#having to take a work break to cry in bed because I miss my ex? more likely than you’d think

[aefensteorrra]

hmmmmm I miss my old life

#having to take a work break to cry in bed because I miss my ex? more likely than you’d think #feels extra shitty of me because I *am* dating someone rn #who knows about the future etc etc #but these feelings do not inspire me to read about neural speech synthesis or decipher my supervisor’s code

[lenaaxxo]

best i ever had

Anon request:

Paige seeing her ex at a party and getting jellllyyyyyyyyyy.

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x fem reader

Warnings: drinking, cussing, partying, angst

Authors Note: The reader is bisexual, Paige is unlabeled, and this is my first fic so please bear with me.

Word count: 1.4k

It was a Friday night in Storrs, Connecticut. My friend, Madi wanted me to go out with her to our local bar, Ted’s. I didn't feel like partying since my ex-girlfriend broke up with me a week ago. She said she couldn't balance school, work, basketball, and our relationship. I thought that was absolute crap because there are so many pro athletes doing exactly that, but there was nothing I could do about it anymore. 

“Come on y/n, don't be a loser and cry over her for the rest of the night,” Madi begged while attempting to drag me out of bed. 

“Okay rude, plus I wouldn't be a loser for crying over her. I mean we were together for almost 2 years,” 

“Okay, I'm sorry. How about we just go to the bar and drink? We won't even have to dance, plus I'll let you borrow something of mine in case someone wants to flirt with you tonight.”

When she first came into my room I was half convinced to go out but once she mentioned drinking and partying I was all in. The whole school knew of my and Paige's relationship so I knew someone there would tell her they saw me at the bar. And the idea of flirting with someone else seemed like good practice for later. 

As we walked up the doors of the bar Madi and I could hear the music blaring from the inside outside. I almost reached for my phone to text Paige that they were playing her favorite song, Best I Ever Had by Drake, but remembered our current situation and resisted. Inside the bar, it was super busy. Exams had just finished so everyone was drinking and dancing with their friends before Christmas break.

Madi and I walk up to some empty seats at the bar and I order a dirty Shirley, she gets a Mojito and we order 2 shots each. The first few moments of being in a bar are the absolute worst. You're so sober you don't want to be there with all the loud music and the sticky tables, but after about 2 or 3 drinks everything’s perfect and you never want to leave. That's how I'm currently feeling now. The revealing shirt I'm wearing paired with my tight skirt makes me feel like prey to everyone's eyes. 

“Okay, I'm gonna go dance. Don't miss me too much” Madi said after taking her shots. She usually sees a guy she finds attractive and goes up to them asking to dance. I loved how confident she was, she was always the one who went up to guys and by the end of the night, they were all over her. 

While sipping on my drink, I look around the bar. I noticed a few people from my classes and some athletes from the men's swim and basketball teams. And to my happiness, I saw most of the girls from the women's basketball team including Paige. She was wearing a blue cropped tank top paired with some black cargo pants. The sight of her abs between the cut-off of her top and the waistline of her pants got me to chug the rest of my drink and order another. It was about 3 minutes of sipping my second Shirley before someone sat beside me. 

“Hey,” I heard him say. “You wanna dance?” As I turned, I saw the most gorgeous guy this campus had to offer. He was tall with dirty blond hair and blue eyes. 

“Yeah, I'm down.” As we walked to the dance floor, I could feel eyes on me. I knew I'd get looks with this outfit on so it didn't bother me that much. Especially after 2 drinks and 2 shots. 

“So, what's your name?” It was loud in the middle of the dance floor. Around the bar was much quieter, so he was almost yelling out his question to me.

“Y/n. What's yours?”

“Zach,” He had a cute name, I thought. I mean at least it wasn't something like Reginald or whatever. 

As we danced, the feeling of being watched never left. It honestly felt like someone's eyes were burning into the back of my head so I looked around. The only eyes I made contact with were Paige’s and her gaze was murderous. I could tell she was jealous just by the way her eyebrows were pulled down, so I decided to mess with her. 

I turned so that my ass was on Zach's lap and I began grinding on him while maintaining eye contact with Paige. As his hands made way to my hips I held onto them as he guided me to the song playing through the speakers. That was enough to get Paige and I knew it. I wasn't much on physical touch so me holding onto hands pissed her off more than anything. As she started to walk over to us I turned around and wrapped my send around his neck before I felt her firm grip on my upper arm. I quickly said bye to Zach as Paige brought me outside the bar.

“What the fuck was that? You're out here dancing with guys that basically look like me?” She yelled as she cornered me against the wall. She was so hot when she was mad. Her jaw clenched, and she held intense eye contact.

“Wow, your ego’s so big you think he looks like you, Paige?” 

“Don't make this into an ego thing y/n, he and I are literally the same height and we both have blond hair and blue eyes.” As she spoke, her arms moved with her, she pointed to the door of the bar while speaking about Zach.

“Fine then! Maybe he did remind me of you. But you don't get to badmouth me or be angry at all because you’re the one who broke it off after almost 2 years! Two fucking years of ups and downs P. I was there with you through your whole ACL recovery and each time you cried, I held you close to me, not anyone else,” at this point, I was crying and screaming at her. I was so hurt and drunk that the words just kept spilling out. 

“You said you couldn't handle us and you left. You fucking left me. So I'm trying to move on. I’m trying so fucking hard but I honestly don't think I can ever fully get over you. I don't want to get over you. I don’t want to be with anyone else but you. You're the only one I can truly be myself around. Not even Madi makes me feel as safe and understood as you do,” She stood there in silence for a while. I could see the tears brimming in her eyes before she spoke.

“Let's get you home” I was so exhausted that I agreed to let her take me home. I could tell by her body language that she hadn't drunk tonight and her car in the parking lot of the bar confirmed it. She never lets anyone drive her car unless she absolutely has to, so it being back there meant she was one of the designated drivers for the night. 

“Can you text Madi and tell her that I’m leaving?”

“I will once I get you home.”

Entering my apartment wasn't much of a struggle. I walked straight into my bathroom to take my makeup off as Paige went into my room. 

“Here I got you something to change into” Her voice was soft. I could tell she didn't want to hurt me anymore than she already had that night. 

“Thank you,” I couldn't find it in me to say anything else to her.

“I have to go back for the girls”

“I realized that, but could you stay till I fall asleep?”

“Yeah, of course,”

Getting into bed with Paige again felt euphoric. This past week I never thought It would ever happen again. Just knowing that you were falling asleep in the arms of someone you trusted with your life was something I thought I had lost forever. The longer I held onto her and breathed in her perfume, the more tired I got. 

“I'm so sorry, my love. You were the best I ever had, but everything's just too much right now,” I heard her say, right before I fell asleep.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn #uconn wbb #leenaxxo

[opieluvs]

ᡣ𐭩‧₊˚𓂃 One More Chance ft. osamu dazai

summary. after six years of dating, you decided to break up with dazai. dazai, of course, was devastated because he still loves you and he knows you still love him. would you give him another chance? tw. fem!reader, ex-lovers to lovers trope, dazai's pov (?), angst, hurt/comfort, drinking, drunk driving (pls pls pls don't do this), depression, mentions of suicide, mentions of sex, ooc dazai, grammar mistakes (?) wc. 1.3k

"osamu, we need to talk."

dazai looks up from his his book to look at you. "what is it, babe? have you finally decided to commit double suicide with me?" dazai says with a silly smile on his face, but his smiles quickly fades when he sees how serious you look. "is everything alright, bella'?" dazai could tell that something was bothering, he quickly notice a few tear threatening to spill out of your eyes. "osamu... i think it's best for us to break up" you hesitantly say.

dazai couldn't believe his ears and his eyes go wide, "w-what...?" is all he could say. what do you mean you want to break up? dazai never felt his heart break faster than this before. "did...did i do something wrong?" dazai asked as he got up from the couch to walk over to you. he places his hands on your shoulders and looks at you. up close he can see your tears more clearly. oh, how seeing you cry breaks his heart. "no... no it's just...," you stop yourself to think. what should you say? that its not you, its me? before you could stop yourself, your start to sob and buried your face in your hands.

as you cry, dazai's heart shatters into a million pieces. he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, trying to provide whatever comfort he can. "shh, it's okay, honey," he murmurs softly, pressing kisses to the top of your forehead.

but inside, dazai is falling apart. the mere thought of losing you, the love of his life, is unbearable. he never imagined a future without you by his side. "please, (name)," he whispers desperately, his voice trembling with emotion. "don't do this. we can work through whaterver it is. just please, don't leave me."

you look up at him, tears still streaming down your face, and he can see the pain reflected in your eyes. "osamu, i... i just don't know if i can do this anymore," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. "i love you, i really do. but it's not enough. i need... i need to figure some things out on my own."

dazai's heart clenches at your words. he knows he should respect your decision, but the thought of losing you is tearing him apart. "please, (name)," he pleads, his voice cracking with pain. "just give me another chance. i promise, i'll do whatever it takes to make things right. i can't imagine my life with out you."

but you shake your head, tears still flowing down your cheeks. "i'm sorry, osamu," you say, your voice barely audible. "i just... i need some time to myself..."

And with that, you gently extricate yourself from dazai's embrace and walk away, leaving him standing there, heartbroken and devastated. as he watches to exit his apartment, a sense of emptiness washes over him, knowing that he's lost the one person who made him want to live another day.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

its been a few weeks since you and dazai's had broken up. the apartment felt eerily quiet without your presence. dazai found himself going through the motions of his daily life, but everthing seemed dull and colorless without you by his side. he missed the sound of your laughter, the warmth of you touch, the way you would curl up next to him in bed after a good love-making session.

each passing day only served to deepen the ache in his heart. he began to drink again, but more worse than before. almost everyday after work, he would return home and drink until he passed out or he would go to a bar and get drunk.

one day he found himself wandering aimlessly through the streets of yokohama, lost in his thoughts as he tried to make sense of the emptiness gnawing at his soul. everything he looked, he was reminded of you – the coffee shop where you would spend lazy sunday afternoons, the park where you take take long walks hand in hand, the bookstore where you would browse for house end.

but no matter how hard he tried, dazai couldn't escape the memories that haunted him at every turn. he realized now, more than ever, just how much you meant to him, and how empty his life felt without you in it.

as he stood alone on the rooftop of a building overlooking the city, dazai couldn't help but a feel a sense of resignation wash over him. maybe this was his punishment for all the mistakes he had made in the past, for all the pain he had caused others. maybe he didn't deserve to be happy, to have someone as wonderful as you in his life.

the next thing dazai remembers was him getting into a car, and driving off. he was speeding. the car swerved recklessly through the streets, fuled by dazai's numbness and despair. he didn't care about the consequences; all he watned was to drown out the agony that consumed him from within. but in his intoxicated haze, he failed to notice the red light glaring ahead, a warning sign that he was hurtling towards disaster.

suddenly, the screech of tires filled the air as dazai slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. the car skidded out of control, spinning widly before crashing into a nearby car with a deafening crunch.

that's all dazai remembers before blacking out.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

dazai wakes up in a hospital bed. the hospital room felt cold and sterile as dazai slowly regained consciousness. his head throbbed with pain, and the smell of antiseptic assaulted his senses. blinking groggily, he struggled to make sense of his surroundings until his gaze landed on you, he saw you bawl your eyes out as one of many doctors tried to comfort you.

"osamu!" you cried out, relief flooding your voice as you rushed to his side. your hands shook as you reached out to grasp his, your touch sending a jolt of warmth through his battered body.

dazai tried to speak, but his throat felt dry and scratchy. he managed to croak out your name, his voice barely above a whisper. you leaned in closer, your expression filled with concern as you brushed a gentle hand against his cheek.

"i thought I'd lost you," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "when i got the call, i... i was so scared."

dazai's heart clenched at the sight of your tears, knowing that he was the cause of your pain. despite everything, you were still here, still by his side, and the realization filled him with a sense of gratitude he could hardly put into words.

"i'm sorry," he managed to say, his voice thick with emotion. "i never meant to hurt you like this."

You shook your head, tears still streaming down your cheeks as you cupped his face in your hands. "no, it's my fault. if i decided not to be selfish and break up with you, we would be laying together in bed.

in that moment, dazai felt a surge of overwhelming love for you, a love so powerful that it washed away the darkness that had consumed him for so long. he knew then, with absolute certainty, that he couldn't bear to live another day without you by his side.

"i love you," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. "please... please give me another chance."

you hesitated for a moment, your gaze searching his face for any sign of insincerity. but all you found was raw vulnerability, a vulnerability that mirrored your own. with a trembling sigh, you nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"okay," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "one more chance."

and in that moment, as you leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips, dazai knew that he would spend the rest of his life making it up to you, cherishing every precious moment they shared together. for he had been given a second chance at love, and he wasn't about to let it slip away.

a/n. first fic ever !!! i hope i didn't butcher dazai's personality too bad. but anyways i hoped you enjoyed it <33 reblogs are appreciated !!

#˗ˏˋ ꒰ bsd ꒱ ˎˊ˗ #ᰔ.opie's library .ᐟ.ᐟ #osamu dazai #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai angst #dazai fluff #dazai x you #dazai x y/n

[janeyseymour]

Won't You Be... My Neighbor? -pt 2

Part 1.

Summary: Throughout the preparation for Melissa's court hearing, you find yourself falling for her.

WC: ~2.35k

“You’re a lawyer?” Melissa looks at you as if you just told her you were actually born on Mars.

You nod confidently. “A damn good one too.”

“Then what the hell are you doing here in West Philly?”

You chuckle. “I grew up around here. Liked the area, never really cared to leave.”

“Wow,” she whispers out in amazement. “Would you really be able to help me? I’ll pay you of course.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course I can help you. And don’t worry about a payment. I’d be happy to help you out.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she states.

You wave a lazy hand in dismissal as you sip your wine. “No it ain’t. Just… cook me a couple meals, and we’ll call it even.”

That gets the redhead to laugh a little. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Tell me a little about him,” you prompt.

So she does. The two of you chat long into the night, and it’s only when Melissa yawns for the fourth time that you smile at her, finish off what little remains in your glass, and stand. “I suppose I should let you get to bed. But let’s… reconvene soon?”

She nods sleepily. “I’ll see you soon, Y/N. And seriously, thank you.”

“Have a good night, Melissa.” You leave the apartment and head down the hall to your own.

As you crawl into bed that night, you think about everything that she had said to you. Genuinely, you feel terrible for the woman a few doors down. She seems to have put her heart and soul into that marriage, only for all of her hard work and care to go down the drain. And from what you can tell, she isn’t exactly swimming in money right now- especially taking on a new apartment and having a young child to care for on her own. But she’s doing everything she can right now to make it work, including working overtime at her school to tutor children who need extra help. Her ex-husband is making absolutely no contributions aside from the extra hell that he is giving her. You find yourself even more motivated to help your neighbor win her case against her husband and gain full custody of her son.

It’s a few days later when you run into Melissa again, and she seems just as frazzled as she was the first day you met her. JJ is on her hip crying again, pleading to not have to go to the grocery store.

You are just coming in from a rather long day at work, and while the last thing you want to do is look after a small child (one who will need lots of tender love and care to calm down), you make your way over to the pair.

“Hey,” you say softly as you adjust your briefcase slung around you.

Melissa runs a hand through her hair. “Hi.” She turns her attention back to her son. “Sweetheart, we have to get groceries for the week… but Momma promises she’ll be quick.”

“I don’t wanna!” the little boy screeches.

“Missed nap time at daycare,” the redhead whispers over his head. Then she presses her lips together in a fine line as she continues to bounce him on her hip. She tries to calm him with a few short hums, but JJ just continues to cry out.

You blow out a breath. “I can take him for a little while you go grocery shopping,” you offer softly.

Those green eyes meet yours immediately. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind,” you say with a soft smile. “And it looks like you could use a break from kids for at least an hour.”

“Are you sure?” Melissa breathes out. “Because I can take him- he is my son.”

“I know he is,” you chuckle quietly. “But I also know that it’s okay to lean on someone to help you, and I told you I’m here for you.”

The teacher sighs softly. She looks down at her crying little boy. “Baby, Miss Y/N says you can stay with her while Momma goes grocery shopping, how does that sound?”

JJ whines out, but he looks to you with curious eyes and nods just once. His cries immediately start to soften as he realizes he doesn’t have to go to the dreaded grocery store and sit in that uncomfortable cart. He rubs at his eyes as he lets out a small yawn. “Momma?”

“Yeah, JJ?”

“I love you,” the little boy mumbles into Melissa’s shoulder.

“I love you too, honey,” the woman smiles softly as she presses a soft kiss to his head. “Can I put you down now so you can go with Miss Y/N?”

JJ nods, so Melissa sets him down on the ground. He immediately reaches for your free hand that isn’t holding your water bottle.

“Be a good little boy, okay?” the redhead instructs softly to her son. He nods, and you lead him down to your own apartment.

He’s as happy as a clam to sit with you while you go through a few more papers, and then you know it’s time that you should probably start making dinner. With a soft sigh, you lift him to your hip and start pulling out ingredients to make a meal.

“Dinner?” the little boy asks as he starts playing with the baby hairs that have fallen out of your ponytail.

“Yeah, hun,” you smile softly. “How does spaghetti sound?”

“I love pasetti,” your little neighbor mumbles.

You chuckle quietly as the way he says the word but nod. “Then that’s what we’ll have. Does your momma like spaghetti?”

He gives you a cheeky smile in response.

By the time that Melissa comes around to collect her son, you have him calmed down, fed, and giggling as you play Candy Land with him. However, she looks absolutely furious when you open the door.

“You okay?” you ask her quietly, although you very much know the answer already.

“Peachy,” is what she retorts. “C’mon, JJ. I have to get dinner started.”

“But Y/N already gived me dinner, and we saved some for you!” the little boy announces from his place on the floor, donned in one of your sweatshirts.

The redhead furrows her brows. “What?”

“I hope I’m not overstepping,” you say softly. “But he was hungry, I was making dinner, and I figured you might like to come home and not have to cook today.”

“That… wow,” Melissa sighs quietly. “Thank you.”

“It’s on the stove, and if it needs warmed, you’ve seen where my microwave is,” you smile at her as you return back to your game with her son. “Feel free to grab a glass of wine too if you want.”

As the redhead makes her way into the kitchen, she realizes that she can’t remember the last time someone made her a home cooked meal, even if it was something as simple as spaghetti. Joe had cooked for her maybe once as a way to get into her pants, and before then… it was her grandmother while her own parents were in the middle of their terrible divorce and custody battle.

The mother gets her dinner, and then she’s settling on the floor next to her son. She eats in silence, enjoying the fact that she does not have to entertain her son. She also watches as you handle him with such ease, making him smile and giggle the way that only she and Barb can get JJ to act. He’s such a sweet little boy, and the redhead would be lying to herself if she said that watching you with him didn’t make that small attraction to you just the slightest bit bigger.

You of course let the little boy win, and when he does, you tickle him relentlessly claiming that he was just too good and that he must’ve been cheating. His infectious laugh only makes you chuckle, and you know that you would do anything to keep this little boy happy- he already has a piece of your heart.

Then he tiredly crawls into his way into your lap and lays his head on your chest. “Sleepy,” is all he gets out as his eyes start to droop down.

The redhead stands, only half finished her meal. “I guess I should get him-”

You raise a hand as you stand and settle the two of you on the couch. “Don’t even worry about it. He can sleep on me while you finish your meal, and then you can tell me why you came in so pissed.”

Melissa chuckles, but she situates herself back on the floor. She watches the two of you for a bit as you lull her son to sleep with mindless humming and your fingers combing through his hair.

After a bit, you look down, and you know JJ is asleep. “So, you wanna tell me what had you so pissed?”

“Fucking Joe,” is all Melissa sighs out. “Told me that he’s looking for the best family lawyer in the city and that he’s gonna get custody of my son.”

“Well he’s screwed then, because that would be me,” you roll your eyes. “And I’m already taking your case on. Speaking of, there are a few papers I’ll need you to fill out in my briefcase, but I can get them to you tomorrow.”

“You’re the-” her eyes go comically wide.

“I am,” you say cooly. “85% success rate, and he doesn’t know that the odds are already stacked against him with most judges tending to rule with the mother having custody. And if he tries to pull any shit, I’ll make his life a living hell.”

And Joe does try to pull a bunch of shit- threatening Melissa, having his lawyers try to find loopholes around most things. And you just document it all. You and the redhead prepare for the case mostly after long days of work over a meal with that sweet little boy curled up in your lap and wearing one of your sweatshirts.

As the two of you prepare for the court case, you get to see more of the Schemmenti household. You get to see Melissa when she’s at her happiest, playing a simple round of Chutes and Ladders with JJ to take a break from all of the preparation. You also see her when she’s done up for school, and you swear she’s taken your breath away quite a few times. But you also see her at her lowest of lows, when she’s terrified that she’s going to lose JJ and that Joe’s threats are genuinely scaring her to the point of tears. You see her when she’s clad in her pajama bottoms and Eagles sweatshirt, ready to rip her hair out over the meltdown her son is having, and yet she’s still soft and warm with him. And it all… it makes you feel honored that you get to see her for everything that she is- apparently that isn’t a common thing for her to do, to let people in. And yet here you are, getting to know her and see every side of the redhead- even the parts that she doesn’t want you to see.

Her son is obsessed with you in the sweetest way, always coming and knocking on your door to ask if you can play a game with him or to simply give you a hug before he gallops his way back down to his own door with a proud look on his face. 

You would be lying to yourself if you said that you weren’t happy to find yourself a part of their little bubble and that you were falling more and more in love with your client each and every day that you get to see her (which is of course everyday, whether that be to chat over dinner, prepare for the hearing, or just a simple ‘hello’ as you pass each other in the hall). But she… she’s your client, and she’s going through a messy, messy divorce, and you don’t even know if she likes women. You have your own theory that she’s bisexual, but nothing has been confirmed. You can’t, in good conscience, make a move on her. So you don’t. You sit with your feelings and try to not let them consume you.

The day that you spent hours preparing for comes, and Melissa slides into her place very nervously with her son in her arms. She looks absolutely stunning in her dress pants and blazer, and JJ looks precious in his little outfit that you have no doubt is his Easter best.

“I thought we spoke about not bringing him here,” you say in a hushed tone.

The redhead runs a hand through her hair. “I know, I know. My sister was supposed to watch him, but she bailed last minute, Barb can’t watch him because she’s working at the school, and you’re my other babysitter.”

“He better stay quiet,” you warn. “It’s not uncommon for judges to put children in contempt if they’re noisy.”

“He won’t be,” Melissa promises you. “He’s got his little fidget toy, and we already talked about how to act because we don’t want to get taken from Momma.”

The hearing is long and arduous for all parties, but when that gavel comes down and the judge rules that Melissa has sole custody of her son with Joe only being allowed supervised visits due to his excessive drinking, the threats he had made, and his other habits you know it was all worth it.

The mother immediately bursts into happy tears while Joe starts to fume. He starts screaming and cursing, and the court officers begin to rush him out.

He’s not out of the room before he can get out, “You’ll pay for this, you bitch!”

Melissa, too caught up in smothering her little boy in love, doesn’t even pay attention to his words. And later on, she wishes she would have. 

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

[its-time-to-write]

jamie and reader used to date before he went back to his old team and broke reader’s heart 💔 now he’s back and wants reader back ANGST AND FLUFF PLEASEEE

I’ve been thinking about this request since FOREVER so I hope I did it justice!!

wonder what it’d be like

You don’t get paid enough for this shit.

“So you do know Jamie Tartt?” asks some journalist doing some piece on some footballer crap. You don’t know and you don’t care.

“If you’re not going to order anything, I’m going to get my boss and have you removed from the premises,” you reply, undeterred in your mission to wipe down empty tables. Brian loves his coffee shop and is fiercely protective of both his employees and his peaceful atmosphere. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s kicked someone out.

“Well, do you have any comment on the fact that he said you were the love of his life?”

You don’t miss a beat. “No I do not. Can I get you any coffee or should I get Brian?”

The journalist declines both, and is out the door.

Fucking Jamie Tartt. What does he even think he’s doing? How did you even come up in an interview? Was the question, who, Jamie Tartt, is the greatest love of your life?

(You’d find out later that yes, that was the question. The journalist was looking for an answer like “Keeley Jones,” or “Kiera Knightley,” something a little spicy.)

It doesn’t matter, the journalist (you think his name was Trent) is gone and you can go back to making coffee and chatting with the regulars.

—

You should have known that wasn’t the end of it.

God, why can’t you just work in peace? You have enough on your plate, between homework and student loans and the person who’s complaining that their iced coffee is “too cold.” 

You don’t need to add “prick footballer ex-boyfriend,” to the list.

But he seems bound and determined to add himself to your list of things to take care of, with the way he’s following you around as you hand people their orders.

“Trent said you wouldn’t talk to him,” he says.

He takes your silence as license to keep going. “Why didn’t you just take the money? Can’t be making much here.”

Do not let him get to you, you remind yourself. Do not sink to his level.

So you just shrug. “I’m not one of those people who fucks a famous footballer just for the money. Now I’m going to give you the same choice I gave that goddamn reporter: you can get a coffee or you can get. Out.”

So Jamie leaves.

—

It figures that your ex would find some way to make your life hell. Sure, you’ve gotten mostly over him and you have your own life and you’re on your way to becoming an accountant because numbers are fun and numbers don’t break your heart. So of course, now is when he decides to show up and have journalists poking around.

But you refuse to talk about him with anyone. It’s rude, in your opinion. It devalues your old relationship and yourself and you won’t do it.

So instead you stay after hours, going over finances at the café while Brian and his boyfriend chatter softly and try new coffee combinations.

You laugh as they bicker and and sip everything they set before you, grateful that you don’t have to think about the day Jamie got signed to Manchester City and decided that he was too good for you.

Unfortunately, you have to go home at some point, which means you’re wide awake in your bed, flatmates all asleep leaving you to replay that whole terrible day.

—

(He said, “It ain’t gonna work, babe, I’m in the Premier League now and I should be with someone who’s at my same level.”

You said, “Don’t call me babe.”

He said, “Don’t waste any tears over me, I won’t be crying so you shouldn’t either.”

You said, “I sure as hell won’t cry over a heartless dick like you.”

He said, “That’s a heartless Premier League dick to you.”

And that was it. A year-long relationship and four year-long friendship down the tubes.)

—

The article hits the papers and now you’re constantly being harassed by journalists. 

You read it, the part about you. It was written in interview format, with a bolded question and then Jamie’s response. It was like a glimpse into his personal life, who he was outside the pitch.

Jamie, you’ve had an astonishing career at such a young age, and made a name for yourself both on and off the pitch. Your name has been in the tabloids with many famous models and actresses in the few short years you’ve played in the Premier League. So my question is, in the history of your romantic entanglements, who is the absolute love of your life?

In your opinion, it was a long lead-up to a short question. 

Jamie’s response was two words. Your first and last name.

That fucker.

It makes work so bad that you had to hide in the back while Brian tells people to leave.

You apologize profusely once everything’s closed and everyone’s gone. 

“I’ll give you my official notice and everything, and I can still help out with finances if you want,” you say. “I’m- not trying to be annoying, but the extra money would be really helpful while I look for another job.”

Brian shakes his head. “I’m not firing you, kid,” he says. “It’ll die down. And Caleb and I are happy to have you over for dinner if you want to talk about it.”

You’re so relieved and grateful that you hug him.

—

It’s late again. You’re in your kitchen. All three of your flatmates are out and will be gone until the morning, so you have the flat all to yourself. You’ve lit some candles and turned on the soft lights, and are criss-cross on the counter listening to Fleetwood Mac with brownies in the oven.

You allow yourself to think about some of the questions that were thrown at you throughout the day.

How long have you known Jamie Tartt?

When was the last time you spoke?

Are you still friends?

You shake your head. Weird.

There’s a knock at the door. Even weirder. You’re not expecting anyone.

You hop down and pad down the hall, standing on tiptoe to peer through the peephole. It’s Jamie. You make a face, double-check that the door is locked, and turn back to the kitchen. 

“I know you’re there,” Jamie calls through the door. “I can see the light on, and your car’s out front. I just want to talk.”

You’re not going to open the door, but then he calls your name and you’re rooted to the floor.

You open the door just enough so you can look at him, but not enough that he thinks he can come inside.

“I can’t imagine what you’d have to say to me other than an apology, especially after the day I’ve had,” you say, more fire in your voice than you remembered you had.

The fire dies when you get a good look at Jamie’s face.

It’s different.

He looks… forlorn, almost?

“I do, I do have an apology,” he says. There’s no malice, no conniving look on his face. 

You say, “Ok,” in a tone so soft that Jamie could almost forget the anger you just held.

“Look,” he begins, but is cut off by your timer beeping in the kitchen. You sigh. 

“I have to get those,” you say. “Can’t burn down the flat. Do you… do you want to come in? Just for a minute.”

Jamie nods and follows you inside, closing the door behind him.

He follows you to the kitchen, close on your heels, where you motion for him to sit while you take out the brownies. 

“Right,” he says once you’re leaning on the counter across from him. “Look- I was a prick. I thought I was fucking special because my right foot was kissed by god. I didn’t know how to fucking handle it so I acted like a prick. And I never said I’m sorry.” He takes a breath. “Keeley’s always talkin’ about accountability, so… here I am. Taking fucking accountability.”

You just look at him.

“I’m not looking for forgiveness,” he hurriedly continues. “Just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry for hurting you.”

You’re still not talking, so Jamie gets up.

“Right,” he says. “Right. I’m going to leave ya now. Got fucking trainin tomorrow.”

He’s halfway down the hall when he turns and says, “Oh, by the way, I called your uni. Paid the rest of your tuition, gave them some extra in case you decide you want to keep going.” Then he turns around again and actually heads to the door.

For a moment, you’re too shocked to even move but the magnitude of what he just said sinks in.

“OI,” you bellow. Jamie freezes, hand on the door handle. 

“Get. Back here,” you say, voice tight.

“Jamie,” you say once he’s sitting again, “you can’t just pay my student loans. The whole reason I never talk to the press about you is because I don’t want to be like those people who just, like, use you for your money. I had it handled and I don’t need you thinking that I’m just- just- using you. And fuck off with saying that shit in a magazine,” you continue, “You can’t just use me to make yourself more family-friendly. Saying that you like the girl who works in a fucking coffee shop so she can get through school and become an accountant. I mean, what the fuck? Just say it was a model or an actress or something, but don’t use me, because I never used you.”

Jamie shakes his head. “But it’s not like that,” he says earnestly. “I know what you’re like. I know it ain’t about the money. That’s why I said what I said. You really are the love of me life.”

You’re silent, analyzing his face. There’s nothing that indicates he’s lying, and if you can claim to know Jamie at all, you’d have to admit that this might be the most sincere you’ve ever seen him.

All you can manage is a weak, “Oh.”

“I’m really, really sorry.”

“Yeah,” you reply, “you keep saying that. I forgive you. But that doesn’t mean that I want to be friends with you.”

Jamie nods. “Yeah, no I get that, yeah. Right. I’m not looking for that. I just needed you to know.”

You’re both silent for an awkward moment.

“Right,” Jamie says again. “Guess I’d better go. I’ll see you around, I guess.”

You nod, letting Jamie see himself out.

—

“So, you’re not taking him back?”

“Brian,” you say, “why the absolute fuck would I do that?”

He laughs. “I don’t know, if I had some handsome, rich young footballer come to me with an apology that I didn’t ask for, I’d’ve snapped him right up!”

“Don’t let Caleb hear you say that,” you warn.

Brian laughs again. “Oh hon, he’s heard me say so much worse.”

You snort then turn back to the column of numbers in front of you. It’s bright and early, thirty minutes before opening. That gives you twenty minutes to finish what you’re doing before sneaking out the back door. You’re scribbling in the margins in blue glitter pen when there’s a knock on the glass door. You frown.

“Who on earth is knocking?” you ask.

Brian shrugs. “No idea,” he replies as he goes to look.

The frown stays affixed to your face. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that Brian just lied.

He’s back a moment later.

“Think these are for you,” he says, arm full of flowers.

You drop your pen.

“What the hell,” you whisper. 

Brian just grins and places them on the table. “A nice young man in a pink tracksuit dropped them off. Said to give them to you and that he’ll have more tomorrow.”

“Fucker,” you hiss.

“Me or him?”

You glare. “Both. Either. I don’t care. Take these home to Caleb or put them around the shop. I’m leaving.”

You shuffle your papers together and flee the coffee shop, door banging behind you.

—

“Twat,” you whisper to no one in particular. 

Jamie’s delivered flowers every day for a week and a half and you’re not sure how he manages it, but he always avoids being caught by you. You’re not sure why he’s delivering them to your place of work, but you have a hunch that somehow, somehow Brian and Caleb are in on it.

It’s fucking annoying, really. They’re so beautiful and in all your favorite colors and you’re absolutely pissed off that he still knows anything personal about you.

You’re even more pissed off that you like it.

I mean, come on, he has your forgiveness; what more does he want?

The worst part is you actually miss him. You miss the Jamie you dated, the one you fell in love with but are not particularly fond of the Jamie who dumped you when he got signed for Man City. What’s to stop him from doing that again?

You decide you’re going to talk to him.

—

Brian brings in a particularly large bunch the next day and you’re on your feet in a flash. You’re out the door before he can ask where you’re going, but he doesn’t need to. He already knows. 

You look up and down the street. You know Jamie couldn’t have gotten far. 

You catch a flash of blonde hair zipping away to your right. 

“TARTT,” you bellow.

The blonde hair freezes as you march up the street.

Jamie turns and grins sheepishly, “Hey, love,” he says.

“Stop bringing me flowers. It’s fucking annoying.”

It might be Jamie’s imagination, but there seems to be slightly less rage in your eyes today.

“Thought you liked that sort of thing,” he says.

“I do,” you say, “usually. When I know why it’s happening. I don’t know why you’re doing it. You already paid my student loans and apologized. I don’t really know what else you want from me.”

“A second chance,” Jamie says promptly. “I weren’t kidding in the article. You can tell me to fuck off right now and I’ll leave you alone. Can’t promise that I’ll never hurt you again, but I can fucking guarantee it won’t be on purpose.”

You’re silent, giving Jamie the tiniest spark of hope.

“Fuck you,” you finally say. Jamie raises an eyebrow as you glare at him. “Fuck you for actually fucking changing. And for making me love you again. You’re all I can fucking think about and it’s been driving me crazy, and Brian’s been no help with all his, ‘you should call him,’ and ‘he seems like a good lad.’ He’s fucking right and I’m fucking mad about it.”

“Yeah?” Jamie asks, “Why don’t you tell me more over dinner tonight? I’ll take you on a proper date.”

You actually smile at him for the first time in ages. “Alright,” you reply, “one date. One. We’ll see where it goes from there.”

Jamie doesn’t care. You’re smiling, which means he’s already won the whole fucking thing. He’s yours again, and he’s not going to fuck it up.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

[kvrokasaa]

karasu comforting overachiever!reader with a lot of anxiety?

my exams are around, ive cried 6x and had a mental breakdown in 3 days. and im a good student at heart but not on paper. im trying😭

take care! love❤️

I can relate to this sm, I promise myself that I’ll study but then it gets late n all I wanna do is sleep lmfao. But I hope you’re doing alright, love. Remember to drink lots of water and eat lots of food! And take breaks when studying so you don’t get headaches!

Sorry I posted this so late, but here it is.

Cw: crying, fluff, comfort, friends to lovers, cursing, not proofread. lmk if i missed any!

Wc: 1.1k

Overachiever!

Karasu is like your best friend, he’s always been there for you and promises he always will. Even when he left for a program called Blue Lock, he still managed to talk to you. Especially when you were going through a nasty breakup with your ex. He has always been there for you.

Something Karasu noticed over the years of being your friend; you’re an overachiever and a perfectionist. You have to get good grades, it’s like it was hard-wired in your brain since you were a child. If you didn’t get a good grade, even on a test that was optional or didn’t have any impact on your overall grade, you would feel so ashamed and full of anxiety. You were afraid of your teachers hating you, honestly, you’re just afraid of authority figures. You would always try to hide your feelings behind a fake smile, and sometimes it worked. But this time it didn’t.

You were in your room studying, all day long. No matter how many times people tried to pester you, or ask you to take a break, you would decline and go back to studying. You needed to get a good grade. You had stayed up all night long studying and going over the crucial information that would be on the final.

So why? Why do you have an 84% on your final? Why isn’t it at 100? Other people congratulated you, saying that the test was really hard. But you know that Mia, the top student, got the perfect score without even trying.

You tried this year, you really did. You made a resolution that you would try your hardest this year; that you wouldn’t give up so easily like last year. And you know that bad habits die hard, but you were doing so well. Even though this isn’t your last year, you feel like you failed at school.

‘Take a deep breath. Failure is the one pathway to success.’ Karasu’s words came floating into your mind. But you could still feel the onslaught of the tears and the tightness of the pain in your chest. You tried to take a deep breath but it wasn’t enough, it felt like all the oxygen in the world just vanished.

You don’t know how you got home, all the memories of the people saying ‘Good job’ and ‘Don’t beat yourself up, you did better than me’ are the only ones you can remember. All you want to do is crawl into your bed and cuddle your stuffed bear while you cry. But you have to study more; you have to study for your next classes. You can’t just give up because of one class. Oh but how badly you want to.

A sudden knock on your door pulled you from your thoughts. “Come in.” You cringed at the crack in your voice, quickly you straightened your posture and pretended to be okay.

But all of that faux hope and happiness faded away when you saw the unmistakable blue eyes. The tears came rushing back, along with the shaky breaths.

Karasu walked over to your desk and smiled down at you. “Hey, just wanted to stop by,” his hand raised, revealing a bag with your favorite restaurant name. “I brought your favorite.” His voice died down, almost to a whisper when he saw your tears.

You quickly wiped them, but the red streaks were still there. He sighed and sat down on your bed. “It’s okay, Y/n. Stuff like this happens, don’t worry about it too much.” You shook your head. “No, I should worry about it,” he raised a brow. “Why?”

You felt a little agitated because he couldn’t understand. Of course he couldn’t, he’s always been the type of person to get good grades without even trying. Knowing him, he probably slept through most of his classes and still got a 95 or higher on his final. Typical Karasu.

“Because who would I be if I don’t have good grades? I know that grades don’t matter much in the world, but I’m the one who feels the shame. I’m the one who has to remember what it feels like to try your hardest and still fail.” You felt like pulling your hair out, breaking things, just something to ease your mind. To ease the pain.

He brings his hands up to your cheeks, squishing them a little which brings a smile to his face. “Remember what I always tell you. ‘Failure is a pathway to-’ ” “To success. I know that, but still,” You move your head, making him release his grip. “I don’t want to fail, I don’t want people to remember me as the person who always failed.” Your voice was almost higher than a whisper, but he still heard you loud and clear. Karasu could hear and feel the pain from your voice.

“You-” you release a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself down. “You wouldn’t understand.”

‘Ironic’ he thinks, you’re the one who’s not understanding. A simple grade doesn’t define who you are as a person.

“Y/n look at me.” He grabs your face, “You are doing your best, you’re trying your fucking hardest and I’m so proud of you for that. You’re way smarter than what people give you credit for.” You try to shake your head, but his grip on your jaw tightens. “No. I don’t want to hear you deny anything. You need to understand that it’s okay to fail, it’s okay to feel helpless after a bad grade. But it’s not okay to beat yourself up. Don’t worry too much about how this grade, which is a passing grade, will affect your future.”

Karasu pulls you in for a hug. You close your eyes and bury your face in his chest. “You’re in the present right now, not the future. And I’m sure the future you are a CEO; trust me I can see it.”

You both laugh at his words. You sniffle and look up at him, “thank you, I really needed that.” He nods his head; his eyes looking from your eyes to your lips. “Anytime, I mean it.”

This is what you expected, a lecture and comfort from Karasu. It’s what you wanted. But what you didn’t expect was his lips on yours. Before you could enjoy the moment, he pulled back and smiled down at you. “Safe to say that I think you return my feelings,” your eyes darting everywhere but his and your little nod was a good enough answer for him. “And as much as I want to kiss you again. Our food is getting cold.” He pulled you down onto the bed along with the bag of food. “Let’s eat.”

#bllk x reader #bllk #bllk x you #blue lock #bllk karasu #karasu tabito x reader #karasu tabito #bllk fluff #bllk comfort #tabito karasu x reader #tabito karasu #tabito x reader

[jiminrings]

four seven eight (3)

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 11k

glimpse: now that your month-long break’s over, you’re supposed to come home to jungkook at eight in the morning, right before he wakes up — it’s been two hours now, why are you still not home?

alternatively, jungkook will fight with you even if it’s the last thing he’ll do.

[ part one + intermission + part two + intermission 02 + finale ]

[ fluff, full-fledged redemption arc I Swear, some angst, jealous jk, so much longing, references to anxiety, suggestive themes n flirting, everything gets sorted out, based on the moral dilemma of whether or not it’s okay to be friends with ur ex ]

notes: it’s the finale now can u believe :O thank u for staying tuned for the past two weeks — i sincerely cherish each one of u who’s ever interacted with 478 and took the time to be with me throughout the whole thing!! i’ll be taking a lil break this summer btw see u on the next fic <3

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :) | series masterlist

The mornings are too long for Jungkook.

They’ve been too long since your break started, dragging out endlessly that he’s just started to close the curtains to not be reminded that the sunset’s still hours away before it fades into night. Mornings were too bright; too intimate to be spent by himself. When you leave for work, you already leave before sunrise, but that’s still morning in your husband’s head.

Jungkook misses his mornings with you.

He misses the mornings where it’s still dark out and he’s been asleep enough for long that he could make out your figure in the dark, either buried to his arm or to his pillow despite the huge expanse of your bed. Mornings nowadays were only reminders for him that he didn’t overthink nor cry himself to the point of passing out from the night before.

He longs for the mornings where his alarm rings before yours and he fumbles to get up immediately, actually excited to wake up for the day. The routine starts with him kissing you on the cheek as silently as he could before replacing himself with a pillow so you could still embrace something while you’re asleep, navigating the dark without turning the lights on so you wouldn’t wake up. The next thing he does is prepare you your breakfast, and if you want to savor in all your sleep and just squeeze in a quick shower, he’s just as ready to pack your meal for you to eat on the go.

The evenings are just as hard but they’re not as long as mornings. If Jungkook spends his nights regretting, then he spends his mornings longing. Reliving his guilt is just as draining the way Jungkook feels like his stomach’s sinking to the floor, but especially during evenings, the guilt is what reminds him that he’s learning. 

Longing feels way worse.

Longing feels worse especially during mornings because unlike guilt, it’s formless. It’s fluid enough that it doesn’t make Jungkook cry point-blank nor feel the urge to smack himself in the head for being stupid. It’s listless and repetitive, sneaking into every thought he could form during sunlight. It’s worse than guilt because unlike the bile that rises to his throat, longing is the absence of it. His yearning is what reminds him of who he’s missing.

Even the cat knows who’s missing.

“Miso,” Jungkook hums to your pet that’s the only one who’s been keeping him company these days, the chunky mass of fur not exactly having a choice. 

She’s gotten warmer to him when usually her kindness would only be reserved for you. The more bitchy, devious side of her rescinding from the amount of undivided attention Jungkook gives her now. He’s been teaching her tricks — practical, useful tricks.

“If you ever see this man with mommy,” Jungkook hums, showing Miso a picture of Yoongi on his phone. He interrupts himself with a thought, smiling to why he didn’t think of the correction earlier. “Or y’know what? Even if you just see this man, I need you to scratch him, okay?”

Jungkook scratches her chin to get her to look at him, repeating his words again while humming to retain the information on her tiny brain. Mornings are more survivable this way, even if he’s spent the entirety of the past week’s mornings teaching Miso tricks. So far, she knows how to sit, roll around, and jump kick the door to close it.

Hopefully, she also learns the petty trick of hunting Yoongi in the event that she sees him.

Jungkook hums in satisfaction while he gets Miso’s toy, seeing her ears twitch in anticipation. He establishes your co-star’s name (he’s too caught up to even acknowledge him as your friend) to her so not only would she know what he looks like, but also know who is he. “Here, Miso. Practice on this. Pretend that this rat is Yoongi.”

The thought that crosses Jungkook’s mind recently these days is that he doesn’t even know what exactly to feel about Yoongi. He knows him, sure, but only in the same degree that he vaguely knows everyone his wife’s associated to somehow. He knew of him both as an actor and as your acquaintance back then, but just like with everyone else, Jungkook didn’t ask about him. He didn’t ask you all that much about him because there’s no reason to, his trust paramount enough that he didn’t even consider the possibility that Yoongi had a thing for you. 

Maybe it’s his fault, Jungkook thinks. Maybe it’s no one’s fault at all because to think of it, he can’t blame Yoongi either. 

You’re lovable. Extremely and undoubtedly lovable wherever you go, but the thing is, it isn’t your fault either. Jungkook thinks that perhaps you don’t even know just how admirable you are, the realization sinking into him sometimes that out of all people, it’s him whom you love.

Yoongi’s undeserving of his anger but Jungkook doesn’t know where else to put it, the abundance of it overflowing on himself that even if he knows how wrong it is, he pins it to your friend for the meantime.

In the same vein, Sora’s undeserving of your anger too. She isn’t responsible for any of your insecurities because in the first place, she didn’t even know about the concept of you initially. 

Even though both Sora and Yoongi are pillars of your past, the latter continues to be in your present and it’s something Jungkook has to learn to grow accustomed to. Sora’s an ex, Yoongi isn’t. He’s harmless as an almost-your-lover could come, being your best friend at the most with no malice behind his warmth. He’s not responsible either for Jungkook’s insecurities — at the end of the day, it boils down between you and your husband.

You quickly realize that your month apart with Jungkook shouldn’t only remain stagnant. He’s trying and so should you, his pride nowhere to be found nowadays that it’s slightly painful to watch. You’re not devoid of faults entirely, the need to make things right with him from your side of the plate becoming more and more apparent each day.

You’re not even one full ring in until Jungkook immediately answers, his habit of keeping his phone with him at all times paying off now that you called him first.

“Hey, Jungkook,” you hum, trying to swallow down your nervousness. You’re stalling with conversation but he doesn’t need to know that. “Are you free this weekend? It’s the last day of renovation at the shop and my parents want us there.”

“Of course I’m free,” Jungkook answers instantly, furrowing his brows in confusion. He doesn’t even know why you’re asking at this point, the both of you knowing he hasn’t denied the offer once. “I’m a househusband, y’know? Your husband. Why wouldn’t I be there?”

He’s not hurt at your doubt for him but what he feels is close enough, akin to the confusion of why you’re silent.

“Dunno,” you clear your throat, playing with the fraying ends of your throw blanket that you’ve been anxiously taking apart since you started staying in your house. “Thought you were busy.”

“I’m busy missing you if that wasn’t established enough.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll meet you there,” your throat clears at your husband’s deadpanning, sensing that he’s not playing around at the moment with his moment. 

Jungkook sighs, letting go of the hurt that comes with your unsureness of his presence just seconds ago. He speaks more lightly this time, a chuckle leaving him. “Should I tell them you slept in? Or do I think of another excuse why we aren’t coming together in one car?”

“Just surprise me, I’ll act along with it,” you sigh in relief at the absence of hostility, rubbing your eyes in thought.

You think of how it would go — if Jungkook’s eyes would light up again once you enter the shop, or if he would kiss your cheek again to greet you in front of your parents. You wonder if he’ll hold you again this time, slinging a warm hand on your waist that’ll make you instinctively lean into him.

Jungkook wonders how he’ll approach you this time — if your eyes would widen when he kisses your cheek tenderly, or if you would notice how he breathes in your perfume that lingers in your hair. He wonders if you’ll reciprocate his affection and put a hand on his waist, enough to make a man like him soften in your hold.

Suddenly, Jungkook doesn’t mind that much anymore that the two of you would come to the shop separately, all if it would mean that he’d get to hold you again just like last time.

There’s a silence that lingers, one that’s peaceful for Jungkook yet loaded for you. You’re deflecting without even trying to, clearing your throat to get rid of the lump that comes with the urge to say what you really needed to. “Also, my parents want Miso to be there too. Do you think you can take her with you? What’s she up to?”

Your parents do miss Miso but not to the point that they’ve outright asked if you could take her with you, hoping that your impromptu plan of dragging their name along for the sake of making conversation with Jungkook doesn’t bite you in the ass later on.

“I can take her, no problem. She’s gotten close to me,” Jungkook hums, getting a loud meow right on time when she returns the toy rat to his palm and you pick up on it.

“Is that her? What’s she doing now?”

“Nothing much, I’m just teaching her how to hunt.”

“But cats already are hunters.”

“Yeah, but I’m teaching her how to hunt a specific person,” Jungkook mumbles in the same time your courage finally gets filled to the brim in your head, the go signal loudly beeping to make you cut to the chase.

“Jungkook, I need to tell you-” your focus is momentarily interrupted, his words belatedly sinking into your head. “Did you just say person?”

“Nothing. I said nothing. What were you going to say?”

Jungkook dismisses your worries even if what he said only slightly bothered you, eagerly waiting for your words. You wait for yourself even with bated breath, wanting to get this over with.

You count to three in your head, screwing your eyes shut. Now wasn’t the time to deflect; not the time for your roles with Jungkook to switch because you could feel that you were being passive while he was being proactive. If Jungkook’s trying, then you need to try too.

“I just wanted to tell you about the episode that’s dropping tomorrow,” you finally say, tugging harshly at a particular thread that it digs into your fingers. “Yoongi and I kiss.”

It’s normal. You’re no stranger to kissing scenes considering that it’s a part of your job. You’ve done it as a minor character already, even when you and Jungkook were still dating and not yet married. You tell him about your acting scenes in passing, especially some that required you to be affectionate and intimate to a certain degree.

Jungkook understands, he should understand. Acting’s your passion and your actual job, one that kept you going. He’s merely a husband at home who’s unconnected to your job and therefore should understand that sometimes, his wife needs to kiss someone else who isn’t him.

He knows he needs to understand that this time, you needed to kiss Yoongi, someone who was almost your lover; yet you don’t know of at the moment. He should grasp that his wife has a drama episode where she kisses Yoongi, one whom she’s linked to in a dating scandal.

Jungkook tries his best to understand but his comprehension doesn’t equate to ease, feeling the burn in his throat when he asks you.

“How many times?” he asks meekly, gnawing on his bottom lip and ignoring Miso for the meantime, the cat concerned because her owner simply just froze into the couch. “How many times do you need to kiss in the episode? In the whole series?”

“We haven’t wrapped up filming for the drama,” you admit, looking down on your lap in unease even if you can’t feel Jungkook’s eyes on you. “But this episode? I have uhm — Yoongi and I have four scenes.”

“And how many takes did it need?” Jungkook asks next, distancing the phone from him a little so you wouldn’t hear his heavy exhales. “It’s a drama, right? Surely there’s a hundred angles and rewinds on one kiss alone.”

He doesn’t know why he’s asking. He doesn’t know if he’s committing penance from wanting to know how many times his wife had to kiss her onscreen partner. He still asks even if he knows that whatever answer you’d give him, it would still sting. “Ten? More than ten?”

“I didn’t count, Jungkook,” you answer truthfully, rubbing your temple.

“Was it too many to count then?”

His retort comes out a little piqued, a little too sharp that it makes you sigh. Jungkook reminds himself to calm down and not think about you kissing Yoongi at all. To not think about you kissing and least of all, loving someone who isn’t him.

“Sorry. Thanks for giving me a heads-up,” he apologizes, the discomfort in his stomach slowly rising that he can’t stay seated. “Miso’s... Miso needs food now. She won’t stop meowing.”

There’s no meows at all. No urgent pawing from her that signified she wanted her food bowl to be filled.

The two of you both know that he just needs a little time; a little time to try and breathe. Jungkook urgently needs to get his mind off that he rushingly ends the call, not even waiting for a reply. “Thank you. Bye. I love you.”

Four seconds. Breathe in through your nose.

Seven seconds. Hold it.

Eight seconds. Exhale through your mouth.

He doesn’t know what to do, seeing you and Yoongi be intimate. He’s watched every episode of the drama so far and he could still swallow your dialogue with his character. He chuckles at the banter when you cuss him out. He smiles when the cinematography captures you the way his eyes do, through the lens of someone who loves you deeply.

He doesn’t know what he’d feel seeing you, along with a lot more people at this case, kiss Yoongi. He doesn’t know what to feel knowing that just like the vast majority of people and fans outside of your closest and most trusted family and friends, nobody knows that he’s your husband.

It’s hurtful but it’s needed, a reminder he engraves in his brain because this is what he initially thought he wanted for himself. Nowadays, he wants nothing more than everyone to know that he’s yours.

Jungkook reminds himself to breathe.

( ♡ )

All the lights are turned on. 

All the lights are turned on along with every other single discomfort Jungkook could think of that would take away the intimacy when tonight’s episode drops.

He gave Miso the loudest and most annoying toy she could ever play with, the tinkling of the bell inside the bouncy ball ringing almost every minute. He took a shower and barely dried off his hair, the ends of it still dripping wet to the cushions of the couch. Jungkook orchestrates everything to be at unease so he’d be distracted when the real unease comes, the tiny little inconveniences hopefully enough to cancel out what he’ll be seeing later.

“Can you stay on the call with me? I need you to tell me when it starts and when it ends,” Jungkook mumbles to his phone, the volume on loudspeaker so it would disrupt him too.

“You could just not watch the episode,” you sigh, offering the simplest and most effective solution to his current problem. You don’t even know why he’d willingly put himself through this, aware that the kissing scenes would do nothing to alleviate the matters of his heart and mind.

Jungkook snickers under his breath, dragging out his exhale when he explains his dilemma. He didn’t want to be selfish, unable to forego watching the episode just because he’s throwing a hissy fit over his wife’s job.

“I watch every episode to support you, though. Not everyone could say their wife’s on TV.”

Somehow, you get it. You could grasp Jungkook’s eagerness to support you by watching you do what you love most, and in the same time comprehend his aversion that doing what you love most somehow entails landing your commitment to kiss Yoongi.

You get it, you try your best to understand where Jungkook’s coming from but at this point, you’re merely a bystander to his worries. Neither are you there nor capable enough to do something about it. 

“I’m sorry, Jungkook. But I can’t — I can’t do anything about it, y’know? This is work,” you emphasize, hoping that the reminder of your job atleast helps the webbing that’s in his mind. “I can’t think of any romantic drama that doesn’t have a kissing scene in it.”

There’s the sinking feeling again in Jungkook’s stomach, one that tells him he’s asking too much from you despite barely verbalizing it at all. He feels selfish to the point that he’s even called you tonight even if he didn’t ask beforehand if it was okay, the reminder present that the two of you are on a break for a reason.

You don’t see him now but you could only imagine the conflict that manifests in his downturned lips, eyes beady and remaining shut while he tries to regain his bearings.

“Do you want me to turn on my video? So you could see me, if it helps,” you offer gently, not wanting to get ahead of yourself in the event that Jungkook can’t even stomach looking at you.

“It’ll help,” Jungkook instantly answers, shoulders slacking in relief when he sees you on his phone. He lets himself smily briefly, turning on his own video once he sees you settled in. He sets his phone (or rather you) on the coffee table, the angle turned upwards so you could see him resting into the couch.

If you notice the way that overhead lighting’s used instead of ambient lighting, despite the disuse of the latter gives him a headache, you don’t comment on it.

You don’t ask why Jungkook’s hair is sopping wet and why he’s wearing a hoodie that he hates because it made him itch and sweat. There’s no acknowledgement to why he’s wearing his old glasses instead of his new ones, because the ones he’s wearing at the moment are clunky and has an outdated prescription. 

In some odd reversal, you’ve become Jungkook during your break with him. You’re observant but you don’t act on it. You listen but you’re silent. You continue to notice everything and process it by yourself instead of doing the easier way of addressing him.

Jungkook’s become more like you — a little more talkative. He’s more obvious and readable nowadays, not one thought going unspoken. He comments continuously, babbling while the episode starts.

He giggles through the funny scenes and comments how you’d say something exactly like your character would in real life, absorbed into the show that he doesn’t even know you’re only looking at him.

You see every smile that forms in his face whenever you come into the frame, eyes twinkling when he sees that smile mirrored on the screen as if you could see him while you were filming the episode and knew he’d be watching. 

The video’s clear and although not comparable to what you’d see if you were face to face, you could see every detail and every thought that passes through your husband’s visage. You see the way his lips would purse whenever Yoongi’s character pursues you, mind going a little blank when he sees him reaching out for either your hand or your waist.

You see Jungkook through the first of it, when you hear the familiar score leading up to the first kissing scene of the episode and the entire series for that matter. He was on alert the whole time, but nothing could ever prepare him into seeing you look so deeply into Yoongi as if you’ve known him your whole life.

Nothing could prepare Jungkook into seeing Yoongi smile gently, securing his hand on your cheek when you giggle upon looking at him.

The musical score doesn’t help in the background because it’s of bells and a gentle uprising of the piano, the peak of it powerful enough that it convinces everyone watching that oh — this is probably what love looks like. You and Yoongi on the screen must be perfect enough to convince everyone who’s watching, and even Jungkook for a split second, that your love is what love should look like.

Jungkook’s unprepared when he sees you close your eyes the moment Yoongi leans into you gently, no resistance at all to the love that he gives. Yoongi’s portraying love, he must be, Jungkook thinks. Yoongi’s doing it so well that even he, your husband, is momentarily convinced that Yoongi knows how to love you the most from a kiss alone.

You see everything. You see Jungkook squirm when you press your lips harder to Yoongi’s to reciprocate his kiss, tilting your head to complement his movements so he could kiss you deeper. You see him anxiously play with his wedding band when the camera pans to your ring-less hand gently stroking Yoongi’s nape, your on-screen partner’s hand straying to the small of your back warmly.

There’s no prepared unease that could ever orient Jungkook because seeing you with Yoongi, someone who isn’t him, brings him the greatest discomfort of all. It’s heavy on his body, the trepidation crawling from the base of his skull all the way to the tips of his toes.

It eventually ends, yet it was only the first of four in the episode. The first of the many indefinite kisses he’s yet to see in the entirety of the series.

“Jungkook.”

Your voice is what snaps him out of his reverie, rapidly blinking and genuinely confused when he feels that his cheeks are warm from all the tears he’s been unconsciously shedding throughout the scene.

“Yeah?” his voice croaks, reflecting the sinking feeling that ponders on his ribs.

“I love you.”

You say it gently, the first you’ve ever uttered for almost a whole month of not doing so. You didn’t plan on it and yet it’s already escaped you, unwilling to take it back either because it’s the truth.

“I love you more,” Jungkook smiles, genuine despite being tight-lipped because if he were to smile bigger, the tears would just pour.

“Please don’t cry,” you request, albeit weakly because you can’t find the fight in your voice. It’s unavoidable for him.

“I can’t help it,” Jungkook truthfully says, playing with his wedding band before the thought crosses his mind of what he’s been meaning to say. “I need to tell you something this weekend, by the way.”

“Can’t you say it now?” you hum, growing curious.

“Not really, it’d be better if I say it to you in person.” 

Jungkook rewinds his memory of learning from Jimin that Yoongi was so close to being the love of your life, narrowly being beaten by a day. It still hasn’t sunk in completely that it makes Jungkook snicker at thought, having to shake his head to try and get rid of it. “Just thinking about it makes me want to run into oncoming traffic.”

“Is it that bad?” you chuckle, figuring the extent of it now that Jungkook’s joking about it but simultaneously looks devastated.

“For me, yeah,” he answers without a doubt, trailing when he tries to consider your side. He’s not sure, the uncertainty of your reaction almost winding him breathless. “For you… I don’t know.”

Jungkook’s trying to tell you everything and so would you, attempting to bare it all no matter the initial unease it brings. 

“I wanted to say something to you too,” you clear your throat, rethinking the night at the club that Yoongi admitted he has a crush on you.

“Is it worse than what I have to say?” Jungkook chuckles, looking at the screen with a hope you can’t distinguish.

“I can’t tell either.”

Jungkook nods but it’s apparent that neither of you could leave the conversation at that, a little antsy to know something yet not everything at this time of night.

“How about we say a keyword each?” he pipes in, the suggestion being more than welcome. “That way, we’re not entirely clueless before we see each other this weekend.”

“That could work,” you try to say nonchalantly, attempting to disguise your curiosity into relaxation yet you can’t do it anyway. “One, two, three.”

“Yoongi.”

“Yoongi.”

“That fucking guy,” Jungkook humorlessly chuckles, shaking his head once it sinks into him that Yoongi happens to be the common denominator of the things you wanted to admit to each other. It’s not lost on him that Yoongi just happens to be a variable, but the more irrational part of his brain is what makes him angry at the guy.

“We have different things to say that somehow involves Yoongi too, hm?” you ask despite knowing the answer, seeing your husband suck in a harsh inhale.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” he breathes out, rolling his eyes when his face appears in his sight for a second. “Yoongi that fucking rat.”

Jungkook utters your friend’s name with such venom that it wakes Miso up, the ball of fluff previously asleep in the corner of the living room yet came to life as soon as she heard rat and Yoongi in the same sentence.

Miso suddenly speeds into the couch on high alert, tail puffed up as she runs and sits next to Jungkook, obviously in a panic and on the lookout. It happens so fast that your husband barely even registers it until you ask in a hurry.

“Why’s Miso angry?”

The realization clicks in Jungkook’s head soon enough, the moment becoming the peak of the lessons he’s taught the cat every morning for the past week. “I taught her. Watch.”

“Miso,” Jungkook drawls, scratching her chin before pointing to the screen. “Who’s that? Isn’t that Yoongi?”

Like clockwork, Miso leaps to the TV from a sprint and bounces off of it, the force enough to rock it backwards but not enough to take it out of its mount, thankfully not shattering the screen. Jungkook’s caught it in video, the back camera capturing his proud moment as a (cat)dad.

“Jungkook!” you yelp when you look at the TV, the video once again returning to his face because he realizes now that you don’t need to look at the exact aftermath of Miso’s party trick. “What did you teach our cat?”

“I taught her how to hunt,” he huffs as if it’s the most obvious thing ever. “Don’t look at me like that. I have to cope somehow,” he adds, “plus you know Miso. She doesn’t really engage with things she isn’t passionate about.”

It’s true; just like the twenty toys you buy but two of them only stick. When you bought her a cat tower, the box that it came with is what she became fixated on. Even getting used to the baby blue floor couch was a struggle because at the first month of the furniture inhabiting your living room, Miso used to hiss at it simply because she hated it. She became passionate about it soon enough when she figured that the stream of sunlight is perfect for her midday naps.

“What’s that, Miso?” Jungkook gasps now that Miso’s back to him, sat on his lap as she tilts her head on you curiously at the screen. He lends her his ear and just in time does she peer at Jungkook, making it seem like they were gossiping; the sight’s too warm you can’t help but to screenshot. “You don’t like mommy kissing other guys?”

The sudden skit that unfolds catches you off-guard, warranting a surprised cackle from your lips that makes Jungkook crack up.

“That kissing scene alone can buy you five years’ worth of cat food, Miso.”

“What was that, baby?” Jungkook gasps once again, brows furrowed as he stares down Miso who’s definitely not talking. “You’d rather starve than see mommy kissing that guy again?!”

“Miso’s new trick is to talk?” you pipe in when Jungkook doesn’t let the act go, tilting your head. You playfully chuckle, raising your eyebrows at him. “Are you jealous? Is that it?” 

“Amongst other deprecating things, believe me,” he mumbles, resorting to cradling Miso in his arms like a baby. “I just admitted to teaching our cat to attack Yoongi on command. I’m not exactly hiding that I’m jealous.”

“Jungkook,” you hum with the intention of reminding him something, the switch of tone evident that it makes him alert.

“Yeah, baby?” he sighs, running his hand through his hair while he looks at you.

It’s not lost on you that Jungkook called you an endearment other than your name, and yet you try to swallow down your reaction, a tight-lipped smile replacing your previous laugh.

“You just sat through all four kissing scenes. That was the last of the episode.”

His eyes widen because he forgot that the episode was ongoing in the first place, gaze flitting to the screen as he realizes that true enough, the credits are even bound to roll soon. “Oh.”

The silence comes back and as much as you want to linger, you will yourself not to. “I’ll end the call here, alright?”

“Thank you,” Jungkook says, a grateful smile on his lips that you stayed throughout. “I love you,” he reminds. “I mean it.”

All you could give is a timid smile before you drop the call, sighing when you bury your face to the couch; your massive gray couch that is not the baby blue floor couch you have at home.

Jungkook doesn’t need to say the words but he does anyway, reminding you just how sincere he is when he says that he love you. He means it; you’ve always known. “I know you do.”

( ♡ )

The days leading to the end of the break are easier.

They’re easier in the sense that Jungkook can sleep for minutes at a time at night, granted if he had any sort of interaction with you that day. The days are easier as they pass but Jungkook doesn’t grow complacent, putting in the work whenever he could.

You’re positively confused (and a little worried) when you receive an email from Jungkook, a meeting link attached that starts at the exact moment he’s sent you it. You think for a second that he’s hacked because he barely even opens his email, but the signature of <3 jungkook at the bottom tells you that funnily enough, it is your husband.

You indulge him, even if you’re five minutes late from the time it took to fetch your laptop from your bedroom. Jungkook was starting to think you weren’t even gonna show but by the time you enter the meeting room, he’s the one who’s surprised by your sudden barrage of questions.

“You emailed me a link,” your brows furrow. “Is your phone not working? Should I buy you a new one?” you think out-loud but reel yourself in once you see Jungkook patiently waiting for his chance to speak. “I’m not opposed to talking to you virtually, Jungkook. Just… why a Zoom link?”

Jungkook never thought you’d ask, shrugging when you lead him right where he needs you to be. He says it like it’s obvious, as if you’ve been doing this everyday since you got married.

“Because we’re in a meeting,” he trails, retaining his gaze on the screen while he tries to discreetly prepare his slides in the background. “I’m presenting.”

You can’t be any more confused than you are now, having just gotten home from work at ten in the evening. You haven’t even showered yet, too puzzled with Jungkook emailing you that you couldn’t pas it up. “What? Presenting what?”

Once again, you give Jungkook the perfect opening because as soon as the last word leaves your mouth, the screen changes.

It’s a presentation with a very familiar color scheme, big bold letters right at the middle entitled “Why You Should Let Mr. Jeon Win This Time” —  the same animation for the text beyond recognizable. The subtext reads as “I’m still very sorry” — the background of the presentation being the very two things you’ve used this presentation for; the baby blue floor couch, and the third-biggest variation of a king-sized bed.

A laugh leaves you even before you could conceal it, the surprise in your face evident with the way you’re covering your face. Jungkook himself laughs at your reaction, a welcome feeling now that he gets to try giving you a presentation of his own.

“Stealing from my book now, hm?” you hum, wiping the stray tears out of your eyes. “Be honest, you love the couch. You love the bed too!”

It’s a welcome moment; a needed moment between the two of you. Not everything’s fixed but you’re getting there with small baby steps, each one clearing out the miscommunication and lapses of judgement that landed the two of you here in the first place; even if it’s one presentation at a time.

“With you in it, duh. The couch is a nightmare to clean,” Jungkook groans, resting his face on his hand as he could see you happy by your tiny icon, the presentation he’s spent the entirety of last night over taking up his whole screen. “I need you in my bed to enjoy it.”

It’s perhaps a welcome moment too; perhaps not extremely vital to the situation, but still welcome nonetheless.

“I didn’t mean-“ Jungkook’s cheeks flush, pursing his lips to think of what excuse he could say for himself. He racks his brain for a second now that the two of you are just staring at each other from his accidental innuendo, ultimately concluding that there’s nothing. “Okay, fuck it. I do mean it in that way too.”

The unabashed admission is what gets you, an easy chuckle being squeezed out of you as you try to retain your eye contact with Jungkook who’s apparently very passionate in explaining.

“Once you come home, I’m gonna,” Jungkook grunts, his two hands up as he grasps the air and squeezes. “I’m really just gonna-…”

Your laugh is what reminds him that you’re still there, looking at him directly while he makes a fool out of himself by vaguely detailing just about what he means when you come home.

“You’re gonna what, babe?” you hum playfully, the endearment slipping right out of you. You realize belatedly but neither of you comment on it, letting the term linger in the air.

Jungkook’s the one who’s caught off-guard now, at a loss for words while he resorts to rolling his eyes playfully.

“You’ll see.”

Your husband jumps from one slide to another, taking his sweet time in explaining and expounding each one. There’s no script at all, obvious from the way he stutters and laughs between words.

The moment doesn’t last forever but it’s welcome, all the while worth it because by the time Jungkook reaches the last slide, the two of you feel considerably lighter than before.

“Our break ends one week from now,” Jungkook reminds you when your laughs die down, cheeks still a little pink from catching his breath from all the talking that he had to do.

You look a little more somber now, still admirable despite the exhaustion (and relief) you’ve went through today. 

“Come home to me, okay? Come home to me before I wake up.”

“You don’t sleep, though.” It’s your turn to remind him, voice more gentle than before.

“Yes I do,” he weakly argues, but there’s no point in telling the white lie.

“Okay no, not really. But since you’ve been calling me, I could doze for thirty minutes at a time.” 

It’s the first time you’ve heard of Jungkook’s improvement in sleeping without you, unsurprised that the genuine happiness in your features already translates to your husband who preens at your reaction.

“You’ve been gone for so long, do you even remember what time I wake up?” he asks harmlessly, no malice to his tone when he brings it up.

“When I’m with you, you wake up thirty minutes before I leave,” you squint in thought, sure of your answer because it’s a routine that’s stuck for quite some time.

“And when I’m not there-” you start yet you don’t know how to finish, eyes suddenly going blank because there’s no answer that comes to mind. “I don’t know.”

You try not to dwell about your lack for an answer — the reason either being you forgetting it or you not knowing at all. Nonetheless, you try to rectify your lack for an answer by immediately asking.

“What time do you wake — no, you don’t sleep. What time do you get out of bed when I’m not there?”

“Eight,” Jungkook answers. “I get out of bed at eight in the morning when you’re not there.”

He sees you take note of it in your head, your lips mumbling the time to yourself to internalize it without having to write it down.

“I’ll sleep the night before, I promise. I’ll sleep the entire night,” he adds if it means he could lessen your load of worry that you carry with you, trying to find more ways in sharing your burdens that concern him one way or another.

You nod, inarguably feeling lighter. 

“Okay.”

( ♡ )

Your parents don’t suspect a thing.

They don’t suspect a thing between you and Jungkook despite knowing the two of you, most especially you, very well. They didn’t think twice about the two of you arriving to the shop in your own cars because just like last time, Jungkook arrives earlier than you and explains why his wife, their daughter, is late.

There isn’t anything questionable about it. You being busy is clockwork by now and Jungkook being the filial son-in-law isn’t anything new.

What is new to them is Jungkook being a little more talkative.

It’s not as if he’s never talked to them when you aren’t by his side, but something was just different to the way he carries himself now. His shoulders are still relaxed but his hands don’t tuck themselves into his pockets, his fingers instead pointing around to ask them about something.

Jungkook seems more present in a way that you almost miss it. Your parents can’t pinpoint what it is exactly but if Jungkook was warm before, then he’s become even warmer now.

He talks more; more attentive as he notices your mother’s new earrings. He’s always figured that she has a penchant for changing up her jewelry but it’s only now that he comments on it, complimenting the dangling charms on her ears that makes her blush.

He laughs more, your father figures. Jungkook outsizes him in height but when he laughs, his shoulders hunch and his face scrunches brightly that they’re almost the same height. He jokes more with your dad nowadays, their banter and shoulder jabs more apparent that it would seem like he’s his actual child.

They just can’t put a finger on it because as much as Jungkook’s always been kind and warm, there’s something about him now that makes him shine a little brighter.

“Hi, baby,” Jungkook greets you the moment you enter the shop, wasting no time in slinging an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your cheek. He moves like he’s never seen you before, in fact meeting you by the door before you could even take two steps in and go about what he’s been yearning to do since last week.

“There you are,” he hums, smiling so hard that his eyes crescent when you roll your eyes before returning the kiss to his cheek. He lets his arm wrap around your shoulders, taking you closer to him. “You just really had the urge to deep-clean your couch at four in the morning, huh?”

The half-scoff that leaves your lips is more playful than it is offended, shaking your head when you play along. “Mhmm. Our couch, of course. I love that couch,” you exclaim, finally taking your eyes off him to acknowledge your parents who are watching your interaction unfold. “Takes you longer to clean and exhausts you more when your husband doesn’t help clean it.”

“Oh so now we’re just straight-up lying,” he hums, laughing before letting you go so you could hug your parents.

Your mom and dad can finally put a finger on it now — Jungkook’s just in love. He’s even more in love with you than the last time, the realization fitting just perfectly to the twinkle behind your husband’s eyes.

The shop hasn’t felt this warm to you until now.

Somehow, it’s even warmer than the times you’ve spent your childhood birthdays in here, perched on the counter with a different cake each time. Today’s warmer than that time before when you were excited to take your portraits to commemorate your coming-of-age, eager to brag to your family and friends. It’s warmer than when you came into the shop to announce you received your very first callback in your career; unable to wait for it to close that you ended up yelling the news the moment you came in, and despite not knowing anything besides that you were the daughter of the owners of the shop, everyone else cheered with you.

Now is warmer than the past. Now is warmer with Jungkook. 

It helps that your hearts are somehow lighter now because the last time the both of you were at the shop, it was merely the 15th day of your break — and here you are, undoubtedly blithe and easier together on the 28th day.

It’s a foundation that grows solid day by day, the space you’ve established giving more leeway for the two of you to grow and occupy it altogether once more when all faults are recognized.

You and Jungkook work through the motions of completing the renovation, teaming yourselves up with only small talk about the task at hand. The urge to talk to you quite literally shows in the way Jungkook’s eager to finish earlier, his keenness making you smile while you take your time.

It’s only after sunset when everything’s finished; when the second coats of paint are all fully-dried and the shelves are built, when all the furniture’s arranged and Jungkook’s successfully picked up every time-consuming task in the shop to wrap it up earlier.

Jungkook’s body physically burns from the labor but he’s not weary just yet, tugging you to the empty breakroom to catch his breath and finally talk.

“Can I go first?” you ask when Jungkook finally looks like he could blink without seeing darkness at the corners of his eyes, making him drink from your own cup.

Your husband nods eagerly, sitting himself closer to you on the floor because the two of you were too afraid to sit on the new sofa in fear of dirtying it.

It’s quiet like this; with the doors closed and no TV present to provide white noise, no Miso either who’d fill up the space with her presence. This moment alone with Jungkook is what reminds you that it’s been far too long since the two of you have gotten this intimate; this close to each other and this willing to talk.

The two of you are together now simply because you are; no longer in the context of you coming home late at night because of work, too tired to initiate conversation.

“When Yoongi and I were in the club, he admitted that he had a crush on me,” you start as gently as you could, thankful that you’re sitting beside Jungkook and not opposite of him so you wouldn’t feel obligated to look at him. “Had a crush on me back then when we were young, and he has a crush on me now.”

You don’t look at Jungkook because you don’t want to see him upset, but it’s only inevitable that you look at his hurt for you to understand his side completely. It’s not exactly an everyday occurrence to know that your wife’s co-worker, one whom she has to see practically everyday for months, has a crush on her.

“But I told him I was married and he understands, he’s not getting between us or anything like that,” you’re quick to amend, but not in the tone that you’re making it seem you’re on Yoongi’s side. “He told me just a few days ago that the crush he has now is nothing serious, by the way. It’s just the admiration from afar thing.”

Jungkook’s still silent but maybe it’s only like that in your head because you’re still gathering the courage to look at him, only doing so when he squeezes your knee.

“I just wanted to tell you that. It’d be wrong for me not to,” you say truthfully, unable to digest the guilt if you do otherwise. “I’m sorry. I never really got to apologize to you about the Yoongi thing.”

You’re not devoid of faults — you never are and never will be. 

“I know this whole dating scandal is hard on you too. Especially Jimin’s plan of not doing anything about it at all,” you chuckle, trying to grasp what you’d feel like if it’s Jungkook who was the celebrity and not you.

The scandals weren’t dying down, in fact they were only getting bigger in number given the new episodes, all of where Yoongi and you kissed and were significantly more affectionate. The two of you haven’t met outside since the article was released, meaning that anything from that point forward is purely made-up.

Jungkook won’t deny that he searches your name and Yoongi’s these days, scrolling through countless of comments. He doesn’t exactly know why he’s doing it either but after every scroll that just unknowingly adds to his own insecurity, Jungkook figures that his trust in you never faltered.

“It’s okay. I’m not upset over it,” your husband admits, having had the time to reevaluate all his initial anger over Yoongi when he saw the two of you at the club. “If I knew from someone else that you met up with your ex, I think I’d get a drink with an old friend too.” 

He puts things into perspective and the way he does it relieve you of all your residual guilt, realizing now that although not the best option, your response was only rational; a little confusing and a little flawed, sure, but never malicious.

“I don’t have an ex.” 

You smile in reminder that it makes Jungkook do the same, his intake of breath turning a little sharper when he realizes that you’re done with your side.

“It’s my turn to tell you then.”

This time it’s you who eagerly nods, oddly seeing yourself in Jungkook’s actions when he looks down the floor instead of you, a little nervous in saying the truth.

“Yoongi was supposed to ask you out back then.”

Jungkook says it as casually as he could, to not make it seem as serious as it actually was. He doesn’t know if he executed the bit perfectly but it warrants a reaction from you anyway, eyes widened in genuine surprise.

“What? I didn’t know that.”

“I know. Jimin slipped about it,” Jungkook continues. “He brought it up casually because he told me that Yoongi told him, then he thought I knew about it because he assumed the two of us were friends.”

“When did you and Jimin even talk?” your eyes narrow in confusion. The last time you checked, Jimin was close to you (and Jungkook by extension) enough to attend your wedding, but not close enough for him and Jungkook to sustain a conversation by themselves.

“How were your meals?” Jungkook grins, dimples in full display while he watches the gears in your head turn. “Did they taste good? I hope they were still hot when you got them.”

“My meals? What — no,” you gasp when you realize, knowing that your suspicion over catering cooking your every favorite meal was too good to be true. “You were the one who made them?”

“Mhmm,” Jungkook proudly hums, feeling a burst of your pride when you lean your head on his shoulder giddily. “Then I got Jimin to deliver them to you personally so you wouldn’t question catering.”

“Cute,” you mumble, looking up at him from your spot on his shoulder. “Back to the Yoongi part?”

“Right, the Yoongi part,” Jungkook sighs, putting his arm around your shoulder while you held his hand. “Based from what you just said, maybe Yoongi didn’t just have a crush on you, y’know? He loved you enough that he planned to ask you out.”

“And get this,” Jungkook adds, a solemn look to his face when he almost whispers it to you as if it’s a secret. “I only beat him to it a day earlier.”

He watches you process it all, waiting for it to click in before he continues so he’d know you were on the same pace with him.

“I asked you on the 1st, right? Do you still remember the date, hm? I bet you don’t,” Jungkook teases, a welcome moment of playfulness from the nature of your conversation.

“Don’t test me,” you huff, crossing your arms in retort. “You asked me out on the first day of October,” you enunciate, not having to think about it twice. “In case you don’t remember, dummy, October 1st is also our wedding date.”

“Wow. My girl knows so much, hm?” Jungkook laughs heartily, throwing his head back when he resumes his hold on you while the two of you lean against the wall. “I asked you out on October 1, then that means Yoongi would’ve asked you out on October 2.”

It’s fate; narrow fate that would’ve been changed completely if only it wasn’t kind enough to favor Jungkook.

“I narrowly beat him by a day. It was almost not me,” he plays with his wedding band. “If I was just a day late, I don’t know if I’d even be here.”

“Yoongi was almost your first boyfriend, your first love,” he exhales heavily at the thought, smiling although it doesn’t exactly look the happiest. “Your first everything.”

It’s a thought that sinks into him every second the moment he’s learned of it, the alternate of what could’ve happened haunting him by the minute. Jungkook doesn’t even know if lucky was the right term to call it. Luck seemed too shallow to be in charge of a blessing as big as you. “I’m glad fate was on my side when it led me to you.”

“It’s hard to digest everything, I know,” Jungkook admits, because even he found it difficult trying to take everything at once. “I don’t know if I could wrap my head around it now, but I want to ask,” he swallows the lump in his throat, looking straight through you that you can’t find yourself avoiding his gaze. “Please don’t lie to me.”

“If I got the whole timing wrong and Yoongi asked you out first, would you have accepted?” your husband asks. “Would you have married him?” Jungkook asks one question after the other, the gravity of it still plaguing him even if he’s said it out-loud. “If it was him and not me, would you still be happy?”

It’s a question that rattles you to your core, all the way down to your bones that your fingers tingle and it’s your ring finger that feels like twitching. It’s a loaded question that only crossed Jungkook’s mind a hundred times before he sleeps, and it a question that’s only crossed your mind now.

“I wouldn’t know, Jungkook,” you whisper, a little winded. “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Jungkook nods, swallowing the hurt.

He can’t blame you — he wouldn’t blame you. He’s not the only one hurting in this equation and it would be unfair of him to require you to give him an answer now; now when it’s apparent that you’re beyond shaken and your mind feels like it’s about to split open.

“Now stand up. Ring me up as the first and last customer of the day before I go home,” Jungkook urges you to stand up, leading you by your hand to place you behind the counter, and him to stand at the other side of it.

“What are you doing?” you mumble, barely coherent because one second, your husband’s asking you if it would still be him if Yoongi had only asked you out earlier, and now, he wants you to play cashier with him.

“I have an order, baby. Just stand behind the counter and let me pay.”

Jungkook explains gently, fetching his bag with him and pulls out a whole lunchbox filled with undeveloped film canisters, the same container where he’d put in all your snacks before you left for work.

You’re speechless as you look at the collection, neatly placed together but you know that there’s hundreds of pictures and memories in that single lunchbox alone, the fact that this is all coming from your husband making your mind blank.

“All of these, please. I’ve been collecting for awhile,” he says casually, pulling out his wallet.

“Jungkook,” you call, opening the lunchbox to see the canisters for yourself if they were real and not merely props. “Since when did this start?”

Your husband doesn’t answer, instead giving you the exact amount and peering over the counter because you’re still dazed, using your fingers to punch his order in. “You’ll know. I never turned off the timestamp.”

“Bye. I love you. Text me when you get to your house,” Jungkook bids you goodbye and it’s only then that you snap out momentarily, eyes beady from trying to process the last minutes alone. He leans in just a little, all to be able to press a kiss on the corner of your mouth.

You stare when he exits the shop, watching him drive away until you could no longer see his car from the distance.

There’s no time you waste when all of the systems in your head tell you to develop your husband’s films now, not passing up a single second because it’s more of an instinct than an urge. You get to work immediately, having to fend off your parents that you’ll handle this alone and they could come home while you close off everything once you’re done. 

You get to the darkroom and do everything as quickly and as precisely as you could, seeing vague figures by the moment you hang each print to dry. It takes you the rest of the night until the early hours of morning to go through everything, greatly too impatient that you physically had to step out of the room while waiting.

It’s only when your timer goes off that you allow yourself to be in the same space with the pictures that your husband took through the years, eyes skimming over each one to look at the timestamp.

The very first picture, the very first one you processed that’s hung in the frontmost line in the darkroom dates back to October 1, five years ago — the very same day he asked you out.

The realization hits you deeply because the moment you step back, you see that every image, every composition in this darkroom of all the film pictures Jungkook has taken for the past five years, is you.

It’s pictures taken of you candidly, when you’re in mid-conversation and when your eyes are turned away from the camera. It’s images of you that are taken from afar, your silhouette turned to Jungkook and facing whatever’s in front of you instead, almost never making eye contact at all. There’s several where there’s mirrors involved and while Jungkook meant to capture your smile, he unintentionally captured his too while looking at you.

There’s pictures taken of you in your important milestones; in your wedding dress while Jungkook hung around in the back to see you getting prepared for the reception, and in bed when you’re wearing his shirt, reading the script for In Terms of Eternity’s pilot episode.

There’s mementos taken of you all over the place; ones where you’re in the driver’s seat and ones where you’re on your phone. There’s pictures of you fixing yourself in the mirror and pictures of you as you sleep, your head tucked to his neck and where half of Jungkook’s face is visible. Pictures of your hands with your wedding band worn and even pictures of you laughing, the shots itself being blurry because Jungkook laughs while you do.

Each one, all of them you.

It’s a definitive answer that you can say to Jungkook now, the question to whether or not it would still be him if Yoongi got the better slice of timing. You don’t know any other love like Jungkook’s and you’re content with it — you’re at peace knowing that Jungkook’s your first love, your first kiss, your first everything.

The answer’s clearer than ever when you see each picture that proved to you Jungkook’s love had never wavered nor faltered, no matter the distance nor the blurriness in his pictures.

It has always been, and always will be Jungkook. 

( ♡ )

You can’t move. 

Your body feels far too strained and exhausted to move, even attempting to raise your head makes you want to faint. It’s barely going well and you want to try so hard to leave your house and come home to Jungkook, but things simply were not on your side.

You already should’ve left at six in the morning and that was when you gathered your remaining strength that was left from your fever that developed drastically overnight. It was just the occasional headache and the nausea a few days ago, but figuring that you thought little of it and proceeded to work with filming until the late of the night, your sickness has gotten worse unsurprisingly.

You’re more than prepared, even packing back all your stuff into the luggage you came with and setting an alarm for you to drive home early. All you had to do was wake up and drive — and now that you’re barely coping with the first, your car won’t start. 

It won’t start no matter how much you try to remedy it by popping open your hood, unable to gauge what’s wrong because your fever’s getting the best of you and you could barely function. It was six in the morning when you trekked back to your bed and decided to take just a brief nap in hopes you’d get better.

But it’s already been four hours — it’s ten in the morning.

It’s two hours past eight and Jungkook’s been waiting for you for two hours, unable to hold it all in when it turned seven in the morning and you still weren’t there.

Jungkook’s hurt and cries his heart out because he’s slept for this, hoped for this. He didn’t know how to react when he opens his eyes at eight in the morning to not see you beside him. Jungkook’s hurt, beyond hurt to the point of speaking but he stands up immediately with a newfound drive.

He won’t settle for this. He’ll fight you on this.

Jungkook takes his key to your house and wastes no time in jamming it into your front door, vision blurry still because he drove all the way here while barely coherent. He marches up the stairs, failing to see your luggage that’s already near the front door, all that’s left for you to do was to load it in your trunk and go home to him.

Your husband storms to your room and throws the door open, voice cracking to see you still underneath the comforter.

“Get up.”

He sees you rumbling from underneath it but you don’t talk, only making him more distraught that he comes closer to the foot of your bed.

“Get up from bed right now because we’re going to fight.”

He’s no longer your husband who didn’t want to fight you on things for the sake of self-preservation. He’s no longer the one who avoided confrontation in fear of setting you apart from him because this is what he gets from being so passive — from being so unwilling to fight you.

“We’re going to fight right now because I don’t want you to break up with me,” he grits through tears, shaking your foot at the end of the bed. “I don’t want to let you go.”

Your movements from underneath the comforter are more apparent but you still don’t get up, springing Jungkook into walking to your side of the bed where your head laid.

“Get up, Y/N. I’m not kidding,” Jungkook tears up, only to shake you awake by your shoulder but he feels the abnormal warmth of it before he could even speak, the realization settling in.

“Can we fight tomorrow?” you ask in a small voice, turning over to look at Jungkook who’s been crying. “My head feels like it’s splitting open.”

“You’re sick,” Jungkook exclaims, half in worry yet half in relief because it’s the only reason to why you didn’t come home to him before hoke up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He was worried, beyond out of his mind that the first thing he does now is get underneath the covers with you, embracing you tightly. You feel it too, feeling apologetic that you were late but what’s important now is that Jungkook’s here with you, fully aware that you have no intention of leaving him.

“I was gonna come back home, trust me. My bags were all prepared,” you mumble to his neck, your husband immediately cradling your face to it as he hushes you to not strain your voice and explain. “I really was! But then my car wouldn’t start, and when I woke up this morning, I was sick.”

“I know. I know now. It’s okay, baby. I understand,” Jungkook says gently, rocking you back and forth and only thinking of now, choosing to plan later on how he’ll nurse you back to health and eventually take you home to where you belong.

“Were you serious awhile ago?” you ask while your face is still buried to his chest, your husband unwilling to ease up because he’s missed you beyond words. “Would you really have fought with me if I didn’t come back?”

“Of course. I won’t let you break up with me until I lose my fight with you,” Jungkook answers without skipping a beat. “I’m not letting you break up with me until I know I’ve exhausted every possible way for you not to.”

“I never plan on breaking up with you,” you snort, the sudden reply making you wince because your head ached from it. You get the teasing, lightest ever possible forehead flick you could ever receive in your life, your husband hushing you to just stop talking.

“Jungkook?” you hum, making him open his eyes because they were closed from how at peace he is just by being with you. “I have an answer.”

“Answer to what?” your husband’s brows furrow, a slight pout on his lips because he can’t decipher what you’re pertaining to.

“When you basically asked me if it would still be you if you got the timing wrong and everything,” you trail, the realization finally crossing him.

You think back on all the pictures Jungkook’s taken of you, several of the many manifestations of his love for you. He hums, raising an eyebrow with a curious smile on his lips. 

The words didn’t need to be said at this point because it’s an unspoken truth anyway, but with all your heart and experience of loving Jungkook, sometimes, saying the obvious wouldn’t hurt.

“The answer’s you,” you smile, warm hand finding his to flick at his wedding band. “It’s always you.”

.

.

.

.

.

EPILOGUE

In Terms of Eternity turned out to be a massive success that just two years later, it’s been announced to have a sequel.

Everyone’s happy with it, you yourself in a great shock over it too because you got bigger than you could ever imagine — and in the peak of it, you get to wear your wedding band to work.

The entirety of the people responsible for the drama’s in your home, one that’s a house outside of the city and not an apartment in the heart of it. It’s rightfully massive, just enough to fit everyone who’s ever contributed to the success of it.

The house was built from the ground up instead of bought, each single centimeter of space being carefully planned by you and Jungkook together. It’s new, but it’s a beautiful, exciting kind of new — one that didn’t need everything to be replaced and instead housed some of the old; just like the baby blue floor couch and the third-biggest variation of the king-sized bed that are your clear favorites.

Countless presentations have been made of letting the other win, all varying from Jungkook’s requests of having a game room and a den to your plea of commissioning to have an obscenely large painting of your choice to put in the house.

It’s a matter of yielding and loving, all of it that made this space the home of your dreams with your husband.

“Scotch for you,” Yoongi greets from nowhere as he squeezes in himself between you and Jungkook, giving the drink to your husband who surprisingly, clicked with him and is now his best friend.

He’s just about to say his next words when he sees Miso from the corner of the living room, coming to hide slightly behind Jungkook even if the cat makes no move. “God, she scares me. Did either of you ever know why she’s tried killing me multiple times already?”

“Nope. Not a single clue,” Jungkook laughs, shaking his head while he pokes a tongue to his cheek.

Yoongi lets it go, grinning as he holds your drink up. “And gin for you.”

Your mouth dries before you could even push the drink away from you, your husband already stepping in.

“Mhmm, no. No gin for my wife,” he hums, taking the glass instead to pour it into his throat all in one go. 

“But you love gin!” Yoongi furrows his brows in confusion, offering you his glass of gin instead that he hasn’t sipped out of.

“I do, but I really can’t, Yoongi,” you smile, biting your lip tentatively when you raise your eyebrows at him.

You wait for a beat for your best friend to comprehend but he still doesn’t, reminding you that he could be a bit slow sometimes.

Jungkook can’t take it either that he just laughs, taking you closer to him by the waist and puts you in front of him, announcing the news in a low voice with a warm hand on your stomach.

“We’re expecting.”

#the finale <3 ty for being here with me! #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook angst #jungkook angst imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook au #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook fic recs #jungkook masterlist

[lemonlyman-dotcom]

October September August July June

Tío T.K. by @chicgeekgirl89

M | 6k

Another banger from writeallnight, y’all! I was so excited for this fic and it did not disappoint. This whole story is so soft and sweet, I love every single thing about it! Love this little glimpse of TK being competent and taking care of his loved ones, and Carlos’s family getting to see how well he takes care of his people. It’s so beautifully evident how much TK already means to Carlos’s family and how much they mean to TK.

Think It Over, Think It Under by @liminalmemories21

T | 13k

Six conversations TK has with one of Carlos’s sisters and one Carlos has with both of them. This was such a sweet look into Carlos’s complicated relationship with his family, and how his perceptions of his coming out are probably a lot different from his family’s. Also a really lovely outsider point of view into the Tarlos relationship, and watching Ana and Luisa grow to know and love TK not just for the adorable sweet person he is, but for how fiercely he loves and protects their Carlitos in a way that they have maybe neglected to.

Love From the Other Side by @lightningboltreader

E | 32k

Char, oh my gosh how I love this one!! Exes to lovers with only one bed!?!!? Misunderstandings! MEN CRYING!! This one’s got it all, folks. It’s a fun, funny yet angsty take on all of these tropes. Love the exploration of TK’s thought process leading up to and right after the break up, the insecurities he feels about not being good enough for anyone to stick around. And poor Carlos is just confused and mad and hot and sweaty about it. You know?

The lovely April by @ladytessa74

G | 10k

You already know I love Tessa’s Elijah universe! This one is a very soft little story about Carlos learning he needs to take care of himself in order to take care of the people he loves most. Carlos has let his fitness slip a bit in fatherhood, and his own father’s health concerns begin to creep up on him. Will he get it together so he can be the partner TK needs and the father little Elijah adores to run around with?

my beatin' heart belongs to you by bartsy

M | 9k

Really lovely look at Carlos’s anxiety after the loss of his father, and TK’s struggle to support him through it. TK is hurt at work a few months after the wedding. Carlos must come to terms with the fact that his anxieties are affecting TK and his other loved ones, and accept the fact that sometimes he needs to allow others to take care of him.

in the woods somewhere by @mooshkat

NR | 4k

This is a very sweet fic with a concept that I’ve never seen before, certainly not in this fandom. TK and Carlos are shapeshifters. TK is a playful fox who is drawn a handsome man who lives in a cabin in the woods. When TK gets caught in a trap he’s rescued by a beautiful wolf. What happens next?

Something Blue by @orchidscript

T | 10k

So cute and sweet and funny. Carlos goes to a tailor for a suit, but does he end up finding his soulmate instead? Carlos goes from wallflower, wanting to blend in at a family wedding to agreeing to wear a beautiful suit with an even more beautiful man on his arm. TK bringing Carlos color and confidence in every universe? Sign me up!

-WIPs-

Where All This Love Comes From by @carlos-in-glasses

E | 17k

Listen. Cig does not miss. Just call her DJ Khaled, because we got another one! It is banger after banger from her and, I swear, they just keep getting better. In this one, after making an alarming discovery TK attempts to have a conversation with Carlos about some concerns and opens up about his rough history with substance abuse, reflecting on a cold turkey detox, his parents’ complicated history with being there to support him and why meeting Carlos after all that trauma was hard for him to grapple with at first. Carlos reflects on his own complex relationship with his dad while attempting to find his killer.

His Royal Highness by @itsrandomnobody7

T | 7.6k

I’m really enjoying this Ever After-esque Tarlos AU! Carlos is a prince and TK is a commoner, they were childhood friends torn apart when evil Lord Billy Tyson (😝) discovered their friendship and put an end to it. Now as young adults TK is caught stealing food for his family and is sentenced to be a servant in the royal household. What will happen??

a chain reaction of countermoves by @strandnreyes

E | 23k

What a fun mystery! Set in canon, a few weeks after the fire that took the townhouse, the 126 gang takes a getaway trip to a lakeside cabin resort in hill country. Shortly after arrival Carlos notices something is off about the place. Is it his recent trauma that’s making him paranoid or is there really something sinister going on? LET’S FIND OUT! The tension is heightened by the looming breakup, and I’m loving all the winks to future canon that Jen’s weaving in to the story.

in uncertain terms by @iinryer

G | 37k

One of my favorite fics of all time updated for the first time in a year. Cue me losing my mind a little bit. I cannot tell you how much I love this fic. It’s a glorious exploration of Marjan as a character, her perception of herself and (my favorite part) her friendship with TK. Give me ALL the Marjan TK besties fics. I live for it. This is set in canon shortly after Salim breaks off their engagement. Marjan is injured at work and has a lot of down time to do some self exploration. This author really, really gets Marjan and gives us god-level characterizations all around but especially Marjan, TK & Nancy.

As always, this is not in any way a comprehensive list of all the good stuff that came out in Novrmber. This is the stuff that I was able to read and vibed with. This is a way for me to hype the stories that got me excited this month, and I encourage everybody to be intentional in reblogging fics and screaming about the stuff you’re reading and enjoying all month long. Let’s work to build this fandom into a more inclusive and encouraging place to create!

#tarlos fanfic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand x carlos reyes #911 lone star #November fic recs #lemon’s monthly fic recs #FIC REC

[surfinminho]

Tell me

Genre: Suggestive(?), angst

Warnings: Chan is readers ex, gn!reader, fwb

Word count: 780

_________________________________________

"you want water?" He asked. You hummed in reply staring up at the ceiling.

You always liked pillow talk. Specifically with Chan. It was always different, funny or quiet a. It interchanges every time.

You aren't supposed to be here though. No where near him.

He dumped you 2 years ago over text. Yea he knows that was a bitchy move. He deserved all the hatred you can give to him.

Regardless, as soon as he sends you a birthday text it was hard to deny you still had feelings for him. 

You didn't mean for it to happen. One thing led to another and you guys ended up naked in your bed.He fucked you the same way he always did. Till' you guys broke it off of course.You do miss him and the sex. Maybe not the way he would constantly ignore you, going days if Not weeks not uttering a single word to you.

He wasnt a great boyfriend but you couldn't help but like him more than you ever did.

It's pathetic really. All your friends tried to get you to stop liking him. Even set you up with other guys! But nothing worked, you wanted Chris back.

So when you end up in his bed for the nth time. You wonder. Wondered if this whole "friends with benefits" thing is even going to work out.

Staring at the ceiling, you let out a rough sigh with worries him.

"What's up?" Voice laced with sleep, even though he's not getting any.

"Chan, be honest with me. Can you do that?" You sit up slightly to face him in his eyes.

You see him nod before continuing.

"Why did you break up with me." you were genuinely curious. Even with the amount of small petty fights you guys would have, your love was never lost. People even referred to you guys as soulmates. Its like you guys were meant to be.

To randomly break it off, hurt and confused you.

"I.." he trails off like he's trying to make up an excuse. An excuse to not hurt your feelings.

"Making up excuses. Nothings changed has it." You scoff turning around.

"There is no excuses, '__'. I loved you I did it's just-" you cut him off before he could finish his stupid confession.

"Reject me."

"What?"

"I said reject me. I need you to reject me so I can move on with my life." You turned to the nightstand to check the time.

"1:36 A.M" you weren't supposed to be here. Lying next to him in his bed. Naked, With the feeling of unreciprocated love deep in your chest.

" __ , I can't say I don't like you, I love you. But I just can't date you." He grabs your hand and entangles it with his own.

You felt your heart drop. You wanted to be with him for ever. For eternity even. You still loved him, even after two years.

"I broke up with you, because of you. For you. I can't stay with you without feeling any guilt. I hardly saw you, we would go weeks without talking for fucks sake." He paused to take a slight breather. Not wanting to get mad over something so little.

"I can't say this enough, I love you."

"You do?"

"I do love you"

"This isn't what love is Chris." you didn't want to cry. Cry over a conversation you started. Unfortunately, Crying was inevitable.

"We can't be together, I don't want to hurt you" he tried to reason.

"You don't get to make that decision. You aren't hurting me. I still need you." By this point, you were ready to breakdown in his arms. You had to stay strong, not to let your emotions take over this stupid thing you want to call a conversation.

"I was a bad boyfriend. You deserve someone who can be there for you, always talking to you, keeping you company when it's late at night. I am not that guy. Believe me baby I want to be with you. It wouldn't work out." Was he crying? He didn't know. He didn't know what he felt. All of it was just mush.

"You are that person. You are, please." You were begging at this point. Begging for someone to see themselves like you see them.

You swing a leg over his lap to get closer to him.

"For us, please." Your voice was barely above a whisper.

He doesn't say anything. Instead he looks you in your eyes, grabbing your chin before kissing you.

His hands slipped around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You felt him press his lips deeper into yours before pulling away.

"We can try."

#stray kids #surfinminho #skz x reader #skz x you #skz angst #bang chan #skz bangchan #bangchan angst

[letitias-wife]

「Save Me」

Chapter 1: Taking You Home

Shuri x Reader

Warnings: Language (kinda), drunk driving (sorta)

A/n: I originally posted this on AO3 and reposted it onto Wattpad and thought I’d post it here to reach another audience.

Summary: Y/n and Shuri broke up 2 years ago after a huge fight but now that the princess has lost everyone, she has to turn to her for support before she does something reckless.

I flopped back onto my twin-size bed, tears soaking my pillow. He was gone. T'Challa was really gone. 

"I can't imagine how Nakia and Shuri must be feeling." The moment her name left my lips, my phone rang. I finally look at the caller ID >Princess

I just lay there eyeing the name. She's not really calling me...I'm dreaming.

>Hello?

>Hey, Y/n...I uh- I'm sure you've heard the news about-I could hear Shuri swallow over the phone >About my brother's passing.

>I have...how are you?

>Y/n.Shuri's cry got louder as she called out for me >I need you

>What?

>I can't do this- I need you here.

>Shuri.My stomach churned >I'm not sure if I can help you. I've got school and work-

>Please!She shrieked, >My-My mother is ill, My brother is gone. I have no one.

I sat up from my bed and pulled a suitcase from under my bed, >Okay, just-...just send a Talon to the roof tonight, and I'll come to you.

Shuri's sniffles and gasps suddenly became silent, >I'm sort of already here.

>WHAT?I laughed through my tears. I shoved a few changes of clothes in my bag, >You should've texted me, Princess.

I can hear her smile on the other side of the line. I swing my suitcase over my back and snuck out of the window, and scaled my apartment til I reached the sealed-off roof. I looked to the sky, >Where are you?

I felt slim hands wrap around my waist, "Behind you."

I gasped as she pulled me closer to her, resting her chin on my head. I wanted to push her away because the sudden affection after our last fight felt weird. We agreed to take a break. To just be friends. But I couldn't move; I wanted to be held. The last two years without her touch were the loneliest I'd felt in forever. 

Shuri turned me around and felt her way up to my neck, "Y/n."

Her eyes were glossy, not just from crying. Was she high? Her skin smelt like alcohol. "You're drunk."

Shuri softly pressed her lips on my neck, "Just a little. I just need to relax."

"You can relax without this, without me. Remember?" I gently put her arms back to her side and sat down my suitcase, "Did you only come here because you're drunk?"

"I'm not- that drunk. I was able to fly here." The intoxicated princess leaned back and pointed to the jet waiting silently above us

"You could fly the Talon with your eyes closed." I gently slapped her cheek. She laughed at my barely feelable slap and grabbed my hand, "Now Y/n, you know you can't go around slapping royalty like that."

Shuri pushed me backward into the door to the roof that'd been locked and sunk her teeth into my neck. I let out a small whimper and brought her closer to me, "Shuri."

"Yes?" She lifted me up and wrapped my legs around her waist. "You must've missed me if-"

"Put me down." I held back a moan while I mustered up the courage to speak to her firmly, "This isn't right. You're grieving, and you're drunk. We can't do this."

Shuri set me down and sighed, "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Let's just get you home and we'll pretend this didn't happen." I picked up my suitcase while Shuri lowered the Talon. I helped Shuri inside and sat in the pilot's seat, "Just relax I'll get us home."

Shuri sprawled out on the floor and gave me a sad thumbs up.

I should've just stayed in my apartment. Now look at me. Taking my drunk, depressed ex-girlfriend to another country.

I look back at the Wakandan. She was curled up on the glass floor of the jet asleep. I couldn't help but frown at the sad sight of my friend. Shuri's been through so much, she lost her father and brother. Her mother's suffering and I'm sure Shuri's been burying herself in her work so she doesn't have time to think about it. 

"She needs you Y/n." I mumble to myself.

#Shuri #letitia wright shuri #shuri x reader #shuri x y/n #princess shuri #mcu shuri #queen shuri #second chance romance #shuri angst #shuri fluff #t'challa #black panther 2 spoilers #black panther x reader

[two-white-butterflies]

WAITING FOR A BUS

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Reader, Daemon Targaryen x Reader (MODERN)

Description: A new promotion at work prompts you to move into a small modest town with your boyfriend, Aemond Targaryen. There you meet a few friendly faces. It seems like life is going where it's supposed to. That is until you meet your new boss, Daemon Targaryen, who is your boyfriend's estranged uncle.

It doesn't help with the fact that you've been having dreams about him since birth.

masterlist | chapter fourteen

Aemond stumbles upon his mother's gallery and there were rows of pictures — memories that he wasn't present in (the twin's baptism, his mother's second-wedding, and his father's funeral.) He scoffs at the thought of his father. He didn't arrive at the funeral for a good reason. He takes one last glance at the room, taking a mental note to browse the pictures some other day. He was about to leave but an unfamiliar picture catches his eye.

It was a portrait of him as a young kid (when he still had both of his eyes.) His father was carrying him with that self-absorbed smile that Viserys always more. He couldn't help but cringe at his father's portrait. He felt scared — like he was a child who did something wrong. Viserys only cared when Aemond messed up.

He reaches for the picture, and it fit delicately into his large hands. His father was wearing that watch. The Casio watch that he wasn't allowed to play with as a child because it was a heirloom from his great-grandfather. The first time he tried that watch on, he was spanked and left bruised.

"I should've thrown that away, but it's your only picture with dada." Alicent leans into the doorframe, still accustomed to calling her dead-husband by that pet-name. He scoffs again, placing the portrait back on the mantle of the fireplace. "It belongs in the rubbish, mom." he answers with hidden rage before picking his suitcase back up and sprinting in the direction of his room. He could hear Alicent sigh, but he wasn't in the mood for another crying session.

He opens the red door to his room. His mind still hovering over his mother's sadness. He placed the suitcase on the floor, hands reaching over his pockets to open his phone.

PUMPKINPIE (Gaming Phone) 9:44AM Here at mom's house. Might come back later. I forgot my phone. <3

He waits for a while — anticipating for your reply. He curses for a second, realizing that it was past your break-time. What else was he going to do now? His mother's televisions were ancient, and they didn't have the HDMI function in them. He could play codm but there wasn't any good signal in the house. Fuck, he was really bored. He was about to close his eyes to sleep but his phone vibrates.

Criston Cole 9:50AM I heard that you moved back in with your mom. How is she?

He reads the message, rolling his eye at the fake-concern. He sighs wondering how the hell that man got his second-phone number. He moves the banner away, ignoring his ex-mentor's message. Cole was going to make it about him, and he wasn't in the mood for that shit. He throws his body into the bed, his phone laid flat on the carpeted floor below.

———

Daemon was trapped inside his dreams again, but this time it was a memory that happened in his youth. It was before he had his memory back. He remembers the smell of his brother's house — a mix of candy-canes and eggnog. He remembers last night, where he and his brother had too much alcohol. It was Christmas morning and all of the kids were gathering around the tree. Aegon, Aemond, Helaena — he memorized all of their names before arriving, despite his clear disdain of his brother's new wife.

He frowns taking a quick count of all the children — there was one person mission. "Nyra, isn't there supposed to be one more?" he asks his fourteen-year old niece, she looks around realizing that her brother Aemond was missing. "Yeah, I think Aemond is in his room. Dada scolded him for a bit." she shrugs, adjusting her furry socks.

His eyes narrowed remembering his brother's rage. Viserys was a monster when his blood was pumping, and he didn't want to find out the cause of his brother's anger. In his periphery, he sees his brother descend from the staircase wearing a frown, and while the kids were opening the presents — he began to walk upstairs, to wherever Aemond's room was.

It wasn't hard to spot, his door was painted bright-red, and a sign was in a kid's level. He reaches for the doorknob, and he twists it in his direction — the door could be opened in both ways, which prompted the little boy to hide underneath the covers.

Daemon's eyes search for his nephew's figure, his eyes raked towards the rows of toy-cars on the shelves. It was a child's dream. He didn't have that luxury when he was a kid, after all they were still poor at that time. "Aemond?" he beckoned while opening the light-switch. The boy shivered underneath the covers, in fear that it would be his father. He settles on the blue-bed, eyes watching the moving blanket.

He does not know how to comfort a child. When Daemon was a child in need of comforting, no one ever comforted him. "Go 'way." the child mumbled, breath hiccuping at the amount of tears he had. "What's wrong, dear." he settles a hand on top of the boy's back, rubbing comforting circles. "Go away!" the child screamed again while shying away from his uncle's touch.

"Your siblings are opening their gifts from Santa. Don't you want to do the same?" he asked while softly whipping the blanket away from the child's body. The blanket was soaking wet from tears and snot. It was due for cleaning. "No." the child of four crossed his arms, reaching for the blanket in his uncle's hands.

"Santa doesn't want me." he grumbled while burying his face on his pillow. Daemon was well aware that Aemond was crying — he couldn't understand why he had to hide it though. Was his brother that awful of a father that his children were incapable of showing their emotions freely? "Santa likes everyone, that's why he bought you a lot of gifts." he replied while moving closer to the boy.

"No. Dada said he didn't buy me anything 'cuz I was a naughty kid." Aemond argued while trying to breathe clearly. Daemon takes a deep breath, cursing his brother deep in his mind. No child should feel this way, especially during Christmas morning. "What did you do?" Daemon asks, attempting to comfort the child, perhaps there was a way that he could explain Aemond's sins without using brute force.

"I opened my gifts too soon and dada hit me." he cried while burying his face inside the pillow again. Daemon turns Aemond's body, staring at his little eyes filled with innocence. Aemond was the sweetest boy with long blonde hair, and his same purple eyes. "Come here," Daemon mumbled while opening his arms wide. Aemond stands up, with his toy blanket at hand and he returns his uncle's embrace, tears marking Daemon's shirt wet.

"Dada doesn't love us." he mutters while Daemon wipes his nose clear of snot. His eyes narrowed in confusion. "What do you mean by that?" he asks in concern while wiping the child's face dry. "Dada's match is mama, but we don't call our mom that. But Nyra calls her mom that." he tried to explain with the vocabulary of a four-year old.

Daemon chuckles nervously.

"Your dada loves you, I promise."

next chapter>>

taglist: @namelesslosers @immyowndefender @ammo2022 @perihelioneclipse @gracielikegrapes @joliettes @thetrueblackheart @marytargaryen @ammo23 @sanzu-sanzu-sanzu

#aemond x fem!reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #modern!aemond #modern!hotd #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x female reader #modern!aemond x reader #modern!aemond targaryen #aemond/reader #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen/reader #aemond fic #daemon #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #modern daemon #sugar daddy!daemon #sugar daddy daemon #daemon x reader #daemon x you #daemon targaryen x you #modern hotd

[butterfluffy]

Hello! Could I get angst (with a happy ending if that’s possible) (or if angst is hard to pair with this song anything’s fine!) with Kid and female reader with the song “Not my slave” by Oingo Boingo for the “sing me a song” event please! Thank you so much!🌸

“not my slave”

⠀⠀ੈ♡˳· after a break-up with your toxic ex, you then became eustass kid's lover, and used to the controlling of your past lover, kid immediately reminds you that you are his, his lover, but you are “not my slave.”

⠀⠀➧ angst to fluff / hurt-comfort | eustass kid × f!reader | oneshot / song fic

⠀⠀➧ warnings — mentions of toxic relationship with your ex, small quarrelling, and shouting! mistakes and swearing are present too.. so do ignore them, thanks!

⠀⠀➧ requests are closed until further notice!

⠀⠀꒰ 🍨 ꒱ notes: welcome to my “sing me a song” event made to honor this account reaching 200+ followers! visit it to see my other works on this special!

reqested by: anonymous — thank you for joining in and dropping a request, anon! so, here's the fic! i absolutely love this—kid being unusually comforting and loving. it melts my heart...! ♡

Tears brimmed your widened eyes as soon as Kid entered your room with him, hand instinctively hiding the phone on your hand as you held your breath as your lover walked towards you with the usual frown on his face.

“K..Kid, welcome back, i-is there anything bothering you today or—or anything you need..?” You ask with a whisper, wiping your tears away while Kid plopped himself down the bed, sitting beside you.

“Obviously, there is something bothering me, and no, I don't need anything,” He grumbled, eyes travelling to your figure that stiffen under his gaze that slowly softened after letting a deep sigh out. “so never mind that. How about you? Is there anything wrong? You look like you're fucking constipated.”

Mentioning this, you jolted, turning the phone in your hand off and clutching it, not wanting Kid to know that you have your phone with you—but unluckily, it made a small shutter sound upon closing, catching your boyfriend's attention.

“Was that your phone?” The red head asks as you looked down, guiltily nodding your head as an answer, finally revealing the gadget and handling it to him.

“Eh? The hell am I supposed to do with your phone?” Raising one of his non-existent brows up, Kid pushed your phone back to you while he relaxed himself on the headboard, small yawn escaping his lips as you looked at him with wide eyes.

“You.. You are not going to check it? You're not gonna ask me what was I doing or who was I talking to?” Asking this with a stammer, Kid froze, slowly turning his head towards you, mouth agape.

“The fuck?” He cursed, soon taking your phone and slamming it on the nightstand, causing you to shudder. “Do you think I'm like your fucking ex who's such a control freak!?”

Exclaiming this in fury, your breathing got ragged, the tears you wiped away coming back. “I don't care if you're on you're phone, talking to someone! I don't need to know everything you do, damned woman!”

Grabbing your chin with the lightest pressure he could put on it, Kid forcefully made you look at him directly in his eyes that burned in anger and somewhat... Sadness.

“I am not that fucking ex of yours to be staying well informed of you...!!” The man spat, letting go of your chin and running his hand through his flaming red hair with a loud exhale through his nose.

“But look, right now, you're treating me like that fucker..!” Clicking his tongue, he then bit his lower lip, trying to cool down the slightest upon realizing that he's been shouting at you.

“If you miss 'em that much, why don't ya go back to them and go cry every night because of the shits you have to put up with them, huh?” Suggesting this in a much more tame tone, yet same venomous words, Kid looked away from you who's got hot tears flowing down your cheeks, sobs escaping your lips by what he said.

“I'm sorry, Kid! It's just—their rules were etched into my entirety, and—and I hate it, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please.. Please don't push me away from.. You.” You plead, hands shakily reaching out to your lover, wanting to embrace him tightly, but you retracted them after.

“I..I'll be better, I promise. I'll change, so tell me, what—what do I have to do? What are the rules you want me to follow? Do you—do you want me to be less clingy with you?”

You croaked out, voice shaky, still crying to your boyfriend who clenched his shirt, his chest tightening, snapping his head to you and immediately engulfing you into a hug that is tight enough to almost suffocate you, yet it is comforting, warm, and inviting.

“Ugh, damn it all! Curse that bastard, I'll kill them for turning you into this—this thing, as if you are a servant! Fuck, fuck, fuck them..!” The frustrated male shouts, a string of curses leaving mouth later on.

“..This is upsetting. I thought we left that ghost that kept creeping up on your mind behind? Can't we just be happy together without the nightmare they gave you?” He mutters after calming down, caressing your back as you cried on his shoulder.

“Just ignore what everyone 'round us are telling what to do.. Deafen their sound, by a sweet whisper,” Taking a pause as your crying slowly subsided, Kid whispered into your ear, “I love you.”

“You can adore me all you want, but don't go overboard,” He sighed out, running his hand through your hair, combing it, hoping that you'd feel better before he continued what he was saying, “..to the point that you're here, crying in my arms because you can't put this shit up even with yourself.”

“I see no escape from the roles we always play, but I don't want to follow those ridiculous sexist beliefs that you have to succumb to me and crap just because you're a woman.” Giving you a kiss on the forehead after he spoke, Kid lets a relieved sigh out of his mouth seeing you calmed down, sitting on his lap with your arms dangling by his neck, sniffling as you listened to him with all ears.

“i just want to prove, and let you know that you're mine now, but you're not my sister, you're mine now, but you're not my child. And you're mine now, but you're not my slave.”

“You're missing the whole point, you're not my little pet, so don't throw away your life just because of me.” The red head stated in a serious tone, wanting to change your mind that has been poisoned by your previous toxic lover.

“I do not own your soul, and I don't want you in a cage, unlike your ass-like ex.” He says with a frown upon mentioni your ex that kept you locked up away from everyone.

“I only want your heart to find a special place, with me.” Your boyfriend mentioned, falling silent for a few moments, letting yoy hear his heart thump for you then continuing.

“You're not. my. slave. Keep that in mind, babe.” Kid reminds you of once again, face burrowed on your collar bone.

“I am not a King, so please... Don't worship me.” Voice cracking as his heart sunk into the void knowing that you were made to follow your ex like a dog, Kid grit his teeth. “You may be mine, but I don't own your entirety, you have your own life, and I have mine.”

“I love you the way you are yourself, all free like a bird, and not the way you act like a puppet for me,” Etching this on your mind, Kid once again kissed you, showering you the love you deserve. “you are not my slave, but you are my lover.”

© butterfluffy 2022

#ੈ♡˳· butterfluffy #eustass kid x reader #kid one piece x reader #eustass captain kid x reader #kid x reader #eustass kid #one piece #one piece oneshot #one piece fanfiction #one piece scenario #one piece songfic #ੈ♡˳· fluff reaches 200 followers! #ੈ♡˳· fluff's milestone event! #ੈ♡˳· “sing me a song” · event

[separatist-apologist]

Because I’m in Love with your takes on these: acotar characters from most to least devastated after a breakup (coping mechanism commentary appreciated but not required)

this is MOST to LEAST. MOST TO LEAST.

16. Tamlin- Functioning but just barely. Absolutely cuts bangs into his hair. New me, he sobs into the mirror. Drops all his friends to grieve, never really gets over it.

16. Elain- CATATONIC. Red album on BLAST for MONTHS. Is it coping if you just stop living your life entirely? Sleeps in old hoodie, devastated when the smell is gone.

15. Rhysand- Oh yeah. DRUNK FOR WEEKS. "I just knew she was the one," he hiccups to a stranger at the bar. Watching cheesy rom-coms in bed, alternating between whiskey and ice cream. Does not shower for a solid two weeks, forces Azriel and Cassian to have an intervention.

14. Gwyn- can't go five minutes without crying. Vanishes one day, resurfaces in Europe without a word. Girl you couldn't CALL? Just needed someone to worry about her a little. Is very apologetic in the aftermath.

13. Jurian- Tries to win them back, comes off like a major stalker. Has schedule memorized, will not let it go. Just wants to talk, obsessed with what went wrong.

12. Azriel- SILENT AND IN PAIN. Dude are you still thinking about her? NO but his phone background is still a picture of ex. Gets drunk, shows up at their house. Doesn't ring doorbell but sends a text. "Miss you". Doesn't cry, feels like no one will ever love them, this break up validated those feelings.

11. Tarquin- Trying to be friends in the aftermath. Falls into messy "fucking my ex but it means nothing" thinking it will change their mind. Has to go through heartbreak TWICE when they realize they won't get them back this way. Does have a hot girl summer glow-up though.

10. Emerie- Throws herself into work. Swears they don't care, spotify playlists are very suspicious. Invites you to bar but oh no its karaoke and double oh no, Emerie has queued up Kelly Clarkson's version of Happier Than Ever

9. Mor- D R U N K. Can party her way out of her feelings like its 2012. Too many one-night stands trying to forget they have feelings at all. Is not helping anything, does not stop.

8. Lucien- Fucking like he doesn't have feelings. Swears he'll never love again. Honestly, low key about the whole thing but VERY dramatic in his mind. Trying to project an aura of not caring, but very skittish about another relationship. Has to be psp psp psp'ed into the next one like a feral cat.

7. Vassa- Honestly, knows relationship was toxic but is still sad about it. Grieving through loud music and being, generally, a bitch. Apologetic when people back off. Just doesn't want to be alone. Hosts a lot of powerpoint nights to help her forget, develops a new hobby, and generally comes out of break-up a better person

6. Cassian- Sad for like, a week? Hitting the gym, working on his fitness. Gains are good, remembers he's hot...all is forgiven. Does have sex with one random against the brick of the bar on night to chase away his loneliness but generally not pining

5. Nesta- Also drinking and dancing but also cannot remember what that persons name was. Starting to think the breakup was just an excuse to party. Find out later she did the breaking up, just didn't bother to mention it.

4. Helion- One who got away means no one else can ever hurt him. That ex lingers and this new break up is easily shrugged off. Break up? Baby this was just a fling. Says it with a smile. No worries, no hard feelings. Already has someone new before break up even finished.

3. Feyre- New boyfriend in five minutes. Snaps her fingers, someone is already crawling at her feet. Can list everything he did wrong without tears in her eyes. Posts the most insane selfie, ex begs for her back. Feyre laughs with her friends later that night. Warned you she'd fuck your best friend, makes good on that threat. Ex emotionally scarred for years.

2. Eris- best way to get over someone is get under someone. Did you ever mean anything to him? Doesn't seem like it, he's already fucking that ex he told you not to worry about.

1. Amren- We were DATING? Genuinely had no idea.

#acotar lists #need a better tag for this #once again trusting the right people to find this #it is hard being the only person with the right opinions about these charactersa #my burden

[jamie4370]

First Post

I didn't want this to be a depressing one but here I am, with my thoughts. I am hopelessly, romantically in love with a girl that left the town I so desperately wanted to move back to. 7 years ago I had met this girl working at the same place as me. I always thought she was SO hot. I had a girlfriend at the time so I tried my best to stay out of trouble. I never cheated, but I did eventually break up with my then partner to be with this girl. I'm getting tired of calling her girl, so lets call her A.

A and I immediately slept with each other after she had spent an afternoon at one of my college house parties. I would have never guessed that they were into me and my craziness. A had long brown curly hair that always had hints of whatever shampoo and conditioner treatment she was on, I still remember slightly what it smelt like: it smelt like fresh laundry and it reminded me of sunshine. She has the coolest blue eyes with a green fringe around the center. A has a voice that has a previous smokers rasp, but the sweetest, melting, feminine voice that comes through that gave me chills. For the next three months we had sex, explored each others personalities and kinks. We watched seasons of Bob's Burgers from cover to cover all day in bed in between our classes and work. We had kept it from all of our coworkers because I was a manager and she was a level below me. We drank and partied together. We woke up together. It was the best time that I've had with anyone. Ever. I still remember what it was like to be next to each other under my cheesy camouflaged bedsheets that I had in college. We were in love but we didn't know how to say it to each other.

One July night, when I was alone: I had a knock at my door from my ex-girlfriend (she lived about 3 hours away so it was really weird that she was there). She confessed that she had missed me and professed their love for me right there. She said that she had wanted to have make-up sex. Me and my weak, mid-twenties, stupid, horny, self accepted. I thought that A would never go for me and what we had was plutonic, she wasn't telling me she wanted to be exclusive. What a god damn mistake.

I told A the next day. In tears and sitting on my bed for what felt like the last time, A confessed that she loved me and that she wanted to be with me. My heart immediately sank and I felt like I had unknowingly betrayed what she was trying to say this whole time. I was lost. I tried to break up with my ex-girlfriend again after two months in hopes that A would take me back. I tried to see it through with my ex. A said she did not have the time to deal with her emotions in time for us to be okay again. I never would have done what I did to have a shot with A and over the next 7 years we would have the skinniest of loves two people could ever have.

We constantly stalked each others social media pages. We made contact every now and again but it never felt like anything of substance. At a certain point when I had broken up with the partner that I had been seeing for five years, I would try to text A. No reply. I don't know why these feelings are so intense when we had only been together for 3 months. It felt natural for me to want to talk to her.

I felt even more hopeless and depressed. My life felt like I had spent the last 7 years waiting on something that had almost no chance of ever happening again. I always thought that if the universe gave me a sign to be with someone, it was with A. I hated myself. I hated who I was and I was never happy with anything that I did. Everywhere I went A came with me. I don't know what kind of mental instability this was but I found myself in the bathroom crying at parties and always feeling depressed at work. I was an empty vessel, drifting in space.

One day, I decided to sum up the courage to text A and see how they were doing for the last time. I thought I was going to text A and finally begin my journey on getting through all of this madness. I didn't think she was going to ever respond.

The next day she did text me back. It was like my dream came true, and at the last straw. I was bound for a happy relationship with the person I SO desperately longed for. We talked and decided to meet at a bar that we regularly go to. We talked and you could tell that we both were nervous. I tried to dress up a little and put on my favorite fragrance. We met and it was perfect.... Except the part where she said she was moving more than 8 hours away. I didn't care. I wanted to be with her. Even if it was for a few months. We kissed at the end and she admitted that she didn't want to let me go in that cold weather of February. I was in bliss on the hour car drive back to my old apartment.

For the next few months we started right where we had left off. A had looked a little different since the last time we had seen each other and they were a little self conscious. I didn't care. The person I love is back together with me. I was trying to focus on the present and the fact that we had what we wanted and it was beautiful. We learned our everchanging kinks and talked about what we had been doing the past few years. She said that she had worked at another bar that I would regular at. She then quit and became a nanny for this couple that payed her ok money. I told her that I had moved away to pursue an engineering career but that I'm moving back because I loved the city (kind-of true). It wouldn't be until later that I could get an apartment lined up for the time being, so it was an hour drive from where I was.

I could be myself around her and her to me. When the date of A's departure was rapidly approaching she kept making comments about moving and the plans that she had when she moved. Every time those words came out I would immediately turn to anger and resentment. I would say that A never cared about me and that she wanted to move away so that she could get away from our relationship. I had this blow-up reaction a few times until one day she asked me if what this was, was 'too much for me?'. I broke down and said yes. Of course I didn't want her to move. I fucking love her SO much. We had another mud fight of an argument that we said nasty things to each other. Finally, we had had enough. We stopped talking to each other April of this year. I tried calling A once more because I has having serious thoughts about cu**ing myself. No reply, so..... Who could have stopped me? I'm in my thirties and I still manage to bring up the high school days.

I think its getting better but I'm constantly surrounded by negativity in my life. My brother hates me, I can't see my dogs because I lashed out at the ex-girlfriend I am sharing them with, my grandmother and mother are having a serious conflict, I can't sleep, I cry constantly, I have a drinking problem, a nicotine problem, my bestfriend slept with my last girlfriend at my other bestfriends wedding, and on top of all that, I am transitioning genders. My hormones have not done me any favors over the past few months.

I talk to my therapist constantly about A still. I seem to think I'm being annoying by how much I talk about her. It's hard to rummage through all of the memories and try to think of the good when all it feels like some times is loss. Spectacular, unadulterated, fantastic loss. I miss her dearly. I don't know if she feels the same. I told here that she may not find me the way she left me. "My heart is big, but not big enough for the convenience of others." or some stupid quote like that.

I don't do much right now. I play video games, watch football, read, draw, blog, etc. I'm out of love to give right now. I have had my heart stomped on this past year, yet, I have accomplished so much. I bought my first house, I started a new job, I got medicated for depression and anxiety, I've been on hormones for 6 months now, I got my roof redone, and I won an award for one of the projects I've done! It all feels overshadowed by this lingering darkness that feels oddly familiar.

I feel very alone right now...

Maybe A will read this one day and move back to this town and take me off my feet.

Maybe I'm, getting ahead of myself.

#relationship #partnership #breakup #heartbreak #heartbroken #lovelost #the one that got away #lovers #i love her #i miss her #come back #transgender #transgirl #transisbeautiful #trans positivity

[darlingoddity]

Retrograde Survival Kit: Everything I’ve Ever Known

Happy Retrograde. Words we never hear. I was born during Mercury in Retrograde and I’m currently living near my Mercury transit line on my astrocartography map. So, Mercury is kind of my thing. 

So much so that I just slept for 28 hours to welcome it… I went to sleep Sunday around 11pm. Woke up around 1:30pm to watch some youtube videos, fell asleep during those again till 6pm… stayed up for about 4 hours and woke up at 7am on Tuesday. I can’t remember the last time I did something like this, but I highly recommend! I’ve been on a JOURNEY the last two days without leaving my bed except to poop and eat once.

In that time, I dreamt a lot. And cried. I woke up crying at one point. I cried about my ex—I swear at one point a corner of my sheets smelled like him and I missed being hugged. I cried about my mom and how we haven’t had a healthy relationship EVER and I”m not sure I’ll ever know what it feels like to be loved by her, even though I know in her own way she loves me very much.

I did a lot of breathing. I guess that’s the caveat—don’t do this unless you’ve been doing breathwork exercise for quite some time, at least 6 months. These episodes without breathwork can tunnel down into depression. I however, woke up wanting to start a blog.

I’m alone. I’ve been alone for over a year now, and kind of my whole life. People hurt, so I usually only get close to them in seasons. 

I was crying about these old pains that I feel are somehow trapped in my body, and I’d really like them to leave. And that’s when a voice—a voice? A thought? Spirit? You know, GOD maybe? When that More Knowing voice in my head reminded me: it isn’t your pain, it’s theirs. People spread their pain because it’s the only color they have to paint with. And how do we ever feel “ideal” love without knowing its hue. 

I’ve worked very hard my whole life not to hurt people, and I’m sure I have. And yet, I carry other people’s pain inside me. Why do I identify with their pain and not the kind I create?

Something symbolic happened Sunday, hours before my slumber, my mirror fell off my closet door. It’s like the world—YES THE WORLD—my own little precious world inside my Los Angeles apartment, was telling me to reflect in a new way. I had to put the mirror in a new place for the time being.

I think that’s what retrograde is: reflecting in a new way. Resting so we can notice what pain comes up while being in the position to see it, feel it, and give it breath and rest. 

I’m not sure I have ever known love the way I’ve dreamt of it. I’m not sure anything has ever lived up to my wild imagination, except maybe in pockets of time when it has actually superseded my expectations. I don’t know why pain is easier to remember than these ecstatic moments, which I know I’ve had, because I remember telling myself to “be there, in that moment and never let it go.” And then I step in shit or something and it’s gone immediately.  

Retrograde comes 3-4 times a year. On purpose. Like Mary Poppins trying to feed us a spoonful of medicine with maybe a little sugar… and the sugar to help it go down is REST. The memories, the pain, the retrograde will come back regardless. So you might as well rest, breathe, and cry. I think it helped me realize it was never all up to me to make these things go right. That if I sit some things out, I’m stronger for it. Because an uphill battle doesn’t change whether you take a break or not. The hill remains upright and uphill. And sleep and dreams are a gift. I spent a lot of time with my dad in my dreams. We shared a lot of cool moments like a car chase and eating at a diner he owned in this dreamland. We bonded. And even if it was a dream, I felt very loved and woke up refreshed at the beginning of retrograde. 

[coffeewithastraww]

And she finally chose to love herself.

Sometimes I wish I could just disappear and nobody would remember me. I wish I never existed so nobody could miss me. I wish I could go under the covers and not be. I’m dramatic and depressed and jealous and hateful and quite honestly the worst version of myself. I haven’t worked in months, and I avoid reality in the worst ways possible. I won’t get into the details but it’s not healthy. Everybody has rough patches but what if you just have a rough life? My life is ugly as fuck and I try to romanticize it how I can but man it’s as simple as it sounds. I’m in love with my ex boyfriend who doesn’t give a fuck. I drown myself in the same alcohol that came home from the bar every night when I was a kid. I cry into my stupid pillow and wake up with a red puffy face and put on my cheap makeup and hide behind my idiotic humor while everyone laughs and I go home and hate myself.

When does it end? When will I become someone I’m proud of? When will I take the initiative to get up and go to work and get my license and pay bills and make life easier for myself so I can be happy again? I know the motions. I know the steps. I have goals. I know how to achieve them. But I stop myself every time because this empty feeling swallows me whole.

I hold onto the emotions I’ve built around not being able to let you go and I’ve lost myself. But to be honest with you how do I know if I was ever found? I don’t know as if I’ve ever known myself and that’s so dramatic but is it true? Who the fuck is Alesha Jorges? I like books about love because it makes me feel like the hurt and anger in this world doesn’t exist. I like things that make me forget sometimes I feel like the saddest person in the world. I like writing and being able to express my thoughts straight from my head to whoever chooses to read it. I like fluffy animals, Kurt Cobain, Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow’s voice coinciding together like melted butter on a pancake, I like when it snows and it’s so quiet you feel like your the last person on earth, I like thick sweatshirts, four wheelers, singing in the shower to Olivia O’Brien, saying things that are brutally honest even though I know people are judging me because it separates me from everyone else. I like guitar solos that make you close your eyes and feel like your there with them focusing so hard on the frets, I like when cats chase their tails, candles that smell like cashmere, and I don’t even know what the fuck cashmere is? Is it a nut? Is it a cloth? Who cares. I like going super fast in a car and smoking a cigarette on 39 looking at all the houses I’m familiar with. I like finding expensive shoes for cheap, walking in the woods during the day, pulling back my bow and hitting the target perfectly, sitting on a tailgate with country music so loud you can’t hear anyone talking, music that makes you get goosebumps, hearing the smile in peoples voices when they talk about something they love, I like to draw, I like being in the kitchen, I like how I feel when I’m nervous around a boy, I like telling people my whole life story, over explaining myself, crying at movies, too many pillows on my bed, expensive makeup, when it’s raining and not storming so you can perfectly hear the rain hitting the roof, comedy specials and especially dark humor, I like having a coffee at target and being alone, and most importantly. I want to love my life again.

And I want to love my life again while being completely alone and I know I can because I have the ability to give myself everything I’ve ever wanted.

Depression sits in front of me and it feels like it will never move long enough for me to see that.

I hate everything I’ve made my life out to be because I let myself go the second it sits there again.

I forget that I can work alongside the pain that’s raised me, the hurt that’s weaseled its way into my life, the heartbreak that you created, and the heartbreak that I can’t get over.

Just because you break your own heart doesn’t mean you can’t fix it.

And today I look in the mirror and I feel like I’m going to be okay.

Climb the ladder and eventually you’ll be so high the things that hurt you can’t even reach you anymore