#i've been listening to too much taylor swift lately

[taegularities]

colour me in: blooming | jjk (m)

Summary: You're the flower blossoming in Jungkook's living room, no matter how relentless the rain. And you're the sun he tirelessly orbits — warm as a home.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; hints of angst, fluff overload, suggestive ➳ warnings: full jk pov!, fluff fluff fluff, but also crying, bits of insecurities, mommy and daddy issues, their friendddsss <3, oc's favourite blanket smells like him <3, his feelings for her are consuming him in a gorgeous way 🥺, grocery shopping 🍏 and then a housewarming party, jk chocolate chip nips appreciation (oc pinches them lol), horniness, implied sex + implied boner, sexual tension, flirting and teasing and bickering, yearning, convos about their relationship/life, cooking together hehe, jk is so… jk, kissing/making out, the ending ♡ ➳ word count: 15.6k ➳ a/n: domesticity is my favourite city and i never wanna leave lol. i've genuinely been enjoying fluff more than i ever thought i would. this chapter made me so damn happy and i hope it has the same effect on you guys, too <3 let me know how you liked it; feedback is always appreciated 🥺 also, there are lil sub-headings to avoid confusion with the timeline!! enjoy!! 🤍 ➳ a/n2: even though i am a tiny bit late… happy birthday @jkaxl. love you so much, axelle <3 ➳ listen to: daylight by taylor swift (ty anon <3) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

”Are you happy?”

“I’m… I’m adjusting to it all. It’s new. But so far I feel— relieved.”

“Okay.” He pauses. “I’m sorry I didn’t encourage that feeling earlier. But… you know. You found your way on your own, and somehow, I find that just as remarkable. If not so much more.”

“Thank you.”

Silence breaks the dialogue, but there are still shreds of unspoken words he’s not letting out yet. Right on the tip of his tongue, resting quietly; so you wait. Let your weary gaze slump to your lap, blinking until you hear a rustle and a—

“Do you want to come over sometime?”

You don’t know.

So you respond in just that uncertainty, “Maybe at some point? When it’s… not so overwhelming anymore.”

“I understand. Hey,” another break in his speech, “I’m proud of you.”

Your heart suspends for a fraction of a moment, but you feel the seething, searing pain. Fresh, clumping up your throat.

“…Thank you.”

THE SUNDAY AFTER THE PRESS CONFERENCE

When Jungkook locks the door, the apartment is quiet, but the living room light still glowing.

Still fired up and hot, the cool back of his hand pats his warm neck and cheek. Your name threatens to tumble off his tongue, but an oddly calm feeling advises against it. And as he carries his bag into the living room, setting it down next to a big flower pot you so wanted, he sees why.

Because you’re curled up on the couch, temple against the back of it, legs pulled in. Your favourite blanket — that you swear constantly smells like him — is draped half over you, falling off one of your shoulders.

You’re sound asleep. 

Jungkook recognises the pout even from afar; lets his eyes drift from your face to the hand peeking out of the blanket. Brushing a piece of paper that is holding on for dear life, attempting not to slip off your lap.

What if he never moved? If he kept staring?

Back in college, one of his dearest professors used to say, “You know it’s art when even blinking feels like a waste of time. You don’t want to spend a second not looking at it.”

That very semester is still a major component of Jungkook’s memory. Ever since, he’s seen a handful and a dozen and a hundred pieces that matched the words once uttered.

Just, never as much as today.

The sky has obscured since he left two hours ago — he wonders how fast that time passed for you. Either way, he reckons you didn’t rest until your body forced you to. Because it’s not anywhere near bedtime; but the changes in your life constantly add to your exhaustion.

He wanted to help. He did all morning before you sent him away, arguing that, “You’re already doing too much. And you hate paperwork anyway!”

To which he expressed, “But I don’t hate you or having you here!”

“Just go!” You reached to his left nipple, poking it, and he, wearing a frisky smirk, instinctively threw a protective hand over it. “The muscles demand your attention desperately. Just don’t look at other girls’ butts, ‘kay?”

He chuckled.

You made it sound like a life-altering goodbye to a year-long journey instead of a brief trip to the gym. He nodded solemnly, nearly saluting as he agreed, “You’re right. Gonna make sure I’m able to crush you extra hard.”

But it seems you crushed and knocked yourself out well enough. And that after he sent out various emails with you, drafting and crafting a battle plan, googling salient issues and their solutions, and writing down lists of everything still left to do before you can actually move in.

The two of you are lucky the landlord is laid-back. Usually, they don’t let anyone move in so quickly; demand a couple months. And you’ll already be settling here officially the very next.

Not that it makes any difference.

You already spend your dusks and dawns here, clinging, reluctant to go home. And he won’t tell you to; he’d be a fool to. Plus, he hates his bed cold.

Jungkook’s steps are slow, muscles painful to the touch. He sweeps his tresses back as he nears your slumbering, balled up form, soon pressing a hand into the arm of the couch. Suppressing a groan, he leans in; frees your closed eye from a lock before he plants a kiss next to it.

You stir with the softest flutter of your eyelashes, just a teeny tiny bit.

God. You tilt his world off its axis.

“Baby,” he whispers.

It must be pulling you out of the remnants of your doze, because your muscles awaken, corners of your lips twitching. The movement of your legs finally pushes the paper off the blanket, and Jungkook hurries to catch it before it can drift to the floor; places it on the table.

He kneels; and for the briefest, smallest moments, you flinch when your pupils eventually align with his. Then, relaxation floods you anew, and you grip the blanket, sliding it back over you — only for it to glide down again.

You smile — a tired beam, accompanied by a sigh. Not quite wide, because you’re not fully there yet, but still so genuine. Stretching a little, you murmur, “You’re back.”

“And you’re still working,” he scolds, albeit cushioning his words by bringing a fingertip to your jaw. Flicking affectionately, softly. “Did you eat?”

“Mhmmm. But it’s—” Your hand taps for something, moving under the blanket; and a second later, you’re lighting up your phone, squinting at it. “It’s not late. Gonna eat with you again. I’m not that tired anymore.”

As if on cue, you yawn, tears of weariness collecting. You interrupt it with a gentle snicker and promise, “I mean it.”

The lopsided smile emerges on his features quickly. The drowsy, vulnerable tone in your voice caresses his heart like a gust… but the meaning behind it doesn’t pass by him so fast.

“Don’t overwork yourself, okay?” he repeats for the fifth time today alone; it’s become a constant habit. A reminder, like clockwork. “The body knows when you do.”

“No. I feel great.”

“Just. Be nice to yourself, munchkin.”

“I am,” you defend, attempting to stress the verb, but not quite getting there, “I am. Don’t worry so much.”

An impossible demand; but how would he explain it to you?

Despite the shake of his head, he still gives in, “Okay. I’ll shower and be back in a sec, yeah?”

He waits for your confirmation until you hum in unintelligible agreement, moving back in to plant a kiss on your forehead. Rushes to the shower, washes off today’s effort.

Wet hair strands pushed back, he finds you shuffling and organising the papers you read and filled in today, placing them neatly in the middle of the table. You look more awake now, delivering a content smile before heading to the kitchen with him.

Only, your mind might not be entirely unfogged yet — because your movements are slow. Different from how he handles the stir fry that the two of you cooked for lunch together.

You were proud of your creation — told Jungkook how you’re still far from the skills he possesses, but not bad to start with and improving every day. Seasoning better, understanding how to cut faster without hurting yourself in the process.

It’s lovely, watching the contentment spread in your eyes.

Yet, Jungkook always makes sure to stand close to your back, hands lifted, persistently ready to salvage the situation if need be.

But right now, judging from your clearly burdened brain, he bestowed a relatively simple task upon you. And you look so cute doing it — bun all messy, shoulders slumped, sporting (after stealing) his joggers since they’re so ridiculously comfortable, so get your own.

He side-eyes you every now and then, forbearing a chuckle; but when your lower lip juts in concentration, he can’t help but sling an arm around your waist. The jug containing the iced tea shakes, and you hold the glass carefully, voicing a little, “Oh— I… Kook.”

You’re wide-eyed and caught off guard; blinking when he tilts his head and leaves a kiss under your ear. 

You raise your shoulder at the tickling sensation, and when you call his name again, your voice is reprimanding. But he could pick out the endearment even in his sleep.

That’s how it goes every hour of the day; sweet and new ever since you started frequenting his place even more often than before.

Something has occurred since the press conference. Two days only — but the universe has changed. Maybe it has expanded faster than ever and birthed a couple billion more stars, made even the nights brighter. He doesn’t know.

All he does recognise is that unnamed, newfound feeling spreading in his chest, and he’s been unblurring it. Bit by bit. Letting it take on a form that will soon consume him. He’s sure.

And soon, there’ll be a fitting word and definition matching this phenomenon, too.

It’s triggered by even the smallest things.

Like by the sound of your steps when you walk through the apartment. Or by the way you hum your favourite song all the time, unconsciously; then singing the line you hold dearest to your heart before resuming to the hum.

Trust in me when I say…

Or even… by how you’re facing him an hour later, satiated and cross-legged on the bed as you finish up today’s work.

You’ll have to notify the bank and whatnot of your move soon, so you need to brainstorm the relevant institutions that the new address and information will go to. It shouldn’t take too long; you’re diligent, so you’ll just be noting down all numbers next to the places you need to contact and then crash.

Jungkook soon takes over that task, lips moving as he reads the words, writes them down. And amidst the end-of-the-day chore, you crane your neck to read, and tell him, “You have such pretty handwriting.”

“So do you. I didn’t know you made circles over your lower case I’s,” he looks closer to where you scribbled, tapping the pen against a letter, “and awwh. The curves of the T’s!”

You giggle before you add, “I’ve heard a pretty handwriting symbolises inner beauty, by the way.”

“Ohh, so we’re both beautiful.”

“No doubt. We need to take more pictures… we look great together.”

That’s what’s been filling the hours of these days, too, Jungkook supposes. The airy, light atmosphere within the four walls he’s come to share with you. Laughter and shared glances, despite the stack awaiting you — because it signifies far more than paperwork.

Which is why it surprises him when a subtle switch occurs, suddenly and unannounced.

When he looks at your fingers lifting a paper, he can’t say what you’re seeing, but your ardour falters a little. Crooning dying, expression not matching the smile on the pictures you spoke of.

Delicately, you trace the edges of the document before putting it back down, aligning it with the rest of the pile. Pushing the whole thing to the side, you sigh, and he, a silent observer up to this moment, asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’re thinking about something. And I don’t like it when you’re quiet like this.”

“Oh… It’s nothing.” The shrug is subtle and unconvincing, and the tight shutting of your lips so telling to him. He senses the tension before you finally reveal, “Dad called today. And…” He waits; another shrug. “It’s nothing. He just asked how I was holding up. And that he’s sorry things had to escalate on Friday.”

Ah. Odd.

Jungkook would never say it to you: Because he has never been one to talk families down, sever a bond by voicing his opinion, even if the relationship’s already hanging by a thread. No… he’d never say it to you.

But.

There’s a dull realisation in the back of his mind; and it evokes quiet anger in him. That… there was always a potential anchor inhabiting the same house as you, but never serving as one.

Hidden behind your mother’s back, letting it all pass — probably for you to build character.

Jungkook has always assumed that his dad did just that, too. Throwing him into the world without support, letting a seemingly irresponsible teenager, and then young adult, experience hardships in order to learn how to deal with them.

In contrast to your father, his dad wouldn’t apologise to him… yet, in the end, morally and emotionally, both your families fucked up big time.

“Oh…”

You nod, elaborating, “He wanted to know if I was going to visit him. But I need a bit of time.”

Right… thinking about it, you haven’t seen your father in a while. And your mother hasn’t blown up your phone since Friday evening — when you came out of the glass building, with equally glassy yet hopeful eyes.

You truly must have let off steam in there for her to back away.

“Is that why you were saying you’ll be rushing to the house after work?”

Because as far as he recalls, you’ve been talking about gathering your stuff immediately after working hours — or on Saturday mornings. Never any other time. Because you know they won’t be at home then.

“Yeah,” you confirm, “I feel horrible neglecting him like that, because he seems to be glad that I’m happy, but…”

Your lips point downward; you clear your throat, but it doesn’t hide the tremble in your voice, “I just wish he’d defended me sometimes. Dunno. Maybe he did and I just don’t know about it? And it never worked? It’s what I like to think.”

God…

“Because,” you continue your vent, “he was strict but not like her, and… Sometimes he did recognise bullshit when he saw it. I’d hear them talk and he wouldn’t always see eye to eye with her. But a bit more open support would’ve been cool, you know?”

Shit, how it angers Jungkook.

The knot in your throat; how you avert his gaze; the looming tears. It all angers him.

He moves his hand to your knee, keeping his voice and heart steady for you. Simply uttering, “Baby…”

“And… and then today he suddenly seemed… I don’t know.” You take a deep breath, shaking your head. Your blinking fastens, and you vehemently dodge Jungkook’s eyes. “I dunno how casually he said it, but he told me he was proud.”

The way you emphasise the word… as if it’s a stranger to you, like you’re trying it out…

Jungkook sighs, heart and chest heavy, muttering so kindly—

“Oh, sweetheart… Ah, come here—”

His palm shoves the papers aside some more, uncaring, and brings you closer to his body. Yearning for your embrace, he shifts with you until your legs wrap around each other. Fingers slither to your chin to raise it, and then pinch your cheek adoringly.

The bedroom light falls into your sparkling eyes, shiny with the dampness. You’re not crying, but you sniffle for a moment.

“Of course he is,” he whispers, keeping your face upright, “what’s there not to be proud of? You’re so fucking cool.”

“…You think?”

“Of course I do,” he repeats, “you’re so inspiring and smart and funny and awesome. I’m the proudest of you, in fact.”

The heat increases beneath his palms as your cheek smoulders, pupils promptly softening. As if the outline of your irises is blurring, relinquishing the harder, unwanted emotions.

“I could probably live with just that,” you respond, managing a tender laugh and mixing it with your sniffles. “But…”

But perhaps, the heavy heart won’t get entirely lighter just yet. And Jungkook’s turns half blue at the same time as yours.

“I wish my mom could react the same way instead of being so… stubborn. I mean, it’s a good thing that I want to stand on my own two feet! And aside from work — she also saw me in the summer, and she knew how I felt without you. She sees how I feel now with you, too, and yet.”

You puff out some air, as if you’d been dying to rant; and he imitates the release of a quiet breath, but for wholly other reasons.

Because…

Along with the melancholy drenching your voice, the guilt shoots an arrow to his heart. Guilty about this damn summer; about the days he nearly gave up on you. If he could encase your fractured soul in a quick cure…

“I’m sorry she keeps hurting you, baby. And… I’m sorry you cried. Being sad over a loser like me was the last thing you needed, so…”

He’s half joking; lifting the corner of his lips. You seem to know, too, because you match his smile — still pledging, “Being sad sucked, but… you’re right here now and. I do need you.”

It’s so easy for you to tinge his entire being in a bright pink. Because somewhere in the depths of his mind, he admits that he wanted to hear this. That he wants you to need him as much as he needs you.

“And I’m right here to stay,” he promises. “Even if she doesn’t. Okay?”

“Yeah… yeah. But maybe someday she can be proud, too.”

It’s fucking you up more than he thought. Probably more than you thought.

“I’m sure,” he guarantees, “some people accept their mindsets as the only truth, angel, but one day she’ll come around.” You only nod. So he adds, “I’ll fix this with you.”

“Fix it?”

“The issues you deal with. And the ones I deal with. You and I together, okay?”

Your motions are slow. The nod is barely one; maybe because his hands refuse to establish yet another distance to your skin. And maybe because you’ve tired yourself out once and for all. The slight slouch is telling; your body needs some rest.

Enough with the papers.

“You know… somehow, this excites me,” he says. The grin emerging confuses you for a while; the flicker in your eyes is as delightful as the moment. “Pulling out all the stops and making things better with you, I mean. I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.”

And he’d know. Because if he’d been comfortable enough, he would’ve long ago; he had the chance to. Yet, the courage never surfaced — until with you.

His touch drops from your face to the side of your neck, shaking you gently before he says, “You excite me all the time.”

Shouldn’t be news to you — bearing his unceasing kisses and everlasting words in mind, his bliss is difficult to miss. There’s barely any containing it around you.

And maybe you know what he means; because judging from your dreamy smile, you can’t seem to muster any self-control either. Feeling the joy bubbling, growing, simmering in the middle of your stomach until it explodes and you—

Wrap your arms around his neck abruptly. Attacking him until balance abandons him, falling back onto the bed before you land on top of him. The hug is crushing, your body pushing into his with every sliver of fondness you can summon.

He could say something. Blurt more admissions dipped in honey. But he doesn’t question it; doesn’t comment on it. Only relishes the silence and your warm cheek against his chest, cuddling in.

And sighs in contentment.

A WEEK LATER

You’re messing up the structured system he established for himself.

The groceries are scattered in the cart; instead of playing Tetris with them, as he usually does, you’re piling them up randomly, unaware of the mess.

Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell you that the pack of eggs isn’t supposed to be balancing on top of other products like this. Because holy shit, you are buzzing. Not because you don’t know how to grocery shop, but because of the conversation this morning.

”I've got a whole list in my head. We’ll need a shit ton to make this work tonight.”

You were taming your hair as you listened; watching your reflection follow your movements — and as he readied himself for the day, Jungkook watched from afar.

You’d decided that for now, a week was enough to mourn the loss of whatever familial bonds could’ve been. Just last night you told him that starting this new life means an opportunity to gradually leave your sorrow behind, even if it takes some time.

And in celebration of the new arc you’re so joyfully approaching, you’d decided to host a housewarming of some sorts.

Jungkook’s friends already know his place; but the pronoun has changed. This time, you want them to step into your apartment, too.

Securing a hair strand with a clip, you asked, “Do we have it all here?”

“Not everything. Gotta go grocery shopping later.”

“Ohhh…”

Your fingers floated to the edge of the wash basin. You held it in your grip, leaning over it a little, staring into your own eyes quietly. He checked with another step closer to the bathroom, glimpsing at the expression in the mirror.

Calm, but thinking.

“What is it?” he asked, pulling his jeans’ zipper close.

“Uhh. Do you need help?”

“You should rest. You’re already doing so m—”

“No, no, I mean…” You let the sink go, folding your fingers. Inhaling for just a moment when your eyes fell on his bare torso. “I want to go grocery shopping with you. It’s Saturday and I have nothing to do until tonight. So… Please don’t go without me?”

The big eyes and saccharine question went straight to his heart; like one of Cupid’s pointy, sharp arrows targeting the exact middle of the organ. What else could he have done other than breaking into a breathy laugh — wide grin building a lively start to the morning.

“Of course. I’ll wait until you’re ready then.”

You raised a triumphant, tight fist, and he shook his head in delight. Diminished the distance between your bodies, a hand pressing into the back of your head before pulling you to his lips and placing a kiss to your forehead. Right before—

“Hey— ouch?”

It didn’t hurt; but he still felt the fingers pinching his tiny nipples — and heard your cheeky, “Why are they always hard? And why are you always shirtless, Jeon?”

He didn’t argue that changing into outdoor clothes didn’t count. Instead, the bright golden light you cast in his mind distracted him, taking him back.

You’d said that to him before; everything has changed since then.

“Why are you smiling like this?” you ask, holding a pack of four yellow apples in one hand, red ones in the other.

“Hm?” Jungkook rubs a hand over his cheek, feeling the glee in his countenance before flattening the dimples. “It’s nothing. I’m just liking how much fun you’re having.”

“I am! But most of all because I can’t wait to cook with you today.”

Your words instantly conjure pictures of a potential evening; idyllic ones mixing with utter chaos. Rushing and cutting and serving — but for one of the very first times together. Only milestones ahead.

A higher pitched gushing threatens to fall out of Jungkook, right here in the fruit aisle. But instead, you raise your hands again, asking, “Which ones?”

“Hmmm… neither. Let’s get the green ones.”

You let your arms fall, a finger pointing towards him, and say, “Ohhh. Good call.”

And then you proceed to complicate the cart labyrinth again. What a savagery. Jungkook waits until you’ve turned around and works on reorganising again, following his system. Then, he thinks — this could be draining, but it’s not.

Because you keep each other entertained. And neither of you bothers about the gapes you receive.

Not when he leans over the cart, shoving it in teeny tiny steps; continuing when he realises it makes you laugh.

Or, when you cheer once you find something the two of you like that nobody else enjoys; accompanied by exclaimed Ohhhhs and Haaas. And not as you argue when you find something to disagree about.

It seems that you do not dig dates, and he, the friendly omnivore, takes playful offence in that. He teases you across half the supermarket until you turn the tables, picking up an eggplant and interrupting him with a,

“Look! This is you.”

The roll of his eyes only veils his amusement a little, he’s sure. Because your enthusiasm remains steady, including the impish pull of his beige Supreme beanie over his eyes and a kiss to his cheek that paints the spot in a rosy dust.

Pointing to a glass of honey, Jungkook soon fights back, “And this is you.”

“…This is way too sweet and I do not know how to counter it.”

“Romance tends to make people speechless, darling.”

Your expression resembles an ellipsis; whether you’re out of answers or overwhelmingly affected by the selection of his words, he doesn’t know. He knows he’d short circuit if you ever said that to him.

“Fair,” is what you settle on, though, “wouldn’t I know what brain outages your romantic ass causes.”

You’re the model definition of a cheesy, movie-esque couple. Taehyung and Eun differ from the nature the two of you showcase; they already threatened to bring paper bags in case Jungkook and you overdo it tonight.

Can’t blame them. The world is certainly pink-tinted when you bicker and jest at the register; or when you hurry through an Ikea — courtesy of your last minute plan to buy plants — to make it home and cook in time.

Just this morning, you were daydreaming about the concept of furniture retailers and how such shops allow building a home with the most special person.

And then, as if wanting to clarify your sentiments, you turned in the car, facing him as you struggled with the belt, just to say, “Which is you for me. I’m building a home with you.”

Jungkook’s legs still melt into a puddle whenever he remembers the softness in your words, and the puppy gaze you threw as you finally leaned back in your seat.

Which is why it’s such a shame that the clock is ticking so relentlessly.

Because your initial elation turns into disapproval only for today as you wade through the labyrinthine, time-consuming design the store is so popular for. Trying to keep up with Jungkook’s pace and hastening across the rooms.

And even then, neither of your laughter ceases; you turn the most stressful situations into deep solace. The pressure soon gives way to a calm satisfaction the moment your apartment door opens.

You set up the few plants you brought; some under the window, some on the desk in the bedroom, right next to the Beauty and the Beast rose, and a jade plant in the living room. For good luck, you said.

And then, after resting for five minutes and abandoning all further breaks, you start work in the kitchen. Which proves as cooperative as he thought — that is, until you get into a friendly argument about whether to do the dishes now or later.

“One of us keeps cooking. The other washes up what we don’t need anymore,” Jungkook explains, repeating it over and over.

To which you keep defending, “Or. One cooks one dish. The other handles the second. And we finish cooking faster and then do the dishes together.”

His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, and he whines, “It won’t make much of a difference!”

“Well, if it doesn’t, then we could do either!”

“BUT… it might get crowded if we work at the stove at the same time, babe—”

“You just don’t trust me with th—”

“Keep yelling at me like that, and—” Jungkook interjects, and you wince a tiny bit; but he continues a mere, barely lasting moment later, “and I swear I’ll kiss you.”

Beat of silence. Your eyebrows are still furrowed. And then, amidst the agitation, you erupt into laughter. Blend it with the chortle he can’t suppress, either.

To Jungkook, the sound is akin to a song — and he could spin the record all day long.

Spoiler warning — you do not kiss. But the lively chuckles and free-spirited conversations dye the atmosphere and flavour it. Its sweetness feels like a feathery kiss, too.

And whether it’s that very unlimited sense of familiarity, gradually growing, or your unwavering teamwork at last — you’re surprised when the late afternoon transforms into an early evening, a dimly blue, cloudy sky already changing into different shades of grey.

Time passed fast; but the hour-hand on the clock still hasn’t quite moved to where you’re waiting for it to settle. Because back in the living room, you’re still an hour early. Your guests are invited for around six, but you can’t say when they’ll actually show up.

Seems you wrapped up work at a convenient time. Better now than late.

You kiss your teeth in the middle of the room, scanning it for something to do. It’s clean; pretty. Plants set up, table wiped, cushions neatly set on the couch. So you remark, “We were so stressed, I didn’t think we’d be finished already.”

Jungkook, already plummeting onto the far end of the couch, pats the spot next to him, saying, “That’s good. Gives us a bit of time to relax. Anything you wanna do?”

But you don’t sit down yet. You watch your manspreading boyfriend lean back, big inked hand wrapping around the remote control. You look at the open button of his shirt, and the singular hair strands; the side parting. The mole under his lips and the big eyes.

He just doesn’t notice it until the lack of a response continues.

“Huh?” he voices again, finger stopping over the power button before his eyes flit back to you.

You look deep in emotions and distracted; if he could guess, then even… ferociously yearning. He waits with a dancing heart until you admit boldly, “There’s plenty I can think of that I wanna do right now.”

You fold your hands behind your back, chest out a little, legs crossing. You curl your lower lip in, nibbling at it. It affects him, and you know. He sucks in air, a hand on his thigh. Blinking at you, and then poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

He leaves out a puff of a tiny laugh, shaking his head a bit. Nearly succumbing to the thought that…

Perhaps there’s an activity you can indulge in before they come, right—

Wrong.

Jungkook, no matter how tempted, throws another glance at the clock, and argues, “Stop thinking of eggplants. They’ll probably be here soon, so your smooth-talking is not allowed to work!”

Your body relaxes, back in its prior position; you pout for a second. “Fine. Then I’ll get dressed before anything else.”

Jungkook sighs in relief — close. Way too close. Tonight might just stretch his jeans if you keep this up; his blood is already abandoning his brain and putting its attention elsewhere.

But you’re well-mannered in the company of guests, right?

Only one way to find out — an hour to go.

Jungkook heaves his body off the couch merely ten minutes later.

And maybe even that was too early.

Maybe he should’ve waited for you to trudge out of the bedroom; or should’ve gotten his clothes and changed somewhere else. Because when he follows your steps to find a new attire for himself, too, you’re sitting at the very edge of the bed, dress already on.

It’s not too posh; rather casual. A green cotton one, pulled up to your hip because you’re dragging transparent tights over your legs. A patch of your thighs is still visible; part of your ass on display where your panties don’t reach. Skin far too empty without his kiss on it.

He doesn’t know how you do it; but within a moment, you elicit a plethora of emotions in him. Burning desire; comfortable warmth; cosy affection. You look so cuddled in in that autumn dress.

Pretty. So gorgeous; you’ll drive him insane.

But the craze doesn’t manifest in hunger this time, but gathers in a single breath, let out in a sigh. Which… makes you recoil. Your hand briefly bolts to your chest, eyes rolling, head shaking. You murmur a quiet, “Babe…” before resuming the task.

Jungkook watches as you lift your body to pull your tights over your ass and the dress back into place, and then reaches out a palm to you; urging yours to settle in it.

Still trapped in a cube of daydreams, he tugs you in until your grace radiates toward him, and then tells you—

“My baby is the prettiest ever. Ever, ever.”

You take his fawning with glowing cheeks, smile so unbelievably worth being alive as you answer, “Your baby isn’t sure if she deserves this so suddenly, but… thankful either way.”

Your voice is an endearing mix of soft and enthusiastic. The combination that breathes life into a room. You’re so…

“God,” he says, squeezing your hand, lifting his other fingers to touch the hem of your dress. Fixing it albeit already perfectly sitting. Then looks up; eyes dropping to your lips. “Maybe you were right. Want to kiss you stupid right now.”

And he would; he wouldn’t hesitate if you didn’t move a palm to his face, pressing a thumb to his plush mouth. Telling him, “Nope, too late. The make up wasn’t easy to do. And dark lipstick is hard to remove.”

Fuck, not when he’s kissing it off…

“I…” Gulp. “Fine, princess.” He removes your hand from his face, towing you back into the living room. “Then, what do we do now? Movie?”

“Nah… It’s so hard to stop watching. Gonna kick them out again if we start now. What about… hm.”

Your eyes dart across the room, and Jungkook takes the moment to suggest, “Or we could have some soju already? Or wine, beer, whatever?”

“Or…”

You wait. Jungkook follows your gaze to the back of the room, surprised when it falls on a peeking canvas behind another big plant pot. Oh — that’s still there. He never took it out, and neither did you. Protecting his privacy, probably.

But perhaps it’s lighting a bulb over your head, because you soon ask, “Or. Wanna give me a house tour?”

“A house tour? Don’t you know every corner already?”

“Yeah but,” you shrug, rounding the couch with him in tow, “I wasn’t always here. You organised the place the way you wanted to when you moved in, so you’d know it better. Like…” You point to the turned painting, “What’s that?”

“That’s… Remember the drawing I had in my notebook? Of Gureum?”

Quite a while ago. You visited him for the first time in Namjoon’s studio back then; recalled it at the exhibit, too. Crazy how sentiments have changed. From a silly play-pretend game to damaged souls to this…

You nod.

“Yeah so,” he continues, “I painted him on a bigger surface.”

Your eyes shoot open, genuine interest in them. “Oh? Can I see?”

“Of course.”

It’s not his best work, honestly; but it is close to his heart. A piece he still wants to improve and feature in his own exhibit once it rolls around. The colouring process will be interesting; it’s barely an outline yet.

But you seem to perceive it with utter fascination and sheer joy. Because the moment Jungkook heaves the canvas up, turning it for you to see, your chin drops. You gasp, mumbling under your breath, “You’re kidding!”

“…Do you like it?”

“It’s so cute! This is…” You lean in, taking in every detail; commenting on it. “He’s a fluffball! Oh my god, the tongue peeking out. He looks so happy.” When you look up into his eyes, Jungkook’s heart does a thing; and his cheeks the other thing. “You painted him from memory?”

“Mmh, maybe a couple details? But I got most of him from a picture my aunt sent me a while ago. He’s been looking much older these days and I wanted to capture him before he ages even more. Made me miss him so much.”

“Awwh, Kook…” You pout. “I really want to meet him one day.”

He looks at you with something knowing and so telling in his gaze; he feels it unveil through his own stare. The knowledge he possesses about something, and that you don’t.

You might notice hints of it, but you don’t question it. Listening when he responds, “You will. He really is a fluffball and remembers me even after months and years of distance.”

“I love him already.” You lift, straightening your back. Watching as Jungkook sets the painting back before you add, “Okay. House tour. What else?”

“Hmm. Let’s see. Come.” He leads you the short way to the cupboard, and you follow in tiny steps, like an explorer running from one treasure to another. So exhilirated. So fucking cute. “Look, these— and don’t laugh, these are precious to me.”

“Laugh?”

“…These,” he opens the cupboard doors, reaching to the far back, behind some decoration; and pulls out a deck of cards. “Are my Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I used to collect them long ago, but I’m never throwing them away. Also—”

Your lips are parted, your eyes focused. Eyebrows shooting up gently, delighted when he takes out another small object from the back.

“My Jiraiya figure that I got for my tenth birthday.”

“Holy shit… I really never bothered looking in hidden corners.” Yeah… but now that you are, you’re making this place your own, too. No, it already is yours, the way he is. He swoons at the thought. “This is so cool. Why would I laugh?!”

“Ah… Were you a Naruto fan?”

You tilt your head. “A little. More into Detective Conan, though.”

Jungkook wonders… How foolish might his smile be looking right now?

“You… keep surprising me, angel,” he says — and you seem to like the praise.

Because you light up, forefinger touching his chest as you reiterate, “See? The house tour wasn’t a bad idea at all! Look at us tracking back the path of our souls, too.”

Jungkook can’t help but chuckle. You’re a breath of fresh air to be around; so incredibly tender when you’re yourself. After all those weeks, you’re finally back to who he used to know. Not as sad anymore.

Never sick of the hand-holding, he grips your palm again, voice hushed when he orders, “Follow me, quick!” The mysterious journey leads you to the closet next; back to the quiet bedroom as he playfully shushes you. “I haven’t worn them in a long time, so you won’t know, but… Look, because the secret's out.”

You crane your neck to see what he’s referring to. And when you do, you coo and laugh straight away. Endlessly enraptured when he claims, “Wahh. They were my super-favourites.”

Iron Man socks. Obviously worn a hundred times; so, so him.

His bunny teeth flash in all their glory when he smiles, dimples out and corners of his eyes crinkly. He feels you hold his hand tighter, and you pick the most supportive tone when you say, “You need to start wearing them again! It’s so sweet when you’re geeky.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He stuffs them back, though not to the very bottom anymore; places them on top for easy access. And then, he continues, “Okay. One more thing for the glorious house tour, and we’re done. It’s another important sight, actually.”

“Ah. Oh?”

Barely a couple seconds later, you’re back to where the trip started. Following suit when he kneels near the table; swift beam spreading over your face when he clears his throat and narrates, “This… Is where I painted on you. Not on another medium, but I painted on you. Remember?”

You must. He rarely abandons paper and his usual colours like that; but you were the most marvellous masterpiece he ever covered. The most outstanding canvas he’s ever drawn on…

“I do.”

Your gaze falls sideways; are you remembering the same heart on your waist that he does? And how he touched it; smeared it under the shower water. How your back pressed into his chest, unknown what feelings you truly harboured, but never failing to showcase his own care to you.

The kisses on your shoulder. The whispers in your ears. The plea for you to stay.

“Of course I do. It was so calming,” you add, “and so beautiful.” You touch the soft carpet, plucking at its tiny fibres. “You consider it a sight at Jeon manor?”

He snickers at your choice of words, but then inhales, and very sternly says, “Yeah. We also had sex here, so it’s forever tainted. I remember it felt… like… we should do it ag—”

“Now it’s you saying these things!” You move a fist to his bicep, pushing against it lightly. “Be serious. Be romantic! It’s not the time to make me want you.”

“Oof, hey… For the record, I was being romantic! And also, I only want you more when you’re being sweet,” he rubs the spot you grazed; he barely felt it, “but seriously. I still remember everything I felt for you. And how crazy you drove me… and how vulnerable you were.”

You’re still stroking the fur of the carpet as you look into his eyes; and he sees a molten puddle in yours. Only one side of your lips lifts, but the softness in your voice is genuine, “I think I still am. Just a lot safer than before.”

“…Good. Me too.”

And that’s all.

That’s all his mind comes up with, because all the words and infatuation are locked in his heart, moving to his fingertips when he inches closer. He raises them to your chin. Knees near yours and close the yawning distance until your lips are a whisker away.

Funny — how his strong chest holds a feeble heart. Bursting and aching, full and yearning.

If he could, he’d stay here with you forever, just like that.

But. The two of you have a party to host.

And the suddenly ringing phone reminds you of it. Makes you flinch until your noses and foreheads touch, and you laugh, rubbing them as you tap the couch for the device. The two of you lean against the sofa, cosy on the carpet as you pick up.

He hears Eun’s voice announce through the phone, “We’re all here. Just a warning, because you better not be naked.”

You shoot a glance toward Jungkook. He snorts, and you start, “Why would we…”

“‘Cause we’re early for once. Taehyung didn’t need as much time with his hair today. So be prepared.”

Jungkook nods in confirmation. Taehyung usually needs to be told an earlier time when invited to an event or get-together.

There are sounds in the background, and he readies himself to register another voice. But not a second later, the doorbell chimes. Guess the two of you will have to wait with the bare devotion. 

Because for now, it’s time to indulge the gang. Let them stream in with vibrant greetings, wrapped gifts, endless booze and sweets as irresistible as you.

Jimin is the only guest coming in a little later, rushing straight from his shift. And Jungkook recognises quickly that he’s not Jimin’s first pick for conversation after a timid handshake and parting of ways.

There’s no enmity between them; Jungkook reckons it’s more the awkwardness from the Blue Night still lingering between Jimin and him. Maybe even some leftover guilt about how he used to perceive the younger man.

At least, it’s strange when he, eventually, does take a seat on the couch, separated from Jungkook only by a healing Yoongi. You’re busy talking to Eun, and Taehyung has escaped to the bathroom. Yoongi maintains a healthy atmosphere with casual talks and soft jokes.

But even if somewhat reluctantly, it seems that Jimin is at least trying when he leans back on the couch, enabling a better view to Jungkook as he asks, “Did you paint that one?”

Jungkook follows the finger pointing at the wall next to the window; nothing too out of the ordinary. Just colourful flowers. It’s okay. Better this than nothing to warm up to each other.

Turning on the couch, Jungkook waves a hand in denial as he explains, “Ah, no, no. She bought it because she thought it’s cute.”

“But you could paint that, too,” Yoongi argues, followed by Jungkook’s shy, “I guess.”

“Ohh, okay, okay. Well, since we’re talking about it. Even if you didn’t paint it,” Jimin says, “been wanting to tell you that I loved your exhibit stuff. Uhm, Eun showed me pictures. Hope that’s okay.”

That’s surprising. Jungkook considers himself gifted in this sense, but— having someone actually boast about his work for him makes him feel… accomplished? Appreciated.

No wonder you hold your friends in such high regard.

“Yeah! Of course. Thank you, Jimin.”

“It’s a pretty place, by the way.”

Yoongi wiggles a finger back and forth with an agreeing nod, snacking away, a quiet listener for the time being. There’s something amusing about it; makes Jungkook smile as he tells Jimin, “Thanks. And I’m glad you could come. Can imagine work’s a lot, so…”

“Yeah. No worries. Everything for our girl.”

Jungkook hums as the chat dies and the awkwardness returns. And then, he remembers—

Speaking of — where are you again? Still in the kitchen? Seems so. Or at least, moving away from it bit by bit.

Immersed in a conversation, holding the frame of the living room door, at the threshold to the anteroom. You’re discussing something with Eun, your expression focused. He can’t really make out your words because of those exchanged between Jimin and Yoongi, but…

A moment later, you do look at him. And then away again immediately — as if he caught you. A motion of your hand waves whatever cryptic topic off; and intrigued, Jungkook comes to a stand.

In vain — because Taehyung returns the same moment, babbling about whatever Yoongi just said. And you use the opportunity to march into the room, asking Jungkook to help you set the table for dinner.

To his chagrin, most of them offer to help momentarily. Taehyung swarms around you, insisting on plating, making it impossible for Jungkook to find a moment to ask what your conversation was about. And eventually, he gives up — if it’s important, you’ll tell him.

So for now, he relishes the evening your friends grant the two of you. They compliment the food, narrate short and long stories, watching Jungkook and you unwrap the gifts — board games from Jimin, cutting boards and wine from Yoongi, a stylish, modern thermostat from Taehyung and Eun.

The ecstasy overflows, the screeches probably making your neighbours think of you unhinged. Wine spills on the table; curses exchange; laughing turns into crying.

If anything other than this life is considered good, then Jungkook doesn’t crave that goodness. The unbridled chuckles, and your never-dropping smile are beyond everything twinkling and gorgeous already.

And he’s happy, too. Elated when you cover your mouth when you laugh; and overjoyed when you stand at the window after dinner, leaning forward. Breathing in the autumn air.

Jungkook follows once things wind down and the guests agree upon an appropriate volume. He mimics your stance, lower arms on the windowsill and hands hanging relaxed.

His fingers graze the withering flowers in the window box. They’re slowly dying by the hands of the approaching cold, and the rain keeps overwatering them. Yet… they still let it hurt them, holding on for as long as possible.

So in love with the shower.

It’s almost a bit tragic.

Jungkook refocuses, turning to you and asks, “What are you doing?”

Your head moves to the side, and you kill the remaining distance between you. Step close until you’re nearly nudging his elbow.

“Just,” you nod into a haphazard direction; into the outside world, “looking at the rain. Got a bit stifling in there.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook throws a glance over his shoulder. “Also, I think they’re getting drunk.”

“Mhmmm. Except Jimin. Poor him is looking at the alcohol so longingly. Did you notice that he didn’t drink?”

“Someone has to drive them home, and Yoongi with his healing injury is out. I offered, but Jimin insisted on taking care of them and not, as he said, bothering us. Super thoughtful, really.”

You smile, nodding along before you silence. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking of; or what you’re seeing. Maybe you’re truly only revelling in the rain; contrasting it with the sunshine you radiate.

Maybe he should look for a rainbow somewhere.

In the midst of the tranquil evening, your gape strays from the drizzle with a blink. It descends to his twirling thumbs, and then moves along the length of his arm. Jungkook notices your attention from the side, but only turns to look at you when he realises what you’ve fixated on.

You gesture towards the hues and outlines on his skin, delicately touching the writhing snake as you say, “Want a tour for them, too, if you’d ever allow. I imagine it could be fun.”

“Tattoo tracing?” His lips move into an endeared smile; you look so fascinated. Like you’re seeing them for the first time. “I’d be down. I could even…” His fingers journey to yours, gently leading them to the flowers. “I can even give you a sneak peek.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Look.” He guides your touch over the dazzling orange of his tiger lily. “This is me. Tiger lilies beg for love. I’ve always sought love, too.”

Your eyes change. He knows you see it, too — the urge to never be abandoned again, all the time.

He can nearly see your heart ache. And feels his own thump a thousand miles a second. A fraction of it breaks off and jumps into your chest, making it yours; it does it all the damn time until you hold the entirety of it in the palm of your hands.

Unhurried, he steers your finger further, stopping at the blue tint; clearly hears you draw a breath when he tells you, “And this… This is my girlfriend. She’s even prettier in real life… that’s right.”

For a bit, you’re speechless. Jungkook keeps admiring you in the forget-me-nots for another second, and when you don’t speak on, he meets your eyes. You’re shaking your head, and then — slowly wrapping an arm around his, moving close, head on his shoulder.

From this angle, your cheeks are demanding to be squeezed; eyelashes kiss them softly, your lips tempting curves when you laugh. Jungkook doesn’t get enough of you… and you don’t want to make it easier for him either.

Because, “Shit,” you say, “you were right about pining more when someone’s being romantic. ‘Cause you’re making me want you so bad, in every way. Are you… still up for kissing me stupid?”

“Ahh… babe.”

“I just… You excite me, too, you know?”

“Don’t say these things while they’re here, baby,” he warns, although as tenderly as anyhow possible, “you’ll give me a heart attack, I mean it.”

“Now you know how I feel all the time!” you tease, fingers flicking raindrops into his face out of nowhere.

Jungkook recoils and squirms, taken aback, but it takes him a mere second to play along. He gathers rain in his palms, threatening to toss it into your face; bickering chaos at the open living room window until your damp hands rejoin and delicate digits interlace.

And as he looks at the sad flowers again, the reality of the moment makes him think. How the two of you used to resemble the blossoms in your window box, once enduring the incessant melancholy, too.

Much like the flowers towards the downpour, Jungkook and you reached for each other while being watered by gloom — but unlike the flowers, you’re still sprouting and thriving into something vivid and fragrant. Not beaten by the agonising shower.

The rain hurt me, but I wanted to keep fighting. Because I hoped. Because I adored.

And in the end, him and you aren’t tragic like them. You will never wither — only bloom.

An hour later, the apartment is empty.

You opened all the windows to eliminate the suffocating air; and the hot water running in the sink soothes your cold skin. What a relief to watch the clinking dishes lessen; you sigh at the small amount still left, and Jungkook catches it immediately.

“See?” he teases, loading the dishwasher. Even that seems like a task after such a day; tidying up the living room was more than enough. “Good that we did most of it during and after cooking. It’s so much even now.”

Eyes heavy, you admit, “I should learn to listen to you more.”

He clicks his tongue, skipping a response, and then, out of the blue, says, “Angel… I could get used to this.”

“To me listening to you more?”

“Yes. But no. To you being here.”

You glow up, even though you’re still facing the sink, smile a little hidden, “You need to. Because I’ll be annoying you all the time.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

You hit him with a spoon, wetting the spot a bit before handing the cutlery to him. Delivering a head tilt, he smirks. Amused before he remembers something and asks, “Hey. What were you and Eun talking about earlier?”

“Hm? When?”

“Before dinner. It looked serious.”

You halt mid-movement. Did he catch something? Maybe. But you only insist, “Nothing special. About her graduation… you know, since it’s pretty soon.”

Huh. Doesn’t seem to quite cut it.

“Mmmh. Anything else?”

You feign a thoughtful moment, as if you’ve wiped your memory clean off whatever she said to you. Then, you tell him, “Yeah. I told her how you played around with the recipe and came up with the best dinner ever. And how hot you looked doing it.”

“…You said the last bit, too?”

“No.” Jungkook blows a raspberry before comically pressing his lips into a line, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault. I mean, do you know how attractive is it to be among people and know that this one person is still only looking at you?”

Oh, all too well…

“I would definitely know,” he chuckles. “Shit. You’ve been testing me tonight, you know?”

“…How?”

“All those compliments and ambiguous statements.” You shrug your shoulders in apparent innocence, muttering a small, ”It’s true" before he digs, “Anyway, don’t distract me. Anything else she said?”

Perhaps you’re done playing games. And perhaps you should’ve kept doing just that; because your next answer is a much greater tease.

“…I’ll tell you about it soon enough.”

Jungkook squints, organising a plate into a free spot, playfully disgruntled, “Unfair.”

“Hang in there.”

“Alright. You’re lucky I trust you.”

Your grin is gaping wide, and he attempts his best to ignore it. But when you add an evil snicker to it, regarding him with pure mirth in your eyes, he folds, “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just so cute. You’ll keep acting like you’re digging, but still always know when to respect my decisions. Maybe the bar is low? But I find trust ridiculously attractive.” You throw a longing smile at him, bringing a damp fingertip to his cheek to poke. “And to top it off… You’re so pretty, too, and I’m just… enamoured from all sides and—”

You wait and he uses the moment to wipe his cheek on his shirt. But when you don’t speak on, he spurs you on, “…And?”

“And I want you so bad.”

The plate waiting to be set into the dishwasher drops on the counter. Jungkook stares up, regarding the ceiling with a seemingly agitated look. You don’t know what’s truly whirling in him, so you warily ponder, “…What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jungkook turns the water off, taking the cups from your hands and placing them in the sink. He shakes his palms off the liquid, and then whispers, “Okay. Later.”

The hold around your wrist is firm, and the tug firmer. Determined, he leads you out of the kitchen, slapping a hand over the light switch; your eyes are wide when you ask, “Wait, we’re not do—”

His answer is predictable; yet, you didn’t foresee it. Because—

“Bedroom. Right now.”

THE MORNING OF THE CONFESSION

Unlike you, Jungkook has considered himself a night owl ever since he entered the bustling world of college. Settling in the city was a stirring experience, and the thrill of it, along with a girlfriend, exams and newfound friends, kept him up until the sun rose again.

He enjoyed what he did, too. Loved school, so he didn’t mind the fatigued eyes during lectures. Truly one of the handful of joys that helped rid his head of the brain fog he bestowed upon himself after each long, sleepless night.

And he was an avid participant in classes despite his sheepish persona — they shook him awake, the late afternoon workouts obliterating the rest of the exhaustion. Maybe that’s why he was so reluctant to flake out for the night, too; still energised.

But while Jungkook carried the spirit of a straight-out-of-the-high-school-freshman who disliked falling asleep early, he despised waking up at the break of day just as much.

Would groan, blinking into the sun, with no one to blame for his agitation but him. No matter how deep his fascination for his studies and how quick the fading of his initial irritation — the first few minutes of every day were pure agony.

Jungkook is still a night owl. Still wants the nights to stretch, albeit for other reasons now. But his attitude towards mornings has changed.

There’s a shift in his preferences now; you moved his universe by an inch, altered it so effortlessly. Suddenly, he doesn’t regret rising with the sun next to him. He doesn’t curse the groggy feeling anymore.

There’s a silky touch he seeks every single morning that his eyes open to, lips he follows with his own blindly. You’re a permanent presence now, air and fire to his lungs, and he feels the freshness, feels the burn whenever your fingers brush his shoulders upon waking up.

He won’t need to check in at work for a few hours still; yet, sleeping in would mean losing the minutes that you’re still here before walking out the door until the evening.

He’ll sacrifice a slumber for this. Voluntarily.

And it’s crazy how none of this requires any sort of effort or pleading from your side. How all you need to do is to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Those extra moments, no matter how fleeting, grant him a little more time on Earth with you, and he grasps it greedily. Even when you spend it teasing the hell out of him. Or, even when you wake up with scorching cheeks and endearing, high pitched complaints.

Like today.

“I still can’t believe yesterday,” you say.

“It’s okay.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard. Thinking about it, can I really show my face at the wedding? I’ll probably make things worse.”

Jungkook keeps glancing at the back of your head, the loose bun shaking with your movement. Smoothly, his fingers trace up and down your back; a gesture he started randomly and continued the moment you mumbled, “I like it… continue?”

Sat between his legs, you’ve been swaying for a while, both uneasy and amped about the approaching event. And to Jungkook, it’s as sweet as it is frustrating to see your brain fuming like that.

“Come here, baby,” he demands, content when you reverse into him. He wraps his arms around your chest, pulling you to his body, and presses a pillowy kiss to your temple. “You’re overthinking again. I promise you, we’ll make sure you have the most fun.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard,” you repeat, and Jungkook kisses his teeth.

“You’re a clown, I’ll admit,” you whine his name, and he laughs, “but I’m telling you. I know my mom and that was her I-like-you voice. Which I didn’t doubt for a second, by the way. Like, she really seems happy with how my life has turned out, and with whom. As am I. Understand?”

One more kiss to your scalp. He swings you from side to side, ignoring the ticking of the clock. In a few, you’ll be leaving the apartment, and Jungkook will need to kill the hours until he joins Namjoon at work. 

He shouldn’t be missing you already; but he still holds you tighter. Tighter until you let out a little groan, a hand on his arm. He can’t read your thoughts or decipher whether his promise helped; because you don’t answer yet.

Only wait for a few seconds, allowing him to wallow in your warmth until you call, “…Jungkook.”

“Mhh?”

“Talking about life and stuff… did you always imagine yours to be like this? Just curious.”

“Like this?” he ponders, mentally intertwining every current branch of his life into one healthily growing tree. He’s liking it. “Well… I graduated. An exhibition ahead that’ll hopefully bring me a step closer to my own studio and profession.”

You hum in pride, tapping his arm as an affectionate reward. He continues, “I do what I love, have some great friends… and I get to spend my days with my favourite person? Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

You crane your neck to look at him; your lips are so close to his, tilted into a smile that’s so unbelievably you. “You called me that last night, too.”

“Huh? Oh, that’s right. And… I mean it. Like. Now that you’re here, it’s even clearer somehow?”

“…How so?”

“Mmh… whenever I used to get home, I’d think of what to eat and of showering and going to sleep. And when I come home now, the first thing I think of is you. What we’d cook tonight. Or what we might watch or talk about. You’re…”

He feels your chest rise under his limbs; a sigh of fondness as he knows it best.

“You’re the one I want to spend all my time with.” He pauses when you look at your blanket-covered lap, hiding your twinkling eyes. “So it’s clear.”

“You always sound so hopelessly…”

You halt mid-sentence, the touch against your arm tensing — much like his own heart, jumping to the next beat with a heavy thud. You shake your head; Jungkook doesn’t get to dwell in further thoughts… still doesn’t have the words for them yet.

Or doesn’t want to admit them yet.

If he thought about them long enough and arrived at a conclusion, would you think he’s rushing your relationship? Would it scare you?

Better not find out yet.

So he lets you talk and listens, “Anyway. So, is there anything, like… more? That you want to achieve someday? Or that you think of sometimes before you go, that’s still left for me to do.”

How fitting.

Pretending to be sinking into thoughts, Jungkook hums, letting his chest vibrate against your back, and then answers truthfully, “Yeah? Maybe a couple things. We’ll see them with time when I gather the courage to tackle them.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm… am I allowed to say that already?” More simulations, teasing you with a fake distant gaze and a hissing inhale of air. “I’m not sure. You’ll know.”

“Hey! That makes me nervous.”

“No need.” You interrupt his speech with another sound of disapproval, pulling a dorky, infectious chortle out of him; his nose scrunches up. “I’m kidding. I’m talking about all the goals I have for my career. I don’t want to stop, no matter what. Keep going and keep striving for more.”

You nod; someone as hard-working as you would understand. In a sense, you’re a role model to him, too — a sentiment that you, as you have often emphasised, reciprocate.

Yet, you advise, “Just don’t overwork. Think of Icarus! We can’t always get more than more, you know? There’s happiness in satisfaction with what we have, too. But either way…” You angle your legs, pulling them close; cuddling into him more. “I’ve got your back.”

And perhaps that’s one of the gazillion traits he cherishes so much about you.

Your position at work is reputable and treasured, and you could easily push him to work harder, too. Could want him to match your career success, because it’s more or less guaranteed for you.

But you don’t. You stand by his side, prioritising his happiness and mental strength, albeit unaware of how his future might turn out. When you say you’ve got his back, he believes you.

“I know,” he says, lips in your hair, breathing you in. “Yeah… I know.”

“Hmmm… okay,” you move on, “what about me? Do you have any expectations? Certain standards and rules? I just,” you reach forward, tugging the blanket over your chest and his arm, “I feel like that’s something one should talk about. Tell me if it’s too much, though.”

“No, you’re right. But honestly? Is it… is it weird to say that you’ve kinda become a standard?”

“…I— What do you mean?”

“I just mean that… I’m never going to tell you that I expect you to be loyal and kind because it’s the bare minimum, right? Who doesn’t want all that? I know you are, so I don’t need to say it. So I don’t have any other expectations from you; these things are already the foundation of our relationship. Just. Mmh, how do I say it?”

He thinks for a moment, but you’re nodding, as if you’ve already understood. But his thoughts don’t end here; they’re just difficult to word. In his mind, they’re clear, but upon having to express them, he doesn’t quite understand the concept of language anymore.

Curses its limitations.

But then, as emotions gingerly gather to a coherent sentence at last, he tries to explain:

“Rather than adhering to any rules or standards I could have, I feel like you’re building them for me. You make me have a type, you know?” He feels you dissolve in his arms as he taps between your clavicles. “And that’s you. I don’t want anyone if I can’t have you.”

Did he go off track? Possibly. But you don’t seem to mind.

Because your voice is painfully sweet and miniscule when you speak, on the brink of losing the fight against the tremble, “But you have me. Pinky promise that you do, for a long, long time.”

Yeah… yeah, he does. And he’d be damned if he let this go.

Because if he ever did — if he ever so foolishly lost you again after combating these cruel storms, you’d still remain his standard. He’d look for you in each face passing, and in every laugh sounding.

The blueprint. And an everlasting memory.

Does it make sense? He doesn’t know.

And it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re right here.

“I’ll take your pinky promises,” he says, overjoyed as he crosses his legs over your shins, peppering more kisses onto your cheeks, the corner of your eyes, on your ear. He speaks in between your sighs and quiet laughs, “What about you? What do you want?”

“I… I don’t think I’ve ever had any expectations either, but. The wedding and—” You hesitate, as if considering dropping whatever you were going to list; and then you start anew, “The wedding made me think, and I— I just want to have so much fun with you.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“I want all the ordinary things we do to feel special because it’s us doing them. And I don’t ever want us to regret anything, so… I want us to be brave.”

“Brave? Well, you’re already the strongest and bravest person I know.”

“Braver. I want to live without restraints. And I don’t want to overthink anymore.”

Hmm…

Jungkook has seen your jumbled up thoughts before. The pain you cause to your mind sometimes, and the zoned out eyes painting pictures of what you fear the most.

He knows that feeling. Has battled one too many beasts to lessen the ache; even if it’s not always possible. Even if he seeks reassurances sometimes, too. And maybe that’s the prominent and sole reason why he never dismisses your disquiet.

Why push you away if you’re already at an impasse? Why not lead you out of the maze?

“Take it easy, okay?” he soothes, letting his grip around you fall bit by bit to search for your fingers instead. “Restraints can’t beat us.”

“Yeah! I’m hopeful.”

“You should be.” Because thinking of all you’ve fought within the span of a couple weeks… “You’re the first person to show me that there’s no reason to be scared, you know?”

“Then…” You sit up, curling your fingers around his hand, lifting it mid-air in sudden eagerness. “Just imagine how life could go, right? We could go to the ocean. Oh.” You gasp, sucking in air. “Oh my god! The Great Barrier Reef!”

“Ohhh, that’s actually a solid bucket list item. And then, bungee jumping?”

You nod zealously; lacking your fingers’ mobility required to list things, you instead knock your intertwined hands against your thigh each time to come up with something new. Like now, “Cliffs. And northern lights, too. I’ve always wanted to see them.”

Reflexively, you look up.

Stare at the glued-on stars from last night, and the now missing projection you dozed off to. An effective visual lullaby; you didn’t even stir when Jungkook turned it off, tucking you in properly. In your blanket; in him.

“Hell yes,” Jungkook confirms.

“But the first stop’s your hometown… and the wedding. I want to meet your family and be super awkward about it.”

Jungkook laughs, forehead falling forward against your head. He shakes it for a second, and then recalls, “Ah… so chickens and family awkwardness. What else?”

He didn’t expect this to work out before he asked you. Considering you’ve barely started at Novaura, he anticipated gentle rejection. But now that it’s become a certain event in the incredibly near future, his heart pounds every time you mention it.

Because…

You in a dress. You in his house. You, dominating over every single heart that’s dear to him.

And it seems you’ve already thoroughly thought about this, because your answer shoots out of you like a bullet, “Wanna dance with you. And kiss you under the lights.”

“Angel… you’re over the moon about this, aren’t you?”

“…Too obvious?”

You allow a fleeting glance back to him before your eyes fall down to his bare arm, ending in a hand clinging to yours; covered in ink, much like the rest of his right limb. He knows you’re staring at the flowers without asking.

And as if knowing, reading your soul, he doesn’t find himself surprised when you suggest, “And then… one day… What do you think? Should I get a tattoo someday, too?”

“Totally, if that’s what you want. What would you wanna get?”

“Flowers to match? I don’t know. Maybe you can draw on me. Here,” you lead his hand to your thigh, sticking there for a while until you move up to your hip. “Or here.”

He wonders how focused your thoughts are right now. Because if they are, and you’re not fixating on the changes of his skin, you probably won’t register the countless goosebumps under his tattoos.

A giddy sensation spreads throughout his body, collecting in his chest and tummy. Memories of a nearly bare body, painted in his dozen colours returning. And then, pictures of the same hues blurring, smudging.

He breathes an exhale, insane at the thought of kissing those lines. Of lips trailing up your skin, stopping at your hip, dying a pleasant death.

Fuck.

“I… I would. I’ll paint you any day.”

His words come out more airy than intended, fingers itching to pinch your chin, to move your face to his. To slide down the mattress, to kiss your lips swollen, making out with you until the sun sets…

But the world is cruel and too real; the clock still ticks until he realises that freezing in place isn’t an option right now. So he says, “As much as I hate to say this… You should get ready for work.”

You groan; there’s something sweet about your unwillingness to go. Relatable. And it sticks until the exhaustion washes away with each second. Small breakfast in, clothes on, newfound work spirit restored.

Must be a good day approaching. 

And you’ve been enjoying the recent ones, he assumes. Despite being so good at what you do, there’s a clear difference in how you tackle a day at Charmante versus at Novaura.

And you confirm it when he accompanies you to the entrance, bidding you goodbye until you meet again later, “What I love most about Novaura is that they don’t feel the need to communicate everything with Mom. They’re their own independent world and trust themselves.”

“Right… You as someone equally independent will fit right in, so they’re lucky to have you there. Makes me wonder, though.” Jungkook pauses, watching you grab your jacket from the wall hook, “Are your Charmante people okay with you being at Novaura so much?”

A COUPLE DAYS LATER

“…I really don’t know if I can do this.”

Well, shit. Wasn’t he ready to strive for more, run endlessly until his feet tired? Where is the dread suddenly emerging from?

Jungkook has barely set his sketchbook down when lightning bolts head for him.

Countering his concern with kissing eyebrows, Namjoon’s full lips purse, dimples gone as he wonders, “What are you even talking about?” — Much at the same time as you utter a threatening, “Shut up,” pastry lifted, ready to throw at him.

Jungkook shies away from the table, ready to dodge your attack; returning when you place the crumbly croissant back on your plate. He presses his lips together before smacking and kissing them, finger rolling the pen over his sketches, but eyes fixated on Namjoon’s notebook.

“I’m serious. There’s so much to do until November, and I… how do I get so much done?”

“But,” Namjoon knocks against the random drawing open on the table, “you already have so much to show. And you can revamp stuff from college, too. Besides, it’s okay to try your best and be scared at the same time, Jungkook! That’s part of a growing artist’s job.”

“But, are you sure I’m a growing artist?!”

Namjoon mutters something under a breath, and you add something unintelligible to the reassuring mix. Jungkook’s worried gaze remains on the rough lines of pencil on paper, teeth repeatedly nibbling his lower lip. Baring his mole.

He closes the sketchbook, staring at the golden, imprinted letters on a dark black background. He’s filled a quarter of it already; the very piece you gifted him for his birthday almost a month ago.

In some way, opening to a blank page serves as inspiration alone. You furnished him with something so simple yet gorgeous; thoughtful engraving to use as a reminder to hold onto his efforts.

But…

Amidst the lasting zeal, he’s been racking his brain. Because. What if he immerses himself in this, spending hours tainting his fingertips in different tints — only to steer towards failure?

What if it doesn’t work out? And he ends up not amounting to much, other than trying his luck online and living on a bare minimum of a salary? Would he start tutoring young, aspiring artists?

And you…

You’re diving into a stable job, well-paid, well-known. If you end up carrying both of you on your shoulders… would you think of him as a washout? Grow frustrated and dissatisfied?

You’ve been repeatedly declaring your unswerving support, but what if you some day do realise that…

Ugh.

He stuck to this passion with the full knowledge he would never fall out of love with it; but now that he’s working for his dreams, the process seems so scary all of a sudden.

“And I’m at the wedding, too…” he says.

He leans back in his chair, moving his pupils away from the paper and instinctively up to you. More concerns threaten to tumble off the tip of his tongue, but when your eyes suddenly flicker with disappointment, his lips shut again.

You blink, unsure, before you ask, “Do you… not want to go? We could totally stay here if you need the time.”

Oh… 

Hadn’t you gushed about the event day in, day out now, he would’ve maybe believed your words. And in some sense, you probably do think of the alternative as okay, as long as he profits from it.

But he sees it in your eyes. And not just in yours — he’s been as enthralled by the idea as you. Which is why…

“No,” he responds, “no. We will go.”

Because the prospect of winding down with you has been keeping him sane. Doting on you under the countryside stars, showing you all you haven’t seen before, body to body dancing with you…

He’s not missing out on that, no matter what.

And god knows you need the break, too… especially after the utter hysteria last Friday…

“Kook, think about it. You need to be absolutely sure,” you argue, genuine worry in your gaze; from his side eye, he sees Namjoon nod in confirmation.

“I am. We’ll go, baby, okay?”

You don’t avert your gaze; your mouth closes a little, but you stay unblinking, waiting for his mind to change. He knows because he sees the thoughts floating at the surface of your eyes.

Like you’re still pondering; of course you are. As someone who’s been working hard for their career, even if just for a few months, you’d know. Who’d understand if not you?

The trance lingers between the two of you, and Jungkook lifts his lips, a vow and certainty in his smile. Moment only broken when Namjoon clears his throat and encourages once more, “Give it a shot, Jungkook… Those high-profile people need to see what you’re capable of! I mean, we’re so lucky to have them coming to our exhibits.”

Namjoon gestures randomly, across the small restaurant as he says, “Say what you will about this city, but we lure in quite a few esteemed artists for sure.”

“Who says something about this city?” you ask.

“I do,” Namjoon’s voice is soothing. One thing Jungkook has learned about him is that his flowery mind never rests. Lyrical; not always easy to understand. “I love and hate it. Leaving it, living it.”

He pauses, sipping on his diet coke before smacking the taste away and ordering, “Ask me anytime if you need any help, alright? And be confident.”

“And… what if it does work?”

Your gentle laugh sounds from the opposite side of the table, the straw of your milkshake on your tongue. The rhythmic melody calms something deep in him; perhaps more because he understands your reaction.

You’re just as cute worrying about things that he knows you’d ace.

“Well,” Namjoon starts, aware that Jungkook knows; still annihilating his unease, “the guy is ready to buy your art. If it goes well, he’ll sponsor you. Then, at some point, you’ll be able to afford your own studio and grow as an artist. Ideally.”

“Ah… ah, really…”

”Kookie,” your voice calls; you lean over the round table, shoving the milkshake aside, “don’t worry. And in the most unlikely case that it doesn’t go as planned, know that I’ll cheer you on either way.”

“And me too,” Namjoon raises a hand.

Your finger swings to and fro between Namjoon and you, and your expression changes from empathic and soft to the sweetest, most gut-wrenching smile he’s ever seen. The apples of your cheeks lift, pupils sparkling when you vow, “We’re here for you.”

He…

He could look at you all day, blinking be damned. Could pour out his emotions every second of every minute of every hour, and it’d still not match the endless letter his heart keeps crafting for you. 

Disregarding how much of a shipwreck the two of you were last Friday, his chest has still lightened ever since; an epiphany has never been sweeter.

Because…

The words he couldn’t compose into a poem before are now an ardent confession, with rhymes and a melody and infinite beauty. Roaming his mind nonstop, caught in that baby pink bubble.

When had his senses last heightened this much?

Because somehow, he still feels the damp trail of tears he cried that night. And the heart that beat against your cheek. You, frozen against him, processing his words.

If there are ways to make him fall in love harder, you’ve been presenting them all the goddamn time.

And fuck, it’s been hard focusing on anything but you.

Like, on paying. Or on upholding a conversation with Namjoon — assuring him he’d be back in the studio in a bit as he prepares to bid you goodbye for the day.

To his chagrin, the walk to your car isn’t long. It’s parked at a corner, convenient for lunch dates like these; you promised you’d join one with Joon at some point, and you did. Forty-five minutes passed too quickly. Felt like a moment.

“Namjoon is so nice!” you comment, hands in the pockets of your denim jacket.

You keep swaying back and forth, from your heels to your toes and back. Your smile and movements suggest a free spirit, but your risen shoulders and the shallow crease between your eyebrows drench you in something tense.

You’ve been like that since you suggested staying, focusing on his work.

“He’s so wise, too, really,” Jungkook responds, close to you in case your swinging moves leave you tumbling, “like, a cool mix between calm and dorky. I’ve been learning so much from him.”

“Jeon Jungkook and his love for his mentor. You will never stop talking about him.”

Jungkook shrugs, a hand to the nape of his neck, face warming, “He’s cool, what can I say?”

“Yeah.”

And once again… he sees you gulp. Unsure, pupils flickering. You usually don’t struggle maintaining eye contact. So he soon wonders, “Are you okay? I… I hope you didn’t misunderstand what I said earlier. I really do want to go to the wedding.”

“Hm?” you voice, chin lifting a bit before you dispute, “Oh. No, I believe you. If you say it’s okay, then that’s how it is.”

“What then?”

“What do you mean? Do I really seem like something’s up?”

“A little.”

“Uhm…”

You roll up your eyes as you dig into your thoughts. Scouring your brain for whatever might be meandering in the back of your mind. Hm… seems you’re not fully cognisant of the subtle change in your behaviour, either?

So maybe, it means nothing after all.

Then again. It must be something.

Because in hindsight, he didn’t only notice today, but all weekend, too—

Oh…

Maybe you’re just getting used to the new developments; maybe they’re just making you a bit bashful like him. Maybe…

Okay. Deep breath. He just needs to make it sound like a joke, nothing pushy or odd or awkward because—

“Or is it because I told you I love you? Have I scared you off already?”

He watches your breathing stop. As though flexing an x-ray stare, watching your lungs dry up, air stuck in your throat until it escapes through your nose. Honestly… he’s been feeling the same.

“No!” you answer, tone breathy, pulling a hand out of the pocket to sprightly push at his shoulder. He barely budges. “Of course not. All that does is make me want to faint.”

Jungkook chuckles, delighted when your laugh matches his own. He doesn’t always know how to take a compliment either; but you fix your speechlessness with that glow on your face. Fills his own body with fairy dust, too. 

His dimples are valleys when your fingers move to his open jacket, grazing the zipper and filling the seconds with quiet tenderness. He doesn’t know what to say to you until you let the silence prolong and then giggle into it once more.

If he could just dive into your brain. But all he has are his own, messy thoughts.

And those tangled thoughts say—

“Angel… Can I kiss you?” Now his lungs are collapsing, too. Worse, so much worse when you look into his eyes, still so surprised at every sliver of affection he signs. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

No… he needs to. Needs to blossom in this breezy weather. But he won’t tell you that.

He’ll just keep looking at you. One second, two seconds — until you’ve raised your hands to the collar of his jacket to move him closer, soon sneaking your touch further up to his neck. A miniscule and wordless hint of approval, and he basks in it avidly.

Twitching palms hesitate for only the subtlest of moments before they’ve dashed up to your cheeks, cupping your face and leaning in and…

Lock.

A picture of a lock. And of its key.

The first thing to flash into his mind.

Because how do his lips fit so perfectly between yours? When you touch him like this, delicate fingers caressing his jaw, how do you feel so much like a feather? And the damn way you sigh into his mouth… how you reciprocate the kiss.

He will never tire of telling you, telling himself, that you match him just like the ocean complements the shore. And it’s baffling. How perfect this feels, and how right it feels.

You do make the ordinary extraordinary.

Like a kiss that is shared a million times a day, between so, so many people. But you’re moving your lips against his. Holding onto him, tilting your head, soaking in his warmth. Going tentatively, then a bit faster, then slow again.

For the merest moments when your mouths part, you gasp, inhaling before pushing your fingers into his hair, at the back of his head. Then back against him, seeking his tongue; such soft sounds meeting his that he swears he could cry.

Cry about the shiver down his spine and the flutter in the pit of his stomach. About the world becoming a backdrop to everything in the middle of the pavement; and about how his thoughts only revolve around your shared breaths and the feeling of your warm cheeks. 

Just you.

You, you, you.

Still too far away. Why do you drive him so incredibly mad?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He loves you. He loves you.

Under a breath and against your soft pillows, he mutters your name; so airy that he barely recognises his voice. His tongue drags over your lower lip, pecking one more time before he establishes an intruding distance between you.

Your foreheads touch for a transient bit, thumb skimming your cheek. When he opens his eyes, yours are still shut, and you’re feeble in his grip. And then, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

You swallow again. Take a breath before admitting, “You’re right. There’s something I want to ask you, and I was so stupidly… nervous about it.”

“Yeah?”

“The whole gang, they… they’ve been planning something. They paid for it and all, but they’re waiting for me to give them an answer, so they know if I need to pay them back or if they should cancel or, or—”

He interrupts your ramble with a soft, “Tell me, babe.”

“Okay,” your eyelids finally open up; your gaze is so hazy when you look at him. “It’s a trip. Four days, three nights, during the wedding week.” He hasn’t said a word when you hurry to add, “But, we can leave earlier. It’s a road trip kinda thing to the mountains and the beach and. They want us there, too.”

”Oh.”

“…Yeah.”

“I… Baby.” He moves back, shaking his head. He was careful not to ruin your hair, well aware you have half a work day ahead of you; but he still brushes a strand back. “Were you and Eun talking about that two weeks ago?”

“Yeah. And Tae also said I should be the one to ask because you’d like that. But then things happened and all the stress and…”

“But… even before that. Why were you so nervous asking me about it for so long?”

“Because,” you answer, one shrug of your shoulders, “I wanted to wait and see how you feel about the exhibition and the workload. And you already have limited time because of the wedding and I didn’t want to take away more of it.”

He can’t help but beam; why does this feel… endearing? Mirrors his own thoughts when he asked you about accompanying him to the wedding.

“We really do have the same brain, don’t we?” he asks.

“You’d think we’d learn.”

You say it lightheartedly, yet gnaw on your lips. He tongues the inside of his cheek, keeping eye contact, and then queries, “There’s something else, right?”

“Ah, just.”

You look unsure, trying to make sense of your thoughts, but your uncertainty makes him uncertain, too. So he exhales before he prods, “What? What what? Is it something bad?”

“No! Just. They’ve been wanting to do this since the summer. They never talked about it to me because you and I were… you know.” You kiss your teeth, and he uses the second to whoosh away the aching memories. “But they never cancelled for us, either.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they’d say, and I quote, ‘Just wait.’ They knew we couldn’t stay away from each other even before we did.” You laugh. “Eun told me that day in the kitchen.”

Even before you did?

Untrue. He knew he didn’t want to live without you the moment you left his apartment, tear-soaked and heartbroken.

“Okay…” he starts, “and you were worried because?”

“Because you always get so sad when I talk about the summer. Explaining the context of the trip seemed hard to me, and I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”

Oh…

Shit, man.

“You’re… ahhh… my sweet baby.” He wants to hug you to his chest and never let go. But you’re already running out of time, lunch break nearing its end, so he only grips your shoulders. “You know that it gets better after two minutes, no? Because whatever happened, I have you now.”

He flicks your chin as he has been lately; it cheers you up. Makes you smile a bit, conjures the pout away. Adding to the effect when he says, “Don’t worry so much, my love.”

Another inhale. Then, you admit, “I’m sorry. I dragged it out.”

“It’s okay.”

“So… would you come? Do you think you could take some time off work and all? I’d understand if it’s too much.”

“Hmm… Right before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Mid-october, yes. We could leave earlier!” you reiterate, hellbent on assuring he’s not obligated to do anything. So sweet, how you scratch your head. “They’d drive on. It’s convenient because it’s all in the same week.”

“Mountains and beach, you say.”

“If you don’t like them, we can stay at the hotel and chill together.”

Shit.

His grin widens with each heartbeat; you notice, because despite your suggestions, you sound more lively now.

And yet, it’s funny you’d question all these things like this at all. Don’t you remember damp cheeks and gentle touches?

Just days ago.

How he was still trembling when you left Eun’s complex. How he stopped you before climbing into the car, much like now, mumbling a timid, “Angel…”

And then retracting when his heart combusted. Looking into your eyes, still red, his own mind filled with nervous fear before settling on, “Nothing. Let’s go home.”

Or how you cried in the living room. How you broke down, terrified he might walk away. How his breath quivered, how his head spun, how he felt like he might throw up or faint or scare you off.

The damn sickness in his stomach until he spat the hidden words for the first time. And the pounding of his heart when you responded with a mumbled, “Kook… How.”

And… how his chest constricted at everything that followed after that. Don’t you remember?

In spite of every indication he threw your way — you still worry so much.

Funny you’d be so nervous around someone who wants to see the entire world with your hand in his.

What did you call it again? Wanting to be brave.

So fucking easy with you.

“How about…” he begins, staring into anticipating eyes, hearing a storm of cheers rumble, “going shopping before we leave?”

Your demeanour changes momentarily. The unsure girl, afraid to hurt him, soon finds her way back to her foundation. You light up, a hand over your mouth; your cheeks must be hurting. 

You deliver one, short jump and then pull him back in, kissing his lips once before scattering a couple more pecks next to them. He soon finds himself pushing you towards your car, forcing you back to work, but you have a thousand things to babble about.

He’s adoring all the bright stars in your eyes — now he understands how you feel when you see the same universe in his.

It’s crazy. How effort is never required from your side for him to feel that way. How you only need to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Stay stay stay.

The word sails and wafts through his dazy thoughts like a silent prayer. Begging and begging; pleading to allow him to pour all his love on you, although he doesn’t need to ask. You always let him anyway.

And he guesses he’s using that permission thoroughly. Maybe that’s why keeps craving and burning for more; why he’s been holding you tighter these nights.

His tiger lily pressed against your heart.

*head in hands* they are so crazy for each other, pls 😭 warmth and reassurances and support and bickering literally build the foundation of their relationship and i love them sm :') for some reason the editing process knocked me out, but i still adore this one so so much, and i hope you guys did, too!! 🥺

feedback is always so so appreciated!! you guys are literally such a freaking supportive bunch and have kept this series alive for so long and i love you to death :( here's to the first one this year!! as always, please consider leaving a like, reblog (with or without feedback!), comments and spammm my inbox with everything that's on your mind hehe <3 any kind of msg makes my day!

and nowww!!!!! moving on to cmi: palette and VACAYYYY!!! mwah mwah 🤍

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook fic #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook

[sv5hive]

too little, too late. | lh44

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem!reader

content warning(s): angst, swearing, lewis is a bit of a dick in this sorry, unhappy ending because i love being miserable 🫶🏻

word count: 1,763

note: thank you so much for all the likes and reblogs on my first work a few days ago!! i didn't expect all the love so it is very, very appreciated :) this is a bit long so get comfy! and i also listened to you're losing me by taylor swift while writing so... yeah.

(psst! part 2 is here!)

(masterlist!)

memories from the night you two met flashed through your mind as you stood alone in the dim kitchen. the hangover from the next morning meant most of the night was a blur of shots, flashing lights and sweaty bodies but those deep brown eyes and endearing smile remained sharply in focus.

you stared at the two cold plates of dinner abandoned on the table and a bottle of wine nearing the end.

where had it all gone wrong?

six years.

six years of supporting him through everything.

and you loved being with lewis no matter what. seeing him in his element while racing was just as exciting for you as it was for him. but when would it end? you couldn't keep your life on pause forever.

back in 2017 when you first started dating you discussed a life of peace. a life with a big family and a nice house in england where your children could grow up normally like the both of you did. and you weren't foolish. you would never truly have peace when you were in a relationship with lewis hamilton, the face of formula 1. but you were willing to give up any sense of normality if it meant you could be with the love of your life.

or so you thought.

years passed as you watched all your friends get engaged and married, settle down and start their own families. at every bachelorette party, wedding reception, baby shower, family event you would be asked the same questions.

"when is he going to pop the question? you two have to get married! i bet he's planning to do it soon."

and every time you would have the same response.

"oh we're just taking it slow. he's pretty busy with racing and we both agreed that it wouldn't be fair for him to be away so much."

and you really did believe that at first.

either you didn't notice the stares of pity or you ignored them to convince yourself that everything was ok. it was only when you brought up the idea of finally having kids that you started doubting yourself.

"hey, lew. i've been thinking."

"hmm, yeah? what about." he replied absentmindedly, still searching netflix for a good movie to watch.

you passed him the bowl of popcorn to hold while you got under the blanket.

"i was thinking that we're finally ready to start a family."

he stilled. that was the last thing he thought you would bring up.

"lewis?"

"i want a family too, you know that. but i can't retire without getting that eighth championship. we're almost there. besides, i don't wanna leave you at home with a kid and not be there for every step of the way."

both of you knew at the rate mercedes was going, lewis would need a miracle and a half to win another title against red bull and their rocket ship.

he avoided your eyes and clearly thought that was the end of the matter so you accepted that when he was ready he would tell you. right?

you tossed and turned that night, unable to get the way he brushed off the topic so coldly out of your head. did you imagine it? that flicker of hesitance on his face? a pit of uneasiness settled at the bottom of your stomach as you desperately tried to reason with yourself. no. everything is fine. you had already waited a few years. what was a couple more?

so you tucked away your dreams of a family into the back of your mind for the time being and just enjoyed your relationship with lewis. every date felt like the first and you never wanted your love to end.

"lewis...this is too much!" as you stared in awe at the lone table in the middle of a completely empty restaurant.

rose petals led you two all the way from the entrance to a table with a single rose stood in a vase in the centre as candles flickered softly.

"for you? never."

staring at him in the golden light, you couldn't help but blush at his romantic gesture. he was making up for being away during a triple header and you hated to admit it but you could get used to this.

racing. you smiled at the thought of seeing lewis race. it was like seeing an artist produce a masterpiece every time pencil hit paper. he truly was an incredible sight to see.

you were there for each of his championships since 2017. you witnessed the joy of 2020 and the heartbreak of 2021. you were there, celebrating each win with him and consoling him after each loss, every time. you had fallen in love with the sport you once had no knowledge of just as hard as you had fallen for lewis. you knew how much of a toll each season took on him and you were always going to be there to pick him back up. his world became yours as you met his team and soon enough you were a familiar sight in the mercedes garage.

wasn't seven world championships enough for him?

you would never ask him to give up his career for you. and he would never ask that of you. but after years of waiting for the next step you couldn't help but wonder whether he still wanted that with you.

he was more than an hour late now. both of your schedules had been almost completely full for the past few months and you thought it would be nice to catch up over homemade dinner.

apparently he didn't think the same.

you hadn't bothered calling or texting. he always turned his phone off while at work anyways. as you finished off the last mouthful of wine the jingle of keys and the door unlocking brought you back out of your thoughts.

heavy footsteps trudged through the hallway.

"hey baby, i didn't think you would be up- what's all this?"

"dinner. i've been waiting for two hours now." you turned away from the counter to face him.

"shit. i am so sorry. i just got so caught up at work. we've been trying to improve the car to-"

"-to beat red bull. i know. i know."

"i promise i'll make it up to you. what about dinner next week? at that chinese restaurant you really like?" he walked towards you and went to wrap his arms around you before you pushed him away.

"stop, lewis. just stop. i can't keep doing this." you couldn't look him in the eyes.

a pin drop could be heard as lewis' blood ran cold.

"what?"

the change in atmosphere almost made you wish you had never said anything. almost.

"i can't keep waiting on you, lewis. i'm sorry."

"i said i would make it up to you." the look of pure confusion on his face would be amusing if it weren't for the fact that you were on the verge of tears.

"it's not just about dinner, lewis."

"then what is it about?"

"everything. god, we've been together for eight years and we're not even engaged and nowhere near starting a family. we have nothing to show for it. i knew i would have to wait and i was fine with that but i just can't anymore. this isn't what i imagined for us."

"so what? you're just going to leave? you know how i feel about having kids."

"and i get that, i do. but are you even planning on retiring in the near future? we're not getting any younger and i've been ready for a while now. i just don't think our ideas of our future are the same anymore."

"am i just meant to drop everything for you then? give it all up?"

"fuck, of course not, lewis. i would never ask you to do that. never. but sometimes it feels like you choose your career over me. and i know what it takes to be in formula 1 to win, i know you need to give it your full focus. i just, i need you to choose me for once. choose us."

"no, you don't know what it takes because if you did, you wouldn't be doing this to me right now. in the middle of the season."

you blinked. once. twice. you couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"are you fucking kidding me, lewis? i'm ending our six year relationship and you're thinking of how it's going to effect your season?"

"yes! fuck, this is my whole life. it always has been and it always will be."

there it is. confirmation from the man himself. you stumbled on your words trying to convey your anger as your blood continuously boiled at his miserable attempt to fix his mess.

"have you ever even thought about how i've felt all these years? giving every excuse in the book to our families and friends about why we haven't taken the next step in our relationship and defending you when they said i was too good for you? you may get to avoid them by going to the races but i don't have that privilege."

your throat was dry at this point as you gasped for air and still, he was stood almost unbothered at the fact you were hopelessly clinging onto the last remaining threads of your relationship, willing him to fight back.

"so that's it? you're not going to stop me?"

tears pooled at your eyes as you realised this was really happening.

"well clearly you've thought this out pretty well."

you didn't know whether to laugh, cry or throw the empty bottle of wine at his head.

"you are fucking unbelievable, lewis. i thought this meant something to you but clearly not."

you stormed towards the door and opened it. you paused while silently hoping he would beg you to stay. hoping he would risk everything for you.

but it never came.

you wiped away your tears and tried to at least sound somewhat assertive despite your voice wavering.

"let me know when you're not at home and i'll come get my things."

you slammed the door shut with a resounding bang and walked away from the place and person you had called home for so long.

he sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. as he moved to get a beer out of the fridge his gaze fell on the calendar stuck to the front. there was a red heart around today's date with "anniversary!" written in your handwriting.

fuck.

note: yikes. i hope you aren't too sad because of me. any feedback is appreciated!! let me know what else you wanna see :)

#f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fic #lewis hamilton x fem!reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton angst #lh44 #lh44 x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton fanfic

[pep-rambles]

Lucifer is a Swiftie headcanons because I kin this man so much I am projecting my other hyperfixations on him

But also I mean c'mon,

Look at him

yes there is RadioApple in this

-It probably started from Charlie. When she was in high school (post emo phase obviously) she may have enjoyed Taylor Swift (maybe Fearless got her through her senior year because I can't stop projecting) Lucifer started listening to try and have something to bond with his daughter about. But about the time Charlie kind of lost interest is about the time Lucifer doubled down on his obsession.

-He has been to basically almost every Eras concert, usually in really good seats because many a swiftie has offered to sell their soul for tickets. He said keep your soul just let him tag along.

-He is definitely an Evermore stan mostly because of relating too hard to the divorce narrative of it.

-Speaking of, Charlie has threatened to lock him out of his Spotify after catching him on the floor crying to “Champaign Problems” on repeat too many times. She never would but most definitely tried to ban him from listening to it for a month.

-She then caught him crying to “You’re Loosing Me”

-Angel Dust is most definitely  Beyhive (killer bee probably) and though initially joking that they are rivals the two men bond over their love for the two queens of pop, recommending songs and videos to each other.

-Angel is a Reputation Stan though 

-After one of Lucifer’s many tiffs with Alastor,  Charlie is expressing her frustration asking her dad why can’t they just get along and Lucifer explains that he doesn’t trust Alastor because “I think his ever-present grin is a little troubling” and is a little upset when she doesn’t get it 

-One day, Luci is sitting in the Lobby doing his work while listening to Taylor on shuffle. He’s casually minding his own business jamming out to one of her poppier love songs and Alastor wanders in commenting on the “Obnoxious trite little diddy” Lucifer doesn't even hesitate to take the bait

L: HOW DARE YOU! SHE IS A TALENTED GODDESS!! A DOWNRIGHT MUSICAL CHAMELEON! You are such a snob Alastor! Good music didn't stop getting made after your tiny little lifetime.

A: I never said it did but it's certainly not this frivolous noise!

L: Oh, you uninformed uncultured cur! She is a fucking poet!

He then proceeds to play examples for Alastor of her most creative and heart wrenching lyrics (he absolutely makes Al sit through all 10 minutes and 13 seconds of ATW) 

After all that though Lucifer will never get Alastor to admit that he finds T.S. musically talented (or that Lucifer did in fact catch Al tapping his foot a couple times)

        -Alastor does come to Lucifer, after a bit of research, admitting that though he does not find her music enjoyable, he respects her business cunning. Luci figures that's good enough. For now. 

-because I bet my non-existent Eras tour tickets that Lilith was a hater. I’ll leave it at that.

-OP works at Barnes & Noble and let me tell you there are about 80 different Taylor Swift magazines that even my swiftie ass thinks is excessive but Lucifer has every single one

-including the Taylor Swift paper dolls magazine (yes this is a real thing). He probably gets a few because he convinces Charlie to use them as a team building activity.

-He has at least 3 copies of each of the covers for the 2023 TIME Person of the Year magazine. 

-Also all cardigans. On a casual day he definitely lounges in them and has a set rotation of when to wear each one (and I am totally not gonna draw that nope)

-Well, it seems Lucifer is no longer crying to the depressing break-up songs on repeat but now he seems to be angrily listening to “Gorgeous” on repeat. Charlie asks him about it and he goes full denial mode “No no Charlie I'm not thinking of anyone specific, I've just been really into this song lately.” Everyone else in the hotel, besides Alastor, has already figured out what's going on

Alastor: If I have to hear that obnoxious noise one more time I will reduce that tiny maniac’s room to rubble as well as the abode of whatever sad sack is making him play it.

Angel: *knowing smirk* I'm gonna hold ya to that one, Antlers. 

-Al may very well hear it one more time if Lucifer uses it as his confession song (I don't fully commit to this headcanon, I just think it's funny) 

-Anyway boy’s probably in his Reputation stan Era b/c LWYMMD is like his long overdue big F-YOU to Heaven song 

btw this is NOT gonna end at these headcanons I am running with this idea like scissors.

@nunalastor

@julsiemagne

@nose-nippin-fun (I know you're not a swiftie but we talked about this so idk if you care I can un-tag you if you want)

#Gorgeous is such a RadioApple song and you can't change my mind #if you don't know why those images are swiftie coded then you're not a swiftie #y'all feel free to tag your Hazbin/Swiftie friends #Hazbin Hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #appleradio #duckiedeer #radioapple #Taylor Swift #Swiftie #lucifer hazbin hotel #What do you mean LWYMMD isn't about religious trauma? #Or Clean? #or ATW? #what do you mean I'm projecting again? #headcanon #headcanons #lucifer headcanons #hazbin hotel headcanon #lucifer headcanon #hazbin hotel headcanons #long post #lucifer is a Swiftie

[laracrofted]

delicate

synopsis: bob floyd is good at everything, except maybe expressing his feelings. based on delicate by taylor swift.

pairings: bob floyd x fem!reader (no y/n)

warnings: 18+, minors and ageless blogs dni, listen... if you're a delicate enjoyer, you should know to expect light angst here. expect softness too and also, semi-explicit sex, swearing, and the like. (wc: 2.2K)

note: so i've done nothing but listen to delicate and watch the lewis pullman pottery videos all week. be gentle with me.

written for the love is in the air challenge hosted by the lovely @roosterforme.

summoning a few fellow bob floyd enjoyers: @theharddeck @bradshawsbitch @rhettabbotts @roleycoleyreccenter @hangmanbrainrot @t-nd-rfoot

Another late night comes, and Bob Floyd is naked on the other side of your bed. 

Moonlight shines in from the outside, slipping between the curtains that aren’t quite closed, and in the near dark, Bob looks almost contemplative, tracing the length of your spine with soft, barely there touches. 

He is like a statue, something carved from marble, stretched out against your side, close enough for you to feel the warmth that radiates from his skin. You are a seasonal bloom, curving towards the sun, basking in his warmth.

He isn’t wearing his glasses and so, probably can’t make you out as much more than shadow and light, but Bob doesn’t seem to mind, content to admire you in the darkness, content to find the shape of you through gentle touches. Fingertips skim the curve of your waist, drum along your ribcage, making you giggle into the pillows. 

He knows your ticklish spots, careful to press the kisses a little lighter on the back of your knee or skim his nose along the side of your neck, all slow and purposeful, depending on his mood. A smile pulls at his blushing mouth, swollen with kisses, paired with an amused exhale. 

That was definitely on purpose. 

The BCGs sit on the nightstand, set aside on a stack of books, next to the mug of chamomile tea, half-drunk and probably cold now. You don’t want him to reach for them, knowing that Bob only puts them back on to leave. 

He doesn’t reach for them. 

You have a few more minutes. 

You don’t mean to let your eyes close, but Bob is warm and familiar and comforting. It is a losing battle. 

He brushes a kiss across your hairline and settles there, muscles bulging in the folded arm under his head. His breaths, slow and steady and even, stir the escaping hairs there. 

You drift in and out, lost in dreams of smoking planes and late-night texts and chamomile tea and a whispered confession against your brow. Come back to awareness in the cold absence of his warmth, his weight sinking the cheap mattress.

Between your lashes, Bob is a shadow at the nightstand, already dressed again in the black t-shirt and dark jeans that he'd been wearing at the Hard Deck tonight, sending you the I’m coming over message. 

He doesn’t notice your gaze, staring down at the nightstand with a clenched jaw, still wearing that contemplative expression. It has soured somewhere in the middle, tinged with an internal debate. 

He casts his gaze down to you, looking over your sleeping form, brushing the back of his hand across your cheek. You don’t open your eyes, not brave enough to pull him back down beside you and ask him not to leave. 

Stay here. Don’t make me ask. 

And after a few minutes, Bob picks up his glasses and leaves. 

Bob Floyd is good and also, good at everything. 

He’s not loud about it. 

Not like Hangman is good at pool, cheering and fist-pumping after a trick shot to draw over a crowd, already recounting the shot in self-congratulatory to the nearest person who’ll listen. He preens at the attention, basking in it. 

“Not just good,” Hangman said once, not one to let a compliment slide without making it into a thing, making you regret saying anything at all. “Too good to be true.”

Bob’s not dramatic about it either. 

Like how Rooster will dance his fingers across the piano, playing a few teasing notes to make sure the Hard Deck quiets down around him, building the suspense of the moment, waiting for them to look at him. 

Not like that at all. 

He is unassuming, not expecting compliments or attention, and in the rare event that a Hard Deck patron or a fellow Naval avatar does notice how skilled Bob Floyd is at the pool table and the like, he is quick to dismiss the praise. 

He is just… good. It is that simple.

You’d been a civilian mechanic on North Island for a good six months and were utterly convinced that no Naval aviator who’d graduated from Top Gun could be anything other than a walking and talking ego. Experience hadn’t changed your mind.

It is probably your own fault. You’d made it too easy for him.

All Bob Floyd needed to do was be good, quietly good in that way of his, and Bob had you. 

It sneaks up on you. A startling realization.

You’ve never been this person, the one who is waiting for the text to light up your nightstand in the black, the one who is reaching across the still warm bed after, grasping for a ghost that’s already slipped out into the night. You aren’t supposed to want him like this.

You are supposed to be the cold one, the one with one foot out the door, ready to leave rather than get left. You don’t let anyone get close enough to hurt you, not anymore, and Bob Floyd isn’t supposed to be the exception.

He is though. 

He’s your friend. You like him.

He’s more than that. You like him. 

You let yourself dream for a while, imagining that maybe Bob Floyd could like you too. He could want to be with you – not just want you on dark nights, drenched in loneliness, looking for someone who would understand the life of a Naval aviator and not expect promises. 

It doesn’t always seem like such a dream. That, at least, helps you feel less foolish. 

He comes to check on the F-18 repairs that Phoenix used to spearhead and lingers to ask you more questions.

Another mechanic calls him your boyfriend. A tease meant to embarrass you, not him, but Bob flushes pink. 

His next words come out stuttered, caught in a sharp wind and knocked off course, but Bob doesn’t correct him. 

He doesn’t deny it, but Bob still leaves. 

And after Bob accidentally knocks your favorite mug from the nightstand with an errant foot, shattering it into pieces too small to glue back together, Bob makes you a new one. It is dotted with little pink and green flowers and on the bottom, marked with his initials.

Didn’t want it to get mixed up in the kiln, Bob explained to you, showing you the little R.F. on the bottom.

He can easily hold it in one hand, fingers wrapping around the sides and meeting near the handle. You weigh that against the delicate flowers that line the glaze and feel fragile.

You don’t know anything about ceramics – other than that Bob does know about them. Just like he can play the drums and pick out the constellations on clear nights. You do know that Bob must’ve spent at least a few days making it, if not a week. 

“It’s not perfect. Got a little misshapen around the handle because I didn’t…” He shows you, pointing out the imperfection. It is a little misshapen, endearingly so. Little pink flowers. You pinch your arm and miss his explanation. “Is it okay? I could try again.” 

He looks nervous. Moisture pricks at your eyelids.

“It’s perfect.” No one’s ever given me anything so thoughtful. I like you so much. You bite down on your lip hard and bring the mug close to your chest, cradling it. "I’m never using another mug ever again. You’ll have to put it in my grave with me.” 

He made it for you. 

No one has ever made anything for you before, and Bob made something so beautiful and personal and precious with you in mind. You feel raw, flayed right open for him to pierce you through the heart. 

He made it for you… and still, Bob leaves. 

A message lights up your phone screen, set aside on the kitchen counter during your meal preparation. It is much earlier than Bob would usually send an I’m coming over text, but Bob does text you about other things. You are friends after all. 

Need a pool partner at the Hard Deck. Come meet me in the back?

He comes home with you a little earlier that night, stays a little longer, holds you a little tighter, arms around you like steel bands; but eventually, like clockwork, Bob reaches for his glasses on the nightstand.  

You should’ve ended it ages ago. Protected your own heart. 

He looks so handsome, so beautiful in your bed, pressing your legs open to take you apart with his mouth, guiding your hands to stroke through his hair, silky and slightly damp from a late-night shower. Soaking in every sound that escapes from your mouth.

You almost say it then. 

You don’t, instead filling the silence with moans and gasps and the reverent repetition of his name. Move your fingers through the soft strands, tugging when Bob slides his ring finger into you and nudges at a spot that makes your vision haze. 

He moans against you, low and wanting, curling his fingers tighter around your thigh, hard enough to leave indents. You’ll check for bruises in the morning, even though Bob never leaves any. He’s always so careful with you. 

“Please,” Bob whispers, before making you shatter on his tongue.

You almost tell him then, but manage to hold it in, blinking the stars from your eyes, until Bob is sprawled across your bed after, mouth shining with you, pressing a wet kiss to your temple. 

Soft. Like a promise. 

“I really like you.” 

Half a second passes, and Bob is completely still. 

Fuck. You pull back from him.

Why did you say that? You shouldn’t have said anything, 

You’ve ruined it. It was good. You’ve ruined everything. You – 

A creaking bedspring. Bob reaches over you to turn on the light and grabs his glasses from the nightstand. You are both bathed in the warm yellow light as Bob slides them on.

Not to leave. He wants to see your face better.

He pushes himself upright, sliding to lean against the headboard, forearms rippling with the movement. Bob doesn’t leave. 

“You…” Bob hesitates, expression guarded. “You do?” 

It would be easier to lie about it. You can’t do it anymore. 

“I do. Is that… Is it okay that I said that? Is it too soon?” 

You can hear your own hope in your voice, unbridled, and Bob searches your expression, eyes wide and blue behind the wire frames. You’d never seen that color blue before him.

In lieu of an answer, Bob says, “I love you.” 

You might not be breathing. You’re definitely crying. 

He cups your cheek in a large palm, catching a tear that spills across the bridge of your nose. His voice is low and tender, enough to warm you from the inside out. “I’ve loved you for months now, and I couldn’t...” Wetness shines on his own cheek, and Bob brushes it away. “It felt so delicate and new, and I couldn’t risk losing you, even if I only ever got to have pieces.” 

A curl falls across his forehead. You brush it back, stroking your fingertips down his cheek, and Bob closes his eyes with a shuddering breath, leaning into your touch. He is shaking. 

“Not just pieces. You’ve had me, all of me the whole time.” 

And Bob rewards your confession with his own.

“I always wanted to stay with you. You never asked, and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” And the corner of his mouth lifts in a wobbly smile. “That didn’t stop me from pushing my luck when I was feeling brave.” 

You remember. He’d hold you a little longer, pull away a little slower. He’d whisper words too low for you to make out. You wonder now if Bob was saying these words; if Bob had really whispered I love you in your dreams or said it for real. 

You need to know. “And if I ask you now?” 

“I’d stay with you,” Bob promises, serious and solemn. “I'd hold you. And then, in the morning, I’d bring you breakfast. I make a mean scrambled egg.” 

You laugh, and Bob smiles at the sound.

He lowers you onto your back, moving over you. He is broad enough to blot out the light, looking at you with such hope and love. His gaze moves between your eyes and your lips.

“Are you?” Bob asks, serious again. He raises your interlocked fingers and kisses the back of your hand. “Asking, I mean?” 

You kiss him. It is answer enough. 

For the rest of the night, Bob is all over you, kissing your cheeks, pinning your interlocked fingers into the soft sheets. He slides into you with your name on his lips, saying those three words over and over again, like a prayer.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

He lets go only once – to slide his glasses from his nose and deposit them back in their place on the nightstand.

And in the morning, Bob brings you coffee in a handmade mug with the little pink and green flowers. He stays. 

end note: i'd love to hear your thoughts and feelings, especially since i've never written a bob floyd fic before. happy valentine's day!

#love is in the air tgm #bob floyd fic #robert floyd fic #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd x you #bob floyd angst #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd smut #laracrofted writes #fic: delicate #fic: bob floyd

[f1letters]

you're on your own, kid | pg10

"I wait patiently, he's gonna notice me. it's okay, we're the best of friends"

summary: after what she thought was the best night of her life, she came to the realization that she was nothing but one more girl on his list

warning: angst, childhood best friends, toxic fuckboy pierre, mentions of bullying as a little kid, friend zone, one-night stand, suggestive language, swearing, mentions of feeling used, emotional dependence, heartbreak, miscommunication trope, platonic!reader x charles leclerc

pairing: pierre gasly x reader

word count: 4.1k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts.

whoever guessed 'you're on your own, kid'... CONGRATS!! this one is for you! haha I hope you guys like this one, it's the longest story I've written so far but this is such a special song to me and I tried my best to do it justice! enjoy!

masterlist

Summer went away, still, the yearning stays

I play it cool with the best of them

I wait patiently, he's gonna notice me

It's okay, we're the best of friends

Anyway

For as long as Y/N could remember, she had been completely and madly in love with her best friend.

Pierre and Y/N became an inseparable duo from the moment they met as two little kids trying out for their primary school's football team.

At the time, the other boys tried to make fun of the little girl for wanting to be a part of a "boys' sport", as they called it. Being the only girl there, she was made the target of all the bullying, but when she was about to give in and give up, her hero appeared in the form of 6-year-old Pierre who defended her with everything he had.

Y/N looked at the tiny French boy with wide, sparkling eyes as he took her hand and gave it a little squeeze so she wouldn't feel alone.

From there, the two immediately became best friends and that's how they stayed throughout the years.

But at some point in time, the girl found herself getting butterflies when she was in Pierre's presence, imagining what it would be like to have his lips against hers, idealizing a life where the two would be together as more than just friends.

It was inevitable. Pierre emanated such a powerful energy that it consumed her head and dominated all her senses.

He was like a drug: addictive, impossible to give up and she depended on him for survival - almost as if he was oxygen.

And so it was with so many other girls, victims of the driver's charm, although his playboy fame followed him everywhere since he was a teenager.

And it hurt. It hurt too much.

All those years, Y/N had no choice but to fake a smile and nod as she listened to the Frenchman brag about all his latest conquests, all the models, actresses and singers he got involved with all over the world. 

She had no choice but to wait patiently for him to notice her and for him to finally see them as more than the best of friends.

I hear it in your voice, you're smoking with your boys

I touch my phone as if it's your face

I didn't choose this town, I dream of getting out

There's just one who could make me stay

All my days

To be honest, Y/N was already starting to accept that nothing would ever happen between them.

So, the girl chose to distance herself from her friend a little, in an attempt to let her romantic feelings for him fade over time.

She used every excuse in the book to avoid him: I'm tired, I have other plans, I'm working late, I'm sick, I had a family emergency. All of the excuses in the world were used.

Until the day when there were no more excuses and she ended up having to give in, arranging a movie night with the man, as they frequently did over their friendship of nearly two decades.

Y/N arrived at Pierre's luxury apartment in Milan on time as she always did. For a second, she hesitated to knock on the door, letting her anxiety take over, and almost decided to flee in the opposite direction. But as if the driver read her thoughts, the Frenchman appeared from inside his house, seeing his best friend, frozen on top of his black 'welcome' mat.

"Hey! I thought I heard someone coming!" Pierre said excitedly as he gave the girl a short hug. "What are you waiting for? Come in, make yourself comfortable!"

Y/N took off her long coat, hanging it on the coat rack in the hallway, and followed Pierre into his living room, where she saw everything prepared for their movie session. Pillows scattered across the living room floor, two warm blankets crumpled on the couch and two buckets full of popcorn, the smell of which had entered her nose from the moment she set foot inside the apartment.

The familiar image of the boy sitting on his soft carpet made her body relax, and she took the seat next to him while he searched for a movie on his Netflix account. After the two agreed to watch a horror movie, both of them big fans of the genre, the two leaned back against the bottom of the sofa and directed their attention to the screen.

The minutes passed and the two remained in a comfortable silence, commenting from time to time on some of the moments in the film. 

Pierre was now closer to the girl's side and the heat he radiated seemed to almost burn her with the tension that appeared to have settled in her room.

Out of nowhere, Y/N felt something cold on her thigh and thought she was daydreaming when she realized it was her best friend's hand. The girl didn't react, fearing that the words coming out of her mouth would be the wrong ones.

She couldn't help but notice how the driver seemed to be studying her every move, out of the corner of his eye, like a predator looking for prey to attack. 

It was a look she had seen on his face more times than she could count. But never directed at her.

His hand began to move slowly up her soft thigh towards the warm spot between her legs, testing the waters and seeing how far she allowed him to go. His calculated movement was stopped abruptly when she caught his wrist before he reached his intended destination.

"Pierre, what are you doing?" Y/N asked, turning her flushed face towards him.

The boy was mere inches away from her, a smirk plastered across his face and without any sign of regret or embarrassment at having been caught making his risky move. "Y/N, don't lie to me. I've seen the way you look at me. The way your eyes react when they see me approaching you, when you see me with other girls, or when you see me shirtless." He grinned at her, shamelessly.

The girl remained silent, no words daring to be uttered, and she gasped as his hand returned to its former place on the top of her thigh. The Frenchman narrowed the space between them even more, letting his lips brush over hers.

"Come on, Y/N. I can feel how much you want this, want me right now." The man spoke, his fingers now playing with the elastic of her underwear, threatening to act on his desire. "Don't think too much about it. Just live in the moment and act without thinking about the consequences."

Those words were enough to make her head turn off, completely losing her rationality.

Filled with lust, Y/N acted without thinking and kissed Pierre urgently, as if she feared the moment would end at any moment.

With tongues fighting passionately, touches exploring the curves and details of each others' bodies, and clothes scattered carelessly around the room, the two allowed themselves to enter a new level of intimacy.

And the young woman's heart looked like it could explode at any moment with how full it felt, finally having the boy she craved for so long in her arms.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I waited ages to see you there

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that you never cared

The next day, Y/N woke up with the sun's rays coming through the half-open window of a room that she recognized immediately as Pierre's bedroom.

Though she had never woken up in that room like this before: naked, with only the sheets covering her body, and with a satisfying ache between her legs that she hadn't felt in a long time.

Although the driver was nowhere to be seen, a goofy smile appeared on her face, and she brought her hands to her face to cover it up. She let out a silent little scream as she remembered the wonderful hours she'd spent the night before, her exploring Pierre's body, Pierre exploring hers.

Finally, things were going to change. 

She finally got the boy she wanted all those agonizing years.

Grabbing a used tracksuit of his that was lying on a chair and a pair of clean boxers from his drawer, the girl got dressed and headed to the kitchen, where she found her lover leaning against one of his kitchen counters, concentrated on the phone in his hand while drinking some coffee.

"Well, good morning!" Y/N said, almost humming with so much happiness filling her as she approached the driver.

"Hey." He replied, short and dry, making the young woman stop in her tracks, dumbfounded by his carefree attitude.

"Did you sleep well today...?" She tried to test the waters to see if it was just her being dramatic and misunderstanding his response.

"Yeah, sure." Pierre spoke again, without returning the question and without taking his eyes off the small screen of his iPhone as he drank a bit more of his coffee.

Nervousness began to replace all the bliss that previously consumed the girl. It was almost as if he never cared, not even after all she gave him the night before. "Is there something wrong, Pierre?" She questioned, clutching the bottom of the hoodie she was wearing in an attempt to hide her uneasiness.

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

"No, sorry. I'm just trying to arrange something here." He replied, more friendly, though he still hadn't even looked at her since Y/N walked into the kitchen.

"What are you planning?" The girl asked, trying everything to strike up a conversation with him. Her heart was beating wildly at that point, and it seemed to crack more and more with each beat.

"Just this lunch thing with a girl I've been talking to for a few weeks." His shoulders shrugged as if his words hadn't pushed Y/N to her limits.

She couldn't explain how hurt she felt. How dirty and used he, of all people, made her feel.

How could he? Her best friend. The person who had been by her side for years. The man she would do anything for.

After suffering in silence for years afraid to act on her feelings, this was her pay for taking a risk once in her life: becoming just another silly girl in Pierre Gasly's long list of lovers.

Just another conquest, another achievement, undeserving of the driver's concern and care, with zero distinction from all others.

"Look, I'm in a hurry. I really have to go, Y/N." He informed her just as he started to walk hurriedly towards the exit, placing a quick kiss on her temple.

As if those same lips hadn't been glued to hers, clinging to every surface of the girl's body just hours before.

"You know the way! Just let yourself out. See you later!" He yelled, leaving the girl stunned, tears streaming from her eyes, as she heard the apartment door close loudly.

I see the great escape, so long, Daisy May

I picked the petals, he loves me not

Something different bloomed, writing in my room

I play my songs in the parking lot

I'll run away

A couple of days later, Y/N found herself sitting in her condo's parking lot one night, balling her eyes out while she played the songs of her favourite artist.

She couldn't believe that her best friend had used her body and taken advantage of her feelings for him. And to make matters worse, the girl has received nothing but silence from Pierre's side since that morning in his apartment.

Left alone with her own confused thoughts, Y/N's head was spinning. She didn't know what to do, what to think, or what to say.

I just want to get out of Milan and go home, she repeated over and over again.

Y/N had never chosen that town.

The young woman remembered every detail of the day when Pierre announced he was going to move to Italy, leaving France.

A life without Pierre was unimaginable for the girl. She couldn't remember a single day when she didn't know him, when she didn't have his presence in her life.

Feeling trapped, with no other option, she simply packed her bags and went with him.

She couldn't help but think what a huge mistake it had been to come after him, especially when he didn't seem to care about having her there at all.

Y/N picked up her phone, preparing to turn off the music that was blaring through the car to return home, but she was stopped by the sight of the image that decorated her lock screen.

It was from last year. Pierre and Y/N were wearing their ugly Christmas sweaters - like they did every year as a silly tradition - cuddled up on the couch in his parents' house. The lights from the tree reflected on them, creating a magical atmosphere around the two friends.

The girl affectionately touched her phone, as if it were his face. 

Although the idea of returning to France had been hovering in her head for a while, she knew that she couldn't decide to leave without talking to him first.

After all, he was the only one who could make her stay.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I called a taxi to take me there

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that my dreams aren't rare

As tears continued to pool in her sad eyes, Y/N opted to get out of her car, assuring that it was safely locked, and called a taxi to take her to the boy's house, since she wasn't in any condition to drive.

The drive was silent and short, just the typical 15 minutes it took her every time. The girl got out of the car, thanked the driver, and began to walk hurriedly towards the building. Her step was uneven and fast, revealing the girl's erratic and desperate state.

Y/N walked through the door of the building, politely greeting the doorman, and continued on her way towards the elevator.

She was only inside for a few minutes until she reached Pierre's floor, being immediately surprised by the loud sound of music coming from the door of the familiar apartment.

He's having a party, and he hasn't even invited me, she thought to herself.

While she suffered from his absence, Pierre was surrounded by anything but silence.

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

Y/N gained some courage and rang the doorbell, although she was afraid that no one would hear the sound in between the noise coming from the apartment's speakers.

However, seconds later, the driver appeared at the door, wide-eyed at the sight of his friend.

"Hey! Y/N!" Pierre smiled at her, without any sign that he had stopped to think about her during the days that had passed since the night of desire between the two of them. "I wasn't expecting you, come in!"

"Hmm..." The girl hesitantly entered the house and tried to pretend that everything was fine, not wanting to ruin the party. "I was nearby and decided to stop by."

"Oh, good!" Pierre replied, bringing his hand to the back of his neck as his eyes roamed the party full of other bodies. "We're just having a last-minute thing. You know, just a spontaneous hangout." He chuckled, clearly looking to get back to what he was doing before heading to the door.

"Yes, of course, Pierre 'spontaneous' Gasly." Y/N joked, in an attempt to break the tense atmosphere between the two. However, she only received the disinterest of Pierre, who clearly didn't find the joke funny.

"Look, I have to go. I was in the middle of something," Pierre looked back at her, pointing towards a person she immediately recognized. "But Charles is over there with Joris! You can go to them. We'll talk later, okay?"

Without even waiting for her answer, the Frenchman left. The girl's teary eyes followed his image until she saw him returning to his dark couch, where three gorgeous women were waiting for the driver, with hungry eyes on their faces.

The same fucking couch where he'd explored her body, millimetre by millimetre, marking her skin with his touch, days before.

"You know how he gets when he is hosting a party." Charles said, approaching the young woman when he noticed her presence alone in the room.

She shrugged, discreetly wiping the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. "Yeah, well, my presence was always pointless here for him anyway."

Y/N turned to the Monegasque driver and hugged him tight, longer than usual. The man was caught off guard, taking a few seconds to return his longtime friend's hug, but he did so.

Charles couldn't help feeling that that hug meant something more to the girl, but he chose not to question it since it was apparent in her hurt look that something else was going on and he didn't want to intrude.

Y/N placed a friendly kiss on the boy's cheek, letting her hand rest on his cheek. Her gaze locked with his eyes and he swore he saw a tear fall down her cheek.

"Goodbye Charles." She forced a smile. "I will talk to you later, I love you." Y/N turned her back to her friend and walked out the door, without allowing the driver to respond.

Charles couldn't shake the feeling that this 'goodbye' wasn't just a 'see you later', but, blaming it on alcohol and his imagination, he returned to the party, without giving the matter any further thought.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this

I hosted parties and starved my body

Like I'd be saved by a perfect kiss

In a hurry and with tears flowing freely down her face, the girl returned home and placed all her belongings in suitcases and bags, without any care.

And with that, Y/N ran up and down the stairs of the building where she lived towards her car, filling the trunk and the back seats of the vehicle with everything she had in her small house.

For one last time, Y/N looked at the now lifeless apartment where she lived for the last few years and her heart felt tight, unable to hide the nostalgia that that place was going to leave her with.

She might not have been the happiest there in Milan, but her home had always been her refuge.

However, it was time for her to turn the page, burn the bridge, and finally return to her true home.

Sitting in the car, she took a deep breath and began her long, impulsive journey back to France. It was completely insane trying to make a trip lasting more than 10 hours, especially at that time of night, but the girl simply couldn't bear to stay there another minute.

When the sun started to reappear in the sky, illuminating the endless road with its orange and pink tones, Y/N realized that he hadn't stopped yet and decided to park at one of the available stations to rest.

However, the heartache and the feeling of betrayal still crushed her soul, so she sought refuge in the words of her best friend, Céline, who would certainly welcome her when she reached her destination.

"Y/N? Is everything okay?" Her sleepy tone soon revealed that she had been awakened by the call.

"I'm coming home, Cél." Y/N informed, sniffling her nose. "I gave my blood, sweat and tears for this. I gave it my all but I just couldn't take it anymore."

"What?" Y/N could hear the sound of the sheets and mattress moving on the other end of the line, imagining Céline suddenly sitting up on her bed. "Home? As in France? I don't understand, what happened? Talk to me."

"I'm just a dumb girl who thought the guy she loved for years was going to be her prince charming, coming to save her the perfect kiss." The young woman sobbed, with her hand covering her mouth in an attempt to hide the noise. "Instead, I was just treated like a fucking toy. He didn't even care to know how I felt after he slept with me."

"What? You and Pierre?" His friend questioned, shocked. "Oh my god, I never thought he would be capable of doing this to you. I don't even know what to say."

The two friends stayed for a long time talking, Céline being her usual attentive friend and listening to Y/N's outburst without interrupting her.

"Don't worry, girl. I'll be here with open arms to welcome you home." Cél tried to comfort her friend, making the girl in the car thank her for everything.

Y/N had no reason to be afraid when the people who really cared about her were waiting for her where she truly belonged.

The jokes weren't funny, I took the money

My friends from home don't know what to say

I looked around in a blood-soaked gown

And I saw something they can't take away

The days passed and Pierre went on with his life as normal, not even noticing the girl's absence until Charles asked him about it.

The two were playing FIFA on their PlayStations when the Monegasque spoke. "Pierre, have you heard from Y/N lately?"

The Frenchman felt a wave of shock hit him as he realized he hadn't seen or heard from her since the night of the party when he'd rudely dismissed her.

"I don't know, mate... When I talked to her at the party, she didn't seem right." Charles expressed his concerns. "I've tried texting her, calling her. She doesn't answer me."

"It's probably not a big deal. She's probably just busy with something." Pierre pretended to be unconcerned, trying to convince himself more than his friend that it was just a misunderstanding.

"No, Pierre. You don't understand." The Monegasque insisted, persistent in solving the mystery. "When she said goodbye to me that night... I felt like it was goodbye, a real goodbye."

Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye.

The word echoed in Pierre's head and regret filled him from head to toe, as he rose abruptly from the sofa.

"I have to go, Charles."

'Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned

Everything you lose is a step you take

So, make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it

You've got no reason to be afraid

You're on your own, kid

Yeah, you can face this

The driver knocked insistently on the girl's door, almost as if his life depended on it.

"Y/N, please! Open the door!" Fists clenched against the wood, he begged for a chance to apologize.

Pierre knew now that he had acted wrongly with her.

For letting his desire for some release come between them. For using his friend for a night of passion when she was the most important person in his life. For giving her just something fleeting, something ephemeral when she deserved the world at her feet.

For ignoring the girl the morning after the best night in his life. For avoiding her the next few days when he should have run to her and confessed his feelings. For taking the easy way out and looking for comfort in other bodies when the only one he wanted by his side was her.

Pierre gave up knocking and let his back hit the door, sitting on the step. "I'm sorry. For everything. I beg you, give me a chance to tell you everything I should have said ages ago."

"Sorry, but are you looking for Y/N?" An old voice spoke, making the Frenchman look up at the person. "She doesn't live here anymore, young man."

"W- What- What do you mean?" Pierre stammered, feeling like he'd been doused in cold water.

"She left the apartment a few days ago. The landlord is already looking for someone to rent the place." The elderly lady informed him, setting down the groceries she was holding on the floor.

It was too late, he thought. I lost her, forever.

She approached him, placing a hand gently on the boy's shoulder, who now had his head between his hands.

"I'm sorry, but you're on your own, kid."

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

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[talkdutchtome]

Glitch- chapter five

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader / mason mount x reader )

summary . . . when mason mount finds out that his assistant has been harbouring feelings for him for years, he makes it clear he doesn't feel the same way. but once he sees her become closer with formula 1 world champion max verstappen, he realises he may have underestimated his feelings towards the girl he has now pushed into the arms of another )

genre . . . angst )

song . . . glitch- taylor swift )

series masterlist . . . available here )

The dim light in the cozy living room flickered as Y/N paced nervously. She turned to the figure on the couch, who had been quietly listening to her unravel her thoughts. "I'm sorry for coming so late, but I was just so confused. I didn't know what to do." 

The figure shifted, and a voice that was both comforting and familiar responded, "No need to apologize. Take a seat and tell me what's on your mind." 

Y/N sank into a nearby chair, her eyes searching for answers in the patterns of the rug. "It was going really well. He’s so nice, I really liked him. But then he started talking about taking me to Monaco and I panicked, I don’t even know why I..” She trailed off, unsure about how to even put into words what she was feeling. She had just ran away from a date with an incredible guy, a date that was actually going really well, and was now sat in her friend's living room at almost 11 o'clock at night. The man in front of her was patient, he let her into his home and was listening to every word she said, and that just made her feel so much worse.  

“I don’t know what to do Reece, I just ran away, he’s going to think I’m so weird. And you, we’ve only been real friends for five minutes and I’ve just turned up at your house and unloaded all of my crap onto you. Fucking hell, I’m such a mess.” 

Reece's gaze remained steady as Y/N bared her thoughts, her vulnerability evident in the dimly lit room. He listened attentively, offering a soft smile as she apologized once again. 

"Y/N, you don't have to apologize for coming here. That's what friends are for," Reece reassured her, his tone warm and understanding. "You're not a mess, and you're certainly not burdening me. I'm here for you, okay? I get why you wouldn’t want to talk to Mason about this too.”

She nodded, appreciating his kindness. "Thanks, Reece. I just don't want to mess things up. He's a great guy, and I ran away like an idiot." 

He smiled, his eyes reflecting genuine concern. "Look, I’m by no means an expert in this subject but from a guys perspective, maybe you should just tell him how you feel. Let him know that you like him but that you need things to go slowly. Honesty is key in these situations, and if he's as great as you say, he'll appreciate your openness." 

Y/N considered Reece's advice, a sense of clarity emerging. "You're right. I should talk to him. Thank you, Reece. I don't know what I would've done without you tonight." 

Reece chuckled softly, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "That's what friends are for, Y/N. Anytime you need someone to talk to, I'm here." 

Y/N expressed her thanks once again, her weariness evident in her grateful smile. "Thank you, Reece. I should get going." 

As she began gathering her belongings and preparing to leave, Reece, noticing the late hour and the weariness in her eyes, interjected gently. "Wait, Y/N. It's pretty late, and it's dark out. I wouldn't feel right letting you walk home alone now. Why don't you just crash here for the night? I've got a spare bedroom, and you can head out in the morning." 

Y/N's initial hesitance was palpable, her brows furrowing with concern. "Reece, I really don't want to impose on you any more than I already have." 

Reece shook his head, a warm and reassuring smile on his face. "Y/N, it's not an imposition. I'd prefer you stay here. I wouldn't feel comfortable letting you walk home alone at this hour." 

A brief moment of contemplation passed before Y/N nodded, gratitude softening her features. "Okay, thank you, Reece. I appreciate it." 

He guided her to the spare bedroom, its ambiance a mix of coziness and simplicity. He assured her to make herself at home, offering, "I've got training early tomorrow, so help yourself to anything you need in the morning. Sleep well." 

Y/N expressed her thanks once more, and as she stepped into the spare bedroom, the soft glow of a bedside lamp revealed a neatly arranged space. The comfortable bed beckoned her, and, feeling the weight of the night's emotional rollercoaster, Y/N surrendered to its embrace. 

She slipped under the covers, the softness of the pillows providing a welcomed comfort. The room held a serenity that seemed to embrace her, and as she closed her eyes, the gentle hum of Reece's home became a soothing lullaby. Sleep claimed her swiftly, offering a respite from the stress and confusion that had filled her evening. 

The morning light filtered through the curtains, gently waking Y/N as she stirred in the unfamiliar room. A soft murmur of voices reached her ears, and curiosity led her downstairs. As she descended, the voices became clearer, and she recognized Reece's calm tones along with another voice that sent a ripple of surprise through her. 

In the kitchen, Mason and Reece stood engaged in conversation, both sipping on protein shakes. Their conversation ceased as Y/N entered, her presence causing a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. Mason's eyes widened in shock as he registered her appearance, and Y/N could almost see the gears turning in his mind. 

"Hey," she greeted shyly, attempting to break the tension. 

Mason, still processing the unexpected scene before him, remained silent. His attempt at maintaining composure was evident, but a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. 

Reece, sensing the need to address the unspoken tension, interjected, "Morning, Y/N. We’re just getting a drink before we head to training" 

Mason's gaze shifted between Y/N and Reece, a myriad of thoughts swirling in his mind.  

“You-” Mason tried to speak but his voice got caught. “You stayed here last night?” He questioned. It was plain to see that he was freaking out but trying his hardest to remain nonchalant. 

Y/N, catching on to the unspoken assumptions, decided to clarify before things took a turn for the worse. 

"Oh, yeah I came round to chat last night, and then when it got late Reece offered up his spare room so I didn’t have to walk home in the dark," she explained, hoping to dispel any lingering doubts. 

Reece nodded in agreement, offering a reassuring smile. "Exactly. Just a friend helping a friend out." 

The tension in the room began to ease as the truth settled. Mason, still processing the information, managed a nod. "Right, got it." 

Reece, ever attuned to the lingering awkwardness, took the initiative to break the silence. "Well, I think we should probably head to training. You're welcome to stay here for as long as you need, Y/N. There's a spare key by the door; just use that and drop it back through the letterbox when you leave." 

Y/N nodded appreciatively, "Thanks, Reece. I appreciate it." 

As Reece and Mason made their way toward the door, the air still carried a hint of unease. Mason, however, seemed to have regained some composure and, looking at Y/N, asked, "Are we still having our movie night tonight?" 

Y/N smiled, relieved that the tension was slowly dissipating. "Absolutely. Come around at 7, and we'll get started." 

With that agreement, Reece and Mason headed out the door. As it closed behind them, Y/N caught a snippet of Mason's questioning tone directed at Reece, but the words were muffled by the closing door. She sighed, hoping that the newfound understanding she and Mason had reached would withstand this unexpected morning twist. 

  As the evening approached, Y/N found herself at home, thoughts swirling in her mind like a turbulent storm. She debated whether or not to reach out to Max, her anxiety growing with each passing moment. Eventually, fueled by a desire for clarity, she decided to make the call. 

Her fingers hesitated over the keys as she dialed Max's number. The phone rang, and with each passing second, her heartbeat quickened. Then, a familiar voice on the other end said, "Hello?" 

"Hi, Max," she greeted, her voice a mix of nerves and sincerity. 

Max responded warmly, "Hey Y/N, how are you?" 

Y/N took a deep breath before launching into an explanation. "I’m good thanks, just wanted to talk about yesterday, if this isn’t a bad time?" 

Max assured her, "Not at all. Go ahead." 

So, Y/N began to share her feelings, the whirlwind of emotions that led her to retreat so abruptly. Max listened attentively, responding with understanding and empathy. "I'm really sorry if I made you uncomfortable," he apologized sincerely. 

"No, no, Max. You don't need to apologize," Y/N reassured him. "I had a lovely time, honestly. I just got a bit overwhelmed, and my instincts took over. I'd like to see you again if you're not too weirded out by my disappearing act." 

Max chuckled gently. "Not weirded out at all. I was just worried I'd done something to upset you." 

Y/N smiled, grateful for his understanding. "You didn't, at all. 

“Thats good, I meant every word I said though Y/N, I do really like you, and if taking things slow is what makes you comfortable, then I'm all for it. I just want to see you again." 

Her heart warmed at his sincerity. "Thank you, Max. I appreciate that." 

Glancing at the clock, she realized Mason would be arriving soon. "I need to get going but we should plan something soon, okay?” 

"Absolutely," Max agreed. "Let me know when you're free, and we'll figure something out." 

Mason's knock on the door echoed through the room shortly after Y/N’s call to Max had ended, she welcomed him in, and they quickly settled into their familiar routine, though there was a noticeable shift. Instead of the usual cozy closeness on a single sofa, they each took their own, creating a subtle but tangible distance. 

Somethings however, never change; because the first thing they did was begin to argue about who gets to choose the first film. Y/N was advocating for her favourite film of all time, 10 things I hate about you, whereas Mason was advocating for Fight Club. Although it only took Y/N pouting at him with puppy dog eyes on full display for Mason to quicky relent and agree to whatever she wanted. He couldn’t help but to laugh to himself at just how easily Y/N could make him do whatever she wanted. 

As the opening scenes of the movie flickered across the screen, Mason couldn't help but steal glances at Y/N across from him. The room was dimly lit by the glow of the television, and he couldn't help but be captivated by the way Y/N visibly lit up with excitement when the familiar scenes unfolded. 

He found himself watching her more than the movie itself, contemplating how effortlessly beautiful she looked in that moment. The way her eyes sparkled with genuine enthusiasm as she absorbed every detail of the film, the soft movements of her lips as she quietly mouthed along to the well-known lines, and the sweet sound of her little giggles that escaped when a particularly humorous scene played out. 

In that moment, Mason realized the beauty he had overlooked before. It wasn't just about her physical features, although he found himself drawn to the soft curves of her face and the glint in her eyes. It was the genuine joy she radiated, the infectious energy that made her all the more enchanting. Yet, as he marvelled at these revelations, an inexplicable discomfort settled in the pit of Mason's stomach. It was a perplexing sensation, an unsettling awareness that something had shifted, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what. 

Caught in his own thoughts, Mason initially didn't register Y/N's attempts to engage in conversation. It took her repeating herself for him to snap back to the present. She asked about his training with Reece, and Mason, readjusting to the conversation, he replied, "It was alright, a bit boring." 

Casually, he segued into another question, the tone of his voice crafted to sound nonchalant. "By the way, since when were you so close with Reece anyway?" The query lingered in the air, carefully casual yet edged with an underlying curiosity 

Y/N shared with Mason that when he wasn't speaking to her, Reece had been incredibly supportive, and they naturally grew closer during that time. She braced herself for any potential discomfort on Mason's part, anticipating that he might be uneasy about her forming a bond with one of his friends and teammates. However, Mason's response surprised her 

"That's good. I'm glad you had someone when I was being a dick," he stated, a touch of sincerity in his voice. "I am really sorry for that again, by the way." 

Y/N reassured him, "You don't need to keep saying sorry, Mason, but thank you." 

As the conversation continued, Mason hesitated for a moment before asking, "How did you end up at Reece's house anyway, if you were seeing Max?" There was a subtle flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, as if he was unsure whether bringing up Max was the right move. And when he caught sight of Y/N shifting uncomfortably, he realized it may have been better if he avoided the subject altogether.  

“Oh, well umm, I just panicked a bit and needed someone to talk to talk it though with.” she spoke as concern flickered in Mason's eyes, and he asked, "What made you panic?" 

She sighed, "Well, he said he wanted to take me to Monaco." 

Mason slightly raised his eyebrows, contemplating her words. "Is that a bad thing?" he asked. 

Y/N clarified, "I don’t know, it just felt like everything was moving too fast. It was a bit overwhelming." 

“I get that, how did it go other than that though, think you’ll see him again?” he asked her, trying his best to remain as casual as possible.  

Y/N's demeanor carried a vague discomfort as she began to answer his question. Her eyes shifted uneasily, and she fidgeted with a loose thread on the edge of the sofa. 

“Uh yeah, it was really nice. He took me to the nicest restaurant I have ever seen in my life, then we went to this coffee shop he likes and we got a hot chocolate, I’m not sure when but we’re definitely going to do something again soon.” 

Mason just nodded, trying desperately to make a a concerted effort to be a good friend, despite the evident unease he felt about hearing the details of her date. His expression betrayed a subtle struggle, trying to maintain a supportive facade while grappling with his own emotions beneath the surface. 

As they turned their attention back to the TV, Y/N gradually eased into the familiar comfort of her favorite film. The initial unease began to subside, replaced by the warmth that usually accompanied movie nights with Mason. They finished watching her movie and then started the one that Mason had asked for.  

As the intense scenes of Fight Club unfolded on the screen, Mason couldn't shake the desire to be closer to Y/N, like they used to be. He missed the casual intimacy they once shared during movie nights, where they would end up cuddling on the sofa, wrapped up in each other's company. However, he recognized that those moments were no longer a given. 

He silently wished they could return to the easy closeness they had before everything became complicated. Yet, Mason understood that it wasn't fair to impose their old habits on Y/N. So, he stayed in his corner of the sofa, watching the movie, trying to pretend that he didn’t want to go over and hold his best friend.  

Not 20 minutes into the movie, Mason noticed the soft and rhythmic sounds of gentle snores coming from where Y/N lay on the sofa. He couldn't help but smile; it was such a typical Y/N thing to do, to fall asleep during a movie. Deciding not to disturb her peaceful slumber, Mason quietly approached and saw that she had dozed off. 

Softly chuckling, he carefully lifted Y/N into his arms, cradling her with the same tenderness he'd always shown. In the quiet of her bedroom, he gently placed her on the bed, arranging the covers around her. It was an instinct to climb in beside her, as they'd done countless times during movie nights at her place due to her not having a spare bedroom.  

However, Mason abruptly halted, the reality settling in that those intimate moments were no longer appropriate. A wistful look crossed his face as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind Y/N's ear. Leaning down, he placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head and whispered, "Goodnight, Y/N," before quietly leaving her room to head home.  

Tag list-

@nightlockcornucopia @jaydensluv @girlytots19 @formula1mount @alwaysclassyeagle @aundercover @sofifiia @dessxoxsworld @lpab @lorarri @thelovehypothesis @torrie421 @ironmaiden1313 @celesteblack08 @glow-ish @urfavouritef1girly @alwaysclassyeagle @barnestatic @simxican @formula1mount @charli123456789 @mac-daddy-210 @lazybot @imguce @azxulaa @mehrmonga @sunny44 @skepvids @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @chimchimjiminie16 @tyna-19 @hoely-maria @stevesworld9 @f1lov3r @elliegrey2803 @heyyhelloohii @landosgirlxoxo @skepvids @aundercover @andydrysdalerogers @illicitverstappen @bbygrlllllll @kageyamama-hinatatata @imagandom @bibissparkles @sofifiia @dark-night-sky-99 @viennakarma @tyna-19 @wcnorris

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n #football x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x you #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fics #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n

[bsverryin]

: ̗̀➛ How genshin men proposed to you

Who?

╰┈➤ Diluc, Childe, Ayato

situation?

╰┈➤ you've been in a relationship with them for years and finally you're getting married, but how did they propose?

✎ fluff!! No possible warning..HEAD CANNONS ONLY!!! I've been thinking about some good plots while listening to "timeless" by Taylor swift this didn't come into my mind at first but then when I was making little chats that I was supposed to post for today this came suddenly 🥹 if it's not in your liking you can check out my other post <3 enjoy.. cannot assure you of perfect grammer and I'll keep it simple!!

: ̗̀➛ DILUC

At first, you thought Diluc was getting tired of you each day. He comes home late and doesn't talk to you much before, You felt like he was getting used to you that he got tired, So when he asked you out on a date the next day you thought he was gonna break up with you.

That was actually the opposite of what would happen. When you dated, he was so happy and kept clinging to you. He was so cute that you felt relieved that he's not gonna break up and he's not tired of you. When he asked you why you thought that you're gonna break up you answered him because he doesn't talk to you much before he immediately apologized for making you feel that way and it was because for a certain reason.

You both are on the way to go home but instead he told you that he booked the most expensive hotel that has the most beautiful view just so he can show his appreciation to you. You said that he didn't have to but it's just he loves you so much.

When you entered the hotel he booked, it was so fancy and golden. It felt like you were in a royalty palace, when you arrived in the room he gave you a dress to wear for dinner.

The hotel had its own restaurant on the balcony wherein you can see the other cities, you were a bit disappointed because everything was covered, the only thing that you can see was the empty restaurant and the warm lights and of course Diluc Infront of you. After eating dinner Diluc invited you to the balcony.

On the balcony, you immediately ran to the railing to see all the gleaming lights from high buildings, The stars and moon, were all so perfect.

Suddenly, you felt the lights suddenly open from behind you. When you checked what it was all about, Diluc suddenly bent down on his knee, showing a silver ring.

"From the moment I met you, I just knew it was gonna be you. Will you marry me, my love?" It was the last thing you heard before you started tearing up and kissed Diluc.

: ̗̀➛ CHILDE

You and Childe visited every nation that existed, you'll always ask him why do you both have to but he just says it's because he loves you and wants to travel with you. You'll spend two weeks in one nation, then in another then the cycle continues he said that it'll end once you both reach his hometown which was Snezhnaya.

Today, was your last day together in Snezhnaya. You met his family, you got close with his siblings! His family loved you and treated you like their own. Childe was really the perfect boy for you. You both visited all the beautiful spots in Snezhnaya. You got tired from all the travels you both did but you can't help yourself but be sad because your travels with him are gonna end really soon.

For the last day in Snezhnaya, you both decided to just have a simple night and have dinner with his family in their own home, he left you early in your hotel room for you to get ready and that he can help his family to decorate for your little party. You wore the prettiest dress you have and gave yourself a simple makeup. Night came and he came back to your hotel room to pick you up.

When you entered their home it was different from before. everything was decorated really pretty and it had a lot of yummy foods too. Childe said to enter the backyard first because his family is waiting for both of you there. You entered the backyard and the first thing you saw was the pictures of you both in a wall and all the memories you made in the places where you both travelled. You cried with happy tears and hugged him as you noticed his family was coming one by one in the backyard door. When everyone was in the room, you cried even harder when you saw the letters that his family had displayed. When the papers were displayed, you recognized it said "Will you marry me?"

You were surprised and happy as he bent down on his knee, you immediately gave him the answer which was yes!. His family were so supportive of you then he kissed you on the cheeks and finally put the most beautiful ring that you've ever seen.

: ̗̀➛ AYATO

Ayato is a big fan of art and to him you're a work of art. His busy schedule doesn't bother you at all because you loved hanging out with his sister ayaka along with yoimiya.

You didn't think that marriage would ever cross his mind because he knows how stressful it is. The happiest day for you is when you get to be alone with him and he clears his schedule for you which was today.

You're walking together the Inazuma as you lead him to the beautiful and magnificent spots around. Every second, he gives out words of affirmation that you can't think of a day where you'll unlove him. When you're with him it makes you believe in the word, forever. You want to spend the rest of your life with this man and only him.

He looked sad when you said Chinju forest is the last spot that you're gonna visit. You spent the last 6 hours with him, does he never get tired or hungry? You thought. He told you that you both should spend some more minutes and talk about your future, which made you nervous at first but then again he showers you with affirmations and even reassurance that he'll always love you no matter what and when you're about to leave the Chinju forest. The fireworks started blowing up through the sky and that moment was amazing that you wanted the time to freeze. When you thought it couldn't be more better he bent down with his one knee, was he really proposing? Is it really happening?

"I want to be there for you through thick and thin, ups and down and until our hair turns gray and I ask would you let me be that man, Y/N?"

You screamed yes as you hugged and kissed him. The timing was perfect, just the two of you alone spending time together. You couldn't ask for more. It really was the best day of your life.

#genshin imagines #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact imagines #genshin fanfic #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #diluc fluff #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x you #diluc headcanons #childe fluff #diluc imagines #childe imagines #childe x reader #childe x you #childe headcanons #tartaglia fluff #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x you #tartaglia headcanons #ayato fluff #ayato x you #ayato x reader #ayato headcanons #kamisato ayato #tartaglia

[bookns]

babes i need some good percabeth fic rex’s preferably not spicy lol i need some nighttime reading material 😭😭😭

I GOT YOU oh my god I love this ask

the anatomy of a hurricane: barbarianprincess (all of their fics are amazing but this is my favorite)

Of Heists and Home Economics: chellethewriter

building memories on things not said: ahecen

it's human (you can lay your hands on me): riverv (literally all their fics) (I had this labeled in my notes "Can't read without crying - so lonely" ENJOY)

there's still color: mypetersburg

the annabeth project: pjoseries (divineauthor)

Meeting Percy and Annabeth: foreverfangirlwrites (She's pretty popular (her series A Rose By Any Name is really good) but for this fic is a comfort fic so if its not here I be pretty sad)(and her fic Into A Moment of Time - made me cry so bad. Like full on sobs with hiccups so read that too)

spread your wings and learn how to fly: roomtempcupofjoe (PRINCESS DIAIRES)

Eighteen Years a Hero: romanitas

graduating class: loveliet (all their fics are good but this one hits hard)

when the sun came up (you were looking at me): TheWritingManiac (if you liked Wendy Mass as a kid, this fic IS IT)

The Blood of Olympus: MariaClaire (just trust me)

I Would (Literally) Die For You: AverageCanadian (this author haunts me and made me cry to the point where I lost count so ENJOY)

What The High Tides May Bring: myshipsaresunk

A Mere Collection of Words: sunburst_city (WARNING: its not spice but it is implied - I didn't think it was too bad but if you want just skip this fic)

A Semester Abroad: ScienceFantasy93 (shits so good your gonna love Reyna)

Post Tenebras Lux: husborth (listen to Taylors swift You are In Love you'll thank me later)

Forever Cursed: RainySteve (sad. thats it. your warning is just the word sad. good luck solider)

etched on skin: unsureavenge (also check their fic End Of The Line I've spoken about it before and ohgod its just a masterpiece)

Here I Go Again!: percabethica (a Mamma Mia AU that I read before watching Mamma Mia - yeah that was an experience)

building memories on things not said: ahecen

Witnesses: Roselightfairy (I LOVE THIS ONE - comfort fic)

Won't Leave Any Doubt: maydayparade8123 (orphan_account)

We Only Want To Help: Believer1991

i wanna tell you, but i don't know how: polypanpercyjackson (thecuspofsomething)

gravity in the words we write: percyj

dates, demigods, and other divine disasters: fuwaaa

Rite of Passage: hanpersands (self plug; I have a fic just like this too if you like - link in my bio)

we made a lot of music dancing (you and i): vll8586

Arizona Sky: husborth

I Bet You Think Your Honey Tastes Like Sugar: Lex42069

and you knew what it was: aceofdiamonds

Surprise Baby: iannageorge

Late Night Rescues: IllusionsOfInsanity

The Library Book: unsureavenger ( I have no idea if I did them already but all their fics but THIS ONE in particular - literal chefs kiss)

just practice: knuffled (bigscary)

Save the Date: oreoz314

first i love u: RainySteve

take me to your best friend's house: mcpicktwo (I laugh at this one so much)

If We Have Each Other: jasonsmclean

Days Apart: likoricke (orphan_account)

you belong with me: scrxbbler

Fireworks: katebishoop

and of course, me, Bookns has Pjo fics (you know Can I Be Him but expect another fic in a day or two)

I know its a lot but I hope you like them. Some of these are my favorite and they are really close to my heart. I've only been in this fandom for about three years so there's a lot I missed but I think I read a lot for my own good. I recommend Taylor swift entire discoraphy but especially you are in love - Enjoy Darling

[absolutewhore101]

Tolerate It - Chapter 1

A/N: wow okay so it's been... several months since i've written anything, so please be gentle with me on this one. this is based on taylor swift's song 'tolerate it,' hope you enjoy

Pairing: Joel Miller x ImpliedFem!Reader

Summary: Listen to 'Tolerate It' by Taylor Swift

Warnings: poorly written angst

Word Count: 1.2K

Chapter 2

MINORS DNI

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

You watched Joel from across the small living room. Watched the way he kept his eyes on the page, head hung low, even when he knew you were staring at him, silently begging him to look back at you. He seemed to do that more often lately, you thought, act like you weren’t in the room. 

On the rare occasion that you’d wake up in the morning before Joel, you’d take the time to just watch him. You took in his face free of any worry or anger - something you saw a lot of recently. You just laid there, tracing the lines of his face, knowing that he was awake. He didn’t respond to your touch anymore. No more catching of your wrist or small smile to let you know he was awake. He’d only get out of bed when he heard your soft sigh as you left the room. 

Watching him seemed like the only thing you could do lately. From across the living room, through the window, on opposite sides of the bar - watching as he never once looked back at you. Watching him as he seemed to forget that he had someone to go home to, talking to the girl at the bar that frequented your thoughts. 

The age gap had never been a problem before. Not when you first met, not when you first got together, and certainly not when you’d arrived in Jackson. But something shifted. Maybe it was the sense of normalcy that Jackson provided - perhaps Joel felt that the age gap was inappropriate in a society like that. 

And when you overheard Joel express it to Tommy, you just nodded your head. You figured that it was just a phase - that he simply had more experience in life to know what was best for your relationship. He had never seemed that much older to you, but he had certainly seemed wiser. 

Whenever Joel went on runs, you’d spend the time anxiously waiting for him to get home - pacing in front of the door, badgering Tommy for updates, trying to keep yourself busy with Ellie - anything. These were the moments you most felt like a child, waiting for him to get home, knowing he probably hadn’t thought of you once the front door closed. But you waited anyway. 

And when he came home, you made sure he knew just how much you missed him. You’d throw yourself into his arms, not paying attention to how they seemed to loosen every time.

“If I painted a picture of you,” you whispered one night, “I’d make sure to use my best colors. Only the good ones.” Joel had been facing the other way from you, finding it too painful to act like he still loved you as much as he used to, and fell asleep to your admiration. 

—

The next time Joel came home from a run, he wasn’t immediately welcomed at the door like he usually was. He assumed that you’d finally caught on to his well-kept feelings - that you knew you deserved better than a man who didn’t love you anymore - only to walk into the kitchen and see a full meal already prepared. You’d brought out the “fine china,” as you liked to call it - the only plates without any chips or cracks within them. 

“Hi, baby,” you said, walking over to greet him. “Thought we’d use the fancy shit tonight.”

He only nodded, toeing off his shoes and leaving the room without a word. 

Was it all in your head, the way he treated you? It hadn’t always been like this, that much you were sure of. You knew it would be best to just ask him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Part of you already knew the answer - that you didn’t make him feel like you used to, and that he’d found someone who did. 

But you were wrong. You had to be wrong. 

But wasn’t your love enough, even if he no longer felt the same? Wasn’t that something worth celebrating?

—

“Joel’s back!” Ellie excitedly yelled from the living room. He’d been out on patrol for nearly 3 weeks at that point, having to go a little farther than usual, and the waiting was killing you. 

You ran outside right after Ellie, following her into town where Joel was greeting Tommy. She stopped a few feet away when she saw Joel spot you, assuming he’d want to see you first. 

You threw yourself into his arms, crying into his shoulder, feeling him tense beneath you. When once his arms would wrap tightly around your waist, his hands simply laid on your hips, halfway pushing you away. You pulled back, not meeting his eyes, and stepped to the side. 

Ellie went next, running up to Joel and wrapping herself around his torso. His arms eagerly wrapped around her shoulders, smiling as she held onto him. He leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head, and you had to look away. 

Tommy laid a hand on your shoulder, eyes on Joel as he walked past you. 

You turned to walk back home, hoping Joel would stop you or pull you back, but you were met with nothing - no calling of your name or hand on your arm, just a lonely walk back to an empty house.

—

The sun had set hours ago, Ellie was sound asleep in bed, and Joel was nowhere to be found. He told you he was going to the bar, and that was that. No room for argument or protest. And you’d stopped trying. 

You sat upstairs in your bedroom, watching out the window that faced into town. Watched as Joel walked hand in hand with a woman you recognized but couldn’t name down the center of the street. Watched as he brought her in for a kiss, arms wrapped around her waist like they once were yours. 

Then you watched as a kid you hadn’t seen before ran up to the two of them, slotting himself between them as he looked up at Joel. He reached down, ruffling his hair as he talked to him, clearly familiar with this routine. 

He’d been building this whole world for himself, and where had you been? Had he done it with you watching? From across the room, or through the window, or at the bar?

Where was the man you met just a few years ago, who took you and made you feel loved? Who acknowledged every sharp part of you and held you regardless?

You’d worshiped him, once. Put up on a pedestal so high you thought he’d never come down - that the fall would hurt too much. 

And you were right. Where he seemed to survive the drop, it nearly killed you. All you could do now was ask for him to meet your eyes, to notice you, hell, you’d even take a simple “hello” when he walked through the door. 

You thought about it, sometimes, leaving him. What would he do? You could break free of him, leave the remains of your relationship behind, finally ripping the knife he’d put in your back out. 

You knew you could do it.

But all you did was sit and watch.

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

Tell me your thoughts! Thank you for reading :)

#joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x reader #x reader #tlou x reader #tommy miller #ellie williams #pedro pascal x reader #taylor swift title series #Spotify

[sissyisawitch]

You're Losing Me

Relationship: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Summary: After seven years of relationship, MC feels neglected by Sebastian when he's been spending too much time at work.

Word Count: ~3k

Author's Note: So Taylor Swift finally released You're Losing Me a few days ago, and in honour of my favourite song of hers, I wanted to write a short story based on it. Also, this is the very first one shot I've ever written, so if anyone ever reads this, I hope it's not too bad and that you'll enjoy it.

Warnings: Angst with no happy ending If you've listened to the song, you know what I'm talking about.

MC was sitting alone in the dimly lit living room of her and Sebastian’s flat in London. She had been waiting in the same place for almost two hours, dressed in a long, elegant lace dress. Sebastian had promised to pick her up on his way home from work to take her to the restaurant to ‘celebrate a special occasion’. But he was almost two hours late.

Just like every day.

Weary of waiting without doing anything, MC stood up and found herself drawn to an old framed photograph resting on top of the mantelpiece.

The faded image depicted Sebastian and her in the early days of their relationship. They had been together for just over a year, recently graduated from Hogwarts, and had just finished moving in together. In the picture, MC was grinning and waving at Anne who was taking the photo, while Sebastian only had eyes for his girlfriend and placed a tender kiss on her cheek, clinging to her waist. Their smiles were genuine, and their eyes sparkled with the innocence of young love. It was a time when laughter flowed effortlessly, and every shared glance held the promise of a bright future.

This picture had been taken in front of the same fireplace, where MC was now standing alone. The slightest noise she made echoed through the empty flat.

As she traced her fingers over the photograph, a wave of nostalgia washed over her, bringing both warmth and sorrow. MC could not help but notice the drastic contrast between the joy reflected in that frozen moment, and the current state of their relationship. Whereas at the very beginning, Sebastian had always been by her side and found it hard to part with her, he now had little time for her, preferring to devote his entire days and weeks to his job as a researcher for the Ministry. The smiles that once came so easily had become strained, and the sparkle in his eyes had dimmed.

The passage of time had woven complexities into the fabric of their connection, and the former carefree happiness seemed like a distant memory. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she pondered the journey they had taken, acknowledging the inevitable changes that had altered the landscape of their once-unblemished love story. The photograph became a poignant reminder of the bittersweet nature of time and the inevitable evolution of their relationship.

Nothing had gone according to plan.

Their original plan was to get married soon after leaving school, and then start a family together.

But Sebastian had wanted to put off the idea of marriage until they had found a home together. When they did find somewhere to live, he wanted to wait until he had more money to support them both, even though MC had a job of her own. Then, once he had enough money, he wanted to wait for his career to develop, and for him to climb higher up the social ladder.

Long story short, Sebastian always wanted more, and therefore still had not proposed to MC in the seven years of their relationship.

Lately, MC had been coming home to an empty flat, sleeping in a cold bed, and spending her weekends alone, with Sebastian becoming increasingly more obsessed with his work. MC, in her attempt to be the bravest soldier, had not made any remark to Sebastian about it. She had sacrificed pieces of herself, bleeding emotionally in secret to keep their relationship intact. Instead, she spent many evenings sitting in the dark, wondering if it was time, if their relationship had finally come to a dead end.

At this point, the only cure for their couple would be for Sebastian to propose.

MC remembered Poppy's words. When the Hufflepuff had come to visit her earlier in the day, she had told her that this impromptu dinner at the restaurant was suspicious, that he was bound to propose. He had asked her to wear her best dress, after all. Besides, it would explain why he had been even more absent than usual in recent weeks; he had certainly been busy planning the perfect proposal.

Once her friend had sown the seeds of doubt in her mind, MC could not resist the urge to rummage through Sebastian’s belongings. In the drawer of his bedside table, she eventually found a jewellery order form, with a red stamp reading ‘paid and delivered’ across it.

All of MC’s doubts had vanished. He was going to propose to her this evening, and she had put her glad rags on for the occasion.

“MC! I’m home!” She heard Sebastian call from the doorway. “Are you ready to go?”

**********

After a delicious dinner at a fancy restaurant of Diagon Alley, the couple indulged in their dessert. MC’s eyes sparkled with excitement, her mind racing with thoughts of a romantic proposal. She anticipated the moment when he would make a magnificent declaration of everlasting love to her, get down on one knee and take out the beautiful engagement ring he had chosen specifically for her.

As Sebastian poured them both champagne, he cleared his throat, “So, as you know, I've brought you here to celebrate a special occasion.”

“Yes?” She grinned at him, more ready than ever for what was going to happen next.

“Well brace yourself, because I have been promoted! You're looking at the new head of the Ministry’s research department.” He announced with a smile of professional triumph.

An amalgam of surprise and disappointment replaced MC’s initial beaming smile.

“That's wonderful news, honey…” MC managed to reply, trying to mask her unmet expectations with a supportive tone.

She had imagined this evening to be the oh-so-awaited milestone in their relationship, a step towards a shared future. Instead, Sebastian was excitedly explaining to her that he will be dedicating even more time to his career, and be even less present for her.

“It was Alcamene, the department secretary, who helped me get this promotion. Her uncle is in a powerful position at the Ministry, and she spoke to him about me. It was really nice of her, so I bought her a necklace to thank her.”

The champagne lost its sparkle as the weight of his words sank in. MC had not been given the declaration she had so longed to hear. Instead, she had received a proclamation of increasing separation. Added to this heartbreak, was the gut-wrenching betrayal that Sebastian had given a piece of jewellery to another woman, when he had not bought her one for years.

If hell was a place on earth, MC was right in the middle of it.

“Couldn't you have asked Ominis?” She asked bitterly, and Sebastian only shrugged nonchalantly.

“I didn't want to bother him. I'm already asking too much from this bloke.” He chuckled.

“Right.” She took a sip of champagne, but the taste lingered on her tongue with a hint of unfulfilled expectations, and the realisation that the gulf between them was about to widen even further. “So, in practical terms, now that you've been promoted, what more are you gonna do?”

“I'm going to be in charge of planning all the research. For my first project, I wanted to do things on a grand scale, so we're going to go in search of a stone that's rumoured to be able to cure any illness or curse. Me and the team are going on a five-month expedition to Estonia.”

MC nearly spat out her champagne, “I’m sorry, what? You’re going to be away for five months? And in Estonia?”

“I know it seems like a long time, but don't worry, time will fly by in the blink of an eye. I'll be back before you know it.” He flashed her a comforting smile that did nothing to reassure the girl.

“Is this expedition really necessary?” She asked, begging him between the lines not to leave, not to abandon her.

“You know it's a subject that matters a lot to me. This stone could help so many people, especially Anne.”

“But Anne's condition has stabilised thanks to my ancient magic.”

Sebastian let out a heavy sigh, “Maybe, but I’m sick and tired of you having to visit her every week to put her out of her misery. The curse is still present in her body, and your ancient magic is clearly not a long-term solution.”

MC found herself unable to form the response he was waiting for. She was too busy imagining her near future, where she would wake up alone every morning, make coffee for just one person, have no one to kiss or hug, and come home to an empty flat at night to lie in a cold bed. In the end, she realised, it would not be much different from now. There would just be a thousand miles separating them, and it would last longer than usual.

Her glazed over eyes reflected her quiet resignation. Deep down, she understood that convincing him to prioritise their relationship over his career ambitions – and especially a remedy for his twin sister – would be futile. After all the means he had used to try to save Anne – from a Shrivelfig to losing himself to the Dark Arts – it was obvious that he would never stop, not until she was entirely out of danger.

“You could be a bit more enthusiastic for me, MC. I'm finally going to do something that counts, that could make history, and here you are sulking.” Sebastian threw his napkin on the table in annoyance.

“Let’s go home. I’m tired.”

**********

The night air was crisp as MC and Sebastian returned from the restaurant, in complete silence, the remnants of their dinner conversation lingering uncomfortably in the space between them. As they stepped through the front door of their flat, the air became thick with loss and indecision.

As they stood in the living room, near the fireplace, MC took a deep breath and turned to face Sebastian, her eyes searching his familiar chestnut ones for a connection that had eluded them for far too long.

“Sebastian…” She started, her voice steady but tinged with vulnerability. “Did you have another question for me this evening?”

Sebastian frowned in incomprehension, “No… Why?”

“Nothing, forget it.” She glared at Sebastian with storms in her eyes.

But he unfortunately remained oblivious to the dying embers of their love, “No, tell me, because you’ve been acting strange tonight. I don't understand.”

She scoffed bitterly, “I know you don’t.”

“Love… Talk to me, please.” He approached her slowly, as if trying to tame a frightened little animal, and then reached out to cup her face in his hands, gently caressing her cheeks with his thumbs.

For a moment, MC leant into his touch, feeling as if she were in the presence of the old Sebastian, the one who cherished and cared for her, a presence she missed agonisingly now. She lifted her gaze to look at him, believing that the man she absolutely adored had returned, but when she saw that the flame in his eyes was still extinguished, she was quickly brought back to reality, and reluctantly pushed him away.

MC, her heart heavy with the weight of unspoken words, was overcome by a surge of courage, “When are you going to marry me, Sebastian?”

“Soon, baby. I promise.”

“You’ve been saying that for years…” She shook her head in disbelief, as if she were trying to push away the terrifying thoughts that perhaps she simply was not enough for him. “You know… I’d understand if you didn’t want to marry. I wouldn’t either. I’m just some boring people pleaser…”

Sebastian was quick to take her hand in his and reassure her (or at least try), “Hey, you know it’s nothing like that, darling. I told you I wanted my situation to get better before committing myself.”

“But your situation couldn’t be better!” She withdrew her hand from his abruptly, her tone becoming louder and louder as she grew increasingly frustrated. “You’re an honoured researcher, who’s able to afford anything he wants with his salary, but you’re never satisfied! What could you possibly want more?”

“I want to be the best. For you. Because you deserve it.”

MC laughed humourlessly in his face, “And yet, here you are, not even able to give me the worst, because you’re not giving me anything anymore, Sebastian! I barely see you anymore! It… It’s like we’re not a couple anymore! I can’t bear the distance between us any longer.”

“MC, calm down.” Sebastian said in a firmer tone, as if warning her not to take this argument any further. It was palpable that his irritation was growing too. “It’s only a matter of time. You just have to be a bit more patient. It’s not that bad–”

“Not that bad? I’ve waited seven years, Sebastian! I’ve been more than patient! I gave you all my best me's, and my endless empathy, but all you’ve done these past months is ignore me! Anyone else would’ve left you long ago!” At this point, MC was fully screaming at him, no longer having the strength or desire to contain her torrent of emotions any longer.

The intensity of her outburst left Sebastian taken aback, her words cutting him like a sharp dagger straight to the heart. A stunned expression etched itself across his face. He stood there, momentarily at a loss for words.

MC was biting her nails to the quick as she stared at him. She was waiting for him to find the miracle solution to all their problems, like he always did, and for their relationship to be saved. However, he did nothing more than stare right back at her, lips parted as he struggled to find a response that could bridge the growing chasm between them.

The icy silence reminded them that their relationship was nothing more than a ship that was slowly sinking. Its demise was inevitable. This realisation was unbearable for MC, who could not stop herself from snapping at Sebastian.

“Do something, Sebastian. Say something. You’re losing me!”

The echoes of her plea filled the space, and for a moment, the silence spoke volumes. Sebastian, caught off guard by the rawness of her honesty, met her gaze, recognising the urgency in her eyes. It was a pivotal moment, the point of no return where they needed to confront the cracks in their relationship and decide whether to mend or let go.

“I love you, MC.” Sebastian finally said. These were the only words his mind could muster.

MC huffed at how basic and devoid of authenticity his declaration was, “How can you say that you love someone you can’t tell is dying?”

Sebastian stammered, his usual poised demeanour shattered by the force of her cold indifference, “I… I… I don’t know. I don’t know what to say…”

“Then I’ll make it easier for you. It’s either me or your research. You have to choose now.”

“I can’t believe it!” He exclaimed, putting his hands on his hips in exasperation. “You can’t ask that of me, MC. I need to do this research, but you have to understand that it doesn’t mean that I don’t love you. You’ve got to believe me.”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, “I’ve got nothing to believe unless you’re choosing me.”

Sebastian, confronted with the reality of losing the woman he had taken for granted, faced a choice that could either breathe life back into their love or push it beyond the point of no return. Nevertheless, he did not need to rack his brains for very long, for his choice was already made.

“I’m going on this trip, whether you like it or not. It’s too important.”

MC’s eyes widened at his answer.

“More important than me?” She asked, her facade of indifference cracking in the same way as her voice.

Sebastian looked away without responding, but there was no need to. His silence spoke louder than any words ever could.

And just like that, he had dealt the final blow, carrying away with it the last vestiges of MC’s feelings for him.

Her heart, once resilient like a phoenix, now struggled to find a pulse. Her heart would not start anymore for him. She was tired of always having to mend the gashes he had been inflicting on her heart every day for months. She was done.

“Leave this house.” MC ordered in a weak, strained voice, indicating that her tears were about to flow.

“MC…” Sebastian called her name like a prayer to reconsider her decision.

“LEAVE!” She shouted again, this time firmly to force Sebastian to comply. “I don’t want to ever see you again, Sebastian.”

Sebastian nodded in resigned agreement, and retreated to what is – or rather once was – their shared bedroom. He mechanically began to pack his belongings, the act itself a silent testament of their love being beyond repair. The sound of clothes shuffling and drawers closing punctuated the oppressive silence that did nothing to help forget about the gravity of the situation.

With one last lingering gaze at the space that held memories both beautiful and painful, Sebastian shouldered the weight of his bags and walked towards the door, leaving behind his home, his lover, his best friend, and his life.

The thud of the door closing behind him sounded the death knell of seven years spent together, brutally gone up in smoke.

Her tears began to flow down her cheeks, as abundant as torrential rain. MC was suddenly overwhelmed by a profound sense of loss that instantly made her collapse to the floor of a room that had once been a sanctuary of light and love. She looked around the gloomy room that was adorned with remnants of their shared history, and had now become a silent witness to their break-up. Photos, souvenirs, and gifts of them were everywhere. MC had no idea if she was supposed to throw out everything or keep it.

They had chosen this flat together. They had bought it for its living room, which they both loved because of the light. That same room was now shrouded in the darkness, with MC alone and crumpled to the ground, crying her eyes out.

She could not believe what had just happened. She could not comprehend how everything had gone downhill so rapidly.

Sebastian had lost her.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow angst

[twirlingsmilingwriting]

Hunger Games Men as Taylor Swift Songs

Idk if this is kinda odd to post but I'm a person who loves music and every song I listen to paints a scene in my head and I've been getting super into hunger games lately so a lot of the songs I've been listening to have reminded me of the characters. Specifically, my delulu self can imagine being in certain romantic situations with them based on the situations happening in these songs. For the sake of continuity, we will use songs from Ms. Taylor. I wanna write little one shots inspired by these situations. I already wrote the Snow one today so maybe I'll continue.

tldr- these are Taylor swift songs that reminded me of what it might be like to be in a relationship with these characters.

Peeta Mellark

Jump Then Fall- Taylor Swift, Fearless

"The bottom's gonna drop out from under our feet, I'll catch you"

Honestly I was thinking 'Mine' at first but I felt like Peeta HAD to have a song off of Fearless. He is the human embodiment of sunshine to me and Fearless as an album is gold, bright, and holds a theme of puppy love throughout it. All of those things just SCREAM Peeta Mellark to me. 'Jump Then Fall' is a song that is relatively vague in terms of story telling lyrics but it is about loving someone and being happy just to see them happy and wanting to be there for your partner no matter what. I feel like Peeta is that kind of ride or die lover. Even after the capital had brainwashed him into hating Katniss he still found his way back into loving her again anyways. He is a lover you can trust. He truly would stick through it all so it's okay to 'Jump Then Fall'.

(Story Idea: Kinda toying with a cute little fluff where the reader and Peeta are going swimming at a lake or something. I have another idea for him too but it's apart of the Finnick X Reader X Peeta story I'm theorizing)

Gale Hawthorn

Better man- Taylor Swift, Red

"But your jealousy, I can hear it now talking down to me like I'd always be around you push my love away like it was some kind of loaded gun, you never thought I'd run."

Firstly, Red is my favorite album. Sorry had to get that out of the way. Gale honestly, ugh there was so much potential here. I think as the movies progressed he started to lose his empathy and grew a more selfish shell. Better Man really reminds me of what Katniss might have been thinking with him. He would've been the one if he was a better man.

(Story idea: reader contemplating their relationship with Gale a month or two after the break up and reliving the memories of the past that are gloomy and haunted over by the fact that, Gale really wasn't ready for a relationship. They ponder over things until coming to the disheartening conclusion that brought them to breaking it off in the first place, it really could've worked out if he was a better man.

Also possibly a part two of that with a tooth rotting fluff about Gale going through some character development and becoming a better man and then they get back together)

Finnick Odair

Starlight- Taylor swift, Red

"He said "Look at you, worrying too much about things you can't change, You'll spend your whole life singing the blues if you keep thinking that way"

Ahehehe Finnicks my favorite. It was hard to pick just one for him but I went with Starlight because he is just such a charmer. Starlight is a song about a whirlwind sort of romance where you are at a party and doing some silly things and you're falling in love. I can totally imagine this happening with Finnick. You meet at a capital party, run off together and start creating some chaos and fall in love. There's specific lines that remind me of him like the "he was trying to skip rocks on the ocean saying to me, "don't you see the starlight"". I could totally see Finnick doing that and just truly being a charming man and finding those little bits of joy in the messed up life given to him. I could see this also being a sort of sheltered reader and it being their first party and he helps them loosen up and have fun.

Honestly, its hard for me to pinpoint just one song for him because so many remind me of him so here are some honorable mentions.

Holy Ground- Same kinda vibe as Starlight

Forever Winter- he has trauma and I can help him. Ours- Finnicks Reputation makes your family question if you should be with him but you know him truly and they can't take whats ours

Mine- A LOT OF PEOPLE THINK THIS ONE BECAUSE OF THE "I remember we were sitting there by the water" line but the rest of the song doesn't fit him

Paper Rings- They wanna get married but Finnick can't because of the capitals uh plan with him so they have a little ceremony with just themselves and some friends and paper rings before the events of Catching Fire and then they decide to run off to district 13 to be together for real

Coriolanus Snow

Tolerate It- Taylor Swift, Evermore

"I know my love should be celebrated, but you Tolerate it"

honestly this was the one that inspired me to do this post. I already wrote this story because I CANT HELP MYSELF! This song was playing in my car after I watched tbosas and it was just painting this whole picture of how the person Snow ended up marrying after Lucy Gray must have felt. I'm pretty sure there was that line in the book too that was talking about how Snow never wanted to fall in love again because he felt so out of control and how he would marry someone he didn't love so that he never had to feel that way again. it was something like that. So Tolerate It sounds like the total POV of his next partner. The song itself is about a relationship with a power imbalance where the person singing the song is giving their absolute all for the love, affection, and praise of their partner and their partner gives them nothing in return. The term "Tolerate It" also is insinuating that the person the narrator is in love with is mildly annoyed with the things the singer is doing for them. They simply deal with it but are never impressed and that just gave me snow vibes.

LET ME KNOW IF I SHOULD SO A PART TWO WITH OTHER CHARACTERS (recommendations open :') ) OR OTHER ARTISTS. I listen to all genres fr.

Thank you for readings and let me know if you liked any of the ideas I suggested and if I should write them!

<3

#taylor swift #the hunger games #hunger games #tbosas #president snow #coriolanus snow x reader #gale hawthorne #gale hawthorn x reader #finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick imagine #song lyrics #peeta mellark #the hunger games peeta #peeta mellark x reader #young president snow #tom blyth imagine #josh hutcherson

[inejschumacher]

Day 15 of Via’s Taycember

pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader

wc: 0.7k

cw: frustration, little gifts

an: well of course I had to write him to this song, that interview wasn’t for nothing

I was ridin' shotgun with my hair undone in the front seat of his car. He's got a one-hand feel on the steering wheel, the other on my heart. I look around, turn the radio down, he says, "Baby, is something wrong?" I say, "Nothing, I was just thinkin' how we don't have a song"

The wind blows through the open windows of Danny’s truck, undone hair flying behind you as you sit shotgun, one of his hands resting on your thigh. The radio is playing some sort of country music, maybe Luke Bryan? But it only gave you a single thought: you two didn't have a song.

You look out the window, then at him, and turn down the radio, suddenly too loud against the roar of the highway. Danny frowns, asking what’s wrong when ten minutes ago you both were screaming along to the radio. You let a few seconds pass, thinking about how to frame your words, then decide to just say it straight.

And he says, our song is the slamming screen door, sneakin' out late, tapping on your window when we're on the phone, and you talk real slow, ‘cause it's late, and your mama don't know

Danny grins, and squeezes your thigh. “You know, we do have a song. Our song, no one else has it.” You raise an eyebrow, unsure of what he means when you’ve never had a discussion or moment of decision for what your song could be.

“Babe, our song is the slammin' screen door you’re so careful with when you’re sneakin’ out real late. It’s my tappin’ on your window to get your attention because you’re so charmed by me on the phone you don;t even realize I’m standin’ right outside. Especially ‘cause you're talking real slow so your mama won’t hear and get mad.”

You take in his words, smiling from ear to ear as you realize that you didn’t need a traditional beat or a guitar string or piano playing for you to have your own song, and he was right; unique, personal, it was something only you and Danny shared.

Our song is the way you laugh, the first date, "Man, I didn't kiss her, and I should have", and when I got home, 'fore I said, "Amen" asking God if he could play it again

Danny looks over, his signature sun-bright smile lighting up the cab of the truck, and continues as he smoothes a thumb over your thigh. “Our song is the way you laugh, oh sweetheart it just lights up my day. That first date I finally got the courage to take you out on, and then spent that ride home cursing myself out ‘cause I really should have kissed you and I don't know why I didn’t”.

He blushes slightly at the admission, and you laugh, the same way he strives to make you with his jokes. He was just so sweet, always ready with an answer to your strangest of reasons, and this time is no exception.

“Oh, and when I got home, ‘fore I said Amen, I asked God if he could play our song again ‘cause I could have it one repeat over and over again darling, because I love it. And I love you.” 

I was walkin' up the front porch steps after everything that day, had gone all wrong and been trampled on and lost and thrown away

Back in Australia, you walk up the front porch steps of your house after a long day that had seen everything go wrong. An empty gas tank, a broken office coffee machine, a huge pile of work, a spilled lunch, it seems as if there was nothing that would go right with so much time still left in the day.

Got to the hallway, well on my way to my lovin' bed, I almost didn't notice all the roses and the note that said

At the very least, the door unlocked easily, and you head straight in, kicking your shoes off and go straight to your bedroom, almost missing the bright red roses already in a water-filled vase, sitting all nice and pretty on your kitchen table. You pick up the note left with it and read the words written on it. Or rather, your song.

I've heard every album, listened to the radio, waited for something to come along that was as good as our song

The radio was the one thing on repeat over and over again while you or Danny drove, on the plane or writing in your journal, listening to each and every song while waiting, waiting for something to come along that was as good as your song. There was a lot of variety, so many songs and genres to choose from, but still, nothing was as good or as right as your song. The tune never brought out the right feelings, the words never matched perfectly and you decided that there was so use waiting, not when there was something much better.

You reread the note Danny had written the lyrics of your song written, and you smile back at the memory of the first time you wrote your song. Back in that truck, wind blowing through your hair as Danny; laughter overtook the sound of everything else, you had looked for something to write it all down.

I grabbed a pen and an old napkin and I wrote down our song

#via’s taycember #daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel riccardo imagine #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo fanfiction #formula 1 #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #taylor swift #our song #Spotify #fanfic #fanfiction

[softguarnere]

Hi! Can you write something hurt/comfort with Eugene or Joe?

Staring At the Ceiling With You

Eugene Roe x reader

A/N: Hi anon! I have noticed recently that I have a lack of Eugene content, so hopefully this fic will help fill that void. Also I've been in kind of a Gene phase ever since listening to Shane Taylor's podcast episode 🤭 (As usual, this is based off the fictional depictions from the tv show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) Fic title comes from "Lavender Haze" by Taylor Swift. Thank you so much for the request, and I hope you like this 💕🕊️

Warnings: Insomnia

Cold weather in the winter months started ushering in unwanted memories after the war. Now, though, the thoughts sometimes slip in with no excuse or explanation, no matter the temperature. Even after a long day at work, when he should be worn out and ready to collapse into bed, they find a way to cling to him like damp clothes – and they’re just as uncomfortable.

Outside, frogs sing in the warm summer night. Their chorus floats in through the cracked windows, covering up the sounds of his footsteps as he makes his way back to the bedroom, careful to avoid any floorboards that might creak. As of recently, he’s become very familiar with which ones like to groan, announcing their presence when the rest of the world is quiet.

Eugene is slow and deliberate with his movements when he lifts the quilt and slips into the bed. He could kick himself when you stir. He didn’t intend to wake you; just because he’s awake doesn’t mean that you should have to be.

You roll towards him, outstretching your arm until you find him. Then, you latch on. He can’t help but smile. To think that you were the brightest spot in the dark night that was the war, and that now you’ve come home with him . . . He still can’t believe it.

For just a moment, it seems like maybe he didn’t disturb you. He lets out a breath and allows his full weight to sink back into the bed. Then, you mumble, “You’re coming to bed late.”

“Désolé.” He presses a quick kiss to your temple. “I didn’t want my tossing and turning to keep you up.”

You shake your head, hair rustling against the pillows. The movement is slow with the fog of sleep that clings to you. “Wouldn’t have . . . Sleep better when you’re here.” In the dim light of the moon that sneaks into the room from the window, your eyes flutter open. You study him. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

“We can talk about it tomorrow morning. Go back to sleep, (Y/N).” But once you’ve set your mind to something, it’s useless to ask you to let it go.

You sit up in the bed. Rubbing sleep from your eyes for a moment, you then stretch before settling back against the headboard. Gene pushes himself up, too, so that he can look at you head-on in the night.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” you guess.

Gene shakes his head. “Just can’t turn my mind off lately.”

Through the darkness, he can see the crease that appears between your eyebrows as you think. He wants to reach out, to smooth it away, to remove all the worry that rests there.

Finally, you break the silence. “I want to help you, Eugene. What would you like for me to do?”

Even after all the time that you’ve been together, your sweet words bring heat to his cheeks. You care about him. He knows that, obviously, but your readiness to help when you could be resting shows how compassionate you are.

What would he like for you to do? If it were up to him, you would both be asleep right now. You should be wrapped up in his arms, the both of you breathing deeply, oblivious to the world as the frogs sing and sweet dreams dance in your mind. That’s what he wants . . . He just can’t seem to get there.

“Hold on.” You slip from the bed and down the hallway. For a few moments, Eugene is alone, wondering if he should have followed you.

Creaking floorboards announce your presence as you return. He should really work on fixing those. Maybe tomorrow. Saturday. That would be a good day for it. Assuming that he gets some sleep before then and feels up to it.

“Here.” You press a warm cup into Gene’s hands before making your way back to your side of the bed and settling in again.

Eugene sniffs the cup’s contents before taking a sip. It’s warm milk and, if he’s not mistaken, a little bit of honey. Nice and soothing. “I haven’t had this since I was a kid.”

“I know.”

“Huh?”

“You told me that, once. Back in Holland. It was some offhand comment you made about how your grandma used to make you warm milk if you couldn’t sleep.”

He really can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You remembered.”

“Always stuck with me.” You shrug, like it’s no big deal, but he can still see your smile. Of course you remembered. “Now – “ you pat the pillows, drawing attention back to the matter at hand. “ – When I can’t shut my mind off, being held by you always works wonders.”

“Oh yeah?” Part of him feels guilty – do you also have sleepless nights, and Gene just didn’t realize that you were also being affected? At the same time, though, a certain sense of pride settles into his chest at the admission that you like it when he holds you.

You lean into his side, wrapping your arms around him as you fit your head into the crook of his neck. “You want to try?”

“Oui.” He lets you guide him down, settling into the pillows as you both adjust your positions so that you can be comfortable. He rests his head on your chest, rising and falling with your even breathing, listening to the strong and steady beat of your heart. You run your fingers through his dark hair, and his eyelids begin to feel heavy.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he whispers into the darkness. “For all of this.”

You hum in acknowledgment. “We’ll figure it out, Gene. Don’t worry.”

With your soothing presence and determination, he finds himself quickly slipping into sleep. He won’t worry. Not tonight, anyway.

#me 🤝 eugene (🤝= cannot sleep) #eugene roe #eugene roe x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x reader #hbo war #hbo war fanfic #my writing

[eletricheart]

You're Losing Me

(Mother Miranda x Reader)

*image creds to the owner

Word count: 1.255

song: You're Losing Me by Taylor Swift

ps: i've been trying this new way of writting my stories, i have the ideas but i still cant put it all in one story, so i'm connecting it to the song lyrics, just to get it out yk.

ps2: angst

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

You say: I don't understand, and I say: I know you don't

We thought a cure would come through in time, now, I fear it won't

Miranda had come back to the cabin after spending a week inside the lab. She expected to see you waiting on the couch but you were nowhere to be found inside the house.

It was three in the morning, way past the time you usually went to sleep. You considered waiting for her, at least during the first two days.

Miranda found you sitting outside, she sighed and sat beside you.

"You're late." You stated, keeping your eyes closed in a relaxed position.

She shrugged. "I had much to do."

You huffed. "I'm sleeping in my room, alone."

Miranda furrowed her eyebrows and looked at you. "I don't understand."

You sighed. "I know."

Remember looking at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light

Now I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time

Miranda stayed around for a couple days before diving into work again. You became used to it, the silence, the loneliness.

You would spend hours sitting in your shared room, remembering how long it took to decorate since you had different tastes. Remembering how the morning sun would always give the woman a holy aura.

You missed her.

Do I throw out everything we built or keep it?

I'm getting tired, even for a phoenix

Always rising from the ashes

Mending all her gashes

You might just have dealt the final blow

This time the priestess came back during the morning, but only for a few minutes. She had forgotten one of her notes for the meeting with Alcina.

You reassured her it was fine, you were fine, she could go, you could talk later, it's okay. 

She just never noticed you.

Stop, you're losing me

Stop, you're losing me

Stop, you're losing me

I can't find a pulse

My heart won't start anymore

For you

'Cause you're losing me

You'd rarely see her now. She was either busy with experiments or in another meeting with one of the Lords.

You started to hate the cabin, you would walk around the woods (the lycans were smart enough to not bother you), sometimes you'd even accompany Duke during his sales.

Miranda only noticed when you weren't there once she arrived, but didn't pay much thought into it.

Every morning, I glared at you with storms in my eyes

How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dying?

I sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick

My face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick

You started to sleep less, to match her schedule. 

You were exhausted, everyday you tried something new, anything to have just a moment with her.

And the air is thick with loss and indecision

I know my pain is such an imposition

Now, you're running down the hallway

And you know what they all say

You don't know what you got until it's gone

You had woken up to Miranda looking for something in the drawers, waiting for her to find it in order to speak.

You sat on the bed, facing her. "Mira, it's one a.m, can you stay? Just this one time, please."

She looked at you, hesitantly. "I apologize for waking you, but this is urgent. I'll be back, wait for me. Okay?"

You weakly nodded and she left without another word.

How long could we be a sad song?

Till we were too far gone to bring back to life?

I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy

And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier

Miranda was stressed after the service at the village, and you were faithfully listening to every single complaint she was making. You dutifully supported her, just like all the other times she returns with a list of complaints big enough to write a book.

You accepted when she wanted to go over to Donna's for tea, even tho the priestess claimed you couldn't join because the dollmaker didn't like strangers.

Sometimes you still tried to prove that you could be there for her, but the woman never listened.

Fighting in only your army, frontlines, don't you ignore me

I'm the best thing at this party (you're losing me)

And I wouldn't marry me either

A pathological people pleaser

Who only wanted you to see her

Miranda stared at you in confusion. "You don't even like crows."

"But you do, this can be a group project, they become bearable when you're around." You responded, with a pleading smile.

She took a deep breath. "Sure, maybe next month."

You rolled your eyes. "I've got nothing to do right now, can't you fit this in your schedule?"

The priestess shook her head. "I have more important matters to attend to. We'll do this when I'm done, okay? Just wait a bit more."

And again, you nodded and she left.

And I'm fading, thinking

Do something, babe, say something (say something)

Lose something, babe, risk something (you're losing me)

Choose something, babe, I got nothing (I got nothing)

To believe, unless you're choosing me

You stood next to the door with your bag next to you. Duke had kindly offered to take you on one of his trips, you accepted of course, now you just had to tell Miranda.

Part of you wanted to just leave a letter, giving her the same consideration she has given you, but you couldn't. So now you were waiting.

When she arrived, the first thing to be said was "I'm really tired right now, we can talk tomorrow."

You were righteously annoyed, so you took a deep breath and let it out. "I'm leaving."

Miranda stopped before the stairs and turned around. "What do you mean by leaving?"

You nervously bit your lips. "Duke invited me to travel, I said yes."

She chuckled. "No."

You arched a brow. "I'm going Miranda, I just wanted to let you know."

Her smile turned into a frown. "When are you coming back?"

You laughed. "Really? That's what you're asking?"

"What do you want me to say?" She asked, slightly annoyed.

"Ask me to stay! Why is it so hard?"

"If you want to stay, why are you leaving?"

You put your hands in your head, trying not to cry out of anger mixed with sadness. "I just want you to care."

She sighed and walked towards you. "I care, why don't we talk about this later? We can unpack your bag, I'll even tell the Duke you reconsidered."

Tears were sliding down your face, which she was carefully wiping with her fingers. "We're not gonna talk, we never do."

Miranda nodded and pulled you in a hug. "I know, I've just been very busy lately. You understand, right?"

You nodded, weakly, hugging her tight.

She smiled, faintly. "Good. Let's go back up, it'll be over soon, you just have to wait."

You gently separated from the hug and looked her in the eyes. "I need time."

Miranda frowned. "You don't need to leave for that."

You smiled, weakly. "I know, but I want to."

The woman looked at you with furrowed brows and a frown, but still nodded. "Will you come back?"

"I don't know."

You're losing me

Stop (stop, stop), you're losing me

Stop (stop, stop), you're losing me

I can't find a pulse

My heart won't start anymore

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

masterlist

#re8 #resident evil village #non canon #resident evil #fanfic #mother miranda #mother miranda x reader #re8 mother miranda #re8 miranda #resident evil 8 #resident evil fandom #resident evil fanfiction #Spotify

[wonjnz]

unconventional heartbreak

₊˚⊹ summary: heartbreak is nothing but a numb feeling, no hard feelings, and yet no love either.

₊˚⊹ genre: angst, slice of life, college!au | wc: 1.2k

₊˚⊹ warning(s): mentions of alcohol, swearing | inspo: taylor swift - the story of us (but less toxic)

₊˚⊹ a/n: logged on tumblr for the first time in 2 years and got the biggest whiplash 😭 this was written on a whim while i was listening to speak now tv

quite frankly, you don’t know how you and taerae became a couple.

you both started as friends ever since taerae offered to help you with your math homework (though most of the time all he did was talk until you found the answer yourself), and you were together ever since.

but it wasn’t until a few months before college started when taerae finally admitted his feelings to you, drunk out of his mind, at matthew’s house party to celebrate your high school graduation. to taerae’s horror the next day, his phone was blaring with messages from matthew about it, and he swore he was about to pass out when you mentioned it while helping with his hangover.

he clears his throat in an attempt to break the silence, “fine, i admit. i've liked you for a while now.” he says in an almost defeated tone. you shake your head, laughing, “dumbass.”

“you don’t even remember the fact i said i liked you too?”

his friends pointed it out the first time you both argued and ignored each other: the fact you were keener on listening to his stories and what-not than joining in on the conversation; the fact you can concentrate on homework much longer than taerae, who’d probably give up by 30 minutes and start procrastinating instead.

“in his defense, i wouldn’t wanna date a carbon copy of myself either.” gyuvin shrugs, to which taerae looks at him ridiculously. “yeah no shit, because you’re gyuvin.”

taerae smiles softly after, “but i guess they’re right with the whole opposites attract thing.”

a few months into your relationship, you’d describe it as walking into a freshly painted room, trying to tiptoe to avoid getting stained. at first, you two were careful with the whole 'romance thing,' waiting for the other to catch up.

months after, you two were more than willing to run across, disregarding the wet streaks of paint across your clothes. to taerae, that was through the first time you both ever kissed while you both pulled an all-nighter for finals; both of you were tired, it was one in the morning, and the taste of coffee was still present on his lips.

and to you, that was being the first to say 'i love you.' with a bunch of wet streaks of paint smeared across your cheeks. you still can't forget taerae's face when you first said it, almost as if you were both kids and you said some forbidden word.

"what?" you say right after, a bit concerned over the sudden silence between you. sure, you were in a library, but still.

"no way." you laugh at his reaction, his mouth slowly forming into a big smile to the point his dimples were prominent. before you could jokingly repeat his words, he pulled you in what seemed to be the longest hug you've had in years.

the paint seemed to be drying up to look like some sort of home, and you hoped this was the endgame. you haven't loved someone like how you loved taerae in years, and everything about him was special.

but now, you were both standing in the very few empty dry spaces of that room. well, more realistically, you were both in his apartment. should this happen a few months back, you’d bask in the warm comfort of it, but god, this silence is deafening.

“you alright?” taerae’s voice brings you back to reality, you realize you’ve been standing around for probably the past 15 minutes while taerae was busy brewing another cup of coffee for the night. “yeah, just worried about a few deadlines.”

but you knew your answer was nothing to taerae, he knows you too well. "right. we've known each other for like, what, 6 years? i know that's not the only thing bugging you lately.” you sigh at his response, a worried look visible on his face, does he know as well? you ask yourself.

and you realize it was cloudy, hindering the paint to dry up. you’re still standing on the same empty spots, both scared to take a step towards some finish line, a window of some sort to let some light in. it felt like all your unresolved arguments, what ifs, unfinished deep talks, and “how are you’s” were the wet paint you were so scared of getting a stain off.

“no really, just tired lately. you don’t have to worry about me.” you walk over and reassure him with a simple kiss on the cheek, to which taerae simply mumbles a small ‘alright.’ though you can still tell he doesn’t believe you.

so you planned to try and be bold on some other day. but taerae’s “hey, love.” the moment he welcomed you back into his apartment with a hug and kiss on the forehead delayed it to your dismay. (it’s not like you hated his touch, but all that confidence building while walking up to his apartment was not worth it).

it's not like you didn't love taerae anymore. you love being the first person to see him in the morning, and the last he sees before he sleeps. you love him. but it wasn't the sort of love that kept you going despite the arguments before.

and all you could do was reply with a kiss and bask in his warmth for a little while. judging from his slightly sad greeting earlier, you know taerae thinks the same about your relationship. the both of you tiptoeing to a blank spot where it’s a constant routine of asking how the other is feeling about something; about this; and finally about us, you hoped.

but you didn’t hope he’d ask this soon. what more during a dark, rainy night while you’re both busy finishing up the leftovers from his fridge. the only thing keeping you both in the same table was the random video taerae started playing that piqued your interest.

“how do you feel about this?” oh. you're backed into an empty corner.

you gaze at him from across the table, a glass of water in hand, “about us?” he continues. the sound of rain and his god-awful cutlery (you could barely poke it through your food) hitting the table amidst the silence was almost deafening.

and that’s when you realize taerae ran back to the starting line, regardless of the paint staining his clothes. so you ran after him with the same sense of adventure you had before, the moment you reached him all you said was “i think it’s better if we break up.”

taerae smiles pitifully, looking back to his empty plate. and he hoped, he prayed you can’t see the hurt on his face when even he knew this might come sooner or later. “yeah.”

“i understand, i thought so too.” he reassures you after a few minutes of silence, pushing his plate to the side. “but you know i’ll still love you regardless right?” he asks, to which you laugh, the tension fading away.

“just not in the same way anymore, right? like the days before you turned up blackout drunk.” you joke. you could never hate taerae, especially not during the days you’d spend mornings with him clinging on; or the nights when he’s busy boiling noodles while you’re studying for exams.

he laughs along, “yeah, as friends.”

but when taerae wakes up the next morning to silence, his bed feeling lighter than usual, the scent of rain still fresh from last night, he’s feeling awfully lonely. but he resists the temptation of typing the typical, rom-com ‘i miss you.’ text, you’re probably still asleep at this time, he knows your schedule by heart.

the thing with the love the both of you shared was how it never caught one by surprise. sure, taerae’s drunken confession is one, but you both took things slow. almost too slow to some. his feelings were a slow buildup, only realizing he was interested in you when he was cleaning up his desk, which was full of trinkets you gave him.

only did he realize he was in love is when he hadn’t taken off the keychain you gave him on his birthday in months, which you pointed out was all dirty and scratched up. but he responded to your complaint with a “but it’s from you!” and he realized it has and will always be you.

and only did he realize you’ll forever have a special place in his heart while he’s still in bed, hair sticking up everywhere and his eyes barely opening as the sun blares through his curtains as the gray clouds slowly disappear.

when the silence finally settles in him, taerae figures he’d rather take his goodbye slowly as well.

#zb1 x reader #zerobaseone x reader #zb1 scenarios #zb1 drabbles #zb1 imagines #zerobaseone taerae #kim taerae #kim taerae x reader #taerae imagines

[dannystheone]

hi!! it’s lee kenny anon again, tysm for your sweet reply to my message!! you’re so kind 😭💗 i thought i’ll leave a request for when requests open back up again, if that’s okay!!  sorry if this is too much 😭

maybe kenny is trying to cheer up butters, and they end up breaking out into a tickle fight! they sound like they would be so cute together!! can be shippy or non shippy, whichever you prefer! i personally love bunny but i’m fine either way <33

tysm for reading, please feel free to take all the time you need! or feel free to change any part of this or just reject this, no worries!! thank you!! 💗💗

Sorry this is late guys, I've been a little busy! I hope you like this :0

WARNINGS: None! Just tickles :) they are 9 years old in this!!

He Loves My Heart-Shaped Sunglasses (Lee Butters/Ler Kenny)

Butters is having second thoughts about his appearance and how he feels about dressing up as Marjorine. Kenny cheers him up a little :)

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"Hey Butterms!" Kenny McCormick stepped through Butters's bedroom door without knocking. They had grown close enough to where they could step into each other's homes and share each other's privacy. According to Cartman, they were best friends after all.

Kenny walked in on Butters at a bad time, however. Butters sat on his bed hugging a stuffed animal while wiping at his face. Kenny cocked his head in curiosity. The curtains were shuttered closed and his room was a bit untidy. It seemed Butters didn't hear Kenny walking into his room.

"Butterms? Youm omkay?" Kenny called out. Butters head whipped to the right as he cleaned his face up immediately. He sniffled as he put on a friendly smile, despite his pink narrowed eyes.

"O-Oh! Hiya Ken! I uh- I-I'm just listening to Taylor Swift again! You know she always gets me." Butters held up his phone, but no song seemed to be playing. Kenny didn't respond as he simply watched Butters fidget with his hands.

"Ahem- So! What do you wanna do? We can color, we-we can play trucks!" Butters suggested. Kenny walked up to the bed and put a supportive hand on Butters knee.

"Youm omkay Butterms? Youm can tell me anything." Kenny said. Butters turned his gaze down, his happy facade fading. He started to fidget with his hands.

"W-Well...I don't quite know how to say this..." Kenny waited patiently while Butters mustered up his courage. Butters knew he could share anything with Kenny, but how much was anything?

"Um, r-remember when I dressed up as Marjorine that one time? To go to the girl's sleepover?" Butters asked. Kenny nodded thoughtfully. Butters fidgeting seemed to get worse.

"Well, I-I've been thinking...um...I've been having thoughts about putting the Marjorine clothes on, just for myself, you know? When I was at the sleepover...it was the first time I felt confident in myself." Butters looked down at his hands, refusing to look at Kenny. Kenny moved his hand from Butters knee and placed it on his shoulder.

"Wellm, whym don't youm wearm them?" Kenny asked innocently. Butters' eyes turned to Kenny filled with fear.

"No! I-I couldn't! M-My Dad would find out right away and ground the heck out of me! I can't have that Kenny!" Kenny slid his hand up and down Butters back to calm him down. Butters took a breath and held his neck to ground himself.

"It's omkay Butters, tamke it eamsy." Kenny encouraged. Butters looked to Kenny, searching his eyes for any form of judgment. When he couldn't find anything, he cast his gaze back down.

"I just...oh hamburgers. I know I shouldn't have these thoughts about girl's clothes, I mean, I'm a boy! But...I keep thinking about how I felt when I had them on and...and I felt something I've never felt before. I feel like I was meant to wear them, but-but I know it's wrong!" Butters exclaimed. Kenny felt his heart tug. Butters should be able to wear whatever he wanted if it made him happy.

"Butterms, youm shoumld be amble to wearm whatemver youm wamnt. It's yourm hamppiness. If it mamkes youm hamppy, youm shoulmd be allowed to wearm it." Kenny explained behind his hood. Butters interlaced his fingers tightly as he looked up to Kenny.

"But Kenny I can't. They're girls' clothes! What if it changes me into a different person? And my parents will find out! Oh, Jesus-" Butters held his face in his hands. Kenny didn't know what to do. Butters seemed distraught, he could use a pick-me-up. A lightbulb dimmed above Kenny's head.

"Wellm, I donm't thimnk you'll turn imnto a differement permson, Butterms. No mamtter what youm demcide to wearm, you'll stillm be the same permson. Youm'll stillm be kind, and friendmly-" Butters wasn't looking at Kenny, like he wasn't believing him at all. Kenny took his hands and started scritching Butters' side gently. Butters side bent inward as he started giggling softly.

"And youm'll stillm be timcklish!~ No mamtter what clomthes youm hamve on, youm'll stillm be sooomm timcklish~" Kenny's hands traveled up and into Butters ribs as Butters started retreating into his pillows. Butters eyes narrowed as he lightly giggled.

"K-Kehehenny! Thahahat tihihihickles!" Kenny smiled behind his hood as Butters snickered and lightly pushed at his hands.

"M'yeah Butterms, thamt's the poinmt. Youm thimnk no mamtter what clomthes youm wearm, youm're gomnna run away from beimng this timcklish?" Kenny scribbled over Butters' tummy, which made Butters squeak and curl into a ball. Butters' knees kicked up into his chest, with Kenny's hands still folded into his tummy.

"I-hehehehee! I dohohon't knohohow! Ohohoho Christmahahas!" Kenny took the opportunity to scribble his fingers over Butters' upturned side. Butters laughed gleefully as he turned fully onto the attacked side to try and hide it, but Kenny took his other hand to scribble the opposite upturned side.

"And you'rme vermy funnmy, and smart, and remliable! You'rme a goomd frienmd, and emveryone likes youm! Thamt's not gonnma chamnge." Kenny explained to a giggling Butters. Butters hair fell into his eyes as he tried using his elbows to cover his sides. Kenny lightly dug into both Butters' sides simultaneously. Butters' eyes crinkled as he belted out heavier laughter. Kenny was trying to keep it light, but Butters was super sensitive.

"Teehehehehee! Kehehehen!" Kenny heard pleading in Butters voice. His fingers stilled for a moment, giving Butters a moment to breathe. Giggles petered from Butters lips as he came down from the tickles. "Hehe- hehehe- K-Kenny don't-" Butters felt Kenny's fingers on his sides still. He twitched to the left. "-stohop!"

Kenny grinned evilly as he raised his fingers above Butters' face and started wiggling them slowly. Butters started squirming and covering himself while Kenny started lowering his hands.

"Domn't stomp? Is thamt whamt youm saimd, Butterms?~ I didnm't knowm youm limked it som much~" Butters had a panicked smile as he tried scooting everywhere that Kenny's hands weren't, but Kenny was quick to track him.

"Nohoho Kennehehey! Nohoho no no! Dohohon't dohoho ihihit!" Butters laughed as he could already feel Kenny's fingers wiggling in his sides as they wriggled above his eyes. Kenny teased Butters by dropping his hands suddenly on Butters tummy without actually tickling. Butters jolted as Kenny quickly brought his hands back up. It made Butters laugh out earnestly.

"Gehehe-HEHE! Kenny- Kehehen STOHOP! Oh hahamburgers-" Kenny faked out Butters a few more times before his hands really did go in for the kill and started scribbling all over his tummy. The anticipation made Butters whole body tingle, which in turn made him more sensitive to Kenny's touch.

"Youm beliemve me yet Butterms? I'll keep it ump umntil youm dom..." Butters nodded immediately at Kenny's question, small tears of mirth in the corners of his eyes. Kenny slowly let up on his tickles and let Kenny recover.

Butters sat up slowly, the giggles petering out of his system. "Ahehee...oh jeez. I guess I had that coming, huh? Serves me right for being such a sourpuss." Butters held his hands together when Kenny reached forward and held Butters hands. Butters looked up into Kenny's eyes.

"Butterms...wearm what makes youm hamppy. Youm demserve to wearm what youm feel comfortable in. No mamtter what clomthing it is." Kenny reassured. Butters still didn't look convinced.

"But what if my parents find out, Ken? I can't go to school dressed as Marjorine consistently, they'll find out for sure!" By 'they' he meant his parents of course. Kenny wished they would leave the poor kid alone.

"Mmm, what if youm worme the clomthes in yourm room? So they wonm't finmd out and youm'll feelm goomd?" Butters had a questioning face on as he thought about it sincerely. It slowly dawned on him. Kenny watched as Butters face grew brighter and brighter as he realized.

"Oh- Oh Kenny you genius! I can wear the Marjorine clothes in my bedroom and-and they'll never find out! Oh, golly! I'll go try them on now!" Butters raced for his closet and slid the door closed behind him. Kenny waited on the bed silently, swinging his feet while singing a tune in his head.

After a few moments, Butters called out. "Okay Ken! You ready to see?" Kenny looked up from his legs and made an affirmative sound.

Marjorine came out of her closet, smoothing out her dress and brushing her hair out of her face. She applied light makeup and brushed her wig, with two braids on either side of her face and bows pleating the braids. Her eyes were light with complimenting blue eyeshadow and blushing cheeks. Her dress was a light blue with a poofy skirt and trailing ribbons. The dim room seemed to brighten with her presence.

"Well? Wh-what do you think?" Marjorine asked, her hands fidgeting as she waited for an answer. Kenny took her whole image in, and felt his whole face burn up.

Kenny jumped off the bed and removed his hood, to reveal his blushing face and star-lit eyes to her.

"You look gorgeous, Marjorine."

#south park #south park tickles #ler kenny #kenny mccormick #lee butters #butters stotch #marjorine #tickle fic