life, you abandon your seat at your desk to make your way over to the bed with Hobi. “I’m sure that’d be nice.”

He nods in agreement, but you don’t miss the way his nails almost nervously tap at the cardboard surface he holds.

“What’s in the box?”

His response is instantaneous, like he was anxiously waiting for the opportunity to present itself.

“Remember I told you I’ve been working on that project at work?” You nod. “Well, they just sent me a box of the lip balm samples to make sure the formula was how I wanted it to be before we start thinking about packaging.”

“Nice!” you say, interest suddenly piqued at the new information. It’s a bummer that the product in question was lip balm though; you were incredibly sensitive to particular formulas that left your lips dry and cracked and were counterproductive to the product’s purpose. But if Hobi was the one whose idea it was, you’d buy their entire stock, honestly.

Peeling back the wings of the box, Hoseok regards you.

“Here,” he says, scooting closer. “I know you said flavored lip balms were the ones that caused the most problems, so I made sure all of them are unflavored and unscented.”

What?

“What?”

Hoseok has bright lights in his eyes, clearly excited to be indulging you in his thought process. “You told me once that it’s hard to find lip balm products that don’t give you allergic reactions, so I wanted to make sure that whatever I made was something that would be good for you.”

He remembered that? You don’t even remember when you had even brought up that issue to him, unless it had just been something quick in passing. “Really?”

You hate how short your answers are, but you really are at a loss for words.

“Yeah, of course!” He takes the several small pots out of the box before unscrewing one and dipping his fingers into it. “Now come here so we can test it out–hey, don’t look at me like that! My hands are clean!”

Fascinated, you lean towards him, allowing him to swipe his fingertip across your lips. “Let me know if this one feels dry or itchy at all,” he murmurs, expression so focused on your mouth that it makes you flush with heat.

How the hell did this one already feel much smoother than any other lip balm you’ve used before? You rove your tongue over your lips, then blot them together to evenly spread the balm.

“I really like this one,” you say simply.

“Oh, already? There’s still, like, six more for you to test out!” he exclaims, making you laugh. “Also do you like lip balms in pots like this, or do you prefer the sticks?”

You have no preference, honestly. “Doesn’t really matter. I wanna see what packaging you come up with.”

Hoseok makes a disgruntled facial expression. “This is about you! Just pick one, doesn’t matter what I have planned.”

You click your tongue. “Fine. I like the chapsticks better because it’s easier to keep in my backpack and purse.”

He pulls out his phone before quickly typing what you’d said into his Notes app.

You wonder just how much time he spent thinking of you amongst the vast blueness of your lack of contact, and how that amalgamated itself into him making you something like this.

Ever interested in his work, you question, “What’re you gonna call this line?”

Hoseok gives you a small, dimpled smile, eyes soft. “Blue Side.”

You could cry.

“Hoseok.”

“Hm?” he questions, still barely a few inches from your face. 

You had almost forgotten about your own gift for him. Now was as good a time as any to bring it up, not that it even compared to half of what he’d done for you. “I bought you those cookies and cream waffles that you really like. They’re next to the fruit bowl in the kitchen.”

His eyes light up instantly, and he’s pulling himself to stand even faster. He’s already making his way to the kitchen with the speed of a true cookies and cream enjoyer. 

“Oh my God, can we get married?” he nearly moans, and you envy how easily the words come out without making him need to fight down ninety layers of emotional constipation to do so. 

It’s because of that hindrance that you can’t bring yourself to say that you were just thinking the same thing. In a joking, lighthearted manner, of course.

You beg him to show you more pictures from his trip, and he happily obliges you between bites of his beloved waffle. 

“If I ever need to go to Japan again for work or something, I’m definitely taking you with me.”

Your heart skips several beats. “Would you really?”

“Of course,” he says with a grin. “Yoongi too. There’s so many things that I want to show you guys, and these pics are definitely not enough. Unrealistic, but if I could, I’d travel the world with you guys, honestly.”

You look at him across the kitchen counter, and you can’t express how right it feels now that he was back home, that he was back by your side.

Fuck.

You never want this week to end.

[August 10th, 2020; 3:42 PM PST]

You’ve never been much of a firm believer in fate. 

There’s something unsettling about the notion of putting all your trust into something like red strings and falling stars to sort out your life for you. Because if that were the case, you’d have gotten into your first-choice university, you wouldn’t have landed yourself the world’s shittiest roommate as a college freshman, and you wouldn’t have promptly given up on the entire collegiate dormitory system as a whole.

You wouldn’t be without a stable living situation a mere two weeks before the beginning of your sophomore fall semester like you were right now.

But today–today, there’s something strange about the atmosphere, and it’s not just a result of the sweltering Los Angeles heat. The summer sun doesn’t make a habit out of drawing people into one of the pricier boba tea stores on this side of downtown, especially people who are already worn down from yet another unsuccessful morning of apartment hunting.

You’re sitting at the lacquered table in the corner of the shoebox of a place, right beneath the air conditioning vent. There’s a corkboard on the wall opposite you, clusters of it tacked with polaroid photos, some of whom you recognize to be the bubble tea shop’s current staff.

There’s one of those neon pink papers tacked up as well–the kind that’s practically made of cardstock and costs a shit ton of money at any local craft store–that effectively kills the entire board’s aesthetic. If the creator’s plan was to make it stick out like a sore thumb, they’ve certainly done a good job at it. Even the font is distinct enough to be read from where you’re currently seated.

LOOKING FOR A ROOMMATE (OR FIVE)!

Hi! My name is Jung Hoseok (19M), and I was joking about the five roommates thing, but I’m sure there’s a way that we could make that work if necessary. I’m currently a college sophomore, and an avid finance major. My favorite cereal is Lucky Charms, I’m really good at folding laundry, and I have shared custody of my Shih Tzu named Mickey with my older sister.

Apartment Location: 903 Hydrangea St., Building J, Unit 26 

Amenities include:

in-unit laundry

quick access to the LA Metro Rail

complex is pet-friendly, has a gym, pool, and secure package-delivery

two bedroom (one for me, one for you!), one bath

Splitting rent and utility costs 50/50 would be ideal, but I don’t mind stretching to pay 60/40, or even 70/30. Anything you can do would help! 

CONTACT ME HERE ↓

It’s awful. 

The graphic design makes it look like he had looked up “how to make a killer roommate advertisement” on Google, then proceeded to follow all of the WikiHow page’s instructions without even bothering to realize that the page hadn’t been updated since 2009. 

There’s a mismatch of photos of the apartment in question, all either a) printed in an ink too dark to make out its features or b) taken in such abhorrent lighting to a point where no details of the photos were even salvageable to begin with.

There’s those flimsy little paper tabs at the bottom, pieces of his contact information condensed between dotted lines and fine print out for the taking. All five tabs are untouched.

It’s awfully convenient. 

You try to rationalize your way around it.

What nineteen-year-old is so trusting of the world, to the point where he’s willing to put his full name, age, address, and phone number out into the public like that? Sure, it was a smart move on his part to advertise at a mostly college-aged occupied place like this, but you could never be too cautious about sharing your information publicly. Hell, your Instagram profile is still private out of that same sense of paranoia. 

He’s bold and that makes you a little concerned, even if you have never once met the guy.

Besides, who even uses paper flyers to advertise things like this in this day and age? Most other students would resort to your university’s plethora of Facebook groups or even Reddit to maximize the outreach of their situation.

Well. To be fair, all of those aforementioned sources that you had contacted winded up being fruitless endeavors anyways.

It’s like the more you try to rationalize against it, the more tempting the offer becomes.

What are you even saying? You shake your head, as if to physically clear the thoughts away. It works momentarily, even if the suggestion lingers in the back of your mind as you finish your milk tea. 

You stand, checking the area around your table to ensure that nothing of yours had dropped out of your flimsy tote bag. Your laptop has long since died, which is probably a good enough indicator that it’s time to return back to your hotel room. 

The hotel that will only be yours to stay in for the next week. Fuck, the things you’d do to have a permanent address right now. 

Your body fills itself with dread as you even think about dragging yourself back through the public transportation system in this heat. Your eyes flit back up to the corkboard, the tacky pink poster serving as a last-ditch effort at stalling before you can leave this air-conditioned paradise.  

Fuck it. 

Tearing off the first and only missing swatch of contact information from Jung Hoseok’s roommate ad before leaving the café, you allow the sun to warm your skin and the work of fate to warm you from the inside out. 

[August 10th, 2020; 8:19PM PST]

The paper is beyond crumpled after making itself at home in the back pocket of your jean shorts all day, but the digits are still legible enough as you dial them into your phone and hit call.

[April 9th, 6:52 PM PST]

After Hoseok leaves, your apartment feels somehow emptier than before.

Nothing about your dynamic has progressed, but then again, you hadn’t made any moves for it to. No matter the way you had felt in the days approaching his arrival, nor the moments you had shared in the short time he was with you, your feelings hadn’t been made explicitly clear. So it wouldn’t be fair for you to go expecting things to change. 

There was one dumb thing that you had agreed to do together once he left: to have a dinner date eating the same thing together for once, rather than him eating breakfast while you ate dinner, or vice versa.

(“Ooh, sushi would be a good idea,” Hobi had said, getting ahead of himself already. “There’s this really good sushi bar near campus, but it’s kind of pricy so if I go there, you better not half-ass your end and get fucking gas station sushi or something.”)

True to your promise, as the clock approaches seven, you find yourself trekking back to your apartment after picking up your takeout from the local sushi restaurant that you and Hoseok liked most here. 

You make sure that you look decent on your FaceTime camera. This wasn’t a formal date, but still, your newfound nervousness around the boy had you feeling just about as anxious as someone who was currently being hunted for sport. 

Not that it mattered though. You don’t know a single person who looks flawless when stuffing their face with sushi, so your behavior is kind of gratuitous.

Hoseok told you that he’d call you first, so when the clock hits seven, you wait.

The clock ticks. Five minutes pass. Ten. At the twenty minute mark, you cave and call instead. The phone rings once. Twice. By the fifth ring, you end the call. 

You wonder if last week during Spring Break was a mistake. You let your heart do all the talking while your mouth said so little, and it was the closest you’d ever been to him. Close enough to crash and burn. 

As the hour bleeds onward, your sushi becomes room temperature. You pop the styrofoam container back sealed with shaky hands and shove it into the back of your refrigerator, out of sight. 

You’re not hungry anymore. 

[August 12th, 2020; 6:52PM PST]

It’s only a mere two days later when you schedule to meet up with Jung Hoseok for the very first time.

Over the phone, he seemed polite enough. His voice rings loud and clear when he introduces himself; not enough to startle you with the volume, but distinct and animated enough to relax your guard from his genuinity. 

His rambunctious advertisement makes sense now. If you recall the phrasing and general loudness of it, you can practically hear all of the printed words being said in the exact cadence of his voice. 

Muffled sounds of a dog barking and of a woman’s voice in the background during these phone calls also helped corroborate at least some of the legitimacy of who he advertised himself to be. He tells you that his and his sister’s lease was coming to an end, and the renewal process presented itself with the opportunity for her to finally move in with her long-term boyfriend instead. 

(“And leaving me to fend for myself! I’m fighting for my life out here!” he adds, overexaggerating enough for a distant “shut up!” to be heard over the receiver, most likely from the aforementioned sister.)

He also tells you that there was a slight change in plans from what he had advertised: his sister would be taking their dog, instead of splitting its time between apartments. According to Hoseok, he’s generally well-behaved and potty-trained, save for the time that he pissed in his sneakers to get his attention, but even as much as Hoseok would miss him, he’d rather not stress him out by the constant change of location. 

He reminds you again and again that him saying all of this and even scheduling a meet-up with him did not mean you had to feel obligated to agree. 

If the cocktail of oversharing and professionalism was his attempt to make you feel more at ease about the entire situation, it was a damn good one. Because you find yourself agreeing quickly, allowing him to choose the restaurant for you to meet at in two days time.

The restaurant that you find yourself standing outside right now, nerves being the only barrier from entering. 

A sushi restaurant, to be exact. So the silver lining of the evening is that even though you could potentially not move forward with the lease, you’d at least enjoy yourself at dinner.

(You do text your mother and one of your friends from university the place’s address, just in case you wind up getting kidnapped or something. Laugh all you want, but you can never be too cautious.)

You heave out a sigh of relief when you spot Hoseok, whose presence is exactly how you’d expected him to be: radiant, bubbly, yet with an aura of seriousness to him.

He introduces himself, and the first thing that you notice is how good his fashion sense is. You’re relieved that the outfit you chose for tonight is at least somewhat presentable in comparison. 

It’s a little awkward at first, but that was expected. He asks you questions about yourself, and you offer him similar questions in return. If this is how cordial he’d be as a roommate, you wouldn’t mind it though, honestly. It wasn’t like you had any other options.

The conversation picks up from its staleness when you find yourself both ordering Philly rolls, which in your opinion, were easily the best sushi roll you could order. Not to mention that they were consistent, so even across different restaurants, they didn’t vary by outrageous amounts in taste, and they generally weren’t that messy. Hoseok agrees with each one of your points, expressing relief at your words because his sister vehemently disagreed–

“Hi!”

Snapping your gaze upward, you’re greeted with who has to be the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen in your life. Not just in the way her hair was curled to perfection, or her manicured nails, but the way her eyes lit up with interest as she regarded you, the way her dimpled smile matched Hoseok’s.

“I’m Jiwoo, Hobi’s sister,” she states, punctuating this by extending her hand towards you.

“Nice to meet you!” you chirp in response. “I’m Y/N.”

“Ah, Hoseok mentioned you a few days ago! I really hope you do decide to move forward with the lease, it would make me feel a lot better about moving out and leaving him,” she says with relief creasing between her brows.

“You don’t have to worry,” Hoseok frowns. “I’m not a baby.”

Jiwoo laughs, voice melodic. “I know, but still. I’m always worried about you.”

After more idle chatter, Jiwoo tells the pair of you that she’s meeting her fiancé at another table in the restaurant, and with that, she takes her leave.

Hoseok exhales a breath. “Hope you didn’t mind my sister springing a surprise visit on us like that. I was planning on introducing you two if we moved our arrangement forward, but she was just so excited that someone actually reached out that she couldn’t help herself.”

The puzzle pieces itself together one-by-one. “Jung Jiwoo… as in Mejiwoo the clothing brand? And Base Line Cosmetics?”

“Yeah, that’s us.” There’s no hesitance in his answer like there would be if he were privy to sparing you the details of his family’s wealth, but there was also no marked cockiness, as if he were flaunting it. 

At your visible sense of interest, he elaborates. “Base Line is owned by our family, but Jiwoo was always more interested in working in the fashion industry over cosmetics, so she went and started her own business off it. Technically, her company is still a subsidiary of ours, but props to her because she did pretty much all of the start-up work on her own.”

“How about you?”

He offers a shrug. “I’ve helped my sister design a couple pieces just for fun, but honestly? I’m having fun just working in marketing for Base Line.”

If you’re being completely honest, you don’t know the exact schematics of what working in a business like that would entail, but you can piece together enough. You’ve seen his Instagram feed, hell, you’ve seen his outfit as he sits at the table across from you–he seems like the kind of person who was keen on aesthetics, and marketing seemed like exactly where he belonged.

“Which reminds me–you’ve gotta meet my neighbor Yoongi,” he says, eyes lit with excitement. He covers his mouth as he swallows down his spicy tuna roll before continuing. “He’s got the prettiest lips I’ve ever seen in my life and we’re trying to work on advertising for our new lip gloss line that’s in progress right now, but he keeps turning down my offers of modeling for it. Hey–you’d make a great model for it too, actually! If you want to or if you know anyone who would, I can contact our agency about it.”

He’s grown so animated talking about the business that it makes you endeared. “Signing this lease isn’t secretly a pyramid scheme for model recruitment, is it?”

“Caught me,” he laughs, throwing his head back in amusement as he does. “Was hoping you wouldn’t read the fine print.”

It’s at this moment that you realize exactly what it was that intrigued you about Hoseok so much: He talks to you like you’ve known each other your entire life, like you’re an old friend that he can tell anything and everything to, but a new person for him to show all of his colors to and let you do the same. 

And you want to. His genuine attitude is enough encouragement for you to open up about yourself with the same amount of zeal, filling your end of the conversation with stories about your own family, your plans after university, and even pulling out your own phone to show him pictures of your parents’ dog.

It’s like his presence alone is enough to make you see the world with rose-tinted glasses.

By now, you’ve long since abandoned the notion that moving in with him was merely for the sake of both of your necessities, but because you wanted to. 

It’s so easy for you to fall into conversation with him that the next time he mentions the lease, it’s the easiest decision that you’ve ever made when you hold your hands out for him to give you the rest of the paperwork to look over before making your arrangement official.

[April 10th, 2023; 6:11 AM PST]

The fact of the matter is that you should’ve seen this moment coming. 

No matter the title of roommates, or the late night talks, or the fact that he has a copy of your class schedule saved to your phone, or the fact that he fucking applied lip balm on you because he wanted to, you didn’t have any claims to stake over his time. 

He cared for you well when you were around, but that didn’t mean you had any permanence in his mind when you weren’t. He’s Jung Hoseok for crying out loud. 

[6:13 am] hobi 🌱: Incoming FaceTime Call

Unlike the butterflies that you hadn’t even consciously recognized them to be every time you saw his name flash across your phone screen, seeing it now only makes you anxious.

You brace yourself for any explanation he may have. Prepared to not let any cracks show in your smile when you answer, because technically he doesn’t owe you one.

But the face that greets you when the FaceTime call rings through isn’t your best friend–in fact, there’s barely a face visible at all. A girl’s forehead is visible, camera angle definitely one that you are familiar with from all the instances you’ve stayed on the line with Hoseok while on the move. 

Multiple girls actually–you can count at least three heads who are all now crowded over the screen of Hoseok’s phone. None of them are the aforementioned boy. 

“Oh my God, she’s so pretty!” The girl who says this clearly gets smacked by one of the other voices present, if the yelp she lets out immediately after was anything to go by. 

“Hi! You must be Y/N! Hoseok was in such a rush to go home earlier that he left his phone in my bag! None of us realized that you called, sorry.”

You let out a breath. Fuck. Never mind the fact that he puts his phone in this girl’s bag frequently enough for him not to know when it’s missing. And for over twelve hours at that.

“Hi,” is the only small and pathetic answer that you let yourself share.

“Here, let’s stop right here,” the girl who was presumably holding his phone states, seemingly directing the rest of the group towards somewhere for them to stop walking.

There’s fumbling, more words that go over your head are exchanged, and then the camera is propped up against a café table where you can now see the three girls clearly. You recognize them individually, all three of them being girls who had made occasional cameos amongst Hobi’s social media posts of his group of friends he had made internationally. 

“Okay, okay, there we go. It’s really nice to meet you! I’m Momo, and this is Mina and Sana.” She gestures to the two other girls present.

“Ah, Hoseok told me a lot about you guys! I’m really glad that he’s made such great friends over there,” you nod. There’s so much going on right now that you can’t even make good conversation.

“Yeah, Hoseok’s told us before that he really wishes you could’ve studied abroad too. He keeps going on and on about how much you’d love it here,” Mina states. 

Sana’s quick to agree, adding more anecdotes atop the other girl’s words. “He’s always talking to us about you, it’s like sometimes he doesn’t even realize how much he does it. Like we went shopping a few weeks back, and he was explaining to me your lip balm allergy and he was really intent on making sure that his Blue Side lip balm would be perfect for you. It’s seriously so adorable how much he likes you–”

Clearly Sana is the one out of the three who has a knack for oversharing, because Momo gives her a swift pinch to her side before redirecting the conversation. “We’re on our way to Hoseok and Jimin’s dorm now!”

For the first time, you don’t hesitate to cut in. You barely even need to glance at your designated clock of Hobi’s time zone to know that it’s late at night already. “At this hour? Seriously, I appreciate it but you really could’ve just waited until morning.”

Sana is quick to shake her head, pink curls bobbing as she does so. “We’ll be careful, I promise! Plus we’re all together, Mina has her pepper spray, and we’re almost there already. Thank you for worrying!” Her warm smile damn near melts your heart. 

“Plus we know how important this call was to Hoseok!” Momo chimes in. The other two girls nod. “If we weren’t already heading over, I guarantee that he would’ve been banging on our door ten minutes from now.”

Really? You could believe it if it were just about the fact that he had lost his phone, but you being the reason why he was sent into a goose chase to get his phone back as soon as possible was somehow hard to believe.

There’s suddenly laughter and muffled voices that you can’t decipher speaking to one another on the other side, and you see rather than hear the way Hoseok and Jimin make their way into the FaceTime camera radius. 

“Y/N!”

You’d recognize the way Hoseok calls your name anywhere. 

His heart-shaped grin, his fluffy head of hair, how good he looks in a simple black t-shirt. Although the FaceTime quality is fuzzy around the edges due to the poor cell reception of the area, you recognize him immediately. 

“I’m so sorry,” Hoseok says, face coming close enough to the screen to make your heart pick up several paces. “Mina and I have the same phone case, so she must’ve accidentally taken my phone along with hers when we went grocery shopping this morning. Jimin and I literally turned our apartment upside down looking for it, and then Taehyung told me to retrace my steps through every lecture hall we went to today–”

“Only for him to realize that he had no classes today,” Jimin finishes, wrinkling his nose with fondness. “For someone so smart, he has the memory of a goldfish.” Hoseok slaps him on the shoulder in reply.

You laugh along with their storytelling, and then you can’t hear the pair of them as they speak to each other about what to do next.

“Since it’s late, Jimin and I are gonna walk the girls back to their dorm before we head back home. We’ll catch up later, I promise,” he fills you in, and with that you say your goodbyes.

So he didn’t miss your dinner date. Relief washes over you as his words echo in your mind.

We’ll catch up later, I promise.

Who are you to not believe him?

[April 21st, 2023; 1:17 PM PST]

You never thought you’d be doing this.

Running into Yujin that one time was something of a coincidence, and even though you had made peace with the grudge you’d previously held onto, you never thought that you’d want to see her again, much less in an effort to become friends.

But you could use a fresh face to talk to. Your free time was mostly occupied with Hoseok, Yoongi, Seokjin, Jiwoo, and occasionally Namjoon, and as much as you loved all of them, your head’s been a mess ever since Hoseok left after Spring Break ended and you have a feeling that speaking to any of them regarding the man that all of them were inevitably close to wouldn’t be the most productive idea.

(Re: Yoongi would hit you with a big fat “I told you so” hammer, Jiwoo was his sister, and Seokjin was… well, he was Seokjin. So yes, you were running low on options.)

You’re not necessarily looking for someone to vent about him to, but a distraction is nice.

It also helps that Yujin is somewhat familiar to you, but still a new person all the same considering how much her personality has changed from what you remember.

It’s nice to converse with her much easier than you had four years ago, it really is, but even Yujin begins to notice how you’re practically itching to get something off your mind. And per her usual mannerisms, she attacks the issue head-on. That much hasn’t changed about her.

“Oh my God, there’s a guy, isn’t there? That’s what’s bothering you, isn’t it?”

“Nothing’s bothering me,” you lie, but you know damn well that it’s not convincing in the slightest. Defeated after meeting Yujin’s unimpressed gaze, you continue.

“So I have this roommate now.”

“Mhm,” she recalls, sipping her drink through her straw. “The one studying abroad?”

“Yeah that’s the one.” You take a breath, your mind a mess as you continue. “He came over to visit for Spring Break, and I dunno, it just felt like something’s changed since I last saw him.”

Yujin’s brow creases. “In a good way or a bad way?”

“That’s the thing,” you say, voice laced with frustration. “Like, I started feeling like this a little bit before he came, and then some things happened during the week that made me feel unsure if I’m just reading too far into the situation.”

“Things meaning what?” Yujin cocks a brow in interest, causing you to elaborate further into your recount of the week.

“So we were on the couch and he had this water bottle on his lap, right?” Yujin nods, and you take a breath before continuing. “But like, one of his legs was kind of slung over mine so I didn’t wanna get up, and God, I don’t know what know possessed me to do this, but I reached over and—“

”Oh my God, you accidentally grabbed his dick!?”

“No!” 

A pause. 

”You grabbed his dick on purpose!?”

You wince, embarrassment flushing through your mind. You had been so caught up in the casual intimacy of what you had actually done to even consider where this story sounded like it was going. “No, Yujin, I did not grab his dick.”

“Damn.” You ignore the fact that she sounds almost disappointed.

“As I was saying, he had a water bottle, and I just reached over and grabbed it out of his lap and drank from it! Like, what the hell, right? We’re close, but we never share drinks or do anything like that!” You attempt to laugh off the disbelief, but you should’ve known that airing out your feelings would come with inevitable prodding.

“So why’d you do it?”

Fuck. You don’t even know the answer to that still. 

But you take the first step to figuring out what the hell you’re feeling by putting all the pieces on the table so you can put the puzzle together in due time. “That’s the thing–I have no fucking idea. But I did it so easily, as if we do it all the time, or like he hasn’t been gone for three months.”

“Do you think you’re falling for him?”

And there it was. There was the question that you were dreading having to answer, not only to yourself, but apparently now you put yourself in a situation where another person’s input was involved.

At your lack of verbal response (even though your body language spoke volumes, in Yujin’s opinion), she pins you with another, slightly easier question: “What do you want to do now?”

It’s like her words open a dam, and you find yourself spilling your thoughts. “I want to talk to him about it. And about the bracelet he gave me, and the fucking lip balm formula that he made specifically because he knows my skin is sensitive. I need to know if it’s just me that’s feeling this way because I’ve never felt so comfortable around someone before and maybe the distance is what’s making me overthink–”

“Wait, he made you a what?”

You explain to Yujin Hoseok’s family brand, and his new project, and how he told you himself that he made sure that it would be specifically catered to your best interest. Her jaw only drops even further.

“That has gotta be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” You wave her off with a groan.

“I’m serious!” Yujin continues earnestly. “It’s not everyday that you hear that a guy cares about someone to a point where they’d fucking create something for them, friend or not. All I’m saying is that if you do feel something for him now, it’s pretty fucking obvious why.”

When you can only huff out a laugh, she tacks on another statement. “But I mean, talking it out would only do you good, and there’s no need to rush into starting something once he gets back home.”

Home. You feel your heart rate pick up several paces every time you get reminded of the fact that his home is where you were. That you and your quaint little place that you’ve curated to suit both of your needs and wants were his anchor amidst everything else going on in his life.

But Yujin’s right. There was no rush, and you take peace in that reminder.

“But also keep me posted, ‘cause I really want to see you guys end up together.”

You only laugh with a roll of your eyes.

[May 6th, 2023; 2:01 PM PST]

Talking it out really does help. 

That much should have been obvious, really—literally every study and every piece of media shows that communication will almost always do more harm than good.

So when Yujin helps you realize that your feelings for Hoseok were much deeper than you had previously assumed them to be, it doesn’t feel like a weight sitting atop your chest anymore. If anything, it felt more like a balloon tied by a string to you now, a part of you wherever you go, not holding you back but simply an extension of your day-to-day life. 

But for now, you’ll deal. Complicating your relationship with thousands of miles between you would do you no good, and besides, you had to focus on graduating soon. Yeah, you can hold off for another few months before deciding what to do.

What was another couple months when these feelings have been accumulating for who knows how long? 

You heard through the grapevine (otherwise known as Min Yoongi) that Namjoon is never home because he’s a PA. And that when his day isn’t occupied by work, he often spends it out of the house anyways. 

Previously you had assumed that that would mean going out with friends, or partying, but from the rare instances that you had spoken to him, you had found out that more often than not he spends those excursions alone, visiting museums and bonsai gardens and wherever the hell he was in the mood to go at the time. 

He’s mastered the art of taking himself on dates, honestly. 

Which is how you find yourself taking a page out of his book, sitting at a café you’ve never 

been to in a part of the city that you never find yourself having a good enough reason to be at. 

It’s a cat café, to be specific. You’ve always wanted to come to one of these, but your busy schedule never allowed you to even consider that you’d have the time to do so. Being here now only proves that you had only convinced yourself that you never had time to take for yourself all these years.

You snap videos of the cute felines that come your way and are hasty to publish them to your Instagram without even checking them for potential flaws. Because it doesn’t need to be perfect. You don’t need impeccable evidence of where you’ve been, you’re just happy that you’re here at all.

You hardly check your phone throughout the day, but when you do, the notification that greets you makes you smile.

[2:19 pm] jung hoseok: Replied to your story: so cute! you gotta take me here when i get back 😩

You tap out your reply promising him that you will.

And afterwards, you take a trip up to the Griffith Observatory. You hadn’t gone since you were a kid. Long before college, long before Hoseok.

Hoseok. Your best friend that you’d had no idea would ever occupy this much space in your mind.

Attraction. Fondness. Dependency. Love. All of them look similar, but they aren’t the same. 

But you’ve spent so much time trying to figure out which one was closest to what you felt that you’ve come to realize that your feelings for Hoseok couldn’t all be encapsulated using a single word. 

Not only does he take care of you as a roommate, but he cares for you even when he isn’t physically there. He wants you to live well, and he’s shown again and again that he’s constantly thinking of you when you’re not around.

You wonder if you’re on his mind just as much as he is on yours.

[May 15th, 2023; 11:46 PM PST]

These days, you find yourself enjoying things on simple terms.

You enjoy your sleep, so you try not to get home too late. You hate the feeling of cramming for exams, so you start studying little by little a week and half early. 

You have nothing better to do on your Saturday so you do laundry. You have nothing better to do on your Sunday so you and Namjoon go to the duck pond. 

You stay in and cook dinner instead of ordering in when you may have splurged a little too hard on a cute top you saw at the mall. 

The only downside is that living your life day by day rather than keeping everything planned to a tee has reduced the frequency of you and Hoseok’s phone calls.

But you don’t mind, he’s busy and so are you. 

You message him about his frequent adventures on his Instagram posts, and he texts you to ask what you’ve been up to every few days. When you do call, the conversations aren’t any less boisterous as usual, and the longevity of the calls aren’t any shorter.

To anyone else, things are as normal as it gets.

But you still miss him so, so badly.

[June 1st, 2023; 4:44 PM PST]

This time, you do everything right. 

There’s no thunderstorms, there’s no miscommunication of landing time, there’s no surprise knocks on your door in the dead of night, there’s no bed sharing.

The drive home through LAX traffic was stale, your playlists were stale, and Hoseok opting to sleep on the sheets that had been left on his bed since he left in March felt stale too.

The problem was that there was no problem at all; a year ago, hell, two months ago, you would have pegged this as normal behavior amongst the pair of you. The problem was that you wanted things to be different, that you wanted there to be more to your relationship dynamic.

But things don’t change overnight. So why did it feel so different from how this went down back in March?

[June 13th, 2023; 10:44 PM PST]

Graduation comes and goes easily.

You and Hoseok both make a mutual agreement to take two weeks off of work after graduation, just a slow inhale and exhale of a break before you two come to terms with the fact that the rest of your life will be filled with nothing but day-in and day-out monotony.

As promised, you take Hoseok to all the places that you had grown fond of during your little escapades around Los Angeles. He tells you–”it’s silly, I know,” he had mumbled with a shake of his head–that he feels like a foreigner in a place where he’s spent four years living already, and he gives a relieved exhale when you say that until recently, you had felt the same way.

Despite the fact that you now have a degree, the crowning accomplishment of your past four years of hard work, you can’t ignore the other ways in which your life still feels unfinished.

You should’ve known that your feelings would bubble up to a precipice like an unwatched boiling pot, that there’s no planning this sort of thing–that eventually you’d spill the mess of what’s on your mind when you least expect it.

It happens like this. 

It’s a surprisingly cold evening for June in Los Angeles, and like the oddball he is, Hoseok takes that as a reason to celebrate. 

In favor of the occasion, he makes spicy tofu soup because in his words, “how often do you really crave soup in the middle of Summer?”

(You don’t tell him that technically the Summer solstice wasn’t for another week.)

He presents you a bowl of his hard work with a raw egg on the side, because even though he could have cracked it into the soup for you easily, he knows you take odd satisfaction in the feeling of cracking eggs perfectly. And you eat dinner together like old times, with quiet chatter and spoons clanking against bowls.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately,” you start. Hesitant.

You feel stupid already.

You contemplate chickening out when you close your eyes in a drawn-out blink, but you somehow find it in you to continue, the silence splitting like a fragile eggshell to make way for your sunny-yellow emotions to spill out.

“When I first met you, I had no idea that you’d mean this much to me.”  

You want to tell him that his presence in your three years of friendship has left a mark on you in a way that no other person has. That you can’t appreciate him enough for the little things he remembers about you and the things he buys for you without a second thought. That on both high and low days, he’s the first person that you want to be around and the last person you want to see before you nod off to sleep. 

You want to tell him that you hope that he can lean on you and rest just as much as you do on him. That you love when he tells you about what’s on his mind, and when he shows you pictures of moments he’s captured on film of the world through his eyes. That you love how he fills every room he enters with sunshine that reflects off every person he meets, how he always knows what to say to make others feel significant in his presence. 

You want to tell him that meeting him was devastating.

What is love, if not devastating?

Was this love?

A near-silent exhale, and then you continue. “And I meant it when I said I was happy for you and I’d always be there for you when you went abroad. But the space and time apart made me realize that there’s this huge Hobi-shaped place in my heart that just wouldn’t go away.”

You’re not even sure if you’re making sense anymore, but you push onward. “What I’m trying to say is that our time apart made me realize how much I don’t want to just have you as a friend. Even when you came to visit during Spring Break and when you came back two weeks ago, I just kept having this feeling that I need you around. Not in the way that things used to be, because we always had that and it was never awkward between us, but a step further.” 

“I found myself wishing that we could go to dinner and to museums and the beach and actually call them dates instead of just saying that we’re hanging out together,” you continue. You want to look away from his gaze, but you refuse to. “I want to be able to call you my boyfriend when people ask what we are, and I want to be able to hug you and hold you without feeling like I’m crossing a boundary.”

Hoseok only looks at you with those unreadable eyes again. His gaze is always full of enough light to rival the warmth of the sun on your skin, but right now it feels as though you’d burn up if you dared to let your gaze linger. 

“I’m sorry if it’s just me.” 

Your breath comes out shaky now. The last thing that you can do now is cry–because you really don’t want his pity. And you don’t expect him to feel the same way, despite the rest of the world telling you that he does, and the fact that you just spilled out all your wants straight to him.

Yes, that’s it–you just needed to get this off your chest. You’ll still be roommates first, friends second after this moment passes, and now that you’re graduated, your lives are just getting started and you’ll only keep moving onto bigger and better things. The world never felt so big and overwhelming and fuck, it must be the late hour that makes you feel like you need to escape. 

The sound of his voice is enough to drag you back down to Earth.

“Y/N,” he says softly, scooting his chair towards you and placing his hand against your back. You think he’s gearing up to let you down easy, so the question he prompts you with catches you by surprise: “How long?”

How long have you been feeling this way?

You try to think. And then you verbalize it. “Since you bought me the bracelet.”

The bracelet that adorns both your wrist and his right now. The one that was meant to symbolize new beginnings for both of you, but now felt like the final nail in the coffin of your friendship.

You’re taken aback when he shakes his head with a smile. “Hoseok?” You ask, feeling small and vulnerable, needing him to say what’s on his mind before you combust.

“I’m an idiot,” he begins. He continues before you can question what he means by that.

“Do you remember when you were doing laundry at Yoongi’s house?”

When you nod, he looks like he’s fighting down layers of embarrassment to say what comes next. It’s rare that you ever see Hoseok expressing emotion beyond what he wants you to see. 

You take an odd amount of comfort in it.

“You were right–I was jealous. But not because he was spending time with you, or because I really did think that you guys were together. It was because I realized how much I missed getting to spend every second of every day with you. Throughout the day, I find myself wanting to tell you about every place I go and everything I do, but I found myself wondering what you were up to even more.”

“What I’m trying to say is… I’ll be yours if you let me,” Hobi says, and you break. “I want to take you on dates wherever you want to go, and I want to hold your hand and come home to you after work every day. I want to share all my thoughts with you, and I hope you’ll do the same for me. I know we do a lot of these things already as friends, but I want to try to be more.”

“Yes,” you breathe out. Yes, a hundred times over. “I want that too, Hobi.”

It’s out there. Both of your feelings are out in the open air like freshly-hung laundry, and you’ve never felt so much relief. The tension in the room dissipates, even more so with what Hoseok says next.

“So… around the same time, huh?”

You cringe through your smile. “Yeah… around the same time.”

“I hope you know that no matter where I am, no matter who I’m with, nobody compares to you.” You know your face must be scrunched in such an unflattering near-sob, but Hoseok only looks at you with rose-tinted lenses for eyes.

The feelings that you had for him and he had for you was not just tested by the vast blueness of distance between you, but it was because of it.

You don’t know when Hoseok rises from his seat to encase you in a back hug, but he does. He does it tenderly and paired with a kiss to the crown of your forehead, as if to piece back together the eggshell of your heart that you’d been so afraid to break.

You think you love him, but for now you won’t say it.

[August 10th, 2024; 3:42 PM PST]

You roll your eyes when Hoseok kicks you out of your shared bedroom because he needs to pack his underwear.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” you deadpan, and you think the way Hobi’s ears flush red at your words is downright adorable.

“Still,” he pouts, before promptly shutting the door on you. You sigh.

It’s been little over a year since you and Hoseok had officially begun dating, but life moves fast.

You and Hoseok had moved out of your two-bedroom apartment once your lease had ended, in favor of buying a quaint little bungalow closer to the beach. Though initially you were unsure if that was too big a step to be making too soon, Hoseok reminds you that you had already been living together for years–that you had already been his home long before buying one of your own–so what difference did it really make?

It was a bit saddening to have to say goodbye to Yoongi and Namjoon as neighbors, but they promised to visit since you were still barely twenty minutes away from your previous home.

And visit, they did. So did Jiwoo, Yujin, Seokjin, and occasionally Hobi’s friends that he had accumulated in Japan.

(He was absolutely right, by the way. You and Jungkook had clicked immediately and stuck together like glue after he initiated an intense debate on who would win in a fight, between Tony the Tiger and the Kool-Aid Man.

For the record, you and him were Team Kool-Aid Man, while Hobi and Taehyung were Team Tony the Tiger. You’d be bitter that Hoseok disagreed with you, but the look of sheer bafflement when you explained your reasoning made the entire ordeal that much funnier, and worth it, in your opinion.)

Hoseok’s Blue Side line launched earlier in the summer. He had begged you to be the model in the commercial films, but you insisted that you could be his muse, but you couldn’t be that multitalented.

But it all worked out in the end, because you told him to outreach the modeling gig to Seokjin instead, which kickstarted his acting career internationally.

(“Why didn’t you tell me that your friend was hot? He’s perfect for the job,” Hoseok had said, baffled after meeting Seokjin over dinner for the first time.

“Why do you think I told you to ask?” you huff. “And I figured you’d already seen him from my Instagram posts while you were gone.”

“How could I, when you were the only thing I could ever focus on?” 

You had smacked his chest softly to hide the way his words flustered you.)

In fact, the reason Hoseok was packing to begin with was for an international work trip in Osaka. One that he had cordially invited you to come with, once again true to the promise he had made to you all those months ago.

“Are you done yet?” you ask restlessly, not giving a shit as you push your bedroom door back open. “I really don’t care if your undies have holes in them or whatever, but at least let me in so I can pack too–”

You pause when you round to your side of the bed, taking notice of the not-so-subtly hidden square velvet box tucked under a shirt or two in his suitcase.

Hobi’s back is turned, facing your shared closet, clearly unaware that he’s done such a shitty job at hiding what was likely supposed to be a surprise. “Yeah, you can come back in now.”

Apparently he’s also unaware that you’d already reentered the room.

You and Hoseok had discussed marriage a handful of times, which had only increased in frequency over the past couple months. Despite the fact that you both concluded that you were still young, you had also pointed out to him that you didn’t ever see yourself wanting to be with someone else, so the wait wouldn’t do you any good. Hoseok also cracked a joke that it’d be good for tax purposes, but you don’t miss the relief that washed over his face that you were on the same page.

And that was where you had left it.

Approaching him and looking at him sideways now, you’re entranced as ever by his features. The sharpness of his jawline, the slope of his nose, the intensity of his eyes as he debates on what to pack.

When he catches you staring, you let him.

“Is something on my face?” he asks, eyes widening as he already starts wiping at his mouth.

“Nope,” you sigh out, uncaring of how lovesick your gaze is.

You lean up to give him a chaste peck to his cheek, which he had clearly not been expecting. “I love you,” you murmur, basking in the dimpled grin he returns.

Yeah, your life is good with him in it.

#networkbangtan #hyunglinenetwork #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #hoseok fluff #hoseok angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #hoseok fic #hoseok fic recs #fic: banana clip #my brain is leaking out of my ears my god.......... #formatting this gave me carpal tunnel jfc hope u guys enjoy

[kedsandtubesocks]

Bendecido

pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader

summary: Javier and the terrible, no good, very bad day (and how you now might be his reminder of better days)

word count: 4.8k

warnings & tags: post season 3 and lovestruck Javi, fluff, just extreme sweet goodness, light sexual allusions but even with that my work is 18+ only mdni

a/n: I’ve been having a tough time & just needed to write something sweet and tender and thought Javi deserves some of that too or maybe we all just do. the title of this is from the juanes song of the same name that inspired this. thank you so much for reading! also a sweet thank you to @skeletoncowboys & @lowlights for everything always

For a Friday, Javi thinks it has to be one of the shittiest he’s seen in a while.

He’s already wondering if he might be fucking cursed. 

First he spilled coffee all over himself this morning. After that his trip to the hardware store to just get one item for his dad turned into an hour long hunt with the piece of shit hardware store owner Javier swears is the devil incarnate. Then once he returned home to finish up some last minute chores, Javi caught his finger on the fence gate latch and it hurt so damn bad.

And the only thing that has been getting him through this damn ridiculous day? 

Knowing he finally is going on a date with you tonight.

And not just any type of date, he’s doing this one right because it’s with you. 

Jesus, you’re special. Javier knew it from the first time he saw you at the bar here in Laredo and you snorted at his corny joke. You rolled your eyes of course, already seeing right through him like he was a damn crystal glass.

But he likes that about you.

There’s honestly so much he likes about you. 

It’s why he wants to do this first date right. Because shit, he can’t even remember the last time he had a true first date. 

“Don’t forget to pick up flowers.” Pop repeats for the third time and Javi sighs annoyed. 

“I know Pop, I know.”

Chucho now sighs understanding to step back. Yes Javi knows he might be letting the nerves get to him, but he does appreciate his dad’s well meant support. Before he leaves, Pop pats his shoulder firmly with a fond warm smile.

“Enjoy tonight mijo, you deserve it.” Then Chucho adds-

“You deserve to be happy again.”

The words weight more than Javi can put his finger on. He can’t help but nod appreciatively at his dad.

“Thanks Pop.”

His Friday can only get better now.

When he arrives at the flower shop by the ranch, Javi can’t even be upset it’s closed. Because he proudly says fuck it and simply drives to your place. And the minute he shows up to your place and you greet him at the door, you brighten his day ten fold.

You’re beautiful, looking so pretty and dressed up that his heart skips over itself. 

Javier has to stop from leaning down and kissing you as if it’s the most natural way to greet you, as if he’s always been doing this. Him showing up to take you out, admire how gorgeous you are, and just get knocked out at how lucky he is to be by your side. 

Or maybe that’s just what Javier hopes for. That this is the consecration, the start of many more dates with so many sweet moments in between. 

“You ready to go?” Javi calmly asks, trying to hide how giddy he truly is. He’s here, with you, and he doesn’t wanna fuck it up. 

“Yeah, let’s go.” You smile and it illuminates him from the inside out. 

With that he drives you to the restaurant.

He picked this place the same day you agreed to go on a date with him a week ago. He made the reservation that night because he knew how stupidly lavish it was. 

The most elegant and fanciest restaurant in town was a daunting one. It’s why he’s in a stuffy blazer and too tight dress shoes. But for you? He wants this. He wants to wine and dine you like the lovely treat you are. Besides, a fancy first day is classic. This feels like it’s the best way to start whatever this is on the right path. He knew it couldn’t go wrong.

Except apparently when it can.

“I’m sorry sir,” the hostess sighs sadly for the second time. “But we’ve checked twice and there isn’t a reservation for Peña anywhere.”

“Are you sure?” Javi is about to scream, maybe even beg. He can’t believe this. 

“Is there even a spot at the bar open?” He’s getting desperate. Panic leaks out of his voice like a broken dam he can’t stop.

The hostess frowns, shaking her head. “I’m afraid not. We’re a packed house tonight.”

On a Friday night of course they’d be packed as hell. And of course this would happen.

“Javi, it’s okay.” Suddenly your hand gently rests against his back and your voice floats out a comforting balm. You effortlessly become a steady lifeline.

“Come on, let’s try and figure something else out.”

Javier lets you guide him out of the restaurant like a deflated balloon.

Back in his truck, the most bone aching defeated sigh leaves him as he rubs his face in his hands. There’s no way any of the other upscale restaurants Javi has in mind will have availability this late. 

Something inside him starts crumbling. He should’ve known this day was cursed to crap and just rescheduled. 

A piece of him wonders if this is the universe telling him he doesn’t deserve an actual sweet normal relationship. Like all the bad shit he’s done finally has cultivated into this bad cloud of some twisted form of karmic punishment and Javi can’t even argue with its arrival.

You’re too good, too dang smart and lovely for him.

This might be the universe just reminding him of that. 

“Javier,” your voice floats out a concerned whisper. “Javi, please talk to me.”

When he turns to look at you, he’s mentally kicking himself for making you this upset. Even if you do look adorable with your soft endearing eyes, he doesn’t want to worry you this much.

“I’m sorry cariño,” he reassures you as his hand moves to rest on top of yours. “This night…this day has just been shit. You deserve better.”

“Better?” You ask a bit confused.

“Yeah. You deserve a good first date. Not this.” Javi mutters disappointed.

A moment passes in the stillness of his truck.

“Do you…want to take me home?” Your voice comes out small and Javi swears he catches an underlying thread of disappointment.

“If you want.” He leaves the final decision up to you. 

“Javi,” you squeeze his hand and now stare directly at him. A delicate seriousness settles among your lovely features. “I’m sorry this day was hard for you. And I understand if you’re tired and want to reschedule. But…”

But?

“I’m still open to see if we can figure something out tonight.” Your voice floats hopeful and light, a delicate olive branch reaching out to him. Javi swears he feels his mouth drop open a bit in surprise.

“You still wanna go out tonight?” He doesn’t even recognize his own stunned voice. 

“Of course! And with you, definitely.” You grin playfully and it sparks a crawl of something warm against his neck. 

“Are you sure?” He offers you one final out, like he’s trying to bargain with a damn narco.

“Yes Javi I’m sure!” You laugh. “Now come on, I’m hungry. Let’s get something to eat!”

His heart flutters at how warm your voice is and he squeezes your hand.

“Alright grumpy pants. Let’s get you some food before you chew off my arm.” He teases playful and you cry out without any malice as a smile tugs at your lips.

God he’s already down so bad.

It’s why he’s only thinking about how good your perfume smells in his car, how his hand still feels so warm from holding yours. Javi is so caught up in your presence that he doesn’t even let his nerves get to him.

Except when he arrives at the spot.

The parking lot stretches out among a small cluster of closed shops. Cars are already parked in various spots and in the distance, his plan for tonight glows. 

“Okay,” he begins cautiously taking off his seat belt. “I can argue how I think this place is honestly one of the best damn places in town. But, I get if this… might not be your thing or what you had in mind for a first date.”

His eyes rapidly whip to your face to gauge your reaction. 

Your eyes stare out from the window and Javi holds his breath. He waits for this day to hit the final nail in the coffin with you wanting to go home.

“You brought me to a food truck?” Your voice sounds intrigued and Javi wonders if maybe you’re staying this composed for his sake.

“…yes.” He hesitantly replies.

“Oh hell yeah!” That’s when you answer so effervescent, so excited, that it colors your voice and dances across your face. Javi swears you’ve never looked more beautiful.

Your eyes sparkling flicker to his. “Alright, let’s go!”

His heart flies out of his ass but in the best damn way. He scrambles out of his seat and rushes to open the door for you. He even slides his blazer off to keep you warm in the cool late Laredo evening air.

The music swirls to greet you and him with buoyant rhythm. Javi tells you about how he and Pop have been coming here for years, that’s it’s a favorite spot of theirs.

Javi holds your hand in line the entire time. 

“Oo, Peñita! Who’s your cute new friend?” Marco, the man who runs the window, wiggles his eyebrows curiously and Javier wants to shut the window on the old man’s face.

“Did you bring a date here?!” Marco's curiosity spikes even more as he soaks in yours and Javi’s fancy attire.

Before Javi can bark at Marco to shut up, you surprisingly jump in and answer. 

“He did!” You sound proud, so proud that your voice clutches Javi’s heart. Marco cackles an amused laugh and winks at you. Then he tunes to Javi and grins wide. 

“I like this one.” 

Me too, Javi thinks. Maybe more than he can admit even to himself.

Now Javi can’t help but watch you take the first bite. It might be weird. He knows this. But shit, he's nervous.

Sauce pools by your cheek. Your eyes light up and you beam brighter than all the damn neon lights illuminating the parking lot. 

“Holy fuck, this is amazing.” You cover your mouth from the last bit of chewing but he honestly wouldn’t even care if you spoke with your mouth full. Because right now? You really are the most beautiful force on this damn earth. 

On the hood of his truck, with his blazer around your shoulders, bathed in the fluorescent glow, Javi thinks his world melts to focus simply on you.

You and him stay in that parking lot for hours. Laughing and exchanging stories that range from the funniest holiday memories to worst date experiences.

“This…isn’t one of those bad dates right?” Javier can’t help but ask, nervous again like a damn school boy praying his crush likes him back.

You hum playfully and even pretend to be in deep thought.

“Well, so far it’s going great.” You admit light and Javi’s heart drops a bit.

“So far?” He asks as casual as he can.

“Yeah,” you begin. “I mean, just between you and me, it’s actually one of the best. Might be a top five actually. But you know what will make it the best ever?”

“What?” Javi hates how quickly he asks. You grin so big it crinkles your eyes. You nudge your face to the truck.

“If we split one of those ice cream sundaes I’ve been seeing everyone walk around with.”

Javi laughs, so warm and true that he feels it in his damn chest. He doesn’t hesitate to push himself off the truck he’s been leaning on. 

“For you cariño, I’ll get you two.”

Your laughter carries Javier all the way to order at the window and even all the way back to your place. Your hand stays in his the entire time he walks you to the door. Something echoes in him, a small ache of a thing, upset that he has to leave you. 

In the quiet space of your apartment door, Javi whispers out your name. 

“Thanks…for making tonight great. Sorry if it wasn’t what you thought it to be.” He adds still feeling a bit of shame for not giving you the elegant first date he had in mind. 

“I get it and it’s okay. But honestly, I think it turned out way better than expected.” You beam. 

“Yeah?” Javi asks soft.

“Yeah.” You smile back beautifully. 

Javi can’t help it. His hand gently cradles your face and his thumb strokes your cheek.

He hasn’t felt this way about anyone in so long. He hasn’t been caught up in someone’s orbit this fast.

So when he watches your eyes soften as they flicker to his lips, he leans down and kisses you like you’ll float away. Because he’s worried you will. You’re just so good and he doesn’t know how much time he will have with you. So he wants to stay caught up in your atmosphere for as long as he can.

Immediately he tastes the lingering sweetness on your lips of the ice cream you kept playfully stealing scoops away from him. Then he realizes, underneath that, that delicious sweetness is just you. And you taste so good, like the delicate hope of something special and Javi wants to let it consume him. Your lips are so soft and Javi continues to chase their plush warmth.

“Thank you for tonight Javi.” You whisper soft and genuine against his lips. He kisses you again. 

“You too baby.” After that Javi floats back home on cloud nine. 

When he goes to grab the drink he kept from dinner, he finds a receipt from tonight tucked into the other cup holder.

His name is scribbled on it and Javi’s heart jumps.

When he opens the receipt he finds a note.

“Thanks again for tonight! I really did have so much fun, can't wait to see more of your secret food spots!”

Javi knew he was falling for you so bad. But now here he is getting tripped up over how much he likes your handwriting. He's even getting weak over the sweet little heart you drew.

Yeah, you really did taste like a sweeter tomorrow…

“Whoever said you don’t get to eat at your wedding I hate that they were right and I want to fight them.” 

Javi snorts amused at your huffy comment then kisses your bare shoulder.

“I’m being serious Javier! We should’ve taken a plate or something to go!” You try to sound aghast but it’s hard, especially when your new husband continues kissing up your neck. You giggle in his arms.

After running around the reception hall the entire night earlier, to Javier deciding to celebrate the minute you and him stepped into the hotel room, your legs are practically jello. However, you welcome this exhaustion with a coy pleased grin. 

“We could order room service.” Your husband offers while he tenderly kisses your jaw. The two of you are tangled in the afterglow of exhaustion and pure newlywed marital bliss.

“It’s one in the morning my love, you know it’s too late.” You sigh defeated as you pray maybe there’s a bag of chips or something in your travel bag. 

“I can go get us something.” Javi suggests. Although the temptation of a delicious late night drive through dinner sounds heavenly, you don’t want to get out of this bed or see him leave.

You twist in Javi’s arms and cling to him as if to lock him to you. 

“No, I’m fine. You know I’m just being…a little grumpy.” You mutter out and Javi smirks against your forehead.

“A brat. You’re being a brat.” Javi clarifies with a bright tone. 

“No!” You argue back. “I’m just grumpy from being hungry.”

“Uh huh.” Javi says unconvinced.

“Hey, I’m a Peña now. That means I have to work on my cute grumpy pout so I can compete with yours.” You tease, leaning back in Javi’s arms to grin up at him.

You expect a semi classic Javi complaint about him not being grumpy, about him not wanting you to be grumpy. But instead his molten eyes stare down at you with something achingly tender that sweeps you up in a landslide.

“Damn right you’re a Peña now.” His voice croaks, thick and beautifully weighted down by unwavering adoration.

He swoops down and kisses you, passionate and so loving it seeps into your soul. You think this might spark another round until Javi sighs against your lips. Your poor husband, he is tired too and you know it.

It’s why he kisses you soft now once, twice, until he draws you into his chest again. 

“You know,” Javier begins lightly. “I like it when you act like a brat sometimes.” He lightly squeezes your bare ass making you squeak. 

“Naughty, naughty.” You teasingly chide him.

“I just state the facts baby.” Javi simply shrugs casual, unbothered, and you laugh. 

That ignites him to pepper playful kisses all across your face and your laughs bubble louder.

“Besides, I’m your husband.” Javier’s voice almost comes out a low growl. “I’m always gonna take care of you, especially when you wanna act like a brat.”

His voice is rich, begging you to drown in him. You pull your handsome husband’s face to yours and kiss him again. It’s all you can do and you find it’s all you want to do. You discover there is something simple, unwaveringly strong, that knocks you breathless just knowing you’re kissing the love of your life, your husband.

You can’t even stay grumpy even with how hungry you are.

“Wait here.” Javi mutters your lips. Then suddenly he untangles himself from you and slides out of bed.

Curiously from the warm sheets you watch him slip on his pants. He walks over to the side of the hotel room where all his bags and other things clutter together.

He simply grabs the brown bag folded and sitting unsuspectingly on the counter. Now you sit up, intrigued at what’s inside. Javi places the mysterious bag beside you as he takes a seat on the plush mattress. 

“Are there snacks inside?” You can’t help but sound hopeful.

Your husband simply shrugs casual, almost bored. You narrow your eyes at him but then greedily scramble to open the bag up.

What’s inside greets you like the warmest friend. A few plates, plenty of napkins, a small bag filled with various to go items and then a couple of hearty rolled up aluminum treats, all get poured out onto the bed.

“What’s this?!” You can’t help but exclaim in both confusion and adoration at your husband now helping you set up your makeshift table on the sheets.

“Just grabbed us something earlier.” Javi says casually. 

He continues to be so casual about this, not even meeting your eyes.

But you know your husband.

This is a response to being so overwhelmed by all the emotions swirling around that he doesn’t want anyone to see how greatly it affects him. Because what your sweet husband sometimes doesn’t want the world to know is how deeply he does feel. But you understand just how much Javi loves, how much he can get swept up in his true golden heart. 

And right now, that is evident in the meal laid out before you.

“You got us food for later.” You say the words so gently as Javi grabs a few drinks from the mini fridge.

“Knew we might be hungry.” Now he grins so boyish as he shrugs again.

“Well thank you.” You tell him earnestly as you slide out of bed to slip on your robe. Of course you scurry over to kiss all over your wonderful husband’s face who soaks it up with an amused grin.

“Come on cariño, let’s eat.” Javi softly kisses your forehead and pats your ass softly. 

There on the hotel bed you sit down to enjoy your first true meal with your husband.

Then you take the first bite and your eyes go wide. 

You snap your face towards Javier who simply pours out a whole salsa cup on his torta.

“Javi…”

“Hm?” He doesn’t even look up at you as he looks for a lime slice.

“Did you get us food from our truck?” 

Our truck. You can say that because it has become yours and Javier’s.

Anytime you didn’t feel like cooking or even after bad days at work, the truck was the first place offered to go to. Of course the food was delicious every time and you loved becoming friendly with all the workers who relentlessly joined you in teasing poor Javier.

But if you think about it, the food truck had transformed into something more. It now stands a strange but beautiful concrete evidence of you and Javi growing with each other since that very first date all those years ago. 

“Well yeah. Like you said, it’s our place.” Javi says simply. Your throat tightens heavy with adoration.

“And besides,” he suddenly adds. “It’s the spot we went to on our first day. Had to get it for tonight.”

Earlier, when the exact moment came when you were officially announced as husband and wife, you thought your heart was going to burst out of your chest into millions of bright confetti pieces.

Now you don’t know why, but this moment overwhelms your heart just as much.

Maybe even a bit more if you were being honest. Mainly it’s because it feels so much in so little. It’s Javier wanting to take care of you that he got food for later. It’s a visual representation of just how far you and Javier have come wrapped up in the most simple to go bag. 

That first date, you were so worried and heartbroken seeing him so upset. Now here you were, married to the man who on that same first date playfully joked about fighting you for the cherry on top of the ice cream sundae 

You can’t help but blink back tears before you wipe them away.

Of course your dear wonderful husband notices as he slides closer to you on the bed.

“Honey, what’s wrong?! I can go get you something else if you want. I won’t be upset I promise-”

“No.” You laugh through the tears as you wipe more away.

“No baby, this is perfect.” You mean every word as you finally turn to look at your handsome man, your Texas sunrise who’s brought so much tenderness and love into your life. 

“I love you.” You croak happily.

“Love you too, mi amor. You sure you’re okay?” Javi thankfully draws you into his arms and presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

This sweetly grumpy heart of gold man you can’t believe is yours. 

“I am. Thank you.” With one extra thank you kiss, you readily jump in to feast. You consume the late night meal through drying tears and the most tender warmth blooming through your chest. 

As you start to clean up you spot the folded receipt tapped to the other side of the brown bag. 

Your name is scribbled in the familiar handwriting of your husband. With greedy fast hands, you happily scramble to open it.

“To my wife,

Thank you for making me the happiest man every day but especially today. Here’s to more food truck dates 

I love you”

You remember when you had left a note for him on that first date.

You had done it because Javi had seemed so upset about the restaurant cancellation. You just wanted to reassure him that the new route your date took only seemed to make you fall for him more. You even had written the note in secret when Javi went to grab you more napkins.

Now here he is leaving you a note just as sneaky and twice as sweet.

You don’t care that you’re exhausted or that you and Javi might fall asleep any moment now.

Quickly sliding off the bed you rush to Javier’s side as he cleans up in the bathroom. You embrace him tight.

“Honey?” His voice even weary and tired more than ever still sounds so comforting.

“Thanks for taking me to that food truck.” You kiss his bare arm as you snuggle into him as close as you can.

“Nah, I’m the one who needs to thank you. You were the one who agreed to go with me. Can’t even believe you even agreed to marry my stupid ass today.” Javi snickers a soft tired chuckle and you reverently kiss his warm skin.

“Easiest decision ever.” It was. It is and will always be the easiest decision to pick Javi every and any time.

Javier abandons whatever he’s doing to completely wrap you in his arms, holding you tight, strong and true. 

In your husband’s embrace, exhaustion finally catches up to you. Your mind melts under the whirlwind of the day, and from the overwhelming love you have. You don’t even realize you’re being tucked into bed until Javier turns off the light by his nightstand.

“Night baby.” You slur half asleep barely staying awake.

“G’night cariño, get some sleep.” Javi kisses you goodnight. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

And every day after that. 

The promise of getting to greet every day with Javier by your side eases you into the most peaceful and beautiful sleep.

You’re still knocked out cold when Javi wakes up the next morning.

He can’t help but snicker at the sight of you. Practically hogging all the covers, lightly snoring, and now curled on his pillow, you’re his favorite sight to wake up to.

As he starts going through all the shit he brought back from the wedding a soft knock comes at the hotel door. Freezing with every caution he would’ve used at a drug raid, Javi stares at you waiting and worried you’ll move. 

You barely make a sound and that again makes him almost snicker. 

At the door stands a hotel worker with a small and beautiful bouquet of flowers.

“They were sent in for you and your new bride.” He warmly explains and Javi smirks. 

That first date he forgot the flowers, but this time he knew he wouldn’t. It’s why he ordered these in before to make sure. 

When Javi pulls out a few bills from his wallet to leave a tip, he cant help but spot the white paper still folded in his wallet. His lips already twitch wanting to grin like the lovesick husband he is now.

He quietly places the flowers on your nightstand so you’ll be surprised to see them when you wake. Then he pulls out the white paper.

It’s faintly faded and he refuses to throw it away. Just like how he didn’t want to throw it away those few years ago when you first left the receipt in his truck’s cup holder.

Javi unfolds it with a delicate touch. The message is still the same. Your little heart still knocks him breathless. It still brings the goofiest smile on his face and fills his body with an incredible amount of love he never knew he could have for another.

As if on cue, the sheets start to rustle. Then comes the softest sigh from you almost like a siren’s song luring him to your side. And who is he to deny you? 

Besides, he’s already excited about celebrating your first morning together as husband and wife.

As he slides back into the sheets, into the warmth that radiates beautifully from you, Javi thinks that even on the worst day, it will never truly be a bad day because of you. 

He can’t help but think of that first date and how awful that day had been. Then you just effortlessly transformed it into something damn magical he still can’t believe he witnessed. 

His mind always goes to the image of you in his blazer, looking so gorgeous in that elegant outfit, leaning against his truck as you giggled.

Javi might not have known it, might not have fully processed it, but in that moment his life became tied to yours. To find someone as understanding as you, who even back then was so eager to face whatever changes, whatever stupid hiccups life threw at him, he can’t believe how lucky he is that he found you.

Maybe it’s because some part of him is still in that parking lot. He’s still in his truck under the neon lights waiting for you to leave him any minute. He’s done so many terrible things, probably doesn’t even deserve you, yet you never left.

You simply stayed by his side, firmly even told him that’s where you felt you were always meant to be. 

His sweet stubborn little love, his wife. 

Javi knows he’s the lucky one who gets to stay by your side. You’re not just his good luck charm to beat any kind of awful as fuck bad days, but you’re his sunrise. You’re his tomorrow and forever.

And for that, he can’t help but thank that fateful shitty Friday that led him here. 

"bendecido" en inglés: blessed

#he is…truly my forever beloved and this narcos rewatch has reminded me I should never doubt my Javi P heart 😭 #anyway I’m terrified this is too soft and not typical for Javi but I just needed to write this…maybe even just for my sake #Javier Peña x reader #javi peña #javi p 🤎

[aristocratic-otter]

Howdy all!

I've not posted in forever, but I want you to know I am writing. I've just hit a wall with Saving Simon Snow and The Heart in the Well, so I'm rereading those to figure out where I'm going. But I've made significant progress on my other three, just not enough to post a chapter. I think a chapter of Snow Fox will be up in a week. I don't want too many WIPs on the archive, so I'll wait till one is finished to start posting Stars, Flowers and Children, which I've already got ten chapters done on.

Thank you to these folks for continuing to tag me even when I go silent: @larkral, @blackberrysummerblog, @bookish-bogwitch, @nausikaaa, @artsyunderstudy, @nightimedreamersghost, @prettygoododds, @rimeswithpurple, @ic3-que3n, @j-nipper-95 and @shrekgogurt

From: Stars, Flowers, and Children:

One moment Simon’s staring, open-mouthed at Davy’s corpse, and the next he’s folded himself into my chest, sobbing. “I killed him,” he whispers, between sobs. “Baz…I killed him.”

I want to argue with Simon, tell him that he couldn’t have known his shove would kill the man, that Davy’s own drunkenness made him so clumsy he couldn’t break his own fall, that Davy’s madness forced Simon to take action…but none of those things will help. So I just wrap my arms around him and hold him to me and let him cry. 

I want to tell him it’s alright. But it’s not. 

We’re thirteen years old, and we’re all alone in the world. 

From: Snow Fox

“I wish I were there with you. I wish I could be more help,” he frets. 

“You’re where I need you,” I remind him. “You’re of invaluable assistance to our effort. Baz, nobody can do what you do for the rebellion.”  I reach up and cup his face between my two palms. “And,” I whisper, “knowing you are here, safe? It’s the only thing that keeps me going, some days, darling.”

Baz’s eyes soften. Then I can’t see his eyes anymore because his lips are on mine and my own eyes have slammed shut. He kisses me fiercely, hungrily. Then he pulls away abruptly. “I’ll stay safe for you, for as long as I can,” he whispers.

“I know,” I whisper. “And I’ll do the same for you.”

And a longish sample from Tiktok dancer--Baz is finally in the story!

“We’re young, we’re hot, and we’re freeeeeee!” Dev shouts, and then follows his boast up with a raucous wolf howl. 

“You’re making a scene!” I hiss at him. 

Dev flips me off, before skipping ahead of Niall and I to the baggage carousel. I refuse to look around to see if Dev’s behavior is drawing attention. Of course it is; he lives to embarrass me. 

Niall laughs at my expression and then throws an arm over my shoulders. “C’mon, Baz. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner you can cool your blushes.” 

I scowl at him. “I’m not blushing,” I lie. I can feel the heat in my cheeks, but hopefully my skin is too dark for him to tell. 

He releases me with a pat on the shoulder and a laugh. “Dev’s just having fun. And he’s right, you know. This is our hot singles tour, and we get to do it in hot people paradise. Isn’t that great?”

“I thought Hawaii was paradise,” I snark. 

Niall rolls his eyes. “Your virginity is showing, Baz. C’mon, California? The home of the hottest girls on the planet?”  

Now I roll my eyes. “And I should care about that, why?” We’ve reached the baggage carousel now. Dev has pulled all of our suitcases off of the conveyer and is waiting impatiently for us. He was close enough, apparently to hear the last part of our conversation. He snickers. 

“You care because you want your best friends in the world to get laid by the hottest women. You’re just nice that way.” 

“Besides,” Niall grunts, as he hefts our suitcases onto a baggage cart. “I’m sure the guys are just as hot. You’ll find someone to fuck, Baz. Probably several someones.” 

Tagging (and blowing y'all a big kiss for the New Year): @angelsfalling16, @bazzybelle, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @erzbethluna, @fatalfangirl&lt; @facewithoutheart, @hushed-chorus, @letraspal, @frjsti, @messofthejess, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, @onepintobean, @raenestee, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @theearlgreymage, @tea-brigade, @cutestkilla, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

#co/ws/awtwb #wip wednesday #carry on through the ages #cotta 2023 #carry on reverse bang #Age of Sail AU

[triplesilverstar]

Sometimes it's just about control

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI 

Pairing: Knives X F!Reader

CW: Dom/Sub undertones. P in V sex, rough sex, tied up, cream pie, aftercare. 

Word count: Roughly 1.6K

A/N: Chapter four of the series, you had a shit day at work and when you get home realize Nai is waiting for you since you forgot you had a date. You might be in trouble. 

A high pitched whine is ringing in your ears, one that is emanating from your own throat, the result of the dissatisfaction that had been building in you for almost an hour now. Tugging at the restraints wrapped around your wrists securing you to your headboard. Two large hands are groping the underside of your thighs keeping them up in the air while the pale blond head between them is currently distracted with linger licks to your outer folds before pulling back, a warm exhale against the quivering flesh before pulling back and away from you. “Pet, should you continue to heave against your restraints I will end tonight early leaving you far more distraught then when we started.” Breathing in through your nose, you try to make yourself more aware of what your hands are doing, missing the narrowed teal orb taking in your flushed appearance and still heaving chest. “Color?” 

His voice surprises you for a moment, or more, the word does. Taking the time to think it over and the way your body is feeling “green” which is partially a lie as you’ve been edged so many times already your body is screaming to tumble over that precipice. Aside from the overwhelming need to cum however, your body is fine, no pain that you don’t enjoy, nothing too close to what you might consider overwhelming. This time you catch his gaze as it rakes over your naked form, not breaking his eyes from your own. His head turns before sinking his pearly whites into your calf, wailing at the pain. 

Nai lets up moments before he would have broken the skin, tongue rubbing against the already reddening skin. “Remain calm pet, I told you before we started I’ll look after you tonight” he doesn’t need to say anything more, because he is right. 

You’d had nothing but a shit day at work. And by work, you meant your day job as a transcription typist instead of bartending at Flux. Another one of the requirements of Calla, everyone needed a regular working job to give the appearance of being clean cut. Honestly you didn’t care about typing, but being able to type as fast as you could while listening to transcription was easy. And minus Mondays and Friday, you don't need to go into the office. Monday pick up tapes, start working on typing them all out and at the end of the day, taking the laptop home. The laptop was monitored so it made it easy to make sure your work was done during working hours, and working hours only. Then Friday back in around ten to turn in the completed files, do a debrief to see if you remembered anything from the tapes. The answer was always, never. At least the answer you told the company, anything of interest was filed away in your head for Calla. 

So on this Friday after turning in your laptop, you’d been called into the supervisors office just in time to hear a shit storm break out from outside the space. And spent four hours sitting there listening to the turmoil of the office politics, then going though your own debrief, which was interrupted by another freak out. Including police being called when someone pulled a knife. By the end of it all, almost seven o’clock you were trudging home, and pushing your apartment door open. Fingers hitting the light switch and starting to kick your shoes off before a hand wrapped around your wrist causing you to scream and jump away. 

Nai was standing there, one elegant eyebrow raised while he looked down his nose at you much like a predator eyeing up its prey. The sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, suit pants on. It suddenly dawns on you. “Fuck, we had a date.” You’re running a hand down your face, great, you missed a dinner date with Knives. On one of the rare Friday nights you weren’t at Flux, you had a date with your boyfriend. He’d been expecting to pick you up for five, which meant now by eight you were beyond late for whatever Knives had planned. Now, you are going to end up paying for it. 

“Indeed we did, Pet.” His wide palm is still wrapped around your forearm, a squeak passing your lips when he gently pulls you closer to him free hand cupping your chin and tilting your chin to get a better look at you. “While you are well aware of the consequences that wasting my time brings. I’m inclined to believe something else is at work here tonight.” His mouth is against yours as he finishes, a press of his lips before his tongue is pressing against your lips and you moan low in your throat letting him have the access he wants. As you feel your mind starting to blank from the ferocity of his actions he pulls away, nose pressed against yours. “Tell me what happened” there in his teal eyes you see the flick of tenderness.  

So you do, all the stupidity of what happened at the office. Most of the time you speak his face remains impassive, nose pressing against yours on occasion, breath stuttering from the action. Once the police are mentioned the slightest twitch of his hands on your skin, the briefest press of his lips against the corner of your mouth. As you finish the events of what should have been a quiet day, closing them off at when you opened your apartment door, Nai releases his hold on you stepping away. 

“You’ve had a turbulent day, Pet, and while I am satiated as to why you missed our date, I find my craving for you under me whimpering has not abated.” Turning from you to approach the partial open closet and his suit jacket that is hanging there. “I am not a monster. If you wish for me to depart tonight I will.” No thoughts pass through your head other to reach out to him, wrapping your arms around his and pressing your facing into his back, forehead barely reaching his shoulder blades. 

“Stay” one word, while softly spoken conveys what you want. You want him and everything it entails. 

“Very well Pet, I’ll look after you tonight.” Now you were here, arms secured against the headboard with Nai having brought your body to the brink so many times between his thick digits and long tongue. Your neck is nothing but a smattering of bruises that come tomorrow will be hidden under your clothes, chest covered similarly and dotted with bite marks from his sharp teeth. 

His fingers are inside you once more, three of them stretching you out with one leg braced against his shoulder, the other held in his grasp. Trying your best to keep your hands from pulling away from the headboard while panting hard. “That is the behavior I expect from you, and I think it’s time you earned your reward.” 

A quick adjustment of your legs and his fingers trailing from your slick cunt, before his dick slams into you, all the way to the base as he sets a brutal steady pace. Head dropping back down onto your pillow, back arcing from the pleasure he’s forcing from your exhausted body. His thick cock always feels amazing, the way as he plunges in and out of you the veins hitting and dragging inside your tight walls. Pace remaining the same he grabs your legs and forcing your knees into your chest, the angle making you scream his name, walls clenching hard. “Almost there, my sweet.” 

He’s grunting now a beautiful background to your own pants before he’s leaning forward his weight adding more pressure to your legs changing the angles more. You can fill the edge coming even closer, the coil in your gut growing tighter and tighter. One arm resting beside you, the other reaching down to rub against your clit, and you find yourself tumbling over the edge “Nai!” As the coil inside you bursts, and you find yourself in a haze, while Nai continues his thrusts before panting your name against your ear and freezing. 

When you come back to your senses, Nai isn’t inside you anymore, or near you. The sound of water running reaches your ears, noticing your hands are still tied to the bed, Nai reappearing to wipe away your shared release from between your thighs. “How are you feeling, Pet?” Cleaned up and in his boxers you snort as he finally reaches up to untie your wrists, rubbing the soft skin of the first one once it’s free from the bonds he’d placed you in. 

“Better.” Once the other wrist is released you’re rubbing them both and watching Nai head back into your bathroom with the washcloth he’d used to clean you up. Following after him to pull a set of your pajamas on. Looking at the time, it’s almost one am, damn. You’re glad tomorrow is saturday. “Are you heading home?” You almost jump out of your skin, feeling his hands slide down your sides and his chin resting against the top of your head. 

“No. You’re still flustered from your day. I’m staying here tonight.” His voice is soft, but with the way he’s pressed around you, the rumble from his chest shakes through your frame. “You need water, then bed.” His head shifts so he can whisper in your ear, nosing at the shell. 

“Alright then.” Giggling as he starts to maneuver you to the bed, refusing to let you separate more than inch from him before he’s making you sip from the water bottle you’d missed on your night stand. Once in bed, spooning you do find it funny. Once of the most dangerous men in the city, and you’re happiest curled up in his arms. Must say something about you too.

Back to masterlist

#millions knives smut #millions knives x reader #millions knives x reader smut #modern au #trigun #trigun stampede #tristamp #trigun smut #twink writes #knives smut #millions knives #knives x reader

[theewokingdead]

Yes (Javi G x F!Reader)

Pairing: Javi G (TUWOMT) x f!Reader Summary: You and Javi wait for the results of an at-home pregnancy test. Word Count: 1.7k+ Rating: Teen. Though this fic isn’t explicit, my blog is 18+ only. Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.  Notes: I think this is the first time I came up with and wrote a fic all in one day lol. Enjoy this fluff fest and join me in all the dad!Javi G feels.

Main Masterlist

Wait ten minutes, you read on the little pamphlet before setting it down on the vanity. Ten minutes. No big deal. What’s ten minutes after waiting a week for your period?

A fucking eternity.

Your heartbeat creeps into your throat, and you fear you might choke on it.

Just breath, you tell yourself. You can do this.

Hunched over, clutching the marble vanity, you take a deep breath…but it’s not enough. Despite its grand size, the walls of the master bathroom are closing in on you. A wave of nausea washes over you as your vision tunnels and your body tingles. Everything magnifies. The lights are blinding and the slight drip from the sink faucet is deafening.

No… You can’t do this.

Pushing yourself away from the vanity, you turn and open the door that connects to the bedroom, searching for air, for a distraction, for anything. A figure whips around to see you as soon as you enter the room, making you freeze.

“Javi!”you breath in surprise. You thought he was in his study, working on his latest screenplay, wanting to spare him the stress of waiting for the results of the test.

“Did you take it?” he immediately questions, the anxiety clear in his voice.

“I-yeah,” is all you can manage to say, trying to process what’s happening.

“What did it say? Is it positive? Can I see?” He moves past you to walk into the bathroom, but immediately turns back. “No. I can’t. I’m too nervous. What did it say?!”

“It didn’t say anything,” you reply. “I only just took it, and it takes ten minutes to show the results.”

“Ten minutes?! Ay, Dios Mío!” He places a hand on his chest. “My heart is beating so fast. I think I need to sit down.” Seeming like he may be sick, he moves over to the bed, taking a seat on the edge.

You fold your arms and hug them closely to your body. You feared he’d freak out. Why did I even tell him that I’m late?

“It’s okay if you want to leave,” you assure him.  “You don’t have to stay. You don’t have to have any part in this…if you don’t want to.”

Javi looks up at you, brows knitted together, the eyes beneath them shining with a love that burns from within. “What? You really think I don’t want to be a part of this?” he questions, sounding hurt by your inference. He rises to your feet and walks to you, then clasps your shoulders, his large hands warm and comforting. “Of course, I want to be a part of this! I mean, I’m already a part of this, aren’t I?” He pulls back and tilts his head. “Unless this happened because of some sort of…divine intervention.”

You hang your head to hide a smile. “No. Of course not.”

“Good.” He lets go. “So we just wait then?”

You nod, and he turns away. Silence falls between you.

“I’m sorry,” you squeak, though you’re unsure why. Maybe it’s shame, facing a pregnancy when you’re not even engaged let alone married. Or perhaps it’s guilt, feeling as though you’re trapping him. A tear falls down your cheek, but you quickly wipe it away “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Oh, dulzura. No, no.” Javi returns to you, this time pulling you into a hug. “Don’t be sorry. Why be sorry?”

Shaking your head, you push him away. “I don’t know,” you admit, trying to make sense of all the thoughts in your head. “The timing feels horrible. You just started your next screenplay with Nic, and I know you’re under a lot of stress with that. You don’t need something like this occupying your mind or holding you back.”

“Something like this?” he questions. “Mi amor… Look at me.” He tilts your chin up to look at him. “I have a confession.”

Your heart slams against your chest as you look up at him through your eyelashes.

Javi moves his hand to your cheek. “Do you remember when we were watching the Academy Awards together and I told you that one of my biggest dreams is to win an Oscar for Screenwriting?” he questions.

Yes. Of course, you remember… Cuddling on the couch. The way he looked like a little kid while spewing random facts about which awards Nic Cage and his movies had been nominated for in the past. Cheering on his favorite nominees and yelling when the ones he disliked won. Crying at the sweetest acceptance awards. It was one of your favorite date nights.

“I lied to you,” Javi admits. “It was a lie. Well, it wasn’t technically a lie because it is one of my dreams, just not my biggest. My biggest dream is to have a family. To share kids with the love of my life…it would be a magical experience. Not always an easy one, I know, but I can’t imagine a future without having a family of my own.”

Instantly, you melt. “Oh, Javi,” you sigh. “Why have you never told me that?”

His hand slips from your face, and he seems ashamed. “Because I am a coward,” he responds.

“You aren’t a coward.”

“I am,” he states, nodding. He walks away, his hands on his hips as he looks down at the ground. “I never allow myself to have what my heart wants because I’m afraid of failing.”

“You’re doing perfectly, Javi,” you reassure him. “At everything.”

“But who’s to say I can do good at this? I…I don’t know how to be a father, and there’s no script for parenting. I know I’m not much of a better man than my father, and I don’t want to be like him. I don’t want to be an old man, alone on my deathbed, guilty of what kind of father I was, but refusing to make things right.”

“That won’t happen,” you assure him. You close the gap between the two of you, laying one hand on his chest, the other reaching up to touch his face, feeling his thick facial hair. “I may not have known your father, but I know you, and I’m certain you will make an amazing father. Yes, you may be stubborn and sometimes extremely difficult”-you offer him a smile-“but you are also very kind and compassionate. I have no idea how to be a parent either…but I’m willing to learn.”

Javi looks at you with the sweetest puppy dog eyes, filled with hope and wonder. “With me?”

“No, with God,” you jest. “Yes, with you, silly.”

“Oh, good,” he chuckles. “Because I want to do this with you. You will make a phenomenal mother. You already take such good care of me.”

You giggle but it quickly fades. You look down at the hand on his shirt. “Listen, Javi, truth… The reason I didn’t test sooner, that I didn’t even bring it up when I first suspected it, was because… Well, I’m scared too. I’m afraid that, no matter the results, our entire relationship will change. That it will change the way you feel about me. I don’t want to mess up what we have.”

“I don’t want to lie to you, querida. It does change everything,” he admits freely. “But not for worse. If anything, this has made me see just how much I love you, and that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I’ve always wanted to. I’ve just been too paralyzed by fear – doubts – that someone as beautiful and perfect as you would want to spend the rest of their life with me. Everyday I’m worried that I’m living in a fantasy world, and one day I’ll wake up, and you’ll be gone.”

You’re shocked by his admission. Looking deeply into his eyes, you place your hands on either side of his cheeks and say, “Javi Gutierrez. When is it going to sink into that enormous head of yours that you are a wonderful man who I love more than anything else, and – should you ask me to - I’d be honored to spend my life with you?”

His eyes widen, and a ridiculously happy smile appears on his face. “Really?”

You nod. “Really.”

“Maybe I, uh… Maybe I should ask you to then?”

“Maybe you should,” you respond, smiling. You bite your lower lip, remembering what brought you here in the first place. “But not now. It’s not the right time.”

“No?” he questions, confused.

“No.”

“No. Yes, no. You’re right. Now’s not the right time.” He’s silent, his eyebrows screwed up as he looks at you. After a moment, he questions, “How about now?”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips, wondering if he’s forgotten about the test. “No, Javi. But I… I think it’s about time to check the test.”

“Oh, yeah. Right. The test. No, go. I cannot look.”

You nod, then turn and walk toward the bathroom.

“Mi vida, wait.”

You turn back to him, watching as he steps up to you.

“No matter what the test says, no matter what happens next… I love you. I love you unconditionally and nothing will change that.”

Beaming, you respond. “I love you, too.”

He nods, encouraging you to go, which you do. Walking up to the vanity, you pick up the small plastic stick sitting on it. It shakes as you hold it in your trembling hand, but you see that the little clock on the display screen has turned into a word - a word so simple yet capable of changing the course of your life.

A million emotions rushing through you, you step back out into the bedroom, your eyes fixed on the letters as your brain tries to process what it means.

“Well?” Javi prods.

“It’s…positive.”

You look up at him, watching the realization wash over his face. He releases a breath, his eyes wet with tears.

“Really?” His mouth twists into a bright smile after speaking the words, flashing nearly all of his teeth.

“Yeah. Really,” you reply, beaming. Your voice is shaky, filled with tears. “You’re going to be a father, Javi.”

You hold out the test, and Javi looks down, uttering an excited, “Oh, wow!” as he gazes at the word staring back at him: YES. He’s in absolute awe.

Unexpectedly, he looks up at you, then tosses his arms around your back, picking you up and spinning you around. Your arms instinctively wrap tightly around his neck, holding onto him.

“Javi!” you exclaim, laughing as tears of joy start to stream down your face.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, setting you back down and unwrapping his arms, as though he’s afraid of breaking you. “I’m sorry, my vida. I’ll be more careful. I just cannot contain my excitement! You just made me the happiest man alive!”

Your arms remain wrapped around his neck, and you move to press your lips to his. He finally holds you once more, this time less tightly. One of your hands reaches up, allowing your fingers to run through his curls. Pulling back, you demand, “Ask me, Javi. Ask me what you wanted to ask.”

Without missing a beat, he asks, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes!”

#javi g #javi gutierrez #javi gutierrez x you #javi gutierrez x reader #javi g x female reader #the unbearable weight of massive talent #tuwomt #javi g fanfic #javi g fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #javi g x reader