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#im so close to graduating and getting a job and getting some real money

souryogurt64 · 2 months

Note

unrelated to everything else on this blog but i noticed you mention that you do copywriting now....was wondering if you could say anything abt how you found your job/what kinds of things you do day to day etc (only if you want to + are able ofc!!) its just im an advertising major dangerously close to graduating with no idea what to do but i've taken some copy classes recently and it's got me interested...would love to hear stuff from someone working in it that isn't just extremely generic blurbs about linkedin or personal branding or teamwork or whatever. ugh.

Um yeah so this is like my education and career story of how I ended up an English Major With A Job. This is a really long and more personal, but I feel like having context explains how/why a lot of this happened and is more Real than like trying to give advice.

So I’m not getting into details of this, but important context is that my parents intentionally manipulated/tricked/forced me into going to a really crappy tiny Christian college in the middle of nowhere because they believed big schools were “dangerous.” I got into a lot of really good schools but was not allowed to go.

ANYWAY, while I was in college I basically felt like my life was fucked forever because of the above so it was all hopeless and was not interested in a lot of internships or career stuff. Being a junior during Covid contributed to this feeling a lot and I was just not focused on job experience when it felt like the world was ending. One tiny good part of this school, though, is because it was so fucking terrible, I could basically do whatever I wanted.

So I “started a zine” and also started interviewing bands for college radio. Because the school wasn’t actually policing this, I continued this for a bit after graduation in 2021. Over 200 bands were interviewed. I was also incredibly obsessed with the Burger/SWMRS Implosion and live-blogging it on Tumblr and it felt, to me, like that mattered more than anything I was “supposed” to be doing.

This consumed all of my time, and I had a clear vision that either this was going to rocket launch me directly into becoming like a Real Music Journalist or I was going to crash and burn and like wait tables for the rest of my life or become an English teacher. At no point did I feel anxiety that I was doing the wrong thing.

So anyway, I moved to Chicago. Shortly after, I got a message on Tumblr from someone who did not really use Tumblr, but read my posts about the SWMRS thing. We became acquainted and hung out a few times. (important later)

Meanwhile, it really started to feel like the zine was “””getting cool opportunities””” and I had a tangible career path there. So I kept focusing on that. I was mostly paying rent with restaurant gigs, but I was also working part-time booking live music and doing social media for a small business back in Iowa, and was doing sketchy writing jobs on Craigslist for extra money / to put on a resume.

However, it soon felt like these supposed grand music opportunities were not actually going anywhere, and this new """cool""" work was benefiting these random PR people and not the zine. It caused a lot of tension within the zine. There was also tension because I felt "My Zine" had become "Everyone's Zine" against my will, but somehow in spite of this, I was doing the vast majority of the work and felt pressured into doing a lot of this work by people on the zine who wanted to talk to every PR person and band and label ever but did not want to commit to doing that work themselves.

Anyway then, one day, like 2 days after posting my PGMG essay, I got a mysterious email with huge ginormous red letters on it asking my zine to cover a record label Pete Wentz and Mark Hoppus were doing. Deep down, a part of me will always believe that Pete saw my essay and liked it enough to change my life forever.

Anyway, ~surprise~, it involved cryptocurrency (important later), which at no point was specified to me and I had been bamboozled. I was so upset I cried and people called me dumb on Tumblr and I tried to defend myself and it was all very embarrassing. I am glad this happened to me but it also hurt. Some days I believe whoever was behind this knew they had to trick me so I would obtain the benefits, some days I feel like this was purposefully mean, some days I believe this was some 4D chess ploy for what actually ended up happening, some days I think it was a random coincidence, and some days I feel like none of it ever happened and I’m crazy.

Regardless, the fact that this happened, and the fact that I believed it was because of my essay, also contributed a massive amount to ongoing tension within the zine. (I promise this is all relevant at some point.)

Anyway like 6 months later the band from the Crypto Incident was in town. We interviewed them and they were the biggest band we'd ever talked to. Honestly, this was the worst and weirdest experience I’ve ever had interviewing a band bc of their manager. The band was a pleasure to talk to but the experience was Bad. Also, due to ongoing tension, the other zine person was being difficult leading up to the interview. During, she went off script and asked the band to "spill tea" regarding Blink182 drama. This was so out of character for her and our friendship and the professional standard I held myself to and everything we had done together prior. The band and their manager took it very badly, and I felt like she deliberately did it because this was so important to me.

Anyway, I had deluded myself some reason that I ABSOLUTELY needed to write a huge dramatic feature. The band did not repost it and their manager left me on read. They also made a glowing post about a crypto fluff piece written by a hot girl at like the same time. I know there are plenty of girls in the world who are way hotter than me and also way more talented writers than me, but I was very bothered about the crypto aspect.

All of this upset me so badly I decided my dream of making it in music journalist was pointless and childish because I was not hot or willing to write crypto fluff pieces. I was also really upset with my friend for sabotaging the interview and felt like I couldn’t trust her anymore. It was all very dramatic and there was a huge blowout and I was like crying in the street outside Target and Hey Chris almost ran me over with his bike.

ANYWAYYYY, at this point I decided the zine was over and my dream of being in music was over permanently and I was going to grow up and get a job and never interview a band again. It all hurt a lot.

SO, I talked to that former SWMRS fan I mentioned at the beginning of this, and asked if she knew anyone that was hiring. Because she was the only genuinely employed person I knew. She then talked to her manager (VP of marketing at the company), and they were hiring a copywriter in India but were willing to make an exception for me. The job was a really good job, and asked for 5 years of full time copywriting experience. I had graduated a year and a half prior and had basically no experience. I had done a few things like write blog articles on occasion and do a "summer internship" at a "magazine", but NOTHING of this caliber. Again, I was working a few hours a week posting on Instagram and booking music for a small business, but this was not “copywriting.”

Anyway, my life for the next three months became hardcore studying marketing nonstop and kind of crash-course prepping for interviewing for this job I had no experience for. This felt do or die, this was my one shot, and I could not blow it. I took prepping very seriously and I was handwriting out over and over marketing concepts and vocabulary terms for hours each day, as well as answers to typical interview questions, and I was also reciting these things and filming myself.

There were 2 interviews but the process somehow dragged out for three months. The first interview was pretty quick and with HR, and was very technical. It was so stressful I almost cried during it. It was definitely a "weed-out" interview.

But the final interview took forever to schedule. I know now was because the guy from earlier was in India on business. There is a 12 hour time difference. They told me this, but at the time, I felt like they were actually moving forward with other applicants and I was extremely upset.

I did not tell anyone I was applying because I felt I was going to either get this job or shoot myself. The stress of this and how intensely I was prepping ruined Thanksgiving and Christmas, and once it dragged out towards my birthday I got really fed up and wanted it to be over, so I sent an email saying I was available to interview from midnight-2am.

I think they thought I was bluffing because they scheduled an interview at a normal time and then suddenly moved it to like the next night at 1am.

Anyway, I absolutely slayed this interview. I felt super high on life and at my absolute best during this. I had sort of transcended to a state where I didn’t even want the job, I just wanted this to end. He was blown away by the fact that I was interviewing at 1am, but I definitely feel my best and brightest at 1am so this helped too.

There was no discussion of marketing stuff at all in this 2nd interview. I pretty much just talked about myself and my zine with the interviewer.

And this is where all the extended CRYPTOCURRENCY BACKSTORY comes in. Basically the jewel of my """"portfolio""""" and the only real marketing writing I had done was unwittingly advertising Pete Wentz Cryptocurrency. I had poured like every ounce of my heart and soul and passion and effort into writing this because it was Pete Wentz and I did not know it was cryptocurrency.

And because it was CRYPTOCURRENCY (even though I hadn’t known that) the interviewer was very interested in this. I did not really have any context for this at the time because ChatGPT was not public, but this was an AI tech startup. So there was a lot of like marketing language and company values type things that overlapped a lot, and like buzzwords about Venture Capital and Disrupting The System or Literally Whatever.

I also think an important part of why I did so well was that the interviewer had his camera off and I had no clue who I was talking to. I didn’t know who he was in the company at the time, he sounded very young and like he didn’t have an accent, and he went by a very young-sounding nickname.

I believed I was talking to a boy my age instead of a 40 year old, and I felt very confident and like I was socializing with a peer. This is a bit awkward to say, but because I believed this, there was a lot of natural chemistry. I didn’t feel nervous or like I had to be polite or try and impress a grown-up, and I felt like he should be impressed by me. Which was like the secret to slaying job interviews, I think.

Anyway, I don’t know how much of getting the job was this PW-NFT experience and how much it was the reference from the SWMRS fan. I feel like in this post I’ve understated that aspect, but me spending all of senior year of college obsessively posting about SWMRS instead of going to job fairs was counterintuitively also critical to my eventual career even though everyone thought I was being dumb as all fuck and wasting my breath.

And also it’s hard to know how much of getting this job was just me being confident and prepared and dedicated and passionate. One part I remember clearly was he asked me to talk for five minutes without stopping and teach him about something, and he said it was OK if I couldn’t because most people can’t and I could still get the job. And then it literally wasn’t a problem for me at all, and I definitely feel like maybe that was the moment he decided.

Another thing I remember is that the foster cat I had from Hey Chris was DESTROYING the couch behind me and I was kinda distraught over this but then the interviewer started baby talking to the cat and it brought up fostering, and he was super impressed by the volunteer work. Finally, I like made a huge PowerPoint for the interview (they made me do some project IIRC) and he liked that too.

This was on like a Friday night at 1am or something ridiculous like that, and I didn’t expect to hear back for at least another week, but they were really eager to give me the job immediately.

I did not immediately contact any of my professors about references or send a thank you note because it was a weekend and thought I had like a week, which I regret because my professors were kind of Big Mad about this, so I would recommend contacting your references in advance even if you think you won't get the job.

Anyway I was so relived this was all over and I had a feeling deep down so I drank cactus juice for the first time ever on Saturday night and my roommate was gone so I took a bath for the first time in 6 years in her bathtub and used a Lush bomb and reread Gray, and it was very magical and special and then when I got out at 4am when the water was ice cold and I was still like on another planet, I had an offer letter on my phone (it was like 5am on a Sunday), and I couldn’t believe it was actually real.

Anyway the job is very good (originally 65k base plus 6.5k possible bonus and some different stipends, but I got a raise and make 70k + 7k bonus now. Was making 15/hr previously). It is 100% WFH with dental and vision, 4 weeks PTO, 10 sick days, sign-on stipends for a home office, provide the computer, 1 business trip to the beach per year plus occasional office stuff where there’s like a lot of restaurant food and alcohol, 1k donation matching, and a bunch of stuff with retirement and stocks. I bought an espresso machine and milk steamer with the WFH setup stipend and it was the best decision ever.

Most people there have worked at like Disney and Spotify and Netflix and GoT and stuff. My friend was directly recruited from an obscure job board because she has worked at places like Young Hollywood. One of the other girls I am closest with there worked as a celebrity matchmaker.

Then there’s….me and the PWNFTs lol. It is a bit insane to be honest, but I think that I am honestly one of their best guys because I don't see this as just a job and I don't really take working at places like this for granted whereas everyone else is used to it and always was headed there. Getting a job like this was one in a million and was never ever in the cards for an English major new grad from Bettendorf Iowa that went to a liberal arts college in the middle of nowhere. I worked really, really, really fucking hard to get here and like actually bled and kicked and cried the whole way so I deserve it. I also deserve to be there and have gotten above expectations on all my reviews to date.

ALSO BTW, a big reason why I felt kind of like this was a suicide mission was because I was on Accutane and physically could not continue to work my job in a brewery because it wrecks your bones.

Also towards the end I applied at a college, and by the time they got back to me I had signed on. But they actually told me I was their top candidate and I think would've counteroffered but I told them no. I cold applied there, but I wrote a carefully tailored cover letter to the position, which I think most people don't do and is important if you're cold applying. I didn't do this at my job because I had a reference, but a lot of people I work with messaged the head of the department they applied to on LinkedIn.

Another thing is like yes the LinkedIn is important and headshots are also really important. I follow Courtney Johnson on TikTok and think she mostly has good advice.

Anyway, I guess to recap my advice would be 1) Obsessively pursue your dreams instead of trying to be "practical" and like everyone else. You're only settling early, and shoot for the moon because even if you miss you will land among the stars or whatever that corny quote is. 2) Working via connections is critical, but this actually means like friends from band Tumblr instead of what they tell you in school about awkward job fairs 3) The interview process for good jobs is going to be really time consuming and miserable but you need to take it super seriously 4) Even if you aren't qualified you can still get the job and do well. 5) You need to approach the interview like you know you already have the job or it doesn't matter if you get the job, and you need to be insanely confident. You need to want the job. 6) Stuff like hobbies and volunteering is important to bring up.

ANYWAY, I have been there for about a year. Moving on to what I actually do—

I write basically everything that has to do with marketing. So stuff for all types of ads, landing pages, emails, etc, captions for every single ad on every imaginable platform, etc. I know this doesn't sound like a lot but I counted recently and it's like 10k words a month at least. It is a constant churn of high volume stuff combined with periods of nothing between campaigns where I take marketing classes or do research projects, like analyzing and making powerpoints about competitors or interviews with customers. I feel like that even sounds like not a lot but all of it is really short individually and a lot of this stuff goes through a lot of revisions, there's also like meetings and planning and approval chains and stuff.

Companies make like bazillions of webpages and emails and posts every day so that is p much what I do. I also turn things around on insanely, insanely tight deadlines (one of my biggest strengths), often minutes or hours.

I am basically the only writer in a traditional sense (there are UX writers but that's v different). There is a linguist that copyedits what I do (love her). The girl who referred me in used to be another writer for the emails and blog, but I don't think she wanted to work there at all anymore after the public reaction to AI, so now it is just me. There was like other stuff too but I would like to be vague. Then there are external contractors who make the blog posts but that doesn't really have anything to do with me….. until now, lol.

My old team was mostly bunch of people who actually launched ads and targeted them and collected/analyzed data on them, but there were other random marketing roles too. Now I'm on a new team with people who make the videos/images of stuff I write for, a girl who codes the emails I make (and does other stuff), and our manager. I really really really like my new manager.

Other people I deal with include lawyers, who make sure the ads/emails are OK-- for example, if a company runs a promotion over email, lawyers have to be involved. I also interact a lot with the social media and influencer people (also amazing), to help writing briefs for influencers and brainstorming posts. I also work a lot with business development (love her also also), which is making promotional materials to circulate in schools/businesses.

One of the coolest projects I got to work on, for example, was that we partnered with a ton of athletes and they were wearing company merch at games and making posts/doing courtside interviews. I reviewed and kind of wrote what they said because they are not really able to write their own stuff. I also wrote some billboards recently.

For the most part, I genuinely love my job and I love all my coworkers and think leadership is awesome. However, I will say that any writing job probably has certain challenges, especially if you're young and inexperienced. I feel like people who don't know anything about writing feel the need to contribute, or don't value what I do because I turn things around so quickly. Like if someone in charge of me tells me to do something different I will change it without question 99% of the time, but when it comes to random other people it's frustrating and hard for me to deal with.

Like I know I'm only 25 and I don't know everything, but I am basically the only writer, lol. This was like a source of like a lot drama and crying and being upset in my life, but I feel like there have been a lot of recent changes that have made this a lot better and it's continuing to get better, which is good, and I also feel like my manager is doing all of the right stuff and I'm also learning 2 deal with my own issues and not get so upset more.

But anyway yeah that's kind of my job and how I got my job, I know this turned into a million page long post but <3 hope it helps

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miaiphonus · 3 months

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hi guys! my name is leo, nice to meet y’all. i bring with me im sikyung, the man the myth the bastard. he fills the subplot of the former bully who tried his damndest to turn it around at shinhwa. time would only tell if he turned around, and even so many years later…well, the jury is still out, i guess! please reply to this with anything if you’d like to plot, and my discord is radkxng if anybody would like to message me there. it’s sometimes a bit faster. i’ll be available sparingly here as well! under the cut are some brief biography details and potential plot ideas! i should have his profile and biography done tonight as well, i just wanted to prioritize my intro so we could get to plotting!

so his mother’s a housewife, but his father is im sungho. he’s a fairly popular actor, known for his gentle smile.

she’s just a noncelebrity, someone he met one night. it’s a fairytale romance for a time, sungho is…suffocatingly sweet.

not that he is a good man, and it’s not long after they tie the knot and little sikyung comes into the world that things take a turn for the worse.

tldr not gonna go into detail but i guess he’s part of the Bad Dad Club. congrats. you have taught your child Violence

things keep spiraling because the family’s reputation is in good name — and sungho has money — until quite predictably things go a little nutso cuckoo. there’s this peer and his old school that sikyung was never able to get along with that he ended up roughing up bad. badly enough to get transferred, even.

at shinhwa, sikyung really does try his best to play his part nicely. he gets into some scuffles here and there, probably gets a fiery reputation, but on the surface it goes…mostly well.

and then he graduates and without anyone to keep him on track, and without any reputation to keep him honest, well.

he can’t hold down a job very well, but it’s fine. he and his father, as much as he despises the bastard, work out a deal. sikyung keeps his mouth shut about what goes on behind closed doors, and sungho keeps his bills paid and his legal trouble nonexistent.

he’s still being a menace, and trying to turn it around, but it is simply sisyphean. idk dude just keep pushing that rock this is a skill issue atp

fun fact this url comes from an epithet of ares's that means bloodstained; i wanted something that highlighted both the roughness of sikyung's and the corruptive nature of his upbringing as well

his real gossip girl secret is that he's badtzmaru's number one fan

he does taekwondo if it matters, he thought it would help and it kind of does but it also kind of doesnt

potential plot ideas!! and pls if there's anything you can think of or if you wanna like, alter one of these we can try to talk it out!

someone who helps inspire him to change for the good

friends who make him Worse

someone who knows his victim/whatever/i am Willing to discuss the exact nature of that situation for the Drama

someone who thinks it’s So Fucking Funny to make sikyung mad for better or worse

someone who even when sikyung was Trying to be nice still got on his bad side - look i love a good long time enemies plot

basically give me DRAUMAUR sikyung is not a nice guy im sorry

he wants to be, desperately, to be honest

but he is not and has no idea how to even approach it

#revintro #the silence between the violence — ooc.#pls understand him he's on his period

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greylunar · 2 years

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Hey, can I ask you an device in something very personal? I recently had some sucess with my art and is on track to becoming a career which makes me incredibly happy. But, like, I was born in an upper middle class family. I graduated high school at 16 and got into college at 17. I changed majors so much that now, at 24, I'm no close to graduate that I was back then, I actually just gave up engineering(my like 6th major). I've been very depressed since I got into college, actually, because yes I wanted to make money but I also really really wanted to like what I do for living and the only thing I ever liked was art but I never had the courage to take that risk which is so stupid. But, my point is, I don't deserve to be able to live off my art, you know? Im lazy and a fuckup. There are so many more deserving people out there. Even doing this, coming here and whining about it, just proves how out of touch I am. And I know this. I know this and I think i should step aways from the arts, I think it's not right for me to occupy a place there. I know all that people will talk is how I only succeeded because I didn't had to work(more like couldn't get work) until 23 and because my parents supported me(which fuck they are abusive asholes but they did). Look, I don't know, I know that if I say this stuff my friends will say that I'm crazy on giving up a dream but I just want to hear the truth from an unbiased person. I'm 24, never worked until 23, live with my parents still, a college dropout who spent 7 years fucking around in college with an existential crisis. There's people who suffer through uni, I just gave up. There's people who work awful jobs, I just rely on my shitty parents. There's people who worked harder, deserve it more, right? Besides, I tend to be so delusional. I told my friend I was self-made, can you believe it? That because I wrote my book and it was sucessuful then I was self made. She did right and pointed out all my privileges, and she had a point. A very valid point. Now I'm asking around for strangers opinions I guess bc I don't know what to do

Long reply under the cut c:

Alright, upfront I’m going to be honest friend, I don’t know if I’m going to be the person who’s able to give you what you’re looking for here. Even if this small look into your life allowed me to make some sort of unbiased evaluation of your situation and merit, I don’t think I would. I don’t think I have any right to do that for anyone. So this isn’t going to be like some sort of point evaluation of wether or not you tally up enough personal worth to deserve to do what you’re passionate about for a living, because blanket statement, you do. You’re not evil, you’re not unworthy of happiness, you’re not a fuckup, you’re literally just some guy who’s had a couple privileges but is obviously still going through a lot. That’s like half the population. It doesn’t make you an asshole, it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be happy. It just means you’re a person. You’re just a person. And I think people deserve inherently to try and find what makes existing less shitty for them.

I’m going to be real bud I think it makes a lot of sense that you’re struggling with this. Like you graduated so early and it’s fucking insane trying to know what direction you want to go with your life when you’re 19 and 20 and in college, already it’s unreasonable to ask of someone and you started trying to do it when you were 17. No one could be ready for that. It doesn’t mean you were lazy or stupid it means you were 17 and scared and overwhelmed. You were just a kid. And of course throwing a kid in that environment would affect your depression, of course you’d be stuck in what felt like an endless existential crisis. There’s nothing wrong with dropping out. It’s not because you weren’t strong enough or determined enough or anything like that, it’s being honest with yourself and brave enough to acknowledge that college was not helping you, that in order to take care of yourself you had to admit that it wasn’t the right time for it. Relying on your abusive parents for money and housing? One, that’s a problem in its own right for you like it sucks to be financially dependent on your abuser. Two, fuck them, if you have the option yeah take their money. Three, having the privilege to not have to work is just that, a privilege. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad person inherently. You being able to rely on your parents for financial help does not equate to “and so they don’t deserve to have an art career.” You’ve had a shitty couple of years. You don’t need to turn away a career that would make you happier as penance for stuff that was already shitty. I think you deserve this chance. I also think you deserve to give yourself a break. Self esteem sucks and I know it’s not as easy as just saying that, but maybe talking to a therapist would help if that’s an option for you. You’re beating yourself up for just trying to exist man. We’re all just trying to exist. I mean I changed my major a bunch, I dropped out (twice), I’m unemployed right now. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you don’t think it makes me a fuck up who’s unworthy of something good. The same goes for you, it’s just harder to see it when it’s yourself. I dunno if this will help at all, but even if it doesn’t I guess I hope things get better for you soon friend. In some ways I hope you let them get better for you. Take care of yourself, and try and be gentle with yourself, in the moments you can.

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forvalkyrie · 8 months

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in a very real ranty session pls ignore – i just want to get my thoughts down before i go berserk (also uhh depression trigger warnings – just dont read if you wanna not get depressed).

i just hate the job market i really do

i graduated with a masters this past summer and i've yet to find a job. i''ve had TWO PHONE SCREEINGS – theyre not even interviews, they're straightup just SCREENING. no specifics about any one job, just asking me general questions like im doing a check up.

i just... i have never been so mf depressed and ive been mf depressed before and that was a scary time in my life. in any case, i had like a mental overload earlier this week where i lowkey hyperventilated, crying my ass off. i feel like im a failure for even getting this masters– which btw was an accelerated masters meaning i finished within the year.

i feel both under and overqualified for jobs. my last job, i made a certain amount, and both these under and overquilified jobs either make wayyy below what i used to make or are above but aren't hiring. TODAY i just checked one of my apps on the company site and MIND YOU, i applied yesterday. TELL ME HOW AND WHY the position is now filled/closed.

i don't have like any money – i can barely pay my own damn rent since my savings wasn't supposed to be lasting me forever. my sisters help me more, like offering grocerymoney or paying for a portion of my rent, but my parents are just– idk man. they are not parents atm.

i feel like a true failure and i just don't know what to do about it. im legit trying not to cry atm because i already freaked out yesterday but listen, im not tryna become god or the president or anything but i thought i'd be more than just... hopeless. everytme i draw, it feels boring and empty. when i was in school, i stopped graphics because i wanted to relearn drawing and creating art again but even that's being taken away from me.

i'm watching feel-good shows and re-watching oldies but every part of me is like... punishing myself for taking a break? yesterday i told myself i was gonna stop mass-appplying to jobs since i had that mini breakdown but my friend sent me a link to try to apply to. today, she asked me what departments ive appliued to – her position is very low on teh totem pole so i doubt she could get me a job– but yet thats when i saw that the positions i applied yesterday are already filled.

its depressing to hear for 100 jobs out there, 80% are FAKE and within the 20% left, you'd be lucky to get 2 interviews. i dont wanna lower my wage standards cause ya girl gotta eat too but goddamn. entyr-level positions want 10+ exp for some reason and jobs with certifications– listen, i was gonna try for the certificate until i read that you literally need this type of work experience for you to even APPLY.

spoke to another of my friend who said i should jsut appply to these lowtier jobs and get some money but like... i am so sorry, i have so much school debt that you want me to work minimum wage after just getting a masters? i would much literally rather kill myself (not before making sure none of my siblings get the brunt of my loans because its not their responsibility).

there is nothing good in life. nothing good in this capitalist society.

#dont reblog pls #i mean i think thats obvious

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cuntspunsgunsfuns · 10 months

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manifestation works

and here's what happened to me; my dream job, my final exams, money, make up, clothes i wanted, relationships, basically everything that i ever asked for and manifested, came to me. no bullshit.

i graduated last week, and there's (im not exactly sure if its called the SAT's) your final exams you have to take all of them when you're about to graduate and stuff. so mind you, in january i signed up for it, back then i had trouble with school learning and stuff, so i was pretty CONFIDENT that i signed up for nothing and i was gonna fail. and i wanted to study real bad, but i never did. so before the SATs i wanted to get a job like real bad after i was finished with school, and i was not close to getting one. and i was so lost, i felt like my life was over and i was so insecure about stuff, so i pretty much gave up trying. i was scrolling through tik tok and i found a video that was talking about how SUBLIMINALS work and that people are actually getting crazy results from listening to subliminals and stuff. i was desperate, and very much worn out but i still gave it a try, cause like it wont hurt and this stuff is really interesting to me. every morning before going to school, i sat In front of the mirror doing my make up and listening to a subliminal that was focused on like, getting my dream job. and i was getting ready and just imaging myself getting that call from the boss or some shit, and getting ready for work like it was all in my head.

deadass, i get a phone call saying that they were so interested by my application and they would like to offer me an internship just to see if i like it, if its something that its meant for me, if they'll see that i am capable of working here, and stuff.

guys, im gonna start working in september, and they pay me 2x more than what i thought they would.

i will always be thankful to myself for being patient and actually never losing hope, because sometimes it took too long for them to reach out to me, but in the end i got it.

i had three final exams left. and these were the most, intense, like the ones that count the most. and you cannot fuck up any of these exams because they are literally, the most important of all the exams you've done so far. i was not prepared, i didnt open a book to like at least try or something. i was walking in these exams confident about everything, like i know what im doing, i didnt learn shit but im here for it and im gonna pass it.

i had doubts but each time my mom asked me howd it go id tell her that i aced it and nothing to worry about. so math is the final exam, and its tomorrow, and im procrastinating each time, i tell myself ill study later but it ended up being 9pm and i was literally on PRIME VIDEO.

i go on yt, search a short video explaining hard math, dont understand one thing. so im like, why should i do this when i can just listen to a subliminal?? LOL. I LISTENED TO A SUBLIMINAL FOR 2 MINUTES. AND IT WORKED.

i dont wanna go into full detail but im writing this to remind myself how i did all of that. i always thought that i was crazy, because i could not understand, why, or how, each time i think about something it comes to me. i thought i was losing my mind lol. i think about a song that i havent heard in a loooong time or a shirt i havent seen for a long time and they just pop up. right in my eyes. in the same day in the same hour.

my subconscious mind is so powerful and i swear u cannot convince me otherwise. its helping me. and every thought just comes like it sounds super crazy but its so real and its amazing.

so thats why u should visualize, think about what u want, who u want to become and that will come to you. your subconscious mind is already getting it. because your thoughts already exist, your desires are yours and you just have to let them come through.

each time you talk bad, or bad mouth, talk shit about someone your subconscious mind records it and basically places that effect on you. like who you are, that negativity doesn't flow to that person, it comes to you. so whenever you open your mouth and say something hateful its only backfiring.

the same is with your thoughts. whenever you sit there and worry and just constantly doubt yourself, hate yourself, hate the future and think about how horrible its gonna turn out or ur not enough, thats exactly whats gonna happen.

u can control it. you can be it

#manifesation

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1kook · 4 years

Text

some way, some how

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

Summary: Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you. Warnings: emotional constipation, toxic ex, internalized misogyny, jk has bad experiences w/his ex’s dad, one scene where jk throws up, brief episode of panic, mentions of terminal cancer (minor); smut; fingering, praise kink, face fucking, spitting kink, cunnilingus, unprotected sex on top of a car im sorry Misc: autoshop owner!jk, businesswoman!oc, slice of life, childhood crushes, friends to lovers, ex gfs, pining, country bumpkin pjm w/crush on oblivious oc, ex-bf kth but it’s not real lol Wc: 19.4k (wow!!!)

the spirit of auto shop jk possessed me n next thing i knew i was 11k into a drabble. if ur curious: the 1975 corvette, car at the end, the tweed suitskirt (not actually chanel ☹️sowwyyy) also: this is the longest fic I've written!!!!! clap for me!!!!! i proofread the first few paragraphs n was like thats enough professionalism for the day

inspired by ain’t no mountain high enough one of my fave songs ever🥺 the title is a lyric from the song bc i love it so much enjoy !!

The garage is mostly dark when you enter, the faint hum of a radio quietly filtering through the stagnant room, its source coming from the back wall, where the only light is. It’s a rolling lamp, shining down an ugly yellow glow onto the figure of one man.

Jungkook’s sitting in that same rolling stool he always is, the metal one that’s rusted beyond repair, the cushion so uncomfortably flat. He’s caught up in whatever paint job he’s been tasked with this time around, a classic muscle car from what looks like the 80’s. He’s humming along to the radio, so caught up in stenciling out his design that he doesn’t notice you creep behind him until you’re very purposefully rattling the tool cart beside him, a teasing “boo!” making him jump.

“Fuck, you scared me,” he gasps, rubs over his chest as if to check if his heart is in fact still there. You grin, brandish your bag of takeout out for him before he can lecture you on the dangers of startling people who work around very complex machinery. Instead, all he says is, “you’re an angel.”

Once you’ve got the food carefully scattered across his work bench, your cherry cola tucked next to a canister of gasoline like that’s the safest practice, Jungkook wastes no time diving into all the details of his project, the 1975 Chevy Corvette behind him. The longer you look at it, the more you feel you’ve seen it somewhere. Probably a car show, you presume.

“Purrs like a kitten,” he sighs dreamily, completely ignoring the way half his toppings slide out from the opposite end of his cheeseburger. You don’t, and you swipe a fallen pickle from his tray before he can catch you.

“A kitten?” You ask, glance over at the car. It’s desperately in need of a paint job, and you only realize this now as you stare at it more in depthly. The niggling feeling that you know this car is still there, but you ignore it in favor of indulging your best friend. “Don’t people usually compare cars to bigger, better cats?”

There’s a taped stencil running alongside the car, a thick stripe followed by a thinner one, and you suppose Jungkook’s trying to spice her up, give her back the same youthfulness she probably had in her prime. What better way to do so than by adding some classic stripes alongside it.

Jungkook hums, gulps down his soda noisily. “Not this one. Never heard an engine as soft as hers.”

You roll your eyes. For a minute, the two of you quietly chew through your burgers, the radio filling in the gaps while you analyze the car. You know this car, but you can’t remember where. Jungkook coughs into his palm, probably from trying to inhale his fries too fast like he does every time you go to the diner you’re eating from today.

The diner.

A mouthful of braces. A pretty waitress. A strict dad.

“Holy shit, this is Sojin’s dad’s car,” you inhale, the memories from high school suddenly hitting you full force. Jungkook chokes, out of surprise this time, and furiously goes to deny your claims. “This is totally his car. The one he tried to run you over with when he caught you trying to put her on the back of your bike.”

“He didn’t try to run me over,” Jungkook whines, and the tips of his ears are red from your revelation.

You glare. “Why are you fixing that asshole’s car for him?” You interrogate, the last quarter of your burger forgotten in favor of squeezing the truth out of him. You’d had enough of that treacherous woman and her equally deranged father causing Jungkook trouble, and to catch him still helping her now, almost ten years later, was enough to make a brain vessel pop.

He shrugs, avoids your eyes as he picks through his fries. The radio is still on, some tune you recognize from those old days at the diner when Jungkook had become so unbelievably smitten with the part timer that served you milkshakes every Wednesday afternoon.

He had been in love with her the moment he saw her, and the look in his eyes was only magnified by those dorky glasses he wore pre-lasik. You'd been his friend long enough, recognized the jump of his scrawny thigh beneath the table. Like a bunny, thumping in excitement at the sight of her.

Sojin was... full of surprises.

She was nothing less than a supermodel, long legs carrying her around the diner as if it was her runway. She was nice too, so you hadn’t originally had an excuse to dislike her. She was nice, and so endeared with your best friend that it was inevitable when they began dating. Her presence consumed the end of your high school careers, overtook the time that should have been yours and Jungkook’s last year before being thrown into adulthood. He decided on studying at a technical school nearby—per your encouragement to save money—while you travelled five hours out for your degree in business. That last year, when you had finally come to terms with your feelings, had been so painfully ripped away by Sojin and her never-ending list of teenage drama, and by Sojin’s dad and his overbearing need to police her and Jungkook every chance he got.

Jungkook still hung out—“Sojin was busy, do you wanna do something?”—but more often than not those hang outs consisted of Jungkook telling you about her and her dad, about how hard he tried to get into his good graces.

The bike incident had only been one of many. Times where Jungkook would put his heart—and life—on the line for that girl only for it to be in vain every time she broke up with him over the simplest things. You’d heard stories from Jungkook, all told with a tight smile, of a handshake that would bruise, a man chasing him with a bat, of a car following him to school. All things he put up with for a girl who didn’t care for him. One day, after Jungkook had grudgingly sat through an hour long dinner with her family, the stare of her father piercing through him, she broke up with him because she didn’t like how long his hair had gotten.

(If anyone were to ask you, he was handsome with long hair. Dreamy even.)

He cut it that same day.

As her childishness grew, you quickly came to dislike her. She strung Jungkook around, you thought, and just when you thought she was finally done toying with him and making his life difficult in the sneakiest ways, the damn kid started hitting the gym. His growing frame, toned arms and now straightened teeth had turned him into a heartthrob, and Sojin was just as aware of this as you were. “Don’t we look perfect together?” She’d ask, twirl around him like they were on the cover of a magazine and not standing on his chipped front porch.

Needless to say, by the time graduation had rolled around you despised the woman. You absolutely disliked how she treated Jungkook, how she let her father treat Jungkook without ever stepping up and defending him. Granted, you didn’t know exactly what went on in her household behind closed doors, you’d seen enough of her uncaring attitude to want to ram her and her dad’s head against the hood of the car.

Which is why seeing the old car, in Jungkook’s shop nonetheless, was rekindling a boiling hatred in your chest. “That man should rot in hell for all he put you through,” you huff, glare at the car like it holds some magical connection to him and he can feel the intensity of your stare.

“___,” Jungkook scolds, swirls his cup around to distract himself. “He was just trying to protect his only daughter,” he defends, quietly, like it’s what he tells himself to justify all those years of mistreatment. Even when he and Sojin had continued through college, it had never stopped. You, being five hours away, couldn’t do a damn thing. “Besides, the guy’s old as hell now.”

You snort, finally breaking your staring match with the car. Glancing at Jungkook, he’s got that same forlorn expression on his face, the one he started wearing when he first came to terms with the fact that her dad would never like him. There was a time it was stuck permanently on his face, the pressure and the discomfort that came from the father of the girl you’ve dated for five years looking at you like you were nothing more than a speck of dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

When you came back from school, educated and confident, you almost didn’t recognize your best friend. Tall and broad, tattoos splattered over his arm. Hair long like you loved it, but eyes still as round and wondrous as they’d been when you were kids. He had his own place now, he told you, and you vaguely remembered all the times he mentioned him and Sojin moving in together, mentally preparing yourself to see that wench for the first time in a while.

Much to your surprise, there was no Sojin in sight. No lingering artifacts of her presence. Nothing that showed she existed in this space besides an ugly orange mug she’d given him for his birthday one year, tucked into the very back of his cabinets. They’d broken up, he explained. Almost immediately after graduation.

After stringing him along for the better part of five years, she had decided this wasn’t what she wanted. No, what she wanted was a man ten years her senior with an abundance of cash to flow. Jungkook hadn’t cried. Hadn’t even looked the tiniest bit upset when you ordered pizza and drank some beer, watched your favorite episodes of The Simpsons like you were seventeen and avoiding your homework again.

You stayed the night, a little too tipsy to drive home. Besides, Jungkook had a spare bedroom. It was a room beside his, just a full bed with a chest of drawers. You liked it, liked the scent of him surrounding you after only seeing each other for a couple weeks in between months of distance. You liked it, because when he shifted in bed you realized the beds were pressed against the same wall, and you liked it until the shared wall spared you no secrets, and you listened to him quietly sob into his pillow.

“Old or not, he’s still the devil,” you murmur, snapping back to the present where Jungkook is wheeling himself closer to the car again. “Where did you find that thing anyway?”

He stays silent, quietly pretending like he still has something to do on the car besides paint it. Then, “I bumped into Sojin at the store.”

You sigh, drop your head between your shoulders. You can only imagine what whirlwind of a sob story she had to throw on him to win this favor.

“Kook,” you start, gauging his reaction only from his backside. His muscles ripple beneath his dark t-shirt, his usual red jumpsuit knitted around his waist. “What happened?”

Again, silence.

You say nothing, let him sort through the hurt on his own while you creep up behind him, sliding your hands over his shoulders and pressing down on the cricks behind his neck. He melts into your touch, head lolling forwards as a quiet sigh escapes him.

“She told me she was low on cash, and she needed the car to get to work,” he confesses, and from his ducked position, his voice trembles. You roll your eyes.

“And the paint job?”

A particularly rough press of your fingers has a whimper escaping him. God, this boy needed to see a chiropractor and a masseuse soon. All that hunching over and under these cars was doing a number on his back.

“I… I figured I might as well fix up the exterior too.” Of course he would, you think, Jungkook’s heart was stupidly big and easy to manipulate. He would get so swept up in it sometimes, trying to do the best he can for everyone’s benefit that he’d ignore himself.

You sit in his confession, fingers digging into his skin for a few minutes as you consider what to say.

The mature adult in you, the logical half of you, wants to hit him upside the head, scold him for letting that wench into his life again so easily. You were going on twenty-six now, all three of you, and you didn’t have time to be fixing him every time that childish woman decided to toy with him. Granted, it’s been four years since you last saw her, since you heard him muffle his cries on the other side of the wall, and you liked to think Jungkook was a respectful adult of society now. He didn’t have time to get dragged around by self-absorbed women with insane fathers.

The other part, the best friend since childhood, wants to run away. Wants to pack Jungkook into a suitcase and take him far away from here and from her. Unlike you, who now lived in the city, Jungkook had stayed in your small hometown, a quiet place just outside the bustling city. It was difficult to ensure his happiness when you were always forty-five minutes out of reach. It would be so much easier to just take him and fly to another province, maybe on the beach, Jungkook loved the beach.

“Listen,” he says, successfully pulling you out from your spiral. “I know what you’re gonna say and I just wanna tell you it’s not like that.”

You blink, hands stilling on his shoulders. Your lack of movement allows him to spin around on his chair, gaze up at you with the same shiny gaze he’s given you ever since you were kids. “I’m just doing her this tiny favor. She looked...” he trails off, face scrunching to find the words.

“Like shit?” You propose, and he smiles. “Like flaming dumpster shit behind a club?”

Jungkook laughs, loud and beautiful. You want to kiss the mole beneath his lip.

“She looked bad, okay?” He settles, reaches forward to take your palm in his. You’re standing between his thighs, and you wonder how he would have acted if you were Sojin. “Don’t think things worked out with that CEO she was dating. I’m just giving her a push.”

You sigh, try to push those crestfallen sobs to the back of your head. “Okay,” you agree, briefly glancing back at the damn car. “You fix her car, and that’s it,” you state. Jungkook nods, makes a little X over his heart. He knows how much you hate that woman. “No funny business.”

“No funny business,” he agrees, then reaches down for a white spray can. “You wanna spray some dicks on it before I paint it?”

“Please,” you laugh, taking the face mask he offers you with a grin.

—

One day your car starts making a weird noise as you pull out of the underground parking garage of your building. It’s somewhere between a pig squealing and metal scraping. You’ve been around Jungkook long enough to know this is probably something to do with your breaks, something about them being loose or old, one of the two. You have a short day at work today. There’s repairs being done to the office you work at, so everyone’s been spending more time working from home.

You leave work a little after two pm, head pounding from the hour long meeting you sat through, the mediocre business proposals your boss had asked you to look through and file. There’s a hefty load of emails waiting in your inbox, mostly the interns requesting you write them a recommendation letter. You’ll have to look through those later, pick out the good ones and write them each a unique piece kissing the ground they walk on.

The scent of freshly fried donuts hits your nose as you pull into your old town; the bakery down the road from Jungkook’s has their windows open. You can already taste the sweetness on the tip of your tongue, the iced coffee cooling your insides as you sit and watch Jungkook work on your car.

Jungkook’s shop is on the corner of the street, takes up a huge chunk with it’s massive garage and driveway; the office area is tiny compared to the sheer size of the actual work floor. There’s music blaring through the overhead speakers, and when you pull in you recognize it as Jimin’s playlist.

“Morning, Miss,” the country bumpkin says, leaning against your car door as you rifle through your purse. “What’re you in for?”

“Hi, Jimin,” you reply sweetly, take his hand as he helps you out the door. You very vaguely explain the noise your car had made that morning, glancing around the shop as Jimin gets to work inspecting it. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin’s waving over some other employees, all greeting you in their matching red jumpsuits. “Kook’s in the office,” he tells you, and it’s almost sensual the way his hand glides over your palm for your keys. God, you needed to get laid. “Has some lady friend in there with him.”

You pause, the bustling of the crew behind you fading into the background. Something inside you snaps, and you whirl around the garage, before catching sight of a 1975 Chevy Corvette, almost unrecognizable from how you’d last seen it. It’s bright red now, a color you only briefly saw before you’d left the other night, with two, lightning bolt racing stripes decorating each side. It looks new, almost in mint condition, and the fact it’s still here has you storming through the garage.

Your heels clack loudly, the crew moving to the side as you torpedo straight into the offices. You barely remember to greet the receptionist before you’re stomping straight into the main office.

There’s no knock, no warning given, before you’re flinging the door open, seeing exactly what you’d expected.

“___,” Jungkook stutters, jumping onto his feet from his position on the couch. He looks frantic, wide eyes flickering between you and the woman sitting in front of him, her back turned to you. But you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.

“Did you say ___?” She says, and she’s still as tall and as beautiful as you remember her. Had it not been for the heels you wore, you don’t doubt she’d tower over you. She flashes you a killer smile, lips carefully painted red. It almost looks murderous. “My! ___, you haven’t changed a bit,” Sojin exclaims, rushing around the couch to pull you into a tight hug. You don’t return it.

You let her cling to you for a second, before pushing her away as gently as you can by the shoulders. As much as you’d like to rip her in half, tear her apart for all she did to Jungkook, you won’t. You’re older now, elegant in all the ways you weren’t before. It would be a huge disservice to your maturity if you shoved your heel up her ass right now.

“It’s lovely seeing you, Sojin,” you smile, taking her hand in yours.

Besides, being a woman in business meant you knew better, more creative ways to strike.

“And your boyfriend?” You ask, tilting your head in staged confusion. You even glance around the office, like you’ll find the geezer hiding behind the potted plant or Jungkook’s frozen figure. “The rich one with the huge company? Did he come with you today?”

Her smile tightens, red lips pursed as she gauges you with those cat eyes that haunt your nightmares every now and then. “My ex-boyfriend,” she corrects after a minute, pastes a forlorn expression onto her features. “We’ve separated, and you know how it is for women like us,” she jests. “We need a man to push us along—“

“Do we?” You ask, think back on all those years of school, of studying and working and pushing yourself, all the time you spent investing in yourself for yourself. “I don’t think so,” you contemplate. “It’s really embarrassing if you can’t care for yourself without the help of a man. Almost like you don’t trust in your own abilities, and ride other’s coattails instead.”

A beat of silence. Two completely different worlds, and Jungkook hovering awkwardly beside you.

Two palms grasp your shoulders from behind, and when you turn Jungkook is smiling at you, forced and stressed like he can’t stand to be in this uncomfortable situation any longer. “Well,” he announces, pushing you behind him as he guides Sojin towards the door. “There was an issue with her car, so I’ll just check on it real quick, okay?”

You nod, feel empty as he takes her by the wrist, and not you. He hands her her purse, palm on the small of her back as they exit the office. When the door clicks shut behind them, you throw your own handbag at the ground, barely stop yourself from stomping like a child.

Instead, you breathe in, hold it, and exhale, just like your Tuesday yoga instructor taught you. By the time you’ve collected yourself a few minutes have passed, so you kneel down to gather your fallen lipstick tubes and cellphone from the floor, scooping them back into your purse.

Tugging the door shut behind you, you mindlessly wander down the hall, until you reach the small receptionist area and nearly get jumped by Kim Taehyung. “Holy shit, you won’t believe this,” he gasps, takes you by the shoulders and nearly shakes you until your brain falls out through your ears. You would have slapped him, had this been any other man, but he’s quite possibly the only man besides Jungkook you’d let jostle you like this. “You’ll never guess who just left the office with J—wait,” he pales, suddenly connecting two and two, your exit from said offices definitely a key factor in whatever conclusion he’s drawn. “You were in the office with Hwang Sojin and you didn’t kill her?!”

You huff, let him shake you again until you’re nearly tripping in your heels. “Yes, I know,” you groan, finally slap his hands away when you begin to feel this morning’s breakfast bubbling from all the motion. “I’m surprised too.”

“Wow,” Taehyung marvels, leans back against the receptionist desk even though the poor girl has told him time and time again not to. He ignores her, something he can do as second best friend to the boss. “Remember when she showed up crying outside his mom’s house and you threw a potted plant at her? Oh how the great have fallen.”

Rolling your eyes, you drift over to the plexiglass window in the office that looks out across the entirety of the garage floor. In the corner, Jungkook’s got the hood of the Corvette open as he works away on something, Sojin tapping at her phone beside him. “Why are you here, Tae?”

He steps beside you, tuned into the same scene. “Can’t visit my ex-girlfriend every now and then?” He teases, you groan.

“We dated for three days, dude, let it go,” you whine, and watch with rapt attention as Jungkook motions for her to start the engine. She does, and it purrs to life, soft and silky just like Jungkook said it does. She squeals and claps, launches herself into his arms in thanks. You look away.

“Yuck,” Taehyung gags and you couldn’t agree more. “Can’t believe you ended the best 72 hours of my life for that pinhead and the hussy attached to his hip.”

He shrieks when you pinch his side, and you take great satisfaction in the judgemental stare half the crew sends him through the glass. After all, they weren’t soundproof. “You embarrassed me and my brand,” he huffs, crossing his arms as the two of you return to watching Jungkook and the hussy.

“He’s not a pinhead,” you softly retort, watch him wipe a bead of sweat off his forehead as he waves her off. Sojin sends him a brigade of air kisses, none of which he catches. A sick sense of glee consumes you at the sight, but then he’s turning to stare directly at you and Taehyung through the glass, and the both of you quickly whirl away.

“His ability to find you in less than a second is so weird,” Taehyung shivers, and you ignore it, taking the candy from the bowl on the receptionist desk. She doesn’t care, having heard these conversations more than enough times to get the general gist of what you and Taehyung gossip about. You’re surprised she’s never mentioned it to Jungkook before.

Regardless, you listen to Taehyung complain about his life for a few more minutes, before Jimin’s sweet voice pops into the room. His ash blonde hair is all ruffled, and there’s something dark smeared over his otherwise perfect skin as he tells you your car is fixed. Taehyung bids you goodbye, and Jimin walks you back to your car out on the garage floor.

“All set, miss,” Jimin grins, puts a hand against the car so you don’t hit your head as you go in. You thank him, and don’t miss the way he lingers by your window.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, tilt your head quizzically. Jimin’s cheeks flush, and he looks shyly at the ground.

“Actually, I was wondering if—“

“___,” Jungkook calls, jogging over beside Jimin, who looks almost ashamed to be caught doing...whatever it was he was gonna do. Jungkook glances at him, catches him in some weird staring contest before crouching down to your window. “You needed your car fixed? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You blink, don’t know how to politely tell him he was too busy kissing the ass of his toxic ex-girlfriend to help you out. “Jimin helped me,” you smile, the same practiced expression you’ve mastered since college. You usually get by, usually trick people with that look, but not with him. Jungkook knows you too well, knows that look, and knows you’re holding yourself back. “You were busy.”

His lips part in surprise, tugged downwards with the hint of a frown. “I,” he stutters, looks at Jimin, who doesn’t seem that impressed with him either. “I… I would’ve came if you called.”

You tug your sunglasses out from their little case, slide them over the bridge of your nose as you strap your seatbelt over yourself. “Would you though?” You ask, flash him another polite smile before shifting your car’s gears. Jimin walks off, clears the path for you to exit, and with just Jungkook standing there, you speak freely. “I would hate to distract you from something important.”

—

Some of the proposals end up being better than expected, and after carefully sifting through them, your boss asks you to sit through presentations for the next few days. Your time gets consumed in graphs and budgets. There’s a multitude of businesses you have to look into, some big and well-known, and others small and local. You drive around the city one day, visiting business after business, until your ankles hurt in your heels and your cheeks hurt from all the smiling. Your only comfort is the nice Chanel skirt suit you’re wearing that makes you feel like the most important person in the room wherever you go.

By the time the week’s over, there’s a thin cut forming on the back of your ankles from all the walking you’ve done in your heels. You slump against your front door, tossing your heels in the vague direction of the closet before padding through your house.

You nearly scream yourself sore at the figure in your kitchen, hunched over what looks to be a hastily made cake with a number three candle. “Oh my god,” you seethe, turning the overhead light on to illuminate Jungkook’s grinning figure, dirty and sweaty from work. You glance at the clock on the stove; it’s only been about an hour since his garage closed.

“Surprise!” He exclaims, and you’re not the slightest bit amused when he begins humming the happy birthday song on a day that is definitely not your birthday.

When he’s done, you don’t clap and his beaming smile doesn’t waver. “It is not my birthday,” you calmly state, placing your leather padfolio on the counter.

Jungkook blows the candle out for you. “It’s the birthday of when we first met,” he explains, and gets to cutting the cake. How he remembers such a day, you don’t know. You do know that this is his mom’s birthday cake recipe, and you love that. “Can you believe it? Friends for almost three decades.”

“Almost,” you repeat, dutifully sitting across from him and taking the plate he offers. He nods at you like a bobblehead.

His eyes are sparkly and big, like he’s drunk, and it’s only then you notice the red wine on the table, bottle open and halfway done. You set your fork down, grasp the neck of the bottle in your hand. “Have you been drinking?” You ask, even though the answer stares you right in the face. You frown. “You hate drinking.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, shovels more cake into his mouth to delay his response. “Needed it,” he offhandedly explains, nearly eats the candle but you jump forward to snatch it off his fork before he can.

“What do you mean?” You inquire. You’re not hungry anymore, too interested in whatever’s going on in his head to make him think he needs to be drunk around you.

Jungkook gulps, reaches forward for more wine but you cradle the bottle to your chest. You nearly gasp when he levels you with a real, stony glare, the expression out of place on his face. “Cuz you’re mad,” he huffs. “At me.”

There was a time you would coddle Jungkook’s every mistake, never let him think he was at fault for anything. You’d grown out of it shortly before high school, recognizing boys were stupid no matter how much you tried to prove otherwise. Since then, you’ve watched him get into trouble time and time again—Sojin being the prime example—and only intervened when absolutely necessary. Some part of you, the half that hates seeing him upset, wants to tell him you’re not. The mature part in you, however, doesn’t let that happen.

“I am,” you agree, watch his eyes widen almost comically at your admission. You set the wine bottle back on the table, leaning your chin on your palm as you level him with the most unimpressed gaze you can. “I’m furious, actually.”

He whimpers, actually whimpers like a kicked puppy, and you can almost see the metaphorical ears pressed against his head and the tail tucked between his legs. His lips are big and pouty, stained from the wine. You’d love to know what they feel like.

Jungkook’s vulnerability lasts all of three seconds, before he’s shaking himself out of whatever emotional pit his foggy brain has him in. “Well, it’s dumb,” he spits, and it’s your turn to sit in shock. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Excuse me?” You ask, incredulously, because this has never happened before. Are you overprotective and sometimes overbearing? Sure. Has Jungkook ever voiced discomfort with that before? Never. “I’m not telling you what to do,” you sneer, crossing your arms over your chest.

He rolls his eyes, pushes away from the table like a moody teen. You know it’s because he’s drunk, because he’s not himself, but you have to remind yourself that he obviously felt this way somewhere in his heart to voice it to you now. “You’re not my mom.”

You choke. “I’m not!” You angrily agree, pushing away from the table as well.

Jungkook snarls, “well you sure do love acting like her.” He picks up his plate, glances over at you with a look in his eyes that can only be likened to that of a sneaky cat, and then purposefully shoves the bread and frosting down the garbage disposal in the sink. You shriek, fly around the table and shove him away.

“What is wrong with you?” You seethe, push him away rudely with a hand on his face. Jungkook stumbles back, slips on the floor and nearly cracks his head on the corner of the counter. “Oh my god,” you exclaim, abandoning the sink in favor of watching the way his face twists up at the sudden motion, stomach contracting beneath his black t-shirt, cheeks puffing. “Oh god, oh god,” you stammer, tugging him to his feet with the strength only a panicked individual about to see an entire cake regurgitated onto their kitchen tile can have.

You’ve barely kicked the door to the bathroom open when Jungkook begins throwing up, gooey vomit spewing from his mouth and onto the floor. It touches your arm, and you shriek before shoving him in the general direction of the toilet.

“Ew, ew,” you freak, shoving your hand under the sink faucet to get that gross feeling away. You wanna vomit yourself, but you tell yourself there can only be one sick person at a time, and right now it’s Jungkook.

He’s got his head in the toilet, disgusting sounds echoing off the ceramic of it. By the time you’ve calmed down and washed your arm thrice, you move over to pull his bangs away from his face, letting him hurl in peace.

“I’m sorry,” he mopes, spews another round of birthday cake into the toilet.

You look away, blindly reach out to turn the bathroom fan on. “Mhm,” you nod, rubbing a hand over his back. Jungkook nods sadly against the toilet seat.

“‘M sorry,” he repeats, gags around nothing but the gross feeling left in his throat. “I-I know you just want…” a pause as he considers throwing up some more, “...want what’s best for me.”

“I do,” you agree, wipe a hand down the side of his face that he leans into. “Not trying to be your mom,” you assure him, and he snorts.

“Be a good mom,” he murmurs, so soft you don’t hear him. You hum, leaning closer and he repeats it. “You’d be… a good mom.”

Not knowing what to do with that information, you just pat his back until he falls asleep, cheek against the toilet seat.

—

“Woah, the sexual tension in this garage is off the charts,” Taehyung blurts from behind you, and you smack your clipboard against his chest. “Oof,” he grunts, rubbing his chest like it actually hurt. “You doing finances for him again?” He asks and you nod.

In an ideal world, Taehyung would leave upon finding out you’re busy. In this world, he simply leans into your personal space, nearly knocking you into an empty tool cart. “Oooh, an extensive list of all the money Jungkook’s stupidly blown this month. How much did he spend on neon signs this time?”

You relent, showing him the shop’s finances. Anywhere else, revealing a business’s finances without the consent of the owner would be a federal crime. Here, it’s the equivalent of showing Taehyung Jungkook’s browser history. “He spent how much on window tint?!”

“A lot,” you say.

There’s a whistle from across the garage, the shop’s resident country bumpkin Park Jimin standing at the huge garage doors with his hand on his hip. “No fraternizing, please.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Boooo,” he shouts, peels himself away from you to flick an impolite finger Jimin’s way. “He’s just jealous,” he tells you, and you frown.

“Of what?” You ask, and Taehyung nearly loses his shit.

“My precious ___,” he sighs, leans his forehead on your shoulder. “So beautiful and smart, yet so slow.” You flick the side of his forehead just as Jungkook strolls by and, seeing your attack, slaps the back of Taehyung’s neck. “Why do you guys hate me!” Taehyung exclaims, jumping at least five feet away from you and Jungkook’s giggling forms.

“How’s it going?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring Taehyung’s soulful cries as he glances over your shoulder at the clipboard. You tilt it his way, but he stands close anyway, until you can feel his breath huffing against the back of your neck.

“Okay, but you’re spending a lot of money stockpiling on things that haven’t shown signs of running out yet,” you explain, pointing at the window tint that had astonished Taehyung only a moment ago.

Jungkook grimaces, pink tongue swiping across his lip as he looks at the total amount he’s spent the last three months. “Well, it’s a good thing I have my accountant,” he grins, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“Not your accountant,” you correct, “just a friend who doesn’t wanna see you run your business to the ground from overspending.”

Jungkook waves you off, and Taehyung tries to sneak into the receptionist office behind you, but Jungkook catches him with his free hand. “This is the life,” he sighs, wistfully gazing over the garage floor. It reeks of motor oil and car paint.

“Count me out,” Taehyung snorts, voicing your disinterest toward such greasy and smelly work. He tries to wiggle out of Jungkook’s hold, but the muscle bunny only straps an arm around his neck, until Taehyung’s squirming and clawing for air against the red sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“My own successful business, a shitload of sexy cars, and of course,” he pauses, squeezes the two of you tighter until you’re both groaning. “My two best friends.” The sap has the gall to peck the top of your heads, and that seems to be the final straw for Taehyung who rips himself away.

“Have this lovefest somewhere else, man,” Taehyung says, flattening his rumpled clothing down. “You’re really putting a nail in my reputation around here.”

Jungkook cackles, mindlessly goes to wrap himself around you from behind. “Your reputation has been trash since that scream you let out the other day,” he informs him, swaying the two of you back and forth. Your heart thunders in your chest, and you just barely manage to avoid Taehyung’s pointed stare.

“Whatever, I’m outta here.” With Taehyung peaced out, you’re left in Jungkook’s arms, gazing over his business like two old lovers. It makes your chest tight, so you quickly go to shake him off.

“We’re okay?” Jungkook murmurs, so soft you almost don’t hear. He’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist, thumb massaging over the bone there like he’s afraid you’ll bolt the second he lets you go.

You nod, tuck the clipboard to your side. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Those sad puppy eyes, pouty lips turned southward. You want to wipe that look off his face. He sighs, glances at where your skin meets and gives it a squeeze. “I’ve been an ass lately,” he settles on saying. “Said some mean things and ruined your bathroom rug—I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what to say.

Jungkook takes your silence as understanding, reaching down to hold both your hands in his slightly dirty ones. “It won’t happen again. I’d rather lose a million friends than lose you,” he confesses, and something about it feels too real, too raw. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You nod, the constricting feeling in your throat only tightening when he smiles at you, those gentle eyes and plush lips for only you to see. You want to kiss him, swallow him whole. Right here on the garage floor so everyone knows he’s yours.

But you can’t because he’s not.

You settle on swinging your arms between you. “Just don’t do anything stupid,” you warn him, narrowing your eyes playfully. There’s a heavy feeling in your heart, something akin to anguish, but you could never voice it out loud.

“I won’t,” Jungkook promises.

—

Jungkook visits again on a weekday, and you nearly send him straight home when he brandishes another bottle of wine in your face. “It’s nonalcoholic!” He exclaims before you can shut the door on him, foot lodged against the frame. You give in.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, curling up on the couch in just your shorts and huge t-shirt. Jungkook pops the bottle open, pouring the wine into two limited edition Shrek 2 cups you pulled out from the depths of your cabinet.

“Can’t hang with my bestie?” He throws back at you, snatching the remote from your hands before you can click on another episode of that dumb housewives show. You end up watching National Geographic, some documentary about the role of bioluminescent shrimp in the sea.

“Aw look, they’re kissing,” he cooes at a pair of seahorses that wander across the screen halfway through a shot of some school of shrimp. “How romantic.”

“Wonder what that’s like,” you comment, not thinking too much on the meaning behind your words until you can feel Jungkook’s stare pierce your cranium. “What?”

“You’ve never been kissed?” He blurts, and you choke on your wine.

“You were my first kiss,” you remind him, flush at the memory of the two of you sitting criss-cross applesauce on his bed, knees knocking in what was probably the worst first kiss in the history of first kisses.

Jungkook blinks. “Oh yeah,” he laughs. “With the Tony Hawk poster behind my bed, right?”

“The one and only.”

Jungkook hums, and the two of you melt back into the silence. Nice aquatic sounds fill the room, the camera panning over more colorful fish that Jungkook oohs at appreciatively. You don’t really pay attention, more interested in the way the wine swirls in your cup and the way you can feel Jungkook’s thigh pressed against your knee, like when you were thirteen and trying something new.

You know it doesn’t mean a lot to him. Just another silly childhood memory of you. Not like you have hundreds, thousands of them with each other. By the way he’d blurted the question, you doubt he even remembered it most days. But you did.

It plagued your mind all the time, the soft feel of his mouth and the trembling hand that had held yours. You wonder if he kisses the same still, lips gently puckered. He’s had years to learn, half a decade to get creative with Sojin, and the past four years of being a bachelor to explore more.

You’ve kissed too, plenty of guys who had no meaning and ones you thought would replace him. But it’d been a long time since you’ve let anyone into your bed, more content to please yourself without the overbearing weight of feelings and emotions to wrap around your throat.

Jungkook coughs, and you shake yourself from your thoughts.

He’s looking at you inquisitively, like he can’t get his usual read on you and would rather just ask what’s wrong. “You don’t,” a pause, “hang out with guys?”

It’s devastatingly cute, the way he asks if you’re fucking, and you want to pinch his cheeks. Instead you shake your head, try to hide the grin on your face from his inquisitive expression. “Just you and Taehyung,” you admit.

Jungkook nods. “Do you and Tae…?”

You shake your head furiously. “No! God no, we don’t do anything like that,” you clarify, the thought of Taehyung in your bed enough to make you want to gag.

Jungkook says nothing, just turns back to the documentary to watch more Nemos and Dorys flit across the screen. You polish off your cup of wine, leaning forward to settle it back on the coffee table. As you settle back into the couch cushions, Jungkook speaks again. “So you take care of yourself?”

You freeze.

“Yeah,” you admit after one complete meltdown in your head. Where was this coming from? Why did he want to know? You and Jungkook were close, but you never did this. You never divulged the details of your sex life, never bragged about who you slept with or how many there were. What was going on?

Jungkook doesn’t say anything after that, just turns his attention back to the tv screen, where you’re almost certain the sea horses from before are fucking. Not that you know what it looks like, but you hope at least someone in this room was enjoying themselves and not drowning in the mortification of having their life long crush ask them if they masturbate.

“So, do you use your hands or a toy?”

You choke, slap your chest to ease the pounding of your heart at Jungkook asking such a question. “E-Excuse me?” You ask, scandalized that Jungkook, your sweet and caring childhood friend turned Fabio, could ask you such a bold question about your personal affairs.

“What?” Jungkook says, like he truly doesn’t see the inappropriateness of the situation. He even raises his eyebrows at you, as if urging you to answer the question.

You sigh, fight the flush of your cheeks and stare idly at the cups on the table. “A toy. Hands don’t feel good,” you curtly reply, crossing your arms over your chest and straightening your legs off the couch, hoping that’s the end of his curiosity. This was enough to fuel your 3am anxiety meltdowns for the next five years.

Jungkook nods, and you can feel his penetrating gaze on the side of your face again. A great white shark swims across the screen. Jungkook strikes. “My hands feel good.”

“Jungkook!” You exclaim in horror (and excitement, but you’ll pretend it wasn’t there). “What has gotten into you?”

“What!” Jungkook defends, Bambi eyes looking at you like you’re the unreasonable one here. “We’re having a civil conversation in which I’m trying to open up your worldview.”

You’re flabbergasted. “This is not a civil conversation, what are you even talking about?” You scold, tug your arms around yourself like it’ll actually protect you from the words that don’t seem to be filtering out of his mouth properly. “Why are you so concerned about that?” You interrogate, hope your forceful tone will scare him away.

It doesn’t. Jungkook shrugs, some noncommittal i dont know sound. “I can’t be interested in what you get up to? What my best friend gets up to?” It’s the obvious emphasis on best friend that makes you step down.

“No,” you sigh, rub a hand down your face. “You can be interested,” you tell him gingerly. “We just never really… talked about... those kinds of things,” you rush out, turn away from him as the narrator on screen dives into the intricacies of bioluminescent shrimp in the animal food chain.

As if sensing your discomfort, Jungkook softens, scooting closer to you. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, too close and too warm. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says, places a palm on your knee.

“I’m not!” You rush to assure him, facing him head on again. His eyes are big and implorative still, and you wonder why he became stuck on that of all things today. “It just surprised me.”

His lips quirk to the side, an unsure grin that has you leaning into his shoulder. You sit in silence, the rise and fall of his body with every breath lulling you into a sense of comfort.

A false one that Jungkook zeroes in on.

The documentary’s wrapping up, soothing ocean sounds and wind instruments playing as the credits roll across the screen, when the hand that had been laying so comfortably on your thigh inches up. At first, you don’t notice it, writing it off as Jungkook just shifting around. You tell yourself it’s just that, until his pinky makes contact with the end of your shorts.

Slowly, you turn towards him, catch his mocha irises lustfully lidded as he toys with the hem. “Kook?” You murmur, so soft, barely there.

“Hm?” He replies, continuing to play with the edge of your shorts, until he gets brave and his fingers slip beneath, index finger just barely grazing the panties underneath. You gasp. “This okay?”

Stuck between your arousal and your common sense, you flounder for a response. He’s so close, and smells so good, curls brushing against your temple the closer he gets. You want him so bad, want him to find his place between your thighs and put those pouty lips to use. But you know it’ll make things different, change whatever it is you’ve had for the past almost thirty years, and you’ll never bounce back. Another brush against your panties, pointer finger wiggling it’s way beneath the fabric, and you’re choking out a “yes.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and something in your core tingles at the name, thighs clenching together. “Uh uh,” he chides, nudges them open. “Stay still for me,” he commands, and you do, for all of ten seconds, but then he’s pressing his finger on your clit, panties and shorts muting the sensation. Still, it makes you squirm, fingers clutching the couch cushion beneath you as you struggle to keep them open. “Too much?” He asks, and you shake your head no.

“I-It’s fine,” you whisper, and Jungkook smiles.

He pets you, almost wondrously, for a few beats, watches the way the muscles in your thighs twitch with every press against your mound. Eventually, he decides it’s enough. “Hands don’t feel good for you?” He inquires, your words from earlier obviously having left their mark on him. Slowly, you shake your head. He glances down at the fist you have on the couch, composed features sliding up your face. “Well, yours are so small, princess. Of course they don’t feel good.”

He manhandles you around, tugs you onto the couch until you’re laying down, legs sprawled on either side of him. Pleased with the arrangement, Jungkook glances back down to your bottoms. “These have to go,” he tells you, hooks his fingers in the waistband and abruptly yanks down, leaving you just in your t-shirt.

You go to shy away, but Jungkook stops you, palms resting on the insides of your thighs, thumbs pressing into the skin soothingly. “My fingers are long, see?” He says, raising a hand to wiggle his fingers at you. You nod, heartbeat thundering in your ears. “They’ll feel nice inside.”

You know they will.

You can tell he knows his way around a woman’s body just from the way his hands glide over yours, carefully like he’s mapping you out. Ever so slowly, one hand grows closer, until his thumb is gently circling your clit, and you inhale sharply.

“So wet,” Jungkook hums, his other hand traveling further down, until he’s spreading your pussy lips with two fingers, trailing them through the arousal that gathers there.

You’ve never been so attentively cared for, never had a man zero in on your cunt like it was his first meal in ages. Jungkook’s eyes are clouded with lust, tongue peeking out from between his lips as he watches your pussy lips flutter at his touch.

He swirls his hand over your clit, pressing down. The first sound escapes you, a soft whimper that has you clamping your hand over your mouth in embarrassment. Jungkook grins down at you, shifts closer to press a kiss to the knuckles over your mouth.“Don’t hide from me,” he purrs, pulling away and pressing a kiss to your neck.

You cry out when he gets back to it, massaging your pussy with gentle hands and a thumb against your clit to placate you. “Jungkook,” you choke out, and he beams at his name, takes it as a sign to finally slip two fingers inside. “A-ah,” you whine, arching beneath him.

He basks in your noises, leans close again to press a kiss beneath your ear, against your jaw. “This okay?” He murmurs, curling the fingers inside of you. You mewl, throwing your arms around him as he begins working you open. “How does it feel, baby?”

“G-good,” you pant, turn your head until you can bury your nose in his hair, drown even more in his all-consuming aura.

Another kiss to your neck, before he’s suctioning his lips right below your ear, nipping and sucking at the skin to brand you his. “You like my hands?” He husks, and the patch of saliva he leaves on your neck feels cold without his mouth there. You nod, and Jungkook rewards you with a soft smooch over the hickey he’s left.

His fingers inside you curl and scissor, brush against every inch of your walls until you’re quivering beneath him, gasping his name out. You could melt if his fingers weren’t holding you together. “So tight,” he groans, curling his fingers. The movement touches upon something sensitive within you, and you moan his name loudly.

“O-Oh,” you pant, wiggling beneath him as you try to feel that again. Jungkook lets you, watches you desperately rut into his hands. He drifts away, lets his tongue mouth over your breasts, licking until there’s a damp spot on your t-shirt, the flimsy house bra you’d worn and the t-shirt combined not enough to hide your pebbled nipples.

The drag of his hands against your pussy isn’t enough, the motions not quick enough. Jungkook glances at your twisted features, your quivering pussy, and then, ever so gently, ducks over you, puckered lips letting one, long glob of saliva touch down on your pussy, trickling around his knuckles.

“Fuck,” you choke, watch his tongue swipe over his lip to break the thin bridge that connects you too. Suddenly, everything is smoother, the combined lubrication of your arousal and his spit making the glide of his fingers sinfully slick.

Frantic for release, you lose yourself in him, ready to free fall into your pleasure so long as Jungkook is there to catch you. “That’s it,” he encourages, picks up the pace of his fingers inside you. “Come on, beautiful, let me see that gorgeous face of yours when you come.”

“K-Kook,” you sob, and he smiles against your neck. His fingers work fast, until your muscles are all pulled tight, waiting for that final push to unravel. You make the mistake of glancing down, only to be caught by that pearly smile and adoring gaze. You’re in heaven, you know you are.

There’s no other explanation for this—the way Jungkook holds you like you’re his, hands so gently caressing your most intimate parts. You’re almost convinced you’re having a fever dream, a sick, too realistic dream, but then Jungkook’s biting down on your shoulder through your t-shirt, subtly rutting against your thigh.

“Cum for me,” he purrs against your neck, and you do, sobbing as your orgasm rolls over you, the heavy weight of his cock against your thigh. “Jungkook,” you cry, so pitifully, it has him lunging forward, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth.

You feel sweaty and gross, unbelievably tired from the gentle way he opened you up. Blindly, you reach down, feel the hardness of his cock beneath his sweatpants, but Jungkook nudges you away. You huff. “Let me,” you whimper, reach for him again even though you can see the slowness in your movement. “Need your cock in my mouth,” you drawl, almost sleepily.

“Shh,” he soothes, lips pressed against your neck, where he’s still licking and sucking over every inch of you. You whine. “You don’t have to do a thing, gorgeous,” he assures you, “just wanted to make you feel good.”

—

Work gets stressful shortly after. There’s a new batch of interns coming in this season, new faces who will mess up your coffee orders and jam the printers for a good few weeks. There’s normally a team of employees who train them, a mix of relatively older people from different departments who show them around; a girl in the finance department, the one who usually trains them, is on maternity leave. With no one else to fall back on, the head of the department pushes the duties off on you, claiming your flexibility and work ethic make you the perfect candidate for such a role.

Normally you’d thrive at the praise, eat up every single word like it sustained you. In a way, it did. It was nice to be appreciated and recognized for your hard work, to be thought of so highly, especially in a male-dominated company. However, this time, you know it’s out of convenience that the head kisses up to you, and you end up begrudgingly taking the role.

The gaps in your schedule you’d normally spend relaxing or catching up on other projects are filled with bumbling interns, calling for help every chance they get. It’s like they’ve never done anything on their own, this group, always asking you the correct way to do this, the right way to do that. You haven’t mentored interns in a while, so you spend the first day breezing over old powerpoints and print outs you made years ago. You remember why you’re not fit for mentoring when one of them asks you how to navigate Excel. You nearly rip their head off.

There’s so much going on, you barely get time to see Jungkook, let alone text him. You saw him once the morning after, stack of pancakes on your kitchen table as he rushed you off to work. The shop didn’t open for another hour. He was sweet, kissed your forehead as you left, but he’s always done that. You didn’t have time to talk about whatever the night before was, or what that made the two of you now.

On Friday night, one week into your nightmarish role, you pull into the shop. You'd like to convince yourself it was routine, visiting the shop, but that’s a lie. You desperately miss Jungkook.

Most of the garage doors that are usually pulled open during the day are shut, save for one. The last of Jungkook’s employees are leaving, bidding you adieu as you step out of your car. Park Jimin is there, repairing some rickety car in the back corner.

“Boo,” you call playfully, and Jimin doesn’t flinch, merely pulls his head from out of the hood to flash you an easygoing smile.

He whistles at the sight of you. “You look like you’ve been through one of helluva week,” he says, and you, despite your strong personality, feel yourself blush at his comment. Jeez, did you look that bad? Jimin doesn’t elaborate, just pulls out a stool for you to sit on beside where he’s working. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You glance at the plexiglass, the offices hiding down the hall. Jungkook could wait, you presume, settling down beside him. Your skirt tugs up as you settle onto the pleather seat, so you cover your legs meekly with your purse. “Work’s been crazy,” you explain, and Jimin laughs at the obvious.

“You’re telling me,” He hums, and you roll your eyes playfully. “What’s going on at work?”

What hasn’t been going on, you think to yourself, before launching into a full retelling of your new horrendous position, of all the interns with their clueless eyes and useless notebooks. Jimin chuckles, indulges you in a few comments here and there that only fuel you on. He’s just about done with whatever he’s doing to the car at the same time your story wraps up, explaining how you found yourself here, desperate for Jungkook to whisk you off to that arcade you loved as kids. “Jungkook?” He asks, and you nod. “He left a while ago.”

You freeze. “Huh?” You say, dumbly. You almost want to laugh at your own impulsiveness, for showing up without sending him a text or a warning to let him know you were coming. You almost do laugh, but then you remember you and Jungkook never did that anyway. Hell, he showed up at your house a few weeks ago unannounced and drunk. The two of you were hardly the type to plan ahead, so it was weird for him to not be here. He’s been at the shop almost every night since it’s opened, the days he’s not usually a holiday.

“Jimin…” you begin, glancing at the receptionist window once more. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin shuts his tool box, kicking a cart off to the side. “He left with that lady,” he tells you, doesn’t hear the way your heart rips straight out of your chest. No way. “Tall, pretty. Had that nice Corvette he fixed up a while ago.”

“Sojin,” you mumble, and Jimin nods.

“Think that was her name.” As if sensing your tumultuous thoughts, he steps closer, one hand reaching out to steady you. “You alright?”

“God,” you exhale, pushing yourself away from Jimin and the garage and the window. The stool rolls away, almost hits the side of another car but Jimin catches it. He rushes over towards you, watching you wobble in your heels.

“Honey,” Jimin says, steady and warm beside you. “Sit down for me, yeah?” He guides you to a row of seats against the wall, nailed into the floor so you can’t push them away and make even more of a mess. Not that that’s your concern, your mind and heart too preoccupied with thoughts of Jungkook lying to you, going out with that woman again, despite your obvious hatred for her and his promise to you.

Jimin disappears, rushes over to the other side of the garage before returning with a water bottle for you. He cracks it open, presses it into your hands, and then against your lips when you don’t move. “Drink,” he encourages, watching you with worried eyes that only grow more and more concerned the deeper you fall into your thoughts.

You want to cry and beat Jungkook up at the same time. You want to scream at him for lying to you after treating you so nicely, holding you so warmly. Instead, you gasp for breath, clutching your face in your hands like it’s the only thing that grounds you.

There’s a beep outside, chirpy and cute in the way only older models are, and you whip your head up, the headlights of the Corvette painting you in shades of yellow as it rolls to a stop, the tears you hadn’t felt glistening under the light.

Jungkook flings himself out of the driver’s seat, and a sob catches in your throat when Sojin steps out of the passenger seat. Jungkook shoves everything in his path to the side, carts flying into the few automobiles on the floor, tools clanging loudly onto the cement, and just as those arms you love so much are reaching out for you, there’s a hand on his chest stopping him.

“What did you do to her?” Jungkook snarls, pushing Jimin roughly to the side. Jimin, smaller but not weaker, holds his ground, clutching Jungkook by the material of his jumpsuit a second time. “Let— go!” Jungkook shouts, finally worming away from his employee.

He nearly trips before you, stumbling to his knees as he takes your quivering hands in his. “What’s wrong,” he asks, throwing a nasty glare back at Jimin who watches silently from the side. Sojin is still by her car, leaning across the driver’s side now. “What did he do, what did he say?”

You shake your head, dropping your head to tuck your chin against your chest. You hate this. Hate letting him or Jimin or Sojin see you cry. It’s not the person you are, not the self-made woman you claim to be as you cry over the same man who is unknowingly defending you from himself.

“Let go,” you whisper, hoarse and choked. You shake your arms, but he doesn’t let up.

“Tell me what's wrong,” Jungkook pleads, inching closer to you. His breath is warm and he smells like oil, just like he always does. He also smells sweet and floral in a way only a woman could. He smells like Sojin.

You sob, rip your hands away from and scurry blindly towards Jimin, who catches you in his arms despite the shock that paints his face.

Jungkook watches with an expression of hurt, watches you snuggle into the arms of another man over an issue you won’t tell him about. Jimin says nothing, just rubs his palm over your back. He gestures towards the red corvette, the woman standing by it and Jungkook takes the hint.

You hear the kitten-like purr as it pulls off, the silence that follows afterwards. You don’t know where Jungkook is, if he’s here or if he left with her, and you don’t want to. “Tell me he’s gone,” you beg Jimin, quiet gasps against his neck.

He nods, slowly lets you untangle yourself from his arms as the two of you stare over the empty garage. The Corvette is gone, and so is Jungkook. Before Jimin can tell you where he is, you’re wiping a hand over your face, embarrassed at the moisture it comes back with.

“I take it he’s not supposed to be with her?” Jimin tries to joke.

Neither of you laugh.

You sniffle, process what just happened, how you acted. You’ve never felt that way before, never experienced such brutal heartbreak.

You don’t know what you expected from Jungkook. In your heart, you convinced yourself what happened in your apartment was the start of something new between the two of you, a natural result of your long friendship. Realistically, you know you should’ve waited until the two of you spoke, discussed whatever happens next. But you’d spent the past week comforted by the fact you’d finally gotten to experience something like that with him, daydreaming about him every chance you got.

Somewhere in your mind, you had convinced yourself your involvement with him would finally be what broke his connection with Sojin, the final nail that would make him forget about her. It’s painfully funny how such wasn’t the case.

Jimin breaks you out of your thoughts. “You okay to drive home?” He gently inquires, and you turn your gaze over toward your car.

Did you trust yourself to make it home without shedding a single tear? Absolutely not. But between Sojin and Jimin, you had let enough strangers see you fall apart over a man tonight.

“Perfectly okay,” you tell him.

—

The interns pick up on your sour attitude the week that follows. They don’t ask dumb questions, and don’t mess up your order. You talk them through a presentation, show them how to properly organize finance charts. There’s a slide that has clip art, a goofy dollar sign with a smile and shoes. Jungkook put it there when you first made the PowerPoint. After the little lesson, you go to the bathroom and try not to cry.

A week later, and the interns don’t need you anymore. They do well, and your boss praises you for being such a good mentor. You thank him and he lets you go home early.

Home is empty. Jungkook doesn’t show up unannounced, mostly because you’ve changed the number lock on the door. You want to eat salad today, for some reason, but don’t have any of the ingredients for it, so you walk to the supermarket a few blocks away.

The supermarket feels the same as it always does at night. That ghostly feeling of being watched in an empty aisle, the scratchy tune of whatever Top 50 radio station they settled on today. You get there and decide you don’t want salad anymore, so you buy ingredients for a stew instead, all of which you probably had at home.

When you step outside, the air around your bare thighs is cold. Summer was ending, which meant Jungkook’s birthday was coming up. You ball the receipt in your hand and fling it at the trash. You miss, so you hobble over to pick it up.

The trash is beside a red Corvette with two racing stripes.

“Hey,” Sojin says, arms crossed over her chest as she walks up behind you, sizing up your crouched form beside her car. “What’re you doing to my car?”

You breathe in, shake the crumpled up receipt at her, before stuffing it in the garbage. She says nothing as you stalk by her, and you’re back on the main road when she pulls up next to you, window rolled down to speak to you. “Get in,” she gestures, “it’s gonna rain.”

“No,” you say, and a fat raindrop falls right on your nose.

The door unlocks and you climb in, plastic bags crowded by your feet.

The drive is silent. You only live a few minutes from the store, and you point out an empty spot by the sidewalk for her to pull up to. A dry thanks is on the tip of your tongue, but you never get to say it.

“My dad has cancer,” Sojin says.

“That sucks,” you respond, feel bad right away and say, “I’m sorry.”

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by it, shifting the Corvette out of drive and cutting the engine. “He’s probably not gonna see Christmas,” she adds, and you don’t know what to say. You don’t care about her or her crazy father. “I wanted to do something nice for him before he, y’know.”

“Died,” you fill, and at that she glares.

“Yeah,” she huffs. “Before he died. So I fixed up his car. But the place I took it to didn’t know how to fix an engine so old, and ended up fucking it up even more.” You nod, she continues. “Then I bumped into Jungkook and—“

“Took advantage of his kindness,” you finish, remembering the twinkle in his eyes when he’d told you about their encounter, that day in the empty garage that seemed lightyears away. “Well congrats. Hope your dad liked it,” you sigh, push open the door and get soaked to the bone immediately.

“Wait!” Sojin calls, hopping out after you. She’s still as beautiful as she was when you were seventeen, even with rain soaking her entire being. “I didn’t ask him to repaint it, but that’s what my dad loved the most.”

You want to go inside, make your stew, and cry in it.

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by the bangs that stick to her forehead or the water that washes down her spine. “When I told him Jungkook did it… he wanted to see him. Apologize and stuff.”

You snort. “Apologize,” you repeat, tightening your grip on your shoppings bags. “For what, Sojin? For almost killing him with this car or for treating him like shit for five years?” She says nothing, stares at the hood of the car like she doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “He was crazy for you, you know that? He would have done anything for you and not once did you stand up to your dad for him. You let that man call him worthless, stupid, a waste of space. And for what? For you to break up with him for some rich asshole who would never treat you half as good as Jungkook did?” You sneer.

The rain feels cold and your groceries feel heavier, so you whirl on your heel and make for your building entrance.

“He never liked me,” Sojin calls out, and you wonder if she even heard the second half of your emotional outburst. You turn to face her with fire in your eyes, and are only a little surprised at the sadness that paints hers. “He never liked me the way he said he did.” You could knock her teeth out.

“You’re stupid,” you spit, and she rounds the car at an insane speed until she’s glaring down at you over her perfectly sculpted nose.

“He never liked me,” Sojin repeats angrily. “He was always busy looking at you—for approval, for attention, I don’t fucking know. He would hold me and touch me but it never felt real. It always felt like practice for him…” she sniffles and your breath hitches in your throat. “We dated all through college,” she says like you don’t know, like you didn’t stress about it for years. “Everyday closer to graduation felt like a ticking bomb. Like he was just waiting for you to come back. To come home.”

You remember it.

The excited texts he’d send you everyday, the plans he made for you. Jungkook was more excited than your parents about you coming home. The five hours had done a number on him, and after four years all he wanted was to have you close again. You remember the hug in his driveway, the way his mom had told you he’d waited all day for you. It’s weird hearing it from Sojin.

Too overwhelmed, you decide to deflect. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmur, and you’re surprised she hears it over the pouring rain.

A loud scoff. “You’re stupid,” she repeats back, jabbing a finger at your chest. You glare, and so does she. Like two animals in a cage you size each other up. “You’re stupid and ugly and I hate you,” she spits, and you drop your shopping bags to lunge at her.

You don’t swing, just grab her by the shirt and move to slam her against the wall, but she’s tall and a little strong, bony fingers wrapping around your wrists like spiders. “Why can’t you see how much he likes you?” She screams, like it hurts to admit it. “He’s been in love with you since forever, and all you’ve ever done is run away!”

“I never—“ you gasp, pushing her away from you. Sojin stumbles, but she doesn’t fall. “I’ve never run away,” you defend, heart beating in your chest too fast to be normal. “Some of us have careers and lives we want to live—I don’t want to depend on a man for the rest of my life!”

She growls, tugs at her wet hair like you’re giving her a headache. Stomping up to you once more, she pushes you hard with both hands, and you barely catch yourself in time. “He would have followed you to that fucking fancy school, but you told him it was better to save money here! Told him to not waste his time and just settle there! You did this to us—to all of us!”

You choke. Lightning flashes behind her, and for a moment all you can see is your gentle prodding, sitting behind him as he filled out applications, big wannabe business brain telling him the easiest way to save money for his auto shop was by going straight into technical school. The small frown on his face that day you’d packed for college, and the way he’d stood in your parent’s driveway until you couldn’t see him anymore, a little spec in your rearview mirror.

Sojin, sensing she’s made her point, says nothing. She scoops up your fallen grocery bags and shoves them into your trembling hands, stomping back to her car and pulling off with a roar, loud and ferocious, and nothing like a kitten.

The groceries in your bag end up in the trash.

—

Taehyung invites you to lunch one day, and you go. You’re starving and desperate to get away from work, where you’re paranoid everyone knows there’s something wrong with you. You meet up at a cute little bistro, and he smiles and hugs you when you arrive. You sit in comfort for all of two seconds before he jumps into his interrogation.

“What’s going on with you and Kook?” He asks, casually flipping through the menu. Your hand stills around your glass of water, and you eventually set it down without ever taking a drink. Your mind instinctively maps out a lie, but Taehyung has known you a while now, knows the quirk of your lips when you’re about to lie your ass off. “Don’t lie to me. I haven’t seen you at the shop in almost a month. And he doesn’t go out,” he mentions. “I think he spent four nights at the shop before I made him go home.”

You deflate.

Too embarrassed to explain, you flip through your own menu, and when the waitress comes you order the first words your eyes focus on. Taehyung doesn’t push you, just patiently gazes out over the bustling street.

Finally, you break. “We… did a thing.”

“Uh huh,” he nods, reading some ad on the side of a bus that passes by. “Need you to elaborate, babe.”

You squirm. “We… fooled around,” you say for lack of more appropriate wording. There’s a family sitting beside you, and you’d rather die than let some nooby pre-teen listen to the details of yours and Jungkook’s night.

“You fucked?” You choke, make a loud sputtering noise like it’ll drown out Taehyung’s voice to the other patrons. “What’s wrong with that? We all knew it’d happen sooner or later,” he shrugs.

“No,” you seethe. “We didn—I didn’t.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, the same way Sojin did that day on the sidewalk. You almost throw your glass of water at him. “We…” you sigh. “We did a thing, and then the week after he went out with Sojin.”

Taehyung scowls at the mere mention of her, so the glass of water is returned to its coaster. “Really? He went out with her right away? He’s cancelled.”

You nod, rubbing your hands over your face. “He… her dad has cancer and is literally on his deathbed so she wanted to fix up his car for memories sake, which he loved, so he wanted to apologize to Kook and thank him for fixing up his car,” you rush out, and now Taehyung chokes, water spewing out of his nose. You shriek, drawing everyone’s attention as you pat down your soaked blouse. “Tae!”

“I’m sorry,” he cries, wiping at the sting in his nose. “He-she, what?!” You ignore him, focus on battling the damp spot on your blazer. “God, that’s crazy,” Taehyung snorts, winces at the feeling in his nose.

After the two of you have settled, the manager kicks you out for your inappropriate conversations and childish behavior. You leave with your tails tucked between your legs. Taehyung holds your hand as he walks you back to your workplace, you quietly fill him in on all the other details surrounding yours and Jungkook’s fallout, from your breakdown in the garage to your weirdly dramatic confrontation with Sojin. “Well,” he claps, slamming a hand down on the traffic light button, even though both of you know it doesn’t work. “That explains a lot of things.”

“Yeah,” you agree, pushing down the crosswalk when the light finally changes of its own accord. “Do you,” you pause, feet glued to the sidewalk. “Do you think she was right?”

Taehyung glances back at you, so small and unsure in the midst of a bustling crowd. He smiles, sweet and soft. Rare coming from him. His free hand ruffles the top of your head, and he brings you into his chest. “Babe, the hottest guy in your grade was intimidated by scrawny, pre-muscle bunny Jungkook. I’m pretty sure he feels some type of way towards you.”

Your lip wobbles dangerously, and you bite down on it to stop. Taehyung pats your head, barks at some old guy when he yells at the two of you for standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

When you’re outside your office, you speak again. “You were not the hottest guy in our grade, by the way.”

Taehyung snorts. “I totally was.”

—

You hideout for the rest of the week.

On Friday night, you finally have the balls to show yourself again, and you hop on the highway leading out of the city before you can overthink it. The buildings slowly melt away, replaced with cozier homes, tinier shops, and by the time you’re pulling up the street, you’re deep in doubt again.

It’s not that late yet, only a little past sunset, but the garage doors, usually open to the street, are all shut. You frown, pull around the block, reverse into a spot across the street. Locking your car, a gust of wind nearly trips you as you cross the street. The front office is dark, metal shutters pulled over the entrance.

Eventually, you stumble around until you find the tiny backdoor squeezed beside some dumpsters, grateful for the key Jungkook had given you so long ago.

Just as Taehyung predicted, a pair of red jumpsuit clad feet stick out from beneath a car. A nice car, an even older Corvette than Sojin’s dad’s, still shiny despite the model it is. It looks like a show car with the way it glints at you, black paint almost glossy. The only light in the entire garage is a lamp, positioned over the area where the legs are working, and a flashlight that occasionally beams at you when the holder loses his grip. No music today, just the hum of a rotating fan. You creep over.

Jungkook’s humming a song when you get to him, foot tapping idly on the ground. You suck in a deep breath and nudge his foot with the tip of your heel. You have exactly two seconds to jump away when he abruptly rolls out from beneath the car, concentrated features scanning quickly around until they land on you.

The garage is still, until Jungkook jumps into action. “___,” he stammers, stumbling to his feet. The rolling board drifts away, bumping into the corner of the metal table beside you. “Hi, um,” he flounders, brushing his fingers through his hair, palms wiping over the front of his pants. Finally, “hi.”

The bad bitch Chanel skirt-suit you’d worn today fails you for the first time in a long time. Your hands feel sweaty, so you clutch them behind your back. “Hi, Jungkook,” you exhale, and all the emotions you’d swallowed for so long, the feelings that tightened around your chest and throat like boa constrictors, come oozing out, until all you can see is his puckered mouth and twinkling gaze.

He coughs, tries to casually lean against the car, but greatly miscalculates the distance. “What, um, what brings you here?” He asks, foot tapping nervously against the ground.

There’s a box of takeout on the floor he tries to subtly kick beneath the car, and a plastic bottle of soda that makes a loud noise when he tries that too. You twist your lips, watching the anxious shuffling of his feet. You breeze over his question, plaster a tight smile into your face, and ask your own question; “how long have you been here?” Tentatively, you lower yourself onto a rolling stool. “It’s late,” you state the obvious.

Jungkook’s leg bounces, and he pats his hand over it nervously. “Um, an hour? Just working on something,” he answers, cheeks warm as his eyes flicker everywhere but you. “What brings you here?” He repeats, and you know you can’t deflect it this time.

Shrugging half heartedly, you wait for him to finally look at you. When he does, he almost looks away but the glint in your eye stops him from doing so. “We need to talk,” you finally say. Jungkook visibly deflates, lips pulling into a thin line. You contemplate letting him relieve his thoughts first, but you came here with a point to make, for questions that needed answering, and you’re scared one word from him will wash them all away.

“Listen,” you start, smoothing your hand over the edge of your skirt. “I know something weird happened between us, and then I kinda freaked out on you, but… I need you to tell me the truth.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. “Always.”

You swallow, try to push back the frustration that builds in his throat. “Did you ever even like Sojin?”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh?” A snort. “You’re joking,” he snickers, wipes at faux tears in the corner of his eyes, before your unsmiling face registers and he’s schooling his features. “___, I did like her. I dated her for five years. How could I not like her?”He says seriously, like he can’t believe you would ever question such a thing.

You exhale, pick at your fingernails. “I met her,” you admit, and Jungkook’s face twists in confusion. “At the supermarket last week. She said you never liked her.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Of course she’ll think that—we’re exes. I doubt she remembers all our best memories,” he sighs, turning back to organize his tool cart like he’s done with this conversation.

Raising to your feet you call his name again, and he hums absentmindedly. “Sojin said you never liked her because you were always chasing after me,” you accuse, laying all your cards out on the table. Your claim startles him, and you watch as he jostles half the tool cart with his surprise.

“She, what?” He huffs, cheeks as red as his jumpsuit. He forces out a laugh, airy and tight like you’re starring in your elementary school play again and the nerves are eating him up. “I-I don’t know why she’d say that.”

He’s flustered, obviously so, as he scoops the metal tools back onto the cart, bumping into three other things before settling back down on the floor to roll under the car. He pushes himself under, and you sternly call out, “Jungkook.” He freezes.

You strut over, brush your hands behind your skirt as you crouch beside him. “Always,” you quietly remind him. Jungkook says nothing. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve grossly misread the situation, if this was just another one of her schemes to drive the two of you apart.

Slowly, Jungkook appears from under the car. There’s a new stain on his cheekbone, brown and slick. He sits up, wide eyes tracing over your features likes he’s trying to seal them in his memory. “Yeah,” he admits, lips twisting as he watches the surprise take your features, before he’s lolling his head back to stare at the ceiling, leaving you to stare at the column of his neck.

“I do,” Jungkook admits, pushing through his emotions. It’s hard for him to confess, you realize, watching the way his Adam’s apples contracts and his jaw twitches from having to say so. “I like you so much it hurts.”

His confession leaves you feeling weird. On one hand, you want nothing more than to spring yourself on him and kiss his face until the stray oil marks are gone and replaced with the outline of your lipstick prints. You want to smother him and hold him, let him know he’s yours, always has been.

On the other hand… it’s sad. Going on thirty years and never did the two of you guess your feelings for each other. You doubt either of you are good at hiding them, with the way everyone seems to have known except you two. Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you.

A hand touches your knee, and you return your attention to his downtrodden appearance, chin tucked against his chest. “Please,” he murmurs. “Say something.”

You say nothing.

Tentatively, you reach a hand out, run it along the side of his head, through his mane, chocolate waves touching his cheekbones. He almost looks like when you guys were kids, round eyes watching your every move. Your hand continues down the back of his head, cupping the nape of his neck comfortingly. Jungkook leans into the touch, even though his shoulders are tense. You soothe your fingers over the tight muscles in his neck.

“Since when?” You inquire.

Jungkook blinks, lets your palm trace along his jawline and cup his cheek. “Since you dated Taehyung when we were sixteen.”

Mentally, you curse every deity in existence for putting Kim Taehyung in your life. “God,” you groan, burrowing your hands in your palms. Jungkook, surprised by your reaction, rolls closer, moves around until you’re crouched between his long legs. “Since me and that pinhead dated for twenty minutes?” You repeat.

Jungkook shifts closer, rubs your back. “It was 65 hours, actually,” he corrects, and the exact duration of your relationship makes you cringe. “I… counted.”

Small and shy, almost embarrassed. You glance back up at him. “Why?” You prod, and Jungkook’s cheek flush, palm stilling.

“Uh,” he starts. “I was nervous? That you two were in it for the long run. And I, I don’t know. It was easier to just count,” he lamely finishes, and his dangly earring whips around with him when he avidly avoids your gaze.

You sigh, catch his hand in yours. “Tae and I would have never lasted,” you tell him, remembering all the times the guy made you pick him up from one night stands in the last few years. “He wasn’t who I wanted.”

His foot jumps, toe tapping against the wheel of the car next to you. He wants to ask, you know he does, but Jungkook was quite possibly the only other person on this planet who could overthink something more than you.

Deciding to ease his worries, you give his hand a squeeze. “It was you,” you confess, feel like an elephant lands straight on your chest. “It is you,” you correct.

His forehead knocks against yours, hard, and you hiss at the bump that probably forms. “What the fu—“

“Tell me it’s not temporary,” Jungkook pleads, eyes crinkled in worry. You’re going cross eyed from trying to look at him like this, so you flit your eyes off somewhere to the side. His hand is heavy in yours. “Tell me you’re not just doing this for closure, or because you want to see what it would have been like, please,” he begs, “that would be so fucked up, because I’m so in love with you I actually think I might die.”

The dramatic confession makes you painfully warm. You nod, your lower lip trembling at the way he looks at you, like you single-handedly controlled this entire world with a flick of your wrist. “I-I love you too,” you parrot back, the first time you’ve ever said it, the millionth time you’ve ever thought it.

Jungkook visibly relaxes, pulls away from you to drop his head on your shoulder instead. Your legs are starting to cramp from the tight crouching position, ankles wobbly in your heels. His hair smells good still, despite the hours he’s probably spent beneath a car, and you gingerly pat the back of his head.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and you repeat it. “I love you,” he says again, and you repeat it. “I lov—“

“Me, yes, I’ve heard,” you cut him off, smile at the snort he releases, and when he turns his head, his lips brush against your neck. You’re instantly thrown back a few weeks, to that night on the couch with the limited edition Shrek 2 cups and the wine; the gentle touches that left you trembling for weeks. You inhale quickly, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him away.

His eyes are too soft, face too relaxed as he stares at you. “My legs hurt,” you tell him, quickly getting up. You whirl around, facing the car and digging through your purse like you suddenly have something to do.

“Oh,” you gasp, watch two arms wind around your waist, the dirty red jumpsuit contrasting against the tweed material of your high-end Chanel jacket. Jungkook sighs lovingly by your ear, snuggles his face into your neck. “W-we should go out,” you blurt, nerves jumping when he squeezes tighter, burrows closer. “To celebrate!”

Jungkook hums. “Yeah?” His voice is too low. You’re in trouble. “Celebrate what?”

You squirm, breath catching in your throat when he presses you closer against the hood of the car. “Um,” you shakily exhale, hands splaying out over the sleek surface of the black hood to steady yourself. It’s so shiny you can almost see your reflection. “U-Us!” You finally manage to exclaim.

A kiss against the side of your neck, and your spirit just about exits your body. Your knees feel weak, and you're just about ready to throw another mediocre excuse his way, when something warm and wet traces up the column of your neck. “Kook!” You gasp.

“Shh,” he murmurs, deep voice instantly soothing over your nerves. His hips nudge against your behind, and you jump at the bulge that presses against your lower back. One hand unwraps from around you, gliding down your arm sensually until he’s trapping your fingers on the hood of the car with his own. A swift kiss against your ear. “You owe me, remember?”

You flush, remember the filthy promises your list-addled brain has spewed that night at your house, the almost erratic development of your thoughts as you became consumed in the thought of him. Reminisce on the prod of his fingers against your cunt, his hot breath against your ear.

Suddenly, Jungkook whirls you around, traps you with his gaze as two hands flutter to rest on the small of your back. He’s looking down at you with those lovesick eyes, hooded with lust as they trace over the dip of your Cupid’s bow. “You’ll do that for me, won’t you?” A soft brush of his mouth against yours, pouty lips guiding you through a kiss, until you’re sighing against him, and he’s pulling away.

Numbly, you nod, almost hypnotized by the soft smirk that overtakes his features as he pushes you down, watches you sink to your knees before him. The concrete feels cold and hard beneath your knees. His jumpsuit is knotted around his waist, and you shakily unravel it, the elastic waistband staring you in the face afterwards.

“Take your time,” Jungkook croons, hand coming to rest on the side of your face, knuckles brushing over your skin delicately.

You tug it down, and one flash of that underwear band has your nerves flying out the window. You shove his t-shirt out of the way, let your hands trail over the ridges of his abdomen in your haste. He helps you by tugging it over his head. With that gone, his black boxers stare you in the face, and you yank those down with no hesitation.

“Jesus, baby,” Jungkook chuckles, though it’s choked off when you grasp his engorged cock in his hand. You should be surprised, marveling at the sight, considering it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him like this. But you brain is working overtime, too immersed in the vein that runs alongside it and the tip that throbs back at you. Later you can worship it, you think. Right now, you needed it down your throat.

The tip is flaming and swollen, his cock still growing plump in your hold, your hands slowly dragging up and down the length. You lean forward, press a gentle kiss below the mushroom head, trail kisses down the length until you're meeting your knuckles, and trail them back again. Jungkook sucks in a tight breath, leans to rest his palms on the car behind you, as he watches you on him.

A head of precum escapes, and you lunge for it, swirl your tongue in and around the slit on his cock, until his entire body tenses up. “Fuck,” he grunts, watches you ease his cock into your mouth. You groan at the stretch, the drag against the corners of your lips making your eyes roll backwards. “___, baby, a little more?” He asks, voice hoarse as he watches you sink down further on his cock.

You comply, close your eyes and focus on relaxing your throat. There’s a hand on the back of your head, impatiently pushing you down his length. “Shit,” he cries, unconsciously ruts against you. You gag, and he shushes you with a caress against your cheek. “Sorry,” he huffs, “just a little more for me, okay?”

Eyes squeezed shut tightly, you let him push you down until his cock hits the back of your throat and you can’t take anymore. The prod against your throat has tears springing to your eyes. “Gonna move now,” Jungkook announces, thumb brushing away the tears that collect in the corners. “Be good.”

He drags himself out, your saliva coating every inch of him, and when just the tip is resting on your tongue, he shoves back in. You whimper, palms digging into his thighs. Jungkook brushes a hand down your hair, soothes you for all of two seconds before he’s pulling out and doing it all over again. He picks up the pace, loses himself in the feeling of your hot mouth around him, tongue dragging over his cock.

The feeling in your throat burns, each thrust of his hips against your mouth making your jaw more and more sore. But god, it feels good to have him so close, his scent swarming your sense, groans like music to your ears. You want to please him, want him to feel as good as you did at your place. You want it even more now that you know how he feels, know he’s probably thought about this before.

A brutal thrust has you gagging, throat contracting around his length. “Shh,” Jungkook sighs, the fingers buried in your hair flattening out to run over your head. “Doing so good for me, beautiful.”

You bask in the praise, let a hand flutter down to the apex of your thighs, pressing down to relieve some of the pressure. Jungkook groans, rolls his hips against you and keeps you there for a second. Your throat spasms, his dick pressed hotly against it, and you feel your panties grow embarrassingly sticky. Eventually, he draws back out.

“You like this?” He hums, rutting against you faster now, nose brushing against the sparse hairs on his pelvis with every slam of his hips. You nod around a gag, eyes clouding with tears, lips slippery with saliva and precum. One particular thrust is so hard, it nearly sends you knocking back into the car, Jungkook’s hand on the back of your head barely saving you. “Fucking hell,” he spits, “look so pretty with my cock shoved down your throat, princess.”

You moan around him, feel a subtle twitch against your tongue before he’s pulling himself out. “Shit,” he cursed, pushing you away as he goes to grab his own dick in his hand, tugging at it like a madman. “Wh-Where?” He asks, and you stare dumbly at the sight of him playing with himself, almost don’t realize he’s asking you a question.

You take too long, scramble for words too long, and even if you did have one your throat is far too sensitive yo answer. Jungkook grows impatient. Pulling you closer by the collar of your Chanel suit jacket, tugging it open until the flimsy buttons snap, and the tank top you wore beneath comes into view. He aims the tip of his cock towards your sternum, and a few jacks later, he’s coming, cum spurting against your chest. You watch the cum trail down between the valley of your breasts, until the feeling comes to rest against the inside wire of your bra, sticky and gross, sliding along the underside of your boobs. “Shit,” Jungkook repeats, eyes furrowed over you.

Your knees ache, and you nearly trip when you stand up, steadying yourself against the side of the car. Jungkook seems to regain his sense by then, hand trailing around your waist. You meet his eye, and almost immediately turn away, the blood in your face rapidly rising.

Jungkook laughs. “Don’t get shy on me now,” he teases, gets too close and your noses bump. “Sorry,” he smiles, too shiny and bright for the sinful acts you just committed in an auto shop.

“Put your dick away,” you huff, let him nuzzle closer to you, and when he doesn’t move to tuck himself into his pants, you go do it for him.

Jungkook frowns, swats your hand away. “This dick has places to be,” he informs you, and you scoff.

“Refractory period,” you remind him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Well I’m not exactly gonna stick it in you this instant,” he drawls. “Gotta stretch you out first.”

You go to complain, tell him he doesn’t have to over exert himself. Truthfully, with Jungkook you feel like one good session was enough to sustain you for weeks. After last time, your skin had flowed for an entire week. But then his hand is slithering up your backside, sneaking under your skirt to grab a handful of your ass.

There’s quickly drying drool collecting at the corners of your mouth, saliva from when he’d fucked your throat just a few moments prior, that he kisses away. His mouth slots over yours, and your heart and pussy both flutter at the kiss.

It’s gentle and sweet for all of ten seconds, his mouth moving against yours until you feel the wet press of his tongue against your bottom lip, tracing along until you open your mouth. He wastes no time shoving his tongue past your lips, letting it dance with yours as he pulls you closer, hands gripping the globes of your ass. You let him lick his way into your mouth, more and more saliva catching in the corners of your mouth until he’s pulling away with a wet pop.

He pulls away, doesn’t stray too far, proud smirk crossing his features at the sight of your slicked lips. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Huh?” You ask dumbly, tongue mindlessly swiping over your lips.

Jungkook’s eyes track the movement. “The saliva,” he clarifies. “The spit. You liked it at your place too,” he reminisces, moving in on you again. “Liked watching me slobber and spit all over your body. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You blush, discreetly rub your thighs together. “I-I do,” you admit, willing the warmth of your face away because at this distance he must certainly feel it.

Jungkook nods, doesn’t say anything else as he captures your lips a second time. He doesn’t bother with the gentle prodding anymore, jumping straight into tongue right away. He’s messier, letting his saliva coat your lips and drip down your mouth, and as messy as it is, you love it. You whimper when he pulls away, but gasp when his hand tugs at the hair by the nape of your neck, pulling you back until you’re looking up at him.

“Open,” he murmurs, and you do, tongue pressing against your bottom lip.

It should be disgusting, the rev of his throat, the sound of his saliva collecting, and the way his jaw shifts when he’s got enough. It should be filthy, the way he shoots it down your open lips, the way it splatters against the back of your throat. It should be gross, but god do you love it. “Swallow,” Jungkook commands, and you do, feel his spit drip down your throat like it’s your own, whimpering at the feeling. A quirk of his lips. “Good girl.”

You have to bite down the pride that grows in your chest.

Jungkook’s hands continue their mapping out of your behind, eventually ending with a hard squeeze that has you squealing. Automatically, your back arches in surprise, breasts pressing against Jungkook’s chest. He smirks down at you.

“Bet you taste good,” he says, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Let me taste?”

“Please,” you beg, nearly losing your shit when he lifts you up onto the car, the cool metal making you jump, heel on your foot nearly kicking the side view mirror clean off. “Wait, Jungkook,” you sputter, glancing down at the sleek metal. “This is someone’s car.”

Jungkook ignores you, pushes your legs apart to slot himself between them. His palms run up your legs, over your thighs, until they’re toying with the hem of your skirt. Mocha eyes glance up at you, as if daring you to question him again, so you promptly zip your lips shut. The skirt goes, ever so slowly, over your thighs, bunches up at your waist until he’s staring at your lace panties.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh, nose faintly brushing against your skin. The kisses trail over your skin, until he’s hovering over your panties, and he’s staring like a man starved. He gives no warning, suddenly leaning down to press his mouth over your party-clad folds, nose flush against your clit. “Kook!” You squeak, hands flying to clutch at his hair.

Jungkook mouths at you, drags his tongue against your panties until they’re soaked in both your essence and his saliva, just how you like. A hand slithers around your leg, wrapping around until he’s got a firm grip on it that he uses to hold it open.

“J-Just take them off,” you gasp, squirm when his mouth moves towards your clit, lapping against you. “Please,” you cry.

He doesn’t.

Jungkook tortures you with those kitten licks, muted through your panties, until you’re begging him to stop, to take them off and do it right. He loves it, you can tell, dazzling smile peeking up at you every time you tug against his hair, until finally, he’s had enough.

The underwear comes off, dangling uselessly by your ankle, and then the show really begins.

“Wait,” you choke, head falling back against the hood of the car when he finally gets his mouth on you, suctioning his lips around your swollen clit. The niggling reminder that this is some stranger’s car he’s eating you out on rings in your brain, and perhaps that’s what makes it more exciting.

His mouth is warm, tongue flicking over your sensitive bud like it’s candy and he needs the sugar. The sounds are so loud and wet, the squelching of your pussy every time he pulls off a pop that resounds throughout the garage. He pampers your clit for what seems like hours, switching the movements of his tongue every time he gets the chance until you’re quivering.

When you think he’s done, he’s not.

Fingers slide up your thigh, featherlight, as they reach your drenched cunt. They drag over your lips, and you mewl, feeling the muscles jump and tighten at his touches. “Jungkook, please,” you moan, rolling your hips against him, but it’s hard and everytime you move, you feel the sweat on your skin weigh you down, glued to the metal beneath you.

The first finger breaches you, just the tip of his index slowly wiggling inside. You muffle a moan in your palm, and Jungkook pulls away with a huff. “No hiding,” he warns, slowly lowering back to your cunt with a stern glare. You nod, but can’t help it when his second finger pushes its way in and you bite down on your knuckles.

“Oh,” You sob, body quivering as he begins scissoring his two fingers inside you. With your attention focused on the digits sheathed inside you, he pulls away from your clit, bestowing one final kiss against it that has your foot kicking out wildly. “Th-there.” His other hand catches your palm in his, presses it against the metal by your head.

Jungkook smiles, curls his fingers around until he finds the soft spot inside you that turns you to jelly. “There we go, beautiful,” he purrs, pushing himself to his full height, leaning over your trembling form. “So sweet for me,” he sighs, licks his lips like he’s remembering your taste.

“I'm gonna,” you choke, become hypnotized by the dark cloud in his gaze, the arrogant smirk on his lips. He curls his fingers, palm brushing against your abandoned clit. The touch makes you jump, nerves tingling.

“Cum for me,” he encourages, silky tone swarming your head as your pleasure slowly washes over you. It’s probably the most relaxed orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, his low voice and delighted eyes guiding you through it, until your entire body clenches, dissolving in a puddle of contentment. Your arousal surges around his fingers, trickling down onto the metal.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you pant, overwhelmed from the touches and the kisses. Jungkook’s smile gets swallowed by your greedy mouth, desperate for more kisses now that he’s made you feel like this.

The kisses only placate him for so long, and when he presses his body against yours, there’s an awfully hard cock that slides against your dripping cunt. “Think you can go again, gorgeous?” He murmurs against your jaw, nipping at the skin on the way down. You nod, eyes falling shut at the warmth you feel in your bones.

Jungkook kisses your neck one last time, before leaning back once more to line himself up.

This was a scene straight from your teenage fantasies, a dripping, shirtless Jungkook at full mast between your thighs, looking at you so lovingly. It makes your heart thunder, imagining how long you could have been doing this if you weren’t both so stupid. As if reading your thoughts, Jungkook rubs a palm over your thigh, eyebrow quirked. You nod his concern away, squirm closer until the tip of his cock nudges against your hole.

“Fuck,” Jungkook sighs, moving his hands to your hips as he slowly pushes in. His fingers, bless their intentions, could have never prepared you for the size of Jungkook’s cock, thick and veiny as it pushes inside. You whimper, clawing at the hands on your waist that stop you from impaling yourself on it fully. “Waited so long for this.”

“Then fucking do it,” you beg, nearly pass out when he shoves in harshly at your tone. “J-Jung—“

“I got you, baby,” he assures you, jostles you until you’re flush against his cock, clit brushing against his pelvis. Your back arches, and Jungkook slips his arm around you, the other lingering on your waist.

Every subtle shift has him brushing along your swollen clit, and you sob at the sensation, begging him to move. He complies, changes his stance to make it easier, and finally begins thrusting into your throbbing pussy.

“So good,” he huffs, eyes zeroed in on where the two of you meet. You would have looked too, if your body hadn’t felt so completely boneless beneath him, the grinding of his cock sending shocks of pleasure up your spine. “So pretty and mine.”

“Yours,” you choke, heart swelling in your chest at his words. It’s almost animalistic, the way he ducks down to bite at your neck, like some animal staking its claim, and you like it. You like it because it’s all you ever dreamed of for so long. “Faster, Kook,” you urge, wrapping your arms around him.

He does as you say, slow and careful thrusts transitioning into a fast piston that would have had you bouncing out of his reach if he wasn’t holding you so tightly. “Fuck,” he chokes, lost in the way you clench around him, lips dragging against his cock with each thrust. “Baby,” he grunts, sweat trailing down his temple, eyes furrowed shut. Eventually, his head falls into the crook of your neck, his weight pressing down on you uncomfortably, subtle ridges on the hood making you ache. At this point, you’re too far gone to care. “All I ever wanted,” he gasps.

You could cry, right now and he’d pull out right away, big heart fretting over your emotional well-being. Which is exactly why you hold your emotions in, let yourself get fully immersed in the feeling of Jungkook pounding you against some stranger’s car and not the inevitable emotional crash you’ll have later.

He fucks like he’s waited all his life for this, and you guess he sort of has if what he’s saying is true. You have no doubt it is, and when his lips suck a mark against your neck, you feel like you’re in heaven. “Almost,” you pant, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. Jungkook nods, his hair tickling your jaw and neck, as he picks up the pace. Your cunt swallows him up every single time, suctions him in until he’s shaking, and so are you.

It can only last for so long, your heart and body eventually reaching their peak, and you unravel. His arms are there to catch you, to pick up the pieces and hold you together. You want to cry, you really do, and when the coil in your stomach snaps, you finally do. “I love you,” you sob, and Jungkook shudders, glances at your tear-struck face to push himself off.

“Love you too,” he mumbles, grinds his cock against your spasming folds one last time, and comes mid-thrust, cum spurting inside you. He holds you, just like you knew he would, as you come down from your highs, hot breath fanning across your skin.

You feel warm, loved, and in love, body trembling in sensitivity afterwards. He’s pulled out since, soothingly rubbing a hand against your side. You’d like to say you wouldn’t be anywhere else, but one shift reminds you of where you are.

“Shit,” you groan, taking in your surroundings before letting your head fall back against the hood. Jungkook hums, round eyes looking your way. “We really just confessed and had sex on some stranger’s car.”

Jungkook snorts, leans away just the slightest to look you in the eye. He’s lost in thought, chocolate irises swirling as they drink you in. “Say thanks to Taehyung,” he finally says.

You roll your eyes, and when you shift beneath him, your sweaty skin sticks uncomfortably against the metal hood. “Yeah, let me thank Taehyung for dating me for three days and awakening your crush,” you huff sarcastically, resigning yourself to your new life stuck against the hood of some classic automobile from the 50s. Jungkook laughs, tucks himself back into his underwear. “Thanks Taehyung, for your noble sacrifice ten years ago that allowed me to fuck Jungkook on some stranger’s car—“

Jungkook hums, snuggles closer to you. “Tae’s car.”

“—after confessing our—Taehyung’s car?” You shriek, sitting up with the strength of three football players, Jungkook toppling off you. “Oh my god. No.” Jungkook rubs his elbow where he knocked it against the hood, looks at you with solemn eyes. Slowly, a smirk crawls over his features. “No,” you gasp, mortification crawling up your spine. “We didn’t.”

He tugs you off the car, tugs your skirt down when you wobble on unsteady heels. “Yup,” he says, pops the end of the word like a child. “Say hello to Taehyung’s new car!” He exclaims, patting the hood you just defiled. “Straight from the car auction he went to this morning,” he beams.

“Oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands when you finally spot the puddles of... something on the black hood. “This is terrible.”

Jungkook ignores you, wipes up the mess with some napkins from his takeout bag, but there’s already some that's dried, only fueling your mortification. “Not like he’ll find out,” he shrugs, then narrows his eyes at you. “Or will he?”

“No!” You stutter, carefully rounding the car as if inspecting it for any more signs of the treacherous things you and Jungkook did on or around it. “I-I won’t tell him.”

“Uh huh,” Jungkook teases, settles on that rolling stool and pushes himself towards you. There’s a hand easing itself around your waist, tugging you between open legs. Still in shock, your hands flutter around his neck, muscle memory causing you to immediately begin massaging the skin there.

Jungkook sighs into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Too bad Jimin’s not here,” he sighs, and you visibly see his nose grow in arrogance.

“What? Why should Jimin be here?” You ask, pushing your fingers against the knots in his neck.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed, one-eyed glare. He scoffs, “maybe you are as dumb ad Taehyung says.” And then, “hey!” when you tug his ear. He isn’t upset, just tugs you closer until his face is buried against your stomach. “You know country folk like him marry on the spot right?”

“What are you even saying,” you huff, burying your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging his head back to properly look at him. “Why do you care who Jimin marries?” He doesn’t bother answering.

Instead, Jungkook sighs into the touch, an easygoing smile thrown your way, and for a moment you forget about the trauma Taehyung will have when he inevitably learns about this. “This is the life.”

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook fic #mine

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flashflashhundredyarddash · 3 years

Text

batkids and their relationships with their siblings headcanons. under read more because this got fucking LONGGG

dick

dick is the eldest so he doesnt want to bog down his younger siblings with his problems, but if he DOES, he tends to talk to jason about it

dick and cass start to really begin to bond when Cass shows up to dicks gymnastics class for 3rd-6th graders and then cass shows up all the sixth graders and they get frozen yogurt after lmao

dick and tim are Very much thick as thieves. tim is very much like bruce on the Emotional Suppression scale, so dick just really wants to make sure his little brother is safe and happy ALL the time

Duke and Damian are the only two really permanently at the manor anymore, so when dick drops by he tries to do something with both of them. duke frantically zoom calls dick every other week to help him with his his trig homework. dick shows up to dukes high school graduation with literally the BIGGEST SIGN

everyone insists damian is dicks favorite but he does actually genuinely love all his siblings equally, his relationship with damian is just Very different from the others because of the age gap and being dami's primary caretaker for a year. dick babies dami every chance he gets

jason

would sell Dick to satan for One corn chip

him and cass don't have the greatest start to their relationship because cass is very much Against Killing so it takes a while for jason to warm up to her and earn her trust. now, though, jason is competing with steph by showing cass all the classic American Teenager things she missed out on. steph is currently winning but jason is like 98% positive a crunch wrap from taco bell is going to push him over the edge

tim and jason are currently competing over who can solve the most cases in a month. tim is winning. that won't last long.

jason Loves to Big Brother duke its so embarrassing. duke will get out of school and go to his car and jason is SITTING IN THE FRONT SEAT FRANTICALLY WAVING TO GET DUKES ATTENTION. JASON THAT IS MY CAR. signal has one (1) mission with arsenal and arsenal goes hey did you ask that girl to homecoming yet and duke is like I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU.

Damian is proof that Actually, Little Brothers are Pests. Jason fully believes that he was brought back from the dead PURELY to torment damian and he will fulfill this mission at any cost

cassandra

it actually really upset her when Dick didn't accept her at first. she knows her other siblings really adore dick so his lack of trust was really disheartening. it takes dick a while but once he Actually Accepts that cass is going to be a permanent part of their life and oh, wow, dick you really hurt her feelings he really hyperfocuses on bonding with cass for a couple of months which definitely improves their relationship

she really likes jason!! their relationship doesn't start well but because he's close with steph and tim who are cass's top two favorite people to exist ever, cass is like well i GUESS ill hang out with him more. jason is fun to talk to because he always tries his best to explain jokes and give context to what people are talking about (also tim took her to taco bell already but she didn't tell jason she just wanted to hang out)

cass LOVES tim. they just click okay. tim always seems to know when to give her space and when to push and come closer. Tim's "guest room" is just her room lets be real. tim and cass occasionally get mistaken for twins and Cass Loves it.

duke makes cass listen to metal once and cass loses. her. damn. mind. they bond over music a lot because they both Love Music to a degree the others in their family don't.

damian!! damian is her little brother!!! dami isn't As Hostile to cass at first because he is 100% aware cass has the edge in fighting and respects her. cass likes all of his instagram posts and they have a snapchat streak going

tim

tim Loves dick, dick was his first sibling!! he had Very strong hero worship when he first met dick but it mellowed out when tim got older because wow 17 is really not that cool and mature lol. tim has an open invitation to dick's apartment which he does occasionally take advantage of. tim has more than once scared the shit out of wally when wally comes over and wally is convinced they're being robbed (HA) for half a second. i mean. he's not wrong.

listen. tim understands that forgiving the guy who tried to kill you would be a Struggle for some people and it was! definitely! but also at least he can trust jason to, uh, be open about if he doesn't like tim. which is not an assurance he has with other people. so if the guy who tried to kill him tells him tim is cool now then like. maybe tim isn't that bad or annoying a person? also jason arrested a whole gang and won the cases competition but then it created a power vacuum that the whole batfam had to clean up the rest of the month. thanks, jason.

tim LOVES cass. you know how most of the time theres this empty feeling inside you and you just kind of ignore it because you don't know what will fix it or if you do, you know you can't fix it? cass makes that empty feeling feel a little less empty. they just click. tim always tries to travel with cass whenever she leaves gotham.

tim and duke. Tim is actually the sibling who duke goes to whenever he has questions he doesn't want to ask bruce or alfred about, like, life or vigilante-ing or school or college or whatever and Tim is always like yes!! i love Giving Advice and Solving Problems!! tim and duke and jason fill out their college applications together.

tim and damian. LMAO. ROUGH START THAT'S ALL ILL SAY. at some point alfred goes like fuck it. family therapy. and tim and dami are PISSED. tim and damian get along best when they have a common enemy to work against. their relationship gets much better when damian is older and they actually talk about their feelings like emotionally stunted bats. despite how bad their relationship was, tim will ALWAYS protect damian

duke

very much intimidated by dick at first. dick is so much older and has his own job and friends and life and is very much AN ADULT. dick likes to take duke out to do lots of cool stuff (paintball, lasertag, tech exhibitions, concerts, etc). also, dick PERSONALLY introduced duke to superman and is dating THE FLASH. 10/10 awesome big brother.

was intimidated by jason for 0.5 seconds before jason actually opened his mouth and started speaking. jason is literally. So Embarrassing. which is weird because nobody else really seems to feel that way about jason but duke knows he's 100% in the right here. like yeah jason is also An Adult and does Adult Stuff but he's also at the manor like every other weekend???? and he always complains about bruce but always seems to be in the same room bruce is in????? like okay jason. they bond over literature!! jason and duke and alfred will spend literal hours talking about books and duke loves it. duke is the only one who doesn't think jason is funny and jason gets so upset about it lmao.

cass has this one week where she gets really into photography and by virtue of being nearby (and also not nocturnal), duke becomes her victim subject. duke prints out all the pictures and hangs them up in his room (his favorite is one he took when he stole the camera and took a really bad selfie of them together).

tim is closest in age to duke so duke tends to hang around with him a lot. tim introduced duke to his young justice friends and duke is like yes!!! meta-friends!!!! tim really helps duke out with his powers because tim is always like wow i wonder if your powers would work if we did This? can you see farther than other people? is your visible spectrum of light different than other humans? Bruce does the same thing but bruce is boring about it lol.

damian and duke live in the same house and will be in the same room and just send each other social media posts back and forth. they follow each other on instagram and will, OCCASIONALLY, make tik toks together because they're tik tok fiends. each of his siblings have visited his parents once or twice but damian routinely comes with him.

damian

damian gets a special bullet point to say that it took him. forever to come around to the idea of having siblings. he very much believed that he was Bruce's Blood Son and everyone else were just tagalongs or allies. it took him ages to acknowledge that dick, jason, tim, and cass were his siblings, so when duke came and like a week later damian was like Ah, Yes, this is my brother Thomas everyone else was like dude wtf

listen. LISTEN. Obviously. Richard is very highly skilled. and also Father values him highly. and also Richard will listen to Damian complain about his schoolmates. and also Richard is much more patient with Damian than other members of his family. listen....,,, (all this to say damian kind of fucking adores dick lmaooooo this kid).

Todd is kind of unbearable but damian has been informed this is both a normal feeling when it comes to Todd and also big brothers. damian was an only child for ten years so yes, Father, if Todd attempts to tickle me I WILL break his fucking nose. yes i WILL put money in the swear jar but I want you to know i don't regret it. they always try to sneak up on each other but mostly fail.

DRAKE!!! but no lol once damian grows up and is like I Apologize for attempting to murder you it was wrong and you are just as much a son to Father as I am tim is like UGH i guess its cool since ur being so emotionally mature and all. also im 2 for 5 on siblings trying to murder me so im definitely going to win trauma bingo and damian is like i take it back you are insufferable. When Will My Older Siblings Stop Joking About Their Trauma.

CASS!!! listen. cass is cool. Cass Gets It. They have a special Bond. also damian really likes it whenever cass is home because 1) he gets to hang out and do something cool with cass and 2) he feels significantly safer with cass in the house because Nobody will be able to hurt any of their family if Cass is there. ALSO he tries to call her cain but everyone is like DONT DO THAT and he doesn't want to call her wayne bcus theyre ALL wayne (dick adds it on as a middle name but also Richard John Wayne West-Grayson is just. the lamest name ever so dick needs to reconsider it before his upcoming nuptials)((dick will not reconsider it except maybe whether grayson-west would work better)) and so he tries cassandra but cass is like :) call me cass and damian is like cassandra is more formal and respectful and cass is like :) and finally damian just has to give in.

Duke! him and duke actually live together so they get the Most Bonding Time and have a bunch of inside jokes as a result. (is it bad i wanted to laugh because inside jokes... joker... i'll see myself out). they're eating breakfast together (and also alfred sits with them IM NOT A MONSTER ALFIE'S LIKE 70 NOW OKAY) and duke laughs and bruce is like what are you laughing at, son? and duke is like oh damian just showed me this funny meme and then he shows the phone to bruce and bruce grabs it (both the boys groan) and after WAY TOO LONG is like "i don't get it" and so now duke and damian have to try and explain the comedic intricacy of bob's burgers

#this took. two fucking hours #batfam #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #cassandra cain #cassandra wayne #not sure which one to commit to yet #tim drake #duke thomas #damian wayne #dc #the burd squawks #birdflash #birdflash was like. one of my first ships lmao

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

Dead Or Alive - Harry Styles

a/n: oof okay hello! this is a little different, i guess? but im very excited to share this with you! don’t ask me how i got the idea for this, no clue but it was stuck in my head for days before i finally gave in and started writing it. please share your thoughts and comments on it, i would love to read them!! hope you’ll enjoy it!

pairing: Wanted!Harry x BountyHunter!Reader

warning: violence, talks of drugs, murder, guns, i really lost track of it lol

word count: 15.2k

masterlist

The man in the handcuffs growls in pain again, but you just yank him forward, not in the mood to deal with a whining girl trapped in a six feet tall disgusting looking, oily-faced bald man in his forties.

“Y/N! What do we got today?” Jeremy greets you at the front desk, thumbs hooked into his belt as he watches you tug the guy into the hall of the station, pushing him down to the nearest seat as you step to Jeremy who is already handing you the paperwork.

“Dennis Delgado. Took me a few days to find him, but he couldn’t hide forever,” you grin proudly as you grab a pen and start filling the papers out.

Jeremy walks over to Dennis who just looks up at the officer in disgust. It’s not enough that he is a child molester disgusting prick, he is racist on top of everything and now Jeremy is enjoying having the higher ground, Dennis trapped in his handcuffs while Jeremy will be the one to get him behind bars for a long time.

“Nice one. We’ll have a lot of fun with this one,” Jeremy chuckles. “Want me to ring up your brother?”

“Is he in? Would love to have a word with him,” you nod smiling. When you’re done with the papers you hand them over to Stella, the receptionist who gets to work with them right away so you can get your money.

“Sure, I’ll get him for you on my way,” Jeremy nods, grabbing Dennis by his arm, pulling him along on his way to the elevators. “Come on you scumbag, you have a cell waiting with your name on it.”

The two of them disappear and you get into a little chit-chat with Stella while she is finishing up the paperwork. Leaning against the counter you look around, officers come and go in the hall, all of them dressed in their uniform and for a moment you picture yourself wearing the same outfit. At one point in your life it seemed to be part of your future, but now it would be the most ridiculous sight. Y/N, the best bounty hunter in the region in a police uniform? That’s not happening.

The elevator dings and your brother, Robert walks out. He on the other hand, made this vision happen. He has been an officer for about ten years now and though at first he was outraged that you chose the not so gracious lifestyle of a bounty hunter, but you soon became his unofficial partner, handing him over a wanted person every few days, making his work easier. Everyone at the station knows that Robert is the one who plays by the rules, doing everything according to the handbook, the perfect officer, always working to keep up the peace in town while you are… Well, you are a rebel. You could never play by the rules, always sneaking ways to do things according to your desires. You never liked if someone wanted to tell you what to do and how to do it, you are not a team player or either one that can easily managed by higher forces. It didn’t take long for you to realize your nature will never let you be an officer so you chose the other path that’s somewhere near joining the police, but still playing by your own rules.

Being a female bounty hunter wasn’t the easiest when you started off at the young age of seventeen. In desperate need of the extra money after the tragic passing of both your parents, the two of you had to get along on Robert’s slim, beginner paycheck. He was only twenty-three, started working at the station just a year prior, you knew you had to help him out. He kept bringing up cases, worked on them through the nights and when he passed you on the couch from exhaustion, you sneaked your way into the dining room and looked for easy targets. Speeding tickets, light drug trafficking, whatever you could deal with as a high schooler.

Robert hated the idea of you dealing with wanted people, you had endless fights about it, but you were too stubborn to stop and besides, you liked the adrenaline rush you got whenever you caught another one and brought them back to the station. Loved the stunned and shocked looks on the older officers when you managed to catch a bigger fish. It took Robert a few years to come to peace with your choice of lifestyle and now he doesn’t even try to talk you down. Instead, he keeps bringing you cases that pay well and he knows you’d like them.

“Who did you catch this time?” he grins at you, walking up to you and he envelopes you in a short hug.

“Just got Dennis Delgado, Jeremy took him.”

“Poor Dennis, he’ll have a rough evening,” Robert chuckles. “Did you get your money?”

“Stella is already working on it,” you nod towards the lady behind you.

“Oh, I’ve got you, Sweetheart,” Stella pushes herself back from her desk and walks over to you with an envelope filled with your reward.

“Amazing, thank you, Stella,” you grin at her happily. Dennis was worth a little more than the usual, you are well covered for the rest of the month thanks to him.

“Do you have something coming next?” Robert asks, hands on his hips as he watches you put the money away into your backpack.

“Not yet. Got something exciting for me?”

“An old friend,” he nods with a small smile. He reaches behind the counter and grabs a flyer, handing it over to you, a familiar face staring back at you from the photo this time.

Harry Styles is a name you’ve heard plenty of times and you know him well by now. You actually went to high school with him, you were just never in the same group. He was labeled as troubled all through his teenage years, his parents were brutally killed when he was just a kid, he was tossed around from one foster family to the other, moving around town every few months. It was no surprised when he got into some darker circles, he almost got kicked out of school right before graduation but somehow managed to stick around to get his diploma at the end.

You have actually handed him in a few times before. Never for anything bigger than drug trafficking or robbing smaller shops downtown, Harry is actually not as bad as people tend to portray him to be, he was just not blessed with the best background as most people. He is a smart guy and would never hurt anyone for real, this is why you are now staring down at his flyer shocked.

He is wanted for the murder of a local man who was found dead a few days ago in his home, Harry’s hair was found near the body with no other evidence.

“Are you sure about this?” you ask Robert with a concerned look. This doesn’t feel right. Not that you know Harry that well, but it’s very unlike him.

“Very much. His hair was the only thing we found near the body of Dave RIchards so evidently, he is our number one suspect.”

“I don’t know, this doesn’t sound right,” you think to yourself, staring down at the mug shot of him that was taken the last time you brought him in for selling weed to underage kids. You remember it exactly, because bringing Harry in is always… fun, if you could say that.

That last time, he was already expecting you, waiting around in his usual motel room that is somewhat considered as his home.

“My Y/N! You arrived earlier than I expected!” he greeted you when you kicked his door in. He was sitting in the middle of the double bed, rolling a joint as always, not a care in the world about your arrival.

“You knew I was coming?” you cocked your head to the side walking in and stopping at the end of the bed, watching him finish the joint and simply light it before taking a big puff.

“Of course. I was informed I’m on your list again, just thought you’d give me a few more hours, but it’s alright.” He waved around carelessly before holding out the joint in your way, offering you to try it.

“No thanks, I don’t trust your sketchy stuff.”

“That hurt!” he gasped dramatically, placing a hand to his tattooed chest that was partially on display since his shirts are never buttoned all the way up.

You brought him in that day, stopping for McDonald’s on your way to the station before handing him over to Robert. He was actually a great guy, nice sense of humor and good looks, you never thought otherwise, he was just moving around in different circles than you so you were left with the few jokes he always cracked when you took him in every few months.

“Well, it’s not your job to question his innocence. Want to take the job or not?” Robert asks you.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll find him,” you nod and fold the flyer, sliding it into your back pocket.

Normally, you take the rest of the day for yourself after turning someone in, but this situation with Harry just bugs you way more than to just go home and pretend like it’s not all you can think about. Harry is not a murderer, he would never randomly kill a man, he is not a psycho, just a guy with a rough background and some poor life decisions.

You know the route to the motel like the back of your hand. Arriving to the dodgy parking lot you park your car in the far end before taking one last look at the flyer. Then you push it into your backpack and get out, heading to Harry’s room with firm steps. You see no lights on, the door is closed and you almost don’t even get closer, thinking he is not here when you see someone move around inside.

You are almost at the door when a hand covers your mouth and an arm wraps around your body, pulling you back forcefully. It takes you a moment to recover from the shock as you are yanked backwards, but as you are being dragged towards the alleyway next to the motel you elbow your attacker in the stomach before kicking them in the knees. The hands fall from around you and turning around you pull out your pocket knife, ready to cut throats right away, but you are shocked to see Harry hunched over, groaning in pain as he holds his arm to his stomach.

“The fuck, Y/N?!” he growls, his chocolate curls falling forward, they’ve definitely gotten longer since the last time you saw him, he could easily put them up into a bun now. “What was that for?” he whispers in disbelief, his green eyes meeting yours in a scowl.

“What the fuck do you mean? You attacked me!”

“I didn’t attack you, I was trying to fucking save you!”

“From what?!”

“From the fucking asshole in my room who is four times bigger than you and would have probably shot you the moment you kicked my door in like you always fucking do!”

It’s just now processing in you that if Harry is here, the person you saw in the room can’t be him and he surely looked bulky. Harry runs his hand through his hair, straightening up from his hunched position before he sighs tiredly. He looks… worn-out, even more than he usually does. The dark circles under his eyes and beat-up knuckles are new, he usually looks fine despite everything that goes on in his life, but this is a version of him you haven’t seen. He has definitely been through some shit lately.

“What are you doin—“

“No time for questions now, we have to get out of here,” he cuts you off, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the alleyway to another parking lot on the other side of the motel. You spot his old jeep right away, but you yank your hand out of his hold, stopping in your tracks.

“Wait, my car is there!”

“We’ll come back for that later, but they can’t find you here with me or they’ll be after you as well,” he explains, grabbing your hand again as he pulls you towards the car and this time you follow him blindly.

You get into his jeep without even questioning it, not even caring that he is a man who is currently wanted for murder. Your instinct is telling you that you’re completely fine with him and you believe it. The two of you head out of town, taking the route to the next town nearby, but he takes a turn to the left, the jeep rolling onto a dirty road leading along fields filled with wildflowers. You have a guess where you’re going, there are some abandoned cabins near the woods that used to function as vacation homes, but they were slowly left to stand empty for eternity when a luxury resort was built on the other side of the woods.

“Care to tell me what the fuck just happened?” you ask him calmly, turning to look at him. He has one hand on the wheel, while his other elbow is resting on the armrest, fingers tapping on his chapped, pink lips.

“I’m in… deep shit, Y/N,” he admits with a sigh, eyes glued to the road ahead of him.

“No shit, you killed someone?”

“I didn’t,” he states, his eyes meeting yours for a moment to emphasize his truth. “It was a fucking set up and now they are after me every way possible.”

“Who is? And what did you do to get into so much trouble?”

“I’ll tell you about it when we arrive, okay?”

You sit in silence for the rest of the ride until you finally arrive to the cabins. You follow Harry inside one of them and it seems like he has set his base up here a few days ago. There’s a double bed with blankets thrown over it and a few mismatched pillows, a sports bag with his clothes and a few grocery bags on the dusty kitchen counter, candles everywhere since there’s probably no power in the cabin. You wonder how long he has been camping out here.

“About a week ago I got a visit from Hugo McKain, you’ve heard about him?” he asks as he grabs a bottled water from one of the grocery bags and fills up two plastic cups, handing you one of them.

“Sure. I’ve heard that… he is a big fish,” you nod.

“Yeah. He wanted me to work for him, but I sincerely rejected the offer, however it didn’t sit well with him. He threatened me that if I’m not selling his stuff, then I won’t sell anyone else’s stuff,” he explains, walking over to the bed and he sits at the edge, staring at the cup in his hands. “He gave me another day to change my mind, but I said that I don’t want to get involved with any of the heavy shit he deals with. I was hoping he would just willing to forget about it, but apparently, he is not the kind to just let shit go,” he chuckles bitterly. “A few days ago he sent two of his men after me, but I was able to run away. I was ready to pack my shit up and just leave the state forever, but then the fucking asshole framed me for the murder of that guy. A friend called me to let me know that I’m the only suspect in the case and that my face has been sent out already everywhere in the state. Hugo made it impossible for me to leave, I would be caught the moment I stop to pump fucking gas in my car,” he growls in annoyance. “So it’s a whole shit show, the police and Hugo are after me and I’m fucking stuck here.”

You stand there at a complete loss of words, because though you have no evidence if he is telling you the truth, you just know he is and the situation is fucking miserable. Harry drinks his water and throws the cup into a plastic bag that serves as a trashcan, his fingers running through his hair nervously.

“Do you know who killed the guy?” you speak up after some silence.

“Yeah, one of his men called Axel, he is a proper idiot, I’m actually surprised he didn’t leave his DNA back, just mine,” Harry scoffs.

“If you know they are after you, what were you doing at the motel?” you ask, leaning against the wall, curiously eyeing him as he glances up at you.

“Knew you’d come after me, didn’t want them to pull you into this mess too.”

Your eyebrows rise at his words. He went back because of you? Harry notices your surprise, a smug smirk tugging on his lips.

“What? Couldn’t let them lay a finger on my Y/N, right?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him. He has always been so flirty with you since day one, always trying to pull your leg, chatting your ears off in hopes that he can finally drag you to bed one day. But you never give in, it all stays just some empty flirting and a playful banter.

“So what are you going to do now?” you ask clearing your throat. There’s just always been something in the way he calls you his Y/N that makes you a tad bit nervous.

“That’s an excellent question to which… I have no answer,” he truthfully admits.

“You can’t hide here forever.”

“You tryna’ lure me into going to the station with you?” he asks with a grin. “To be honest, I’m surprised you haven’t cuffed me yet. You love that stuff, don’t you?” Harry stands from the bed and strides over to you, the height difference between the two of you forcing you to tilt your head up a little as he smirks down at you, enjoying that he has successfully made you blush. “Question is, have you been the one in the cuffs?”

You part your lips with the intention of answering, but nothing comes out. Harry smirks down at you, so full of himself before stepping away.

“Anyway, I think I’m just gonna lay low here for a while and then hopefully I’ll be able to sneak out of town at one point.”

“You wanna stay here?” you ask looking around. The place is fine for just a few nomad days, but staying here for more seems impossible. There’s no electricity, probably no water, some of the windows are broken in, the temperature must drop drastically in the nights so close to the woods.

“Not that I have any other choices,” he huffs, opening a bag of chips from the groceries.

“Don’t you have any friends who can share their couch with you for a while?”

“You think anyone would want to hide a dude who is wanted for murder and who is also in trouble with Hugo McKain? Baby, even if any of my friends were willing to help, I wouldn’t take it. I wouldn’t want to pull them into my shit. Besides, Hugo is probably already keeping tabs of all my friends, he has the connections to know everything about me.”

“And what about me?” you suddenly ask. Harry freezes, eyes flickering at you in confusion.

“What about you?”

“Would he look for you at mine?”

Now it’s his turn to rock a stunned expression, eyebrows shooting up as he stares back at you. He wasn’t expecting it, but truth is neither did you. However it doesn’t take him long to turn it into something entirely sexual.

“You know, if you wanted to see me in your bed, you should have just asked.”

Luckily, you don’t fall under his spell this time. Rolling your eyes you put the cup to the nearest surface and head to the door.

“Alright, changed my mind. Have fun camping out here on your own,” you mumble, reaching for the doorknob, but he is quick to get between you and the door, stopping you from leaving.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I was just not expecting you to make that offer, alright?” You take a step back, folding your arms on your chest. “Were you serious about that?”

“It seemed like an option. I doubt you’d be expected to be at my place.”

“And you’d actually let me stay there?”

“I guess a few days wouldn’t hurt. Until you figure out what to do.”

Harry stares at you in awe, like you just did the best thing ever for him and the thought that he never had anyone to do such favor for him is kind of heartbreaking. He might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but there’s just something in him.

You help him pack his stuff back into the jeep, leaving the weathered cabin empty again before you head back to town. Harry drops you off a few blocks from the motel so you can walk back to your car, you glance at his door just once, it’s still closed but they could easily still be there.

Harry is already at your place when you arrive to your building, waiting around in his jeep, he has put a beanie and sunglasses on, keeping his head low. As he follows you up to your little apartment, you actually realize that Harry is about to move in with you for the upcoming days, he is going to live in your place, you’ll share your home with him. How crazy does that sound?

Unlocking the door you walk into your small apartment. It’s just the perfect size for one person, a decent kitchen with a small dining table, a living room that also functions as your study, your desk filled with folders and flyers from previous works. Then you have a little bedroom and a bathroom opening from the living room. It’s cozy and homey, but definitely not the setting you would have ever imagined Harry in.

“So, the couch is a pull out, I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow, make yourself… home I guess,” you tell him walking into your bedroom to get him everything he needs. However, he is following you into the room, already snooping around in your private little space.

As you grab him a blanket and pillow, you find him inspecting your clutters on top of your dresser, your jewelry, perfumes and makeup stuff is just thrown out there, and he seemingly takes an interest in your rings.

“Never seen you wear any jewelry,” he huffs as you walk up to him.

“Don’t like them on me that much,” you admit. “Here,” you give them the bedding and usher him out of the bedroom before he gets way too adventurous and starts digging into your lingerie drawers.

When the pullout is all set up and Harry has settled in a little, you are faced with the fact once again, that Harry is in your home and about to spend the upcoming days here with you, since he can’t really roam around the streets.

You make sandwiches for the two of you and sit at the small dining table, eating in silence until you speak up.

“I can ask my brother to help find the guy who did it. There has to be a way to get you out of this.”

Harry glances at you, chewing on his food before putting the sandwich down, swallowing the bite.

“Not really if they don’t find evidence.”

“I’m sure we’ll find something.”

“We?” he smirks at you playfully, earning a blush from you again. You hate the effect he has on you, he is clearly a good-looking guy, you always thought that, even in high school. Thanks to his troubled name, girls easily fall for his bad guy behavior, they just never really saw that being a so called bad guy wasn’t just about the looks, with a slightly similar background you could imagine how hard it really was for him. Though he never really let it show. He is always this whitty, cocky bastard who is ready to flirt his way into your pants whenever the opportunity is given.

“If you keep up with the teasing you’ll find yourself on the street one morning,” you warn him and he just holds his hands up with a smug grin.

“You are the boss lady here,” she chuckles softly before returning to his sandwich.

For the rest of the evening you bury yourself into some other work stuff, you always have a few smaller gigs going on that are easy money, Harry in the meanwhile makes himself comfortable on the couch, watching your tiny TV in silence, letting you do your thing. It’s nearing midnight when you wrap it up and head to have a quick shower. Standing under the hot water you take a few minutes to collect your thoughts and just simply try to get used to the thought that you are in fact hiding a man who is wanted for murder. It’s going to be some pretty interesting days you have ahead of you, that is for sure.

Putting on your oversized t-shirt and cotton shorts you leave a clean towel on the counter for Harry in case he doesn’t have one before heading out.

“Towel is on the counter. Sorry, I don’t have shower gel for men, but the soap is unscented so feel free to use,” you tell him walking out, only to find him already waiting around the door, leaning against the wall. His eyes fall down the length of your uncovered leg, a smirk tugging on his lips.

“If you’re the kind who sleeps naked, feel free to get rid of the textile.”

“Are you a naked sleeper?” you ask tilting your head to the side.

“I can be, if you want me to be,” he grins smugly and you just roll your eyes at him.

“Good night, Harry,” you sigh walking into your bedroom and shutting the door behind you, only allowing yourself to let out a shaky sigh when you are out of his sight. Leaning against the door you hear him shuffling around until the bathroom door closes and the water starts running. You try your best to ignore the thought of Harry currently in your shower naked as you climb to bed and pull the covers over your head. You need the coverage, hopefully it’ll help you with your wandering thoughts.

“Thought you’d deliver Styles by now,” Robert teases you when he meets you at the station the next day. You left Harry at your place, sincerely asking not to trash your home while you’re away and headed to the police station in hopes that your brother might be able to help him out.

“Uh, no. But actually, he is the reason why I’m here,” you tell him with a nervous chuckle.

“What? Did he hurt you or something?”

“No, nothing like that. Can we please talk in your office?” you ask and he nods, leading you up to his office.

Once the two of you are settled and secluded from the rest of the officers, you just decide to start right in the middle and not waste your time beating around the bush.

“Harry didn’t do it. He was framed.”

Robert gives you a surprised look as he leans back in his seat on the other side of his desk. He thinks about your words furrowing his eyebrows before scratching his neck.

“How… do you know that?”

“I just know. He is being framed by Hugo McKain, it was one of his men who killed the guy, not Harry.”

“I have a feeling that your source about this was none other than Harry himself.”

“Does it matter?”

“It does, because of course he would try to defend himself!”

“Harry is not a murderer, Robert,” you snap. “He always owns up to his mistakes and he would never do anything to hurt others. Yes, he is troubled and did a lot of illegal shit in his life, but never anything that could hurt others. He became a target because he didn’t want to join Hugo.”

Robert stares at you for a while, probably trying to figure out whether he should believe you or not. You knew he’d be skeptical, but you can only hope he trusts you enough to help you out in this one case.

“And what do you expect me to do?” he asks after a while.

“He knows the name of the guy. Axel something, can you get someone on his case? Look into the evidence more? Something might come up that could help Harry out of this mess.”

Robert’s jaw clenches as he stares back at you, contemplating his choices but something is telling you he is already in. You won him over.

“I’ll have Jake look into it, I think I know who this Axel guy is.”

“Thank you, Robert!” you cheer in excitement. Jumping from your seat you go around his desk and hug him from behind, kissing his cheek as he tries to escape your embrace. He hates it when you get all affectionate at his work, but you just had to. You head to the door to get out of his hair before he changes his mind, but he stops you before you could leave.

“Y/N, just please be careful with Styles, okay?”

“He is not as bad as people make him sound.”

“I just don’t want him to get you into trouble. There’s only so much I can do to save your ass.” “Don’t worry,” you smile at him softly. “I’ll be alright.”

The rest of the day goes by with catching some stupid guy who was wanted for trying to rob a gas station while drunk, it’s a mystery how he was able to run away, you saw the security footage, the guy was barely standing on his feet, but lucky for you, he is in the exact same state when you surprise him at a bar and bring him in.

It’s past seven when you finally get home. Keying yourself into the apartment you are met with a quite pleasant sight. Harry has pushed the pullout in to make some space in the cramped living room and as you step inside, you are met with the sight of him doing pushups in the middle of the room, no shirt on, just a pair of loose shorts, all his tattoos are on display, a thin layer of sweat covering his body, his curls are held back with a headband. When he hears you arrive, his head shoots up and smirks in your way before doing a few more and then he stops, standing up just as you shut the front door.

“Welcome home, Honey,” he winks in your way and you just roll your eyes at him.

“Turning my living room into your personal gym, huh?”

“I can’t just sit around all day, waiting for you to get home, can I?”

“You can always just fix up my apartment while I’m gone,” you joke chuckling. Setting your bag down on your bed you join him in the kitchen where he is sipping on some water. “Anyway, I have good news for you. My brother said he’ll have one of his guys look into the case. I’m sure he’ll check after this Axel dude you mentioned.”

“That’s great! I’ve also been asking around today, some of my friends said they will try to dig up some dirt that might help me out, but I don’t want any of them to get too deep and then have Hugo go after them too.”

“It’ll be fine,” you nod, convinced that things will turn out well. “Alright, I’ll throw something together for dinner, what—“

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I already ordered, should be here soon.”

“You ordered food?” you ask in surprise.

“Of course. I won’t just eat your fridge out, dinners are on me while I’m here,” he smiles genuinely and you’re stunned by the gesture.

Half an hour later the two of you are sitting on the living room floor, Chinese takeout boxes littering the place around you, having a full on feast because Harry didn’t go light on the order.

“So, tell me, what have you been doing since high school?” he prompts the question. “I feel like I know you but I also don’t. Don’t get me wrong, being handcuffed by you every other month is fucking hot, but I don’t know much about you.”

“There’s not much to know,” you shrug. “I’ve been doing this since I was seventeen, no grandiose career.”

“But did you have any other plans before?”

“Thought about joining the police, but I was never tame enough to follow their rules.”

“Ooh, a little rebel?” he teases you and you throw a handful of napkins in his way, making him laugh.

“You can joke about it, but I’ve had my fair share of trouble as well, you are not the only one who’s been through some rough years.”

“I know that,” he nods, eyes getting serious for a moment. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

“You know about them?” you ask in surprise. You didn’t really share it with anyone, talking about the loss of them just made it harder to deal with it and you also didn’t want everyone’s petty.

“You just know about this kind of stuff when you grow up in foster care. Though you were lucky your brother was already of age.”

“I know. I’m convinced I wouldn’t be here if I had to go into foster care.” Putting down the box from your hands you look at Harry. “I’m sorry you had to deal with all that.”

“Not that it was any of your fault,” he smiles softly, but you can see the pain in his green eyes. Despite not knowing him well growing up, you always felt this weird urge to tell him how sorry you were for everything he had to deal with. He deserved a better childhood and teenage years and most importantly, respect from people. Everyone just labeled him as a lost case because of his background, but no one really tried to help him. Part of you feels guilty, because you could have helped through those years, but you were a little frightened from him as well, believing the rumors and talks about him, though now you know they were probably just stupid gossips.

Harry reaches into your box, stealing a dumpling and you snap on his hand, but he just pops it into his mouth grinning slyly.

“Hey! You have your own!” you tell him off.

“I know, but yours just tastes better.”

“You are such a pest,” you roll your eyes at him as you grab your box and start eating again.

“So, what does your boyfriend think about me being here?” he asks out of nowhere, but you see through his act. It’s his sneaky way of trying to get you to say if you’re single or not, probably already knowing the answer to that, but you choose to pull his leg a little.

“He is fine. Though you might have to plug your ears in a little when he comes over,” you tell him with a straight face and see his fall, a stunned expression on his handsome face.

“Wait, really? You have a boyfriend and told him about me being here?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t I?”

It’s hard not to start laughing, especially when the words process and he realizes that you are in fact taken. The flirty, teasing act is long gone, he presses his lips together nodding to himself as he continues to eat in silence.

“I’m just fucking with you, I don’t have a boyfriend,” you tell him at last, finally letting out a laugh. His eyes snap up at you and a smirk slowly tugs at his lips as he points a finger at you.

“You had me for a hot minute. Nice one.”

“Why were you so surprised when I said I have a boyfriend?” you ask tilting your head to the side.

“Guess the thought was just a little weird, I’ve never seen you with a guy before.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ve never been with any,” you point out, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Oh, I know. I never thought you are pretending to be a nun,” he snorts.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you gasp, feeling like it was a subtle way to call you some sort of slut. Harry looks up at your upset expression and he immediately knows how his words were taken.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he defends himself.

“Then how did you mean it?”

“I meant that I always thought a girl as pretty as you must have plenty of guys after her.”

Your eyebrows shoot up at how bluntly he just called you pretty. It had a refreshing sound after all the shameless flirting he has been doing when it came to you, and your poor little heart immediately skipped a beat upon hearing his words.

“Well, I didn’t have,” you admit with a sad smile. You briefly dated a guy from another school in tenth grade, but after that, your life was just way too complicated to get involved in a relationship and you haven’t really been able to change that even years later. When you’re very keen on some intimacy you go to a nearby bar and just let whatever man to pick you up and have for the night, but that doesn’t happen too often either, because it seems useless most of the time, you can do the job yourself just fine too, you don’t need some random man to call you his babygirl when he doesn’t even know your name. Some never even bother to finish you, they pass out once they got what they wanted so you prefer being on your own.

“Fucking losers!” Harry huffs dramatically. “They have no idea what’s good.”

“You don’t need to say that just to make me feel better,” you roll your eyes at him, but you can feel yourself blushing.

“I’m not, I was always crushing on you a little in high school, if I’m being honest,” he admits truthfully, managing to surprise you once again.

“For real?”

“Sure,” he nods, turning his focus back to his food as he continues to talk. “Even thought about asking you out to prom one time. But I figured you might not even know who I am.”

“Come on, everyone knew who you were!”

“Are you telling me off for being humble?” he asks grinning. “Okay, let me rephrase it. I didn’t know if you wanted anything to do with me after hearing stuff about me, so I just dodged the idea.”

You chew on his words a little before looking up at him, eyes meeting his green irises, though you are usually not one to get in on the flirting, now you just feel like being a little blunt.

“Well, I always thought you were good-looking.”

“Were? Am I not good-looking anymore?” he teases with a dramatic gasp that makes you roll your eyes.

“Well, the smugness takes a bit away from it, if I’m being honest,” you tell him off making him laugh.

Once you both are well fed you clean the boxes up together, you wash the few extra plates you used while Harry dries them off and puts them away. Opening one of the cabinets he moves the door a bit, examining how it hangs a little low.

“I always forget to fix it up,” you sigh. There’s quite a few things that could use some work, but you just never get to start on them so they are always put aside.

You take your turns in the bathroom as usual and you sit at your desk a little, working on a few stuff before calling it a night. Harry is already lying in his temporary bed on the pullout, scrolling through his phone. The covers hide only half of his body, his naked, tattooed chest is on display, one of his arms is tucked under his head, the muscles on his arm flexing just right. He surely is a sight, you can’t deny that.

“Seeing something you like?” His voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you realize you’ve been caught staring. Clearing your throat you stack up the papers on your desk and head into your bedroom.

“Good night, Harry,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks heating up.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he calls after you before you click the door closed.

The next day you go with your usual routine, Robert checks in with you letting you know he already has someone on Harry’s case, so there’s not much you can do for now, only hope that something will surface that can help him out of this mess. Throughout the day you often catch yourself thinking about what Harry could be doing at home all day and you pray to all higher powers he is not currently snooping through your lingerie.

It’s a frustrating day, you couldn’t find the guy you’ve been after but you were really hoping to finally get the money for him. He is big money, but he makes you work for it certainly. When you arrive home Harry is nowhere to be seen, but then you hear the shower running so you figure he must have just been working out and is now taking a shower. Two pizza boxes are set on the dining table and you sigh in relief that you don’t have to think about cooking with him around. Going to the kitchen you are about to grab two plates when you notice that the cupboard door that’s been hanging low a little is now fixed. It’s as new as it never was since you’ve been living here and it gets you wondering if anything else has been taken care of. Going through the kitchen you start to realize that all the little things that’s been waiting to be fixed are now working perfectly: the handle on one of the drawers, the loose tap, the shelf that’s been crooked for a while, it’s all perfect now.

The bathroom door opens and Harry walks out wearing a pair of black sweatpants, his hair is wet and he has a towel hanging from around his neck.

“Oh, hey. Didn’t hear you arrive,” he breathes out throwing the towel to the back of one of the chairs around the dining table.

“Just arrived a few minutes ago. Hey, did you fix my kitchen?” you ask furrowing your eyebrows at him.

“Uh, yeah. Took a look at the stuff that seemed off. Also fixed the shoe rack near the door and the hangers in the bathroom.”

“Oh wow. You really shouldn’t have.”

“Didn’t you tell me to fix the place up while being here?” he teases you with a smirk as he leans against the table.

“That was just a joke.”

“I know,” he chuckles softly. “But I really didn’t have much to do today so I thought I might make myself useful.”

“That’s… actually very nice of you. Thank you.”

“No worries.”

“So how was your day?” Harry asks as the two of you are chewing on the pizza, sitting at the dining table.

“Why are you making small talk like we’re a married couple?” you scrunch your nose, taking another bite from your slice.

“What, I can’t be nice?”

“You can, it’s just you are usually not,” you point out.

“Or you are just never around when I decide to be nice,” he grins. “You usually just burst into my place, handcuff me and then bring me in. That doesn’t give much time to be nice.”

“I wouldn’t cuff you if you didn’t try to run away the first time I wanted to bring you in,” you retort shrugging.

“Okay, first of all, I was not expecting you to just kick my door in and have a fucking knife pointed at my throat, of course I tried to escape! And second, I quite enjoy being handcuffed by you, so I guess it’s not that bad.”

That smug smirk is back on his lips again and you wish you could just wipe it off sometimes. He is so full of himself!

“You are always coming with this cuffing thing. Get a hold of your kinks, Styles.”

“You can’t tell me it doesn’t turn you on. I bet you’d like that, if you haven’t already been cuffed in the bedroom,” he snorts, taking a big bite, the sauce dripping a bit from the corner of his mouth that he wipes with the back of his hand.

“My kinks are none of your concerns,” you sternly reply, but it just makes his grin wider.

“Oh, so you do have kinks! Tell me more about them!”

“Well what are yours?” you retort, hoping it would shut him up, but it has the opposite effect on him. Leaning back he swallows the food in his mouth before starting the list.

“Well I do love getting handcuffed, I’m into spanking, both ways. I have a weird thing for—“

“Alright! I’ve heard enough!” you cut him off. “Stop, just… stop,” you breathe out.

“What?” Harry chuckles, clearly enjoying the situation more than you’d want him to. “Don’t tell me you’re too prude to talk about sex.”

“I’m not,” you answer right away.

“Okay, then tell me about your kinks!” he teases you some more. Snapping your eyes at him you can tell how much he is enjoying making you so uncomfortable, but you also know that he thinks he’ll just make you blush and you won’t tell him a thing. So you decide to give him his own medicine.

“I do in fact like to be handcuffed, I love a good spanking, when my ass cheeks turn red from the slaps, that makes me cum very hard. I love a good old choking and I particularly enjoy giving blowjobs because I don’t have a gagging reflex, makes men go fucking nuts when I have them down my throat to the last inch, I get off their reaction easily.”

Harry’s lips part as he stares at you with a stunned expression, he definitely did not expect that answer, or any answer at all. That face alone makes up for the slight anxiety that took over you talking about what you really enjoy in the bedroom. Your eyes wander down and a triumphant smirk tugs on your lips.

“Don’t be such a horny teenager, I can see your dick getting hard,” you tell him before flipping the pizza box closed and walking into the kitchen you put the remaining of it into the fridge.

“You are such a tease, Y/N,” he shakes his head with a soft chuckle. “But it might backfire, because now I’m gonna get off thinking about spanking you,” he grins at you, but you just shrug, heading to the bathroom.

“Do whatever you want, fantasizing is free,” you tell him before locking yourself in the bathroom.

You’d be lying if you said you don’t think about him in the shower. As your hands move down your body, your fingers wander between your legs, gently playing with your clit while thinking about Harry spanking you. Knowing that he is kind of into the same things as you makes your fantasies even more vivid, but you don’t let yourself get off. You wouldn’t want him to hear you moan under the shower, he would tease you about it forever.

When you’re all done you step out of the bathroom only to get startled by Harry who is standing right at the door, wearing only his boxer briefs.

“Shit!” you gasp, snapping your hand to your chest.

“You took awfully long in there, Y/N,” he smirks at you, but you just roll your eyes at him. “If you ever need help washing you back, don’t be shy to ask me to join.”

“Keep dreaming,” you mumble under your breath as you walk past him and make your way into your bedroom.

“I already do that!” he calls after you before you shut the door closed.

Throwing yourself to your bed you take a deep breath closing your eyes. If he keeps up this act, you have no idea how you’re gonna survive having him around any longer.

Two days go by in the same manner. You spend most of the day out doing your usual stuff, you actually manage to catch another guy who was a small reward, but it’s more than nothing. Harry usually has dinner ready and waiting for you by the time you get back home. During these two days he has fixed up basically everything that wasn’t working in your apartment, freeing you from doing it yourself for probably twice as long as he did.

You sit and eat together, Harry usually tries to get under your skin with some more flirting that you return with a cold shoulder, but then, when you’re lying in the comfort of your bed or standing under the hot water in the shower, you always find your thoughts wandering off to the man on the other side of the door.

Ashamed to admit, but you’ve gotten yourself off once thinking about him. You woke up in the middle of the night from a quite hot dream that, of course, featured a shirtless Harry and you just couldn’t stop yourself from bringing you some relief. For a little while your hands weren’t yours, you imagined that Harry’s big, calloused and ring clad fingers were moving against your body and you needed every drop of self-control not to moan his name out as you came. You blame it on him being so comfortable shirtless around your place, he has been really making himself feel home. Not that you’re complaining, he is a sight for the eyes certainly, but it’s also giving you a hard time.

Robert soon asks you to swing by the station to discuss some details about Harry’s case. You can tell he couldn’t dig up anything helpful, he would have already mentioned it through the phone, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have anything that can be useful in further investigation.

“So, I’ve caught wind of Axel Morris being involved in the death of the victim, but we haven’t been able to recover any evidence that would point towards him, unfortunately,” Robert explains as the two of you sit in his office. “Didn’t want to bring him in for questioning either because then Hugo would find out we are after him.”

“So what can be done now?”

“I’m… really not sure, Y/N. If Axel doesn’t magically confesses the murder on tape, I’m not sure I can do anything to help Styles.”

Chewing on your bottom lip you’re trying hard to think of what to do. This can’t end like this, there has to be a way out for Harry…

“Look. I know you’re trying to cook up something to help Styles, but I’m not sure I can give you much time.”

“What do you mean?” you ask with a puzzled look.

“I mean that…” He glances at the door and then leans closer, speaking more quietly. “If I had a guess where he could be found, I would say he is at your place as we are speaking. I can’t let a guy walk free who is wanted for murder, Y/N. I eventually have to bring him back.”

“Alright, alright. Just give me a few more days. I’ll figure it out,” you plead, running your hand through your hair. Robert sighs, shaking his head.

“You have three days. That marks ten days since the warrant has been out. If you don’t bring me evidence by then, I’m sending the guys to your place to get him.”

“Three days, alright. I’ll… figure it out. Thanks, Robert,” you nod, leaving his office in a rush.

You have three days to find evidence against Axel and free Harry, but how do you even start? You’re good at what you do, but this is kind of out of your field and you’re not sure you can deal with it.

Walking around town you try to come up with an idea, but end up doing what you always do when you’re stuck on a case. Thanks to your work you’ve built up quite a web of connections, you always know someone who knows someone who is exactly the person you need. So sitting at a diner, munching on a late lunch you start calling your connections to see if you can dig up anything that could help.

A few hours later the situation becomes brighter and you finally have a somewhat useful plan so you head home to let Harry in on what you’ve come up with.

He is seemingly surprised when you arrive home earlier than the usual, he is sitting at the dining table, a bowl of instant noodles in front of him as he is watching some video on his phone. Like usually, he is only wearing a pair of sweatpants, his tattooed abdomen on full display.

“Oh, hi! Something happened?” he asks, concern showing in his eyes as he watches you kick your shoes off and storm into your bedroom, going straight to your wardrobe to dig up one particular outfit. “Y/N?” you hear him call out for you, his voice coming from your door.

“Yes! I knew I still had it!” you cheer in triumph as you hold up the latex set that clearly leaves very little to the imagination. When Harry sees it, his eyes go wide and his imagination probably gets wild for a moment, because he clears his throat as he looks at you puzzled.

“What do you need that for?”

“It’s part of my plan that will get us evidence against Axel Morris.”

“I’m not really following, so please elaborate?”

“I talked to Robert, he said we need to get him to confess. Now, I made a few phone calls and found out that our friend, Axel is a regular at this strip club called Siren. I’ll pretend to be a dancer and wrap him around my fingers and get him to confess while recording. You said it yourself, he is a real dumbass, I’m sure I can make it work.”

Harry stares at you frozen for a long moment before he lets out a heartfelt chuckle and now you’re the one confused about what’s really going on.

“S’cute you think I’m letting you close to that man. Funny, that was a good joke. Alright, what do you want for dinner?” he asks, walking back to the dinner table, but you chase after him.

“It’s not a joke, Harry. Pretty much our only chance to get you out of this mess!”

“You are not going anywhere near that guy and that’s not up for debate.”

“Not that you can tell me what to do!” you scoff at him.

“Y/N, you have no idea what you’re talking about,” he shakes his head sitting back to the table, stirring his pasta around with the spoon.

“I certainly know, and this is pretty much your only chance to save your ass, Harry.”

“Not if it means you go near Axel, nah,” he shakes his head calmly, as if it wasn’t even an argument and he had the right to grant you permission.

“Well, I’m doing it and you can’t do anything about that. I’m going in tomorrow. I know one of the dancers, she is helping me set it all up,” you shrug, your attitude meeting his careless one, but he doesn’t like your answer, not even a bit.

“Y/N, you are not going there!” he snaps, standing up, the chair falling back from the sudden movement. “That psycho killed a man or did you forget about that?!”

“Okay, so what’s your plan to save your ass? Because there’s literally no other choice,” you retort giving him a frown as you march back to your room and Harry follows you.

“But it won’t be you dressing up as a stripper, seducing a fucking murderer to get him to confess!”

“So then what is it going to be?!” you snap at him facing him again. “Because Robert gave me three days to sort things out before he comes here and takes you in himself!”

“Then I’ll go to jail! No big deal!” he throws his hands into the air like it was just a minor inconvenience and not a case of murder that could put him behind bars forever.

“Are you fucking insane?” you laugh in disbelief. “You’re willing to lose the rest of your life for what? Nothing at all?!”

“It’s not nothing, Y/N. You are not getting yourself into this mess and it’s not up for debate.”

“You hold no control over me, Harry!” you scream at him at this point, fed up with his bullshit.

You find yourself pinned against the wall in a blink of the eye, Harry is pressed up against you, hands grabbing onto your forearms as he keeps you in place firmly, one of his thighs coming between your legs as his face is dangerously close to yours now. He knocks the air out of you for a moment and you stare back at him with parted lips for just a split second before your instincts kick in.

You easily knee him in the crotch, giving you just enough opportunity to grab one of his wrists and twist it behind his back, forcing him to get on the ground, growling in pain.

“Fuck! Y/N!” he groans, snapping his other hand against the hardwood floor. You give him another squeeze as a warning before letting him go and he falls to the ground for a moment before he pushes himself up to sit on his heels.

“You still think I can’t protect myself against a man?” you sneer at him walking over to the bed to grab the outfit that was tossed to the side in the hustle.

“Shit, I think you broke my dick!” he breathes out hunching over and you just smile to yourself as you hand the outfit up to the side of your wardrobe.

“Don’t be such a crybaby, you’re fine.”

“Don’t think so, might need a get-well kiss on it though,” he smirks through his painful expression and you roll your eyes at him. How is he still at it when you just kneeled him in his crotch? “Okay, your message came through very clear though, but I’m still not a fan of your plan,” he sighs finally standing up from the floor.

“It’s gonna be easy, I’ll get him a little drunk, offer him a private dance, make a move and get him to talk. If he really is that dumb like you said, I can easily get him to open up, just gotta make sure he is focusing on something else,” you explain gesturing towards the outfit on the hanger.

“You can’t wear that, Y/N.”

“This is what strippers wear, I don’t see what the problem is.”

“My problem is that it’s like… nonexistent. There’s no textile at all!” he rages, still eyeing the red latex set.

“Are you… jealous?” you ask, starting to get a feel of what’s really going on. Harry’s head snaps in your way and the look in his eyes answers your question even when he tries to hide his real reasons.

“Jealous of you becoming a stripper? I bet I can make more than you if I became one,” he scoffs smugly.

“Oh my god, you are so fucking jealous!” you laugh, enjoying this one in a million moment. “What’s next, you have feelings for me? Are you gonna confess your undying love?” you tease him.

“Okay, you had your laughs, that was enough. Excuse me if I’m looking out for you and I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

“Don’t get all smitten with me now. I’ve been doing just fine without you so far.”

“Yeah, how many people did you bring in for murder?” Harry questions and that leaves you without an answer. Not that you don’t know it, but because the number is exactly zero. You’ve been doing your job for quite a while and there’s been all kind of cases under your hands, but not murders. Though you are completely capable of defending yourself, you’re not sure you want to deal with monsters who took a human’s life. The only reason you took Harry’s case was because you had an inkling feeling from the very start that he did not do it.

“Just as I thought,” Harry scoffs. “Listen, if you really want to do this then I’m going with you. No way I’m gonna just sit around here and wait to see if you make it back home.”

“How do you plan on leaving the house? Someone might recognize you and then it’s game over.”

“I’ll just… disguise myself,” he shrugs. “Can’t be that hard.”

You never thought the day would come when you see Harry Styles wearing a fake mustache and a ridiculous wig, secured with a beanie to his head. The moment the two of you finish his disguise, you can’t hold your laughter back. He looks so damn ridiculous, you can barely breathe through your laughter as he checks himself out in the mirror.

“I look like a fucking pedophile,” he shakes his head chuckling as he pushes some fake hair out of his forehead. “Where the fuck did you find this wig?” he snaps at you in disbelief.

“Does it matter? You look so fucking bad!” you laugh hysterically and Harry just stands there, waiting for you to finally stop, but it seems like he is not bothered by your reaction. He probably finds it equally funny too.

It’s currently seven pm, you have to head to Siren soon to start your fake shift as a stripper and you haven’t been able to talk Harry down from following you, so there you are, getting ready to fool everyone around you. Harry with his awful disguise and you with your stripper outfit.

When you finally catch your breath you leave Harry in the living room to get ready as well. Following a heavy makeup with dark, smokey eyes, you also put on a wig, a short, red bob that’s part of the outfit. Then you squeeze yourself into the latex, the tiny top barely covering you, the skirt is not even a skirt, rather than just a belt. As an extra to the fit, you’ve put on a red corset, though it’s more so you can hide the voice recorder since the original outfit doesn’t give too many places to do that. You pair it all with fishnet tights and a pair of black, thigh-high boots. As you check yourself out in the mirror you don’t even recognize yourself. Y/N is officially gone, the girl in the boots is… Crystabel.

Opening the door you step out of your bedroom, Harry is standing in the middle of the living room, busy with his phone so at first he doesn’t even see you walk out.

“Ready to leave?” he asks, eyes still on the screen of his phone.

“I… guess?” you breathe out, feeling extremely self-conscious in this revealing set.

When Harry finally looks up his mouth drops open. He is not even trying to hide his hunger as his eyes rake down the length of your body. He takes his time to take in every inch of your exposed skin before his gaze settles on your eyes behind your long fake lashes.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out and it gives you quite the confidence boost.

“You like it?” you ask, striking a pose as you push your hips to the side and place your hands on your waist.

“I-I’m… I’m fucking speechless,” he chuckles as you walk closer and grabbing the strings of his hoodie, you tug on the playfully while he is still shamelessly checking you out. “I don’t know how I could live this long without seeing you like this.”

“You are such a flirt,” you roll your eyes, but just as you are about to step away from him he grabs you by your waist and pulls you against him firmly. Your hands move to his broad shoulders right away, trying to keep your balance in his hold.

“I might be a flirt, but you are the hottest woman I’ve seen and I admit I will be fucking jealous of every man that’s gonna lay their eyes on you tonight.” His voice is low, full of lust and if it wasn’t for his funny disguise, you would have melted right into his arms in a heartbeat.

“I can’t take you seriously with this mustache on,” you chuckle softly, running your fingers over the fake facial hair, the pad of your fingers slightly touching his soft lips underneath.

“Just wait until we get back home and I get rid of it,” he smirks and winks at you, making you chuckle, but you can also feel yourself blushing at his words.

You put on a trench coat to cover the racy outfit as the two of you make your way to the club. Harry is driving, but you took your car in case someone might recognize him near the club. Arriving Harry parks at a darker corner in the parking lot and he pulls out a little box from his backpack.

“Alright, let’s wire you up, Love,” he smirks as you undo the coat and let him help you get the devices situated on you.

The voice recorder gets pushed into your stomach, hiding behind your corset. It’s thick enough that it doesn’t give away that anything is hidden under it, it’s just a little uncomfortable for you, but you are sucking it up.

“Here, put this into your ears,” Harry hands you an earpiece that you place into your right ear, hiding it with your wig. “It’s not the best quality, but you’ll be able to hear me and I’ll hear everything around you. We need a safe word if anything happens so I know I have to go inside.”

“This is starting to look like a spy movie or something,” you mumble under your breath as you start buttoning your coat again.

“Don’t turn it into a joke, Y/N. Axel might be a stupid jerk, but don’t forget he killed that man. He doesn’t care if you’re a woman or not, or if you’re a real stripper or not.”

“Alright, alright,” you sigh nodding. “How about… cherry?”

“Okay. Use it if you are in trouble or someone is hurting you or anything.” You nod, fidgeting with the end of the coat, but Harry grabs your hand and makes you look at him. “I mean it, Y/N. I don’t want you to play the hero.”

“I won’t, calm down. I gotta go now. I’ll see you soon,” you tell him before getting out of the car and heading to the backdoor. Glancing back one last time you see Harry standing at the hood of the car, watching you intently as you disappear from his sight.

Sienna, who is helping you tonight is already waiting for you at the backdoor. You met her a few years ago when you caught her abusive ex and took him in. She said she owed you one for freeing her from that asshole and now you are finally here to collect that favor.

“Damn, you look good!” she grins, pulling you into a short hug.

“You think it’s gonna be alright?” you ask, pulling the coat open to show her the whole outfit.

“Fucking fantastic. No men will be able to focus on anything than your boobs,” she snorts, pulling you inside.

The plan is easy. You won’t be out all night, Sienna will be your eyes and when she spots Axel arrive, that’s when you come into the picture. Sienna will escort him to a secluded area and tell him he has a free lap dance which will be, of course, performed by you. Some flirting, some seducing and hopefully Axel will be dumb enough to let a some sort of confession slip.

Sienna takes you to the changing room and you stay in the corner, trying not to be in the way as you watch the girls get ready. There are ten girls in total, five of them are dancing tonight, the other five are servers, but they still dress like dancers. They all wear equally revealing outfits, just like you and as you watch them move around so confidently, you start to get more and more nervous. What if Axel figures out you’re not a real dancer right away? Or if he notices the recorder pushed into your stomach? This plan is definitely not the safest you’ve ever come up with, and you are starting to doubt yourself now that you are so deep in it.

“Y/N?” you hear Harry’s faint voice in your ear. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” you breathe out and hearing his voice calms your nerves a little.

“Everything alright?” First you nod, but then you realize he can’t see you.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Are you nervous?”

“Very,” you admit with an awkward chuckle. Luckily, Harry doesn’t bring his usual cockiness out, feeling how serious the situation is.

“You can still come out and we can just go home. You don’t have to do this.”

“No, I want to do this,” you firmly answer. “Just… talk to me a little. Please.”

“Alright, I’ll tell you about when I wanted to ask you out to prom,” you hear him start and you can’t push a smile down as you sit and wait, listening to his soothing voice. “You were wearing this pretty white sweater that day and tight jeans, you looked so fucking good, Y/N. I saw you walking to your locker and you smiled at some random guy and I was instantly jealous.”

“Really?” you ask quietly.

“O, yeah,” he chuckles. “I told you, I had a crush on you. So I thought about asking you out, wanted to just walk up to you and casually ask if you wanted to go with me. But then I just watched you and realized that you probably wouldn’t want anything to do with me, so I just watched you get your books out of your locker and then you walked right past me, looked me in the eyes and I straight up felt my knees turn into jelly. Good thing I was leaning against the wall. You walked away and I never asked you out. Still regret that,” he admits and your heart flutters at his words.

As weird as it sounds, you remember that day. Especially because when your eyes met Harry’s you felt kind of the same. You felt intimidated and wondered why he was watching you so intently, but you would have never guessed he wanted to ask you out.

You see Sienna walking in, her eyes find you and you immediately know it’s show time.

“Harry?” you breathe out at last.

“Yeah?”

“I would have said yes,” you tell him before you follow Sienna out and the blasting music pushes down Harry’s voice in your earpiece.

The bright lights of the back are switched to the dim, red lighting in the main bar area, a dancer is already on the stage and the place seems packed for the night as all men are hungrily watching the girl on the stage, throwing dollar bills at her shamelessly.

Sienna pulls you to the bar and leans closer to your ear so you can hear what she is saying.

“He is in one of the private rooms, told him the dance is on the house to thank him for being a regular. I asked one of the guards to stand nearby.”

“Thank you, S,” you nod at her as she squeezes your hands.

“Good luck, girl,” she smiles a little bitterly before she shows you the way to the room where Axel is currently waiting for his private dance.

As you stop at the door you take a deep breath, staring at the doorknob for a moment, trying to brace yourself for whatever is about to happen in there.

“I’m going in,” you say, partially to yourself, but mostly to Harry so he knows what’s happening though you don’t hear an answer before you open the door and step inside.

The room is mostly what you were expecting, a small stage with a rod in the middle, across that a long, plush, deep burgundy couch. The walls are black, just the red led lights illuminating the place.

And there he is. Axel Morris is sitting in the middle of the couch, manspreading so widely like the asshole that he is, arms leisurely draped across the back of the couch as his hungry eyes immediately snap to your body.

Axel is big. He is a large man and you realize that the moment you see him. Though he is sitting you can easily tell that he’s tall and he is definitely bulky. Could end you in a blink of an eye and knowing that he is capable of murder is just an eerie thought that doesn’t leave you alone. But you suck it up and get into character, only thinking about one thing: help Harry out of this mess.

Music with low bass starts playing through the speakers as you make your way over to Axel who grins at you disgustingly, making it hard for you to keep the façade.

“Hey big boy, heard you’ve earned a dance for yourself,” you coo at him stopping at the edge of the stage as you keep eye-contact with him. You lean against the edge and spread your legs just enough to tease his imagination about what’s about to come.

“Hell yes, I did! Hope you’re a good dancer, babygirl. Haven’t seen you around here.”

“I’m new. But I’m really good, that’s why they sent me,” you smirk at him sweetly as you walk closer until you’re standing in front of him. He reaches out and grabbing your hips he pulls you to straddle his lap and it catches you by surprise but you don’t fall out of character.

“Then show me what you can do. What’s your name?” He licks his lips as you start moving, doing your best from movies you’ve seen with strippers in them.

“Crystabel, but you can call me yours,” you hum, grinding and bouncing yourself, completely unleashing your inner hoe. “Tell me, big boy. Are you as dangerous as you seem?”

“Oh baby, you have no idea,” he grins proudly.

“Really?” you coo, pushing yourself up against him. His dirty hands find your ass and you want to push them away so badly, but you let him have his way with you for the sake of the plan. “What’s the worst you’ve done?”

“Why does a pretty girl like you want to know about that, huh?” he cocks his head to the side, eyeing you with suspicion so you know you have to be careful.

“Because I have a thing for those stuff. I love pain and blood, it gets me off always,” you smirk at him teasingly, grinding yourself against him to divert his attention a little from the words spoken.

“Mm, yeah?”

“Yeah, I love that kind of stuff,” you moan, running your hands down your chest, his eyes hungrily following your every move and you know he is zoned out. It’s going perfectly.

“Well, I’m the perfect man for you then, babygirl. I’ve done all the things you can imagine.”

“Really? You are turning me on, big boy,” you murmur lowly, turning around for a bit so he can get a good glimpse of your backside as well. “Have you… taken anyone’s life before?” you bluntly ask, hoping you aren’t moving too fast and he won’t snap at you.

“Not sure I should be talking about that with you, pretty girl,” he smirks smugly. You turn back to face him, pushing your crotch against him as you try not to gag feeling his erection under you.

“I’m good with secrets, Honey. My lips are sealed,” you grin at him, stroking his oily face and try your best not to wipe your fingers into the cushion of the couch. Axel smirks at you, clearly enjoying the show you are putting on, his fingers are digging into your thighs as his eyes are practically glued to your chest.

“I’m a killer, babygirl.”

“Yeah?” you gasp, faking your excitement. “What did you do, big boy? Tell me, make me wet,” you purr biting into your bottom lip, pushing your chest out some more to distract him from his consciousness that might keep him from answering.

“Killed a guy recently,” he smugly admits and your adrenaline is high in the sky. You are so close to what you need!

“Oh my, sounds like a dirty job.”

“It was.”

“Saw it on the news a guy got killed not long ago, did you do that?” you smirk at him, his hand slapping your ass and you fight yourself not to punch him in the face.

“That Richards guy? Yeah,” he nods and you almost start screaming in your triumph. This dumbass really did just confess to you, because you had your ass and tits out for him!

“Cool. What’s your name, big guy? Wanna know who I’ll think of when I touch myself later,” you pant into his ear, you need him to say his name otherwise the confession might go to shit.

“I’m Axel, babygirl,” he grins, leaning dangerously close to you, he clearly wants to push his tongue down your throat but you push yourself away and up from his lap.

“Our time is up, big boy. See you later!” you sing and walk out of the room while he is still kind of zoned out.

The moment you are out, you start running. You can’t have him realize what just happened and stop you. Pushing your way back to the dressing room you grab all your stuff and spring out of the building. Harry is standing at the entrance, his ridiculous disguise is gone as he spots you with wide eyes. He probably heard everything and wanted to be there for you when you get out and as soon as you reach him he grabs your hand and the two of you run to the car. Right when you get into the car, you spot Axel running out from the front entrance and he definitely realized what just happened.

“Hey! Get back here you slut!” he shouts as Harry starts the car and you melt into the seat, scared of what’s about to happen because you see Axel reach to his back and the next thing you know is that he has a gun in his hand.

“Harry! Go!” you scream when you see him aim at the car and right at that moment, the wheels screech as Harry pushes the gas pedal to the fullest and the car yanks forward.

Your heart drops to the floor when a bullet shoots into the side of the car as Axel tries to stop the two of you. Harry takes a sharp turn and leaves the car park with full speed. You see Axel from the mirror, he is raging and keeps shooting after you, but he has no aim or whatsoever. You reach the end of the street and you feel like you can finally breathe again.

“Oh shit, fuck,” you mumble, chest heaving as you grab onto the armrest for some kind of leverage, your adrenaline is still pumping through your veins from the action movie-like scene that just happened.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” Harry asks, eyes dancing between the road ahead of him and you as he tries to figure out if anything happened to you.

“I-I’m fine, he was just… fucking nasty to deal with you,” you groan at the thought of his hands on you. You’ll need the hottest shower after this, that’s for sure. “Go to the station, we gotta bring the tape in now,” you tell him as you reach into your corset. Pulling the recorder out you huff in relief, it’s been pressed into you for way too long. The tape is still rolling so you end it and then rewind it, checking if everything you need is on it. Luckily, it caught the whole thing perfectly, that means Harry is not going to jail. Well, not this time at least.

He is speeding down the streets as you get rid of the wig and put on your coat, you don’t want to walk into the police station dressed like a hooker and have the word spread that Robert’s sister has been making money some other way lately.

Arriving to the station you hold the recorder so tightly as if your life depends on it while Harry reaches for your other hand and firmly holds it in his warm palm. You walk inside and immediately spot Jeremy at the front desk. Letting go of Harry’s hand you run up to him.

“Jer, I got evidence for the Richards case! I got a confession on tape,” you beam at him holding the recorder up. He gives you a stunned look as he takes the recorder.

“Confession? How do you—“ He is cut off when you hear Harry’s voice from behind you.

“Hey! What the fuck!” he snaps and as you turn around you see that two officers are already on him, trying to handcuff him. Jeremy quickly forgets about the recorder as he joins in on strangling Harry. but you grab his arm and try to pull back.

“No! He didn’t do it! Listen to the tape!” you cry out, desperate to end this mess, but it feels like no one is listening to you.

“Harry Styles, you are under arrest for the murder of Dave Richards. You have the right…” One of the officers starts saying the usual speech as they drag Harry away while you are begging to Jeremy to listen to you.

“Jeremy! He didn’t fucking do it!” you scream, tears rolling down your face.

“What do you mean?” he asks giving you a puzzled look. It was Axel Morris! One of Hugo McKain’s men! They are trying to frame Harry!” you explain, while Harry is being taken away. “Harry, no!” you shout after them, but the officers don’t stop.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I’ll be fine!” he calls after you before he disappears from your vision.

“Jeremy, please just listen to the fucking tape! I got his confession!”

“I’ll look into it, but I’m afraid Harry is spending the night here,” he sighs, looking down at the recorder before he walks away.

“Fuck, no!” you choke out.

When you finally stop crying you rush out of the building and call your brother, not even caring that it’s past midnight. He better answer your call or you are showing up at his house and start banging on his door until he opens it.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” he growls into the phone.

“Robert, they fucking took Harry in! I had the confession on tape, but they just wouldn’t listen, they arrested him!”

“Hey, slow down, what are you talking about?”

Taking a deep breath you tell him the whole story. The club, the dance, the confession and then how you came straight to the station but they arrested Harry without listening to you.

“Alright, you can’t do much now, Y/N. He is still a suspect but I’ll call Jeremy to look into the tape. If it’s found relevant Harry will be out in the morning okay?”

“Please come in early in the morning and make sure he is let out, please!” you cry out, feeling so helpless after everything that just happened.

“I will. Meet me at the station at six, okay? It’ll be alright. Go home, have some sleep and then we’ll make everything right in the morning.”

You do as Robert asked, go home, have a shower, wash the night off of your skin and lie in bed however you are not able to sleep, not even for a minute. You keep thinking about Harry and what might be happening to him now. They better get their shit together and let him out in the morning or you are losing your mind. You didn’t go through all this just to have him put behind bars anyway.

It’s not even six when you are already at the station, anxiously waiting for Robert to show up. You keep glancing up at the building, thinking about how Harry is somewhere in there and you can only hope he’ll be out with you shortly.

When Robert arrives he goes straight up to check out the situation with the tape and Harry. Waiting for him down in the hall is nerve-wrecking, you feel like time has stopped. When he finally appears again you jump to your feet running up to him with high hopes.

“The tape has been examined, it was classified as evidence. Jeremy has already put out an arrest warrant on Axel. Harry is no longer a suspect. He’ll be down once the paperwork is done.”

“Oh thank God!” you breathe out and throw yourself at him, hugging him tighter than ever.

“Look, but there is something I need to talk to you about,” he says with a serious look.

“Okay, what is it?”

“We might be able to get this Axel guy, but I’m pretty sure Hugo is already after the two of you. We have a whole team for him, working on catching him finally, but it might be smart if you just left town for a little.”

“Oh. Yeah, sounds logical,” you nod.

“Let me know if you need help with that. I can arrange something for you.”

“We’ll see. I have to talk to Harry first.”

“Harry, huh?” Robert smirks down at you knowingly and you feel yourself blushing. A lot has changed lately around you and Harry and you guess it’s quite evident for everyone else as well. “Just so you know, he asked about you during the night. Wanted to know if you are alright.”

“Yeah?” you breathe out with a small smile.

“Yes. Might have been wrong about him a little. Tell him I said hello, I need to get to work now,” he nods with a fond smile.

“Thank you, Robert!” you call after him as he waves in your way before disappearing in the elevator.

Waiting around in the hall you keep looking towards the hallway, hoping to see him appear finally, but the minutes are just dragging by way too slowly.

You’re impatiently sitting on one of the benches by the wall when you finally see him walking down the hallway, leisurely running his hand through his hair, a tired smile sitting on his lips when he sees you leap from your seat and launch at him, throwing yourself into his arms.

“Hey, hey! It’s all good, Love. Told you not to worry about me,” he chuckles, but holds you tight anyway, his arms wrapping around you as he lifts you off the ground, taking a few steps forward.

“Of course I fucking worry about you, idiot!” you mumble into his neck before leaning back you look at his pretty face.

“Yeah? Does this mean I had the right to worry about you last night?”

“You were?”

“Fuck yes,” he laughs. “You have no idea what it was like to sit outside and listen to everything that fucker told you. Wanted to punch him in the face so badly.”

“So heroic,” you grin at him, your face already inching closer to his, arms still wrapped around his neck.

“Only for my favorite stripper,” he winks at you, making you gasp.

“If you dare to bring it up again and call me a stripper, I swear to God I—“

You don’t get to finish your threat, because his hand snakes to the back of your neck and he pulls you into a hard kiss, his lips smashing against yours. Melting into the kiss you open your mouth for him without hesitation, his tongue meeting yours as he kisses you with so much vigor and passion, he makes you bend your back, leaning back as he holds you firmly in his strong arms. And suddenly, you feel like you’re seventeen again, making out with your high school crush in the school hallway, luckily, you are kissing the same person you wanted then.

“I’m fucking starving, babe,” he breathes out once you finally pull away from each other. “For you as well, but can we get some real food?” he asks as he laces his fingers together with yours, heading out of the station.

“Sure,” you chuckle. “Hey, there’s something we need to talk about.”

“Love, told you, you can handcuff me to the bedframe, I’m into that stuff.”

“Shut up!” you laugh smacking his chest as the two of you walk out to your car. “It’s not about that,” you murmur with a soft blush. “Robert said we should leave for a while, Hugo might be after us after what happened last night.”

“Yeah, thought about that myself too,” he nods as he gets behind the wheel without even asking if you want him to drive or not.

“So what should we do?” you question, sitting in the comfort of your car. Harry reaches for your hand and brings it up to his mouth, kissing your knuckles softly before he smirks at you.

“Have you been to Ireland, Love?”

“No,” you breathe out, a little stunned by the question.

“I have a friend over there, I’m sure he would love to have us there for a while. What do you say?”

“Are you for real? You want to go to Ireland with me?”

“Yeah, would be fun, don’t you think?”

“Okay,” you smile in awe. Even after that kiss you had doubts he would want to run away with you for the time being. But he is definitely planning to have you around longer. “Yeah, Ireland sounds fun.”

“Great. Then let’s head home to pack,” he smirks, starting the car. “Oh, Love?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t forget to bring your handcuffs,” he grins and you just laugh at his smugness before leaning closer to kiss him quickly before the two of you finally drive away from the station.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #dead or alive

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petri808 · 3 years

Note

OHMYGODDD JUST SAW YOUR LATEST POST I LOVE IT ANGST WITH A HAPPY ENDING IS JUST CHEF'S KISS. I WOULD LOVE TO SEE 42, 49 and 13 FOR NALU PLEASEEE CAN'T WAIT TO READ ITT

😳 Ya’ll really love angst huh? Lol okay, sure let’s see what I can come up with. 😊 “You can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen, cause guess what? It did!” + “I’m pregnant” + “Im too sober for this”

Lucy’s knees weakened and sent her crumbling to the bathroom floor. Why was this happening to her?! She’d just finished college and was about to start her paid internship with a local newspaper. ‘What am I gonna do?’ Lucy gripped to the stick in her hand as the tears trickled down her face. This could derail her future before it even started— all because of one slip-up. How was she going to tell Natsu… Not knowing who else to talk to, Lucy turned to her best friend Levy McGarden. She texted the woman and drove over to her friends apartment in dread.

“Oh, Lu…” Levy hugged her friend tightly before pulling her into the small apartment. She sat Lucy down on the couch, then made them both some tea. “How you feeling?” Levy asked as she handed the cup over.

“How do you think I’m feeling?!” Lucy groaned. “I feel like I’m in a nightmare.”

“Are you sure the results are correct? You know those home pregnancy tests can be wrong.”

“I don’t know, I mean I followed the instructions and it didn’t give an error sign.” Lucy pulled the stick from her pocket. “See?” She showed it to her friend. “Two lines.”

“Oh— yeah, looks like it,” Levy agreed.

Lucy pocketed the test once again and hung her head. Both hands cradled the warm cup, just holding it without a desire to drink from it. “Just thinking about this is making me sick. Maybe I can just pretend it’s not true.”

“Lu, that’s ridiculous. I’m pretty sure the growing bump on your stomach will make that difficult.”

“Ugh! I know!” Lucy shrieked. “Lie to me or something… Levy, I-I don’t think I can deal with this!”

“Well, you have to. And how am I supposed to lie about this?!”

“I don’t know, tell me this is a dream. Just a bad dream that I’m gonna wake up from. The test was wrong, something! Maybe it’s just a fiction story I’m working on cause I just don’t wanna think about it right now.”

“I’m sorry, but you can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen, cause guess what? It did! Lucy you have to face reality.”

“What am I gonna do Levy? I can’t be having a baby!”

“Well first things first, you need to tell Natsu— I’m assuming it’s Natsu.”

“Of course, it’s Natsu! I haven’t slept with anyone else.”

“Well you need to tell him. He deserves to know.”

“I know…”

“Natsu’s a stand up guy, I know he’s going to do the right thing.”

Lucy sighed, “that’s not what I worry about. I mean having kids is something that’s crossed my mind… just not anytime soon. We’re not even married yet. Ugh! I’m such an idiot.”

“Sometimes these things happen.” Levy placed her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Can’t go back to the past, so now all you can do is figure out the now. Do you have any idea when it happened?”

“My guess is my graduation party, cause that was the last time we had sex. I barely even remember it cause I was so drunk,” Lucy whimpered, then started to sob. “We’re usually careful but… yeah, it had to be that.”

“Come here,” Levy pulled her friend into a hug. “You’re gonna be okay. Whatever happens, you’re gonna be okay.”

The women spent a couple more hours chatting, flipping between random topics, but often coming back to this one. Lucy struggled to even wrap her mind around the reality that this is real. That she was going to have a child, when she was barely an adult herself and all the factors involved only compounded her dilemma. Her new job isn’t going to afford a child. Natsu had a decent job, but even combined it would be a struggle. They’d have to find a place together, a two bedroom house or apartment. What about the medical expenses, and the baby supplies— babies are expensive! Where was the money going to come from?

When Lucy noticed the time and realized Natsu would be coming home from work within the hour, she thanked her friend for the support and bid her goodbye. Even though she had calmed down a little, she wasn’t ready, didn’t know what or how she was going to break the news to him. So, after arriving home, Lucy tried to distract herself by cooking dinner. It didn’t really work, but at least a meal was made. Her life until now had been going well in that she had a boyfriend who treated her right, supported her while she finished her degree, even pushed her to follow her dreams of writing. And now that her degree was finished, Lucy was on her way after landing the paid internship. If she passed the internship, they would offer her a permanent position at the newspaper.

But now all of that felt like it was slipping through her fingers. All her hard work for nothing because juggling a small child and going to work… Maternity leave is not paid, so they’ll have to rely on just one income for a time, then daycare is quite expensive. Sure, there are programs that she could apply for to help or family, but that’s not the point— the point is, they are sorely not ready to become parents.

“I’m home!” Natsu called out as he entered the apartment. “Something smells good!”

“Welcome home, Natsu.” Lucy called out from the kitchen. “It’s almost done.”

Natsu detected a change in his girlfriend’s tone. Usually when he gets home, she’s in a happier mood— but not today. He threw his keys onto the kitchen island and walked up, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Everything okay?”

Whatever words she’d planned to say were thrown out the window as tears pooled instantly in Lucy’s eyes. “Natsu, it’s…”the words stumbled out, “um… I-I’m pregnant.”

“P-Preg…nant?!” Natsu took a step back in shock, his trembling hand moving to cover his mouth. “Oh, wow— I’m too sober for this,” he mumbled.

“Pregnant,” she repeated as the sobs broke free. “And alcohol is what got us into this mess!” Lucy snapped and sobbed louder.

“Oh, h-hey now, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” Natsu pulled her into his arms. “Don’t cry baby, please don’t cry, I hate seeing you cry.”

“Natsu, I’m pregnant, did you hear me?! Pregnant! I can’t be pregnant!”

“Shh… I hear you,” he gently coaxed Lucy to the couch and had her sit down, then sat beside her, cradling her close. “True, it’s not the best time… but we can make it work.”

“You don’t understand, I’m not ready, Natsu. I don’t think I could handle it…” all the reasons refreshing in her mind. “I have no experience with with kids. What if we screw up? It’s just…” Lucy sighed. “I think… I’m too overwhelmed right now.”

“Okay, well— they make those things now, the, um, end pregnancy stuff.”

“I don’t know…”

“Lucy, I’ll support whatever decision you make.”

“You say that now, but later you’ll probably resent me for… kil— doing that,” she mumbled.

“I don’t know that so neither can you. All I do know is that yes it might hurt— but you’re the important thing right now, and if you say you’re not ready, then I have to accept it. Kids are never easy, I doubt all the preparation in the world can really make a difference. But Lucy,” he took her hand and held it to his chest. “As long as I’ve known you, whatever you choose to do you’re great at it.”

“Really?” She looked up with hope filling her eyes for the first time all day.

Natsu smiled. “And who better to start a family with?” He cupped her cheeks and kissed her. “Then a smart, sassy, beautiful woman like you.”

Lucy’s eyes flooded with tears. “You really think we can make it work?”

He nodded. “As long as it’s something we really want, then yeah.”

After a momentary pause, Lucy let out a long stabilizing exhale. “Okay. I’ll call my doctor and make an appointment tomorrow to check.”

“Really? Y-You sure? Because I don’t want you to feel like I’m trying to coax you into this.”

“No, I-I’m pretty— sure. Things sometimes happen for a reason, right? Maybe it’s meant to be.”

Natsu pulled her in for another longer kiss. “Guess I better hurry up and marry you then,” he chuckled.

She snorted a laugh. “I guess so mister!”

He pulled her close again, hugging her to his chest. “I love you so much baby.”

“Mmm, I love you too.”

“My own baby momma,” he teased.

Lucy slapped his chest with a giggling shriek. “Don’t you dare call me that!”

“Oh,” he grinned, “I’m totally getting t-shirts made.”

#fairy tail #nalu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nalu drabble #nalu fan fic #nalu fan fiction #nalu au #pregnancy

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starkidpotty · 3 years

Text

Should’ve Known Better [GW]

After the Second Wizarding War, the wizarding world faces a great recession that puts you and George in financially and morally compromising situations.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: swearing and terrible use of tenses (im sorry for the grammar)

A/N: written for angst prompt #14 for @kalimagik‘s 1.3k writing challenge!! congrats on 1.3k again!! <3

You had always been good–exceptional, actually–at writing since your teenage years. Essays you’ve written for work assigned by Professor Flitwick managed you top marks. Hell, even Snape commended your writing from time to time (if he wasn’t too busy taking away points from Gryffindor.) Throughout your years at Hogwarts, you entered multiple wizarding writing competitions and won them all. It made sense to you to seek out a job at the Daily Prophet after graduating from Hogwarts to put those writing skills to good use.

Your first year at the Daily Prophet was difficult, to say the least. You were paid almost next to nothing and writing on an empty stomach while worrying if you had enough galleons to pay rent was terrible for your creative process. On top of that, it seems as though whatever piece you made never satisfied your boss, Angel Hornbeam, editor of the Tragedies and Mishaps section of the paper. Each piece you wrote was either sent back with red ink splattered across the parchment with scathing comments on how sophomoric & crass your writing was or outright discarded. You didn’t know what Angel hated more: you or your writing.

There you were walking down Diagon Alley after a grueling day at work. You made two pieces today–only two pieces–that were immediately thrown out to the rejection pile at the corner of Angel’s office. Roan Staghart, a colleague of yours, accidentally spilled pumpkin juice all over you which Angel pointed out and subsequently prompted her to give you a long-winded lecture on how unbecoming it was to sport such an unprofessional appearance in a place of work. You made your way down Diagon Alley with your path only being illuminated by the lights in the shops you passed. You were downtrodden and hungry and lonely and unmotivated and uninspired. You thought about the eviction notice plastered to your flat’s door that you received earlier that day before heading off to work. You thought about the empty pantry in said flat, which then reminded you of your empty wallet. Lost in thought and not looking directly straight ahead, you ram your head straight into the open door of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Your arse lands on the cobblestoned path and you’re clutching your bleeding nose with your right hand, while your left provides support.

“Merlin, I’m sorry!” says one of the Weasley twins as he hurriedly walks toward you.

“Georgie, go get her some ice.” says the twin to the other behind him, still clutching the door open.

“Fred, right? Sorry, I’m shite at telling you and your brother apart.” You say while letting out a humourless chuckle, wincing in pain as you clutch your nose. Fred crouches down to your level.

“S’alright, just know I’m the better looking one.” He pauses, “You’re [Y/N], you were in [Hogwarts House], correct? I remember you selling a pre-written essay to Lee in our fourth year. T’was the only he got an O for, if I recall.” says Fred with a joking grin. George runs back with ice wrapped in a handkerchief which he passes to Fred, which Fred passes to you.

“Had to make money to buy butterbeer at Hogsmeade somehow.” You answer him as you bring the wrapped ice to your nose. Both the brothers smile at you and you smile back.

“Fred and I were actually headed off to dinner at our flat, join us. I suppose it’s the least we could do after the damage we’ve inflicted onto your poor nose.” George proposes.

“I couldn’t impose–”

“Nonsense!” They say in unison. Fred offers you a hand, which you graciously take. He pulls you up and you walk with them to their flat.

You were now at the Weasley twins’ shared flat at the edge of Diagon Alley. It was the best meal you’ve had in weeks, not to mention the twins’ presence was a morale booster in itself. Dinner lasted an hour, but the conversations after lasted well into the night. You wondered why you weren’t friends with the twins during their school years. Perhaps if you detached your hand from your favorite quill and parchment, you would have been. Regardless, that night sparked a friendship.

You were stopping by the shop on your way home from work on the daily and the twins enjoyed your presence so much so they offered you a small, part-time job as a stock keeper as a means to keep yourself afloat while your work your way up the Daily Prophet ladder. They’d come to visit you in their spare time at your dinky flat on the border of Knockturn and Diagon alley. As hard as your first year at the Daily was, your newfound friendship with Fred and George made it all the worthwhile. While you and Fred remained friends, you and George had begun to engage in a shameless “flirtationship” as you coined–always dancing on the border of friends and being more than friends. Stealing kisses in the shop, holding hands underneath dinner tables, George reasoning out to Fred that you needed help at your flat only for him to spend the night, writing little notes for George before he left in the morning. Everyone around you knew you and George were it, as much as you and he tried to suppress it. One day, George decided to make it real and official.

Your personal life had improved immensely after your horrendous first year as a journalist. You were dating George Weasley, your pantry was always full now, and you didn’t have to worry about getting evicted anymore. Your work life wasn’t as terrible as before as Angel Hornbeam turned over a new leaf and was much more forgiving at work. You were finally given a small promotion–not a choice Angel made, but by a higher-up as you stayed loyal to the good of the wizarding world–which offered you enough stability to leave the shop.

The wizarding world at this point in time, however, was not improving. Death eaters infiltrated the ministry and your beloved Hogwarts. They started censoring pieces at the Daily Prophet, much to your chagrin. You couldn’t write or report about tragedies happening as the Death Eaters wanted the media to depict dark wizards as righteous and justify their actions. You moved over to making crossword puzzles for the paper as opposed to spewing lies about Lord Voldemort and his mission to take over the wizarding world. Fred and George had to close down shop for the time being as the Weasleys went into hiding.

Then the Battle of Hogwarts happened. You fought alongside Fred and George, casting spells and charms. Blasting death eaters left and right. You did everything you could to fight against the Death Eaters. But you couldn’t save Fred, nor could George. George was never the same after Fred’s death and neither were you. You were both deeply resigned to grieving and still continue to do so everyday. The sun still rose and set like it always did, but Fred was gone and the world just kept spinning. It left you and George no time to breathe.

The wizarding world slowly built itself back up after the war, with Kingsley Shacklebolt acting as the Minister for Magic. He’d done a bloody good job of it. He purged out the dark wizards from the ministry and from the Daily Prophet, effectively returning most things back to normal. You were back to writing in the Tragedies and Mishap department, but the wizarding world hit a great recession after the war. People were losing jobs left and right; you knew for a fact that your neck was next on the chopping board if you didn’t come up with a good piece soon. Though George was slowly reopening the shop, with the help of his family, it wasn’t enough to keep you and he afloat. Losing this job would bring your right back to where you were your first year out of Hogwarts and you were determined to avoid that.

It was 3 o’clock in the afternoon, two hours to the end of the work week. You haven’t written anything substantial in a while and your desk was evidence. The brown wood was stained with droplets of stray ink from your quill, but they weren’t as obvious because of the crumpled pieces of ripped parchment scattered across the desk. Your hand was ink-stained and your hair was in disarray. To say the least, you looked a mess.

“[Y/N], I need you in my office,” Angel called out to you, peering out of her office door.

You stood up, straightening out your top, trying to look as presentable as possible. Walking over to her office catches the attention of your many officemates. Your stomach begins to feel like a vacuum, sucking in all the air around you, ineffectively trying to get you to breathe. Were your fears getting realized? Was this it for your writing career? So many thoughts raced in your head as you walked–slogged, rather–the distance from your desk to Angel’s office. You reach the archway of her door and she instructs you to close it. You gulp heavily.

“Yes, Angel? Anything I could do for you?” You anxiously choke out. You feel like your guts are about to unceremoniously find its way out your mouth and onto her office floor.

Her office was decorated all in black, from her quills to her velvet wallpaper. Angel stood out in the gloomy decor of her office, sporting an all-white outfit. She says it’s a metaphor–tragedies are both light and dark, simultaneously and she wants to embody that. A little pretentious, but she’s right nonetheless.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m not going to fire you, darling.” Darling, a term of endearment, but never when it came from Angel’s lips. “I’m close, but I won’t. I have a proposition”

You look at her intently, your eyes almost bulging.

“I want an editorial piece on grief and love. I want romance wrapped in despair, topped with angst.” Angel mused.

“I beg your pardon?” You muster out.

“Write about lost love, the war did just happen–it’ll be fresh, uncut,” Angel pauses for dramatic effect, “Absolutely raw.” She clenches her fist in such a theatrical manner, it's almost comical.

You stay silent, unsure of what to say or do. Your face must’ve looked bewildered, as she slouches and rolls her eyes.

“Godric, I want you to interview someone who lost the love of their life because of the war, so to speak. It’ll do wonders for readership. Have you read that muggle story–Romeo and Juliet? Love and tragedy create such a spicy little mix.” She says in response to your look.

“Wouldn’t that be exploitative, no? Everyone’s still grieving.” You question Angel.

“That’s journalism.” Angel’s brows are furrowed and you can tell she’s trying to control her temper. “I better have a damn well-written editorial on my desk come Monday morning. May I remind you, you are the last of your colleagues to have either been promoted up or let go. Do you want to be the latter?”

You gulp, she hasn’t threatened you since your first year at the office. You shakily let out a soft no. She returns with a softly-said good and points you to the direction of her door.

You were on your way home to you and George’s shared flat in Diagon Alley. Your mind was raking itself for who you could possibly call to satisfy Angel’s wants. The gears were grinding hard until you had the aha moment–Angelina. Her and Fred’s relationship was complicated to say the least. They weren’t friends but they weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, but they didn’t want to see other people. You could no longer recall what they were and with Fred gone, the answer didn’t seem to matter anymore. The “almost” aspect of the relationship would provide the angst–unfinished business, if you will. Fred’s death and the love that could’ve been. You lit up at the ideas forming in your head, but you feel your conscience gnawing at you. However, you and George had to keep the lights on somehow.

George had beaten you home that night and was eating a packed dinner from Molly on your couch. You hang your bag on the rack next to the door, taking your coat off as well. You walk over to George, plotting your body next to him. Resting your head against his shoulder you say, “How was your day?”

You each share quips about your days at work, leaving out Angel’s request entirely. A silence ensues and you find this to be the most opportune moment to ask him.

“D’you mind having Angelina over tomorrow? A light catch-up? Haven’t seen her since, well, y’know when.” You ask George. His face stiffens.

“Alright, would be good to see an old friend, yeah?” He manages to say. He gets up to write an owl to Angelina. He sends the owl off and within the hour, Angelina’s response comes back. She agrees.

It’s the day of your interview-not-interview with Angelina. You are in the bathroom getting ready while George waits by the door for Angelina. Your self-writing quill for note taking and its accompanying notebook are hidden in a cupboard at the corner of the kitchen that could not be seen from the dining room, ready to start writing at your will.

“Love, Angelina’s here!” George says through the bathroom door. You quickly get out, rounding the corner to get to the living room and see Angelina sat on your sofa. You bring her in for a hug which she happily returns, you feel the guilt creep up again. You try and dismiss the feeling as hard as you can but it lingers like an unwanted guest. Trying to ease your nerves, you invite her to the dining room, where food you cooked in the morning lay waiting.

Angeline told stories about her life as a bigtime Quidditch match commentator and you entertained her with stories from the Sports department. You were both marveling at how much time has changed things since your graduation from Hogwarts to the war to life now. Now’s a good a time as any, your mind reasons out. You muster what little courage you had and shift the topic over to Fred.

“So, Angelina, how have you been holding up, since the battle?” You ask her. George looks at you strangely, as he notes the shift and tone in your voice.

“Uh, well I’m here. Coping. Grieving.” She responds.

“We’re here for you, tell us more.” You say, trying to probe more information out of her. A slimy feeling makes itself known in the insides of your stomach and you try your hardest to ignore it.

Angelina stays silent and then starts, “It’s been rough, Fred–” The winning ticket.

“What about Fred? It was a bit complicated before he died.” Cutting her off, you were siphoning as much information as you can.

“Yes, it was. You know that.” Angelina deflected, but she continued. “I wish there was more time. More time with him.” Her voice grew heavy, but you tried to turn up the pressure.

“Tell me, what would you have done with that time? Were there things you would’ve said? Done?”

Angelina takes an ugly pause.

“Well?” You don’t mean to say this in such a crass and impatient manner, but you do.

At this point, George stands up. He gets uncomfortable and goes to the cupboard to fetch himself a glass of water. As he inches to the cupboard, he hears scratching noises like a quill writing on parchment. He knows exactly what you’re doing now. Opening the cupboard he sees your quill and notebook scribbling away. On the pad is written, “‘A love lost, an almost,’ says Angelina as she begins to tell me about what could’ve been had Fred avoided his untimely death…” George stopped reading. It clicks in George’s head now. It explains the sudden decision to send an owl over to her last night. George’s jaw tenses up.

He grabs a glass, closing the cupboard, while leaving the quill and notebook in there. He heads to the front of the refrigerator where you’d be unable to see him. It gives him time to rethink his next move while calming down. He knew journalism would be gross, but he didn’t think you’d prey on your friends–especially since you knew how everyone was still mourning the loss of his twin brother.

Angelina begins to cry from the other room, but you continue to hound her with questions. “What would you be doing now if Fred were still around? Do you still dream of a life with him? What else have you been doing to fill the space? Do you wish there was more you could’ve done?” The words were practically marathoning out your mouth. The guilt in you subsides and all you feel now is a desire to get the truth out of Angelina. It’s as though you were watching this unfold from the corner of the room; it wasn’t you shoving questions down Angelina’s throat, but an entirely different entity.

“Merlin, will you stop!” Angelina boomed. “I’m leaving. I missed you and George, I really did. But, how dare you. We’re all grieving and if this is your sick at attempt at therapy, I’ve damn near had it.”

You’re silent and you feel yourself float back to your body, sat in front of a tearful and red-faced Angelina. She angrily gets up, dropping her fork onto the table. She makes a beeline for the coat rack, grabbing her things, and leaves–making sure to slam the door.

“What the fuck was that, [Y/N]?” George shot at you, as he emerged from the kitchen. He was holding his glass of water with his fingers by the brim, both his arms by his side. The expression plastered on his face was a mixture between disappointed, frustration, and anger. You stay silent.

“Answer me, what was that?” George repeats again. You still stay silent, you don’t know how to answer him. “Were you trying to make a piece out of Angelina?”

You look down at your lap repentantly. “Angel said she’d fire me if I didn’t.”

George makes his way over to you, placing his glass on the dining room table. He doesn’t take a seat, instead he looks down at you in anger.

“She’s our friend. She’s grieving, mourning–like you and me fucking both.” George was fuming, “You were being a prick and I didn’t like it, obviously neither did Angelina. I could say more, but out of respect, I won’t.”

“George, we have to eat one way or another. I didn’t want to lose any more income than we already had!” You tried very hard to justify your reasons as to why.

“At expense of a good friend of ours? Merlin, [Y/N].” George rebutted. “I can’t even look at you right now. I know you love writing, I do. I love your writing, in fact. But, this is low. All for what? A few fucking galleons? Merlin.”

George turns his heel and stomps to the door, grabbing his coat and slamming the door shut in one swift motion. He presumably chases after Angelina to apologize on your behalf. You hang your head, trying to recollect yourself, and think about what to say to Angelina and George.

You decide right then and there that you were going to quit your job at the Daily Prophet–there was always a need for writers in the Wizarding World anyway and jobs of that sort were probably not as exploitative in nature. Deciding to write a Letter of Resignation later that night, you trudge your way to the door, grab your coat, and run after George.

masterlist here

#maggieswinterwritingchallenge #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #harry potter x y/n #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley angst #george weasley #angelina johnson #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n

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blackopiu-m · 4 years

Text

loverboy

pairing : college student!Park Jisung, college student!Reader

Genre : fluff

Warnings : none (?) ok maybe not proofread + english not my native language

yall be kind im noob writer

You fell asleep in the bus on your way to school

If it wasn’t for the cutie emo boy who noticed your university emblem in your backpack

You would’ve fucked up biggie

“Um…excuse me, this is the university stop” he said shyly smiling before getting off the bus

You had to submit your psychology assignment before class starts

Thanks to emo boy who saved your ass you had now time to run to the class and talk to your professor

Ms. Seo, your psychology professor, is someone you admire and she loves how you are passionate about the science she teaches

But err, you have been procrastinating on this assignment for a month now

“Look who finally decided it was time to be serious” she said while you were handing her the papers

“it’s just…a lot of things happened ma’am, I had troubles fixing my schedule at the library and it stressed me so much”

“Alright, I will check it later, go take a seat.”

You took a seat at the back of the class –just in case- you needed to get that sleep

Psychology was your only class for the day

So after the class ended you went to check up on the new assistant in the library

Now that you became a librarian with an income

Hehe money + books = all you could ask for=love

It was part of your job to help the first year students who are going to become librarians toonext year

My assistant is a drama student

She’s so tall; I think she’s 170cm tall?

She was pretty

And pretty famous

The amount of people I catch taking glances at her..whew

I mean she is SO cute

And I look like a potato when I’m standing close to her

My ass 162cm what did you expect

“y/n, hi!” she said all excited “you’re finally here, my first class professor was absent so I decided I could help Kun out here…Oh also, some documents that were supposed to be back yesterday aren’t here…” she said frowning at her notepad

“it’s not that big of a problem, don’t worry, did you tell Kun about it? By the way where is he?” I put my backpack at the receptionist desk, aka my and Kun’s desk then headed to the staff room

“KUN”

Oh here he is

“Kun bestie”

“what do you want” he said, not raising his head from the pile of books he was organizing

“someone forgot to bring back books, what do we do?”

He sounds pissed but trust me he’s not, he’s just busy

He’s a l w a y s busy

Okay not when I need him to help me

Mf such a softie I love him so much

We’ve been besties for two years

But sadly he’s graduating this year :(

I remember he picked me up when it was raining, after I got stood up hhh

That man is my angel

“the ones first year told me about? Don’t worry Jisung will bring them tomorrow, he just texted me”

“Jisung? Who is that?”

“ second year drama student, he’s friends with renjun you don’t know him” he said, finally raising his head from the pile

“I don’t know him, i haven’t talked to renjun in a while”

You got off the shift at 7pm

Kun was in charge of the night shift tonight

Now you can go home

And

s l e e p

of course, your brain had to play all of your embarrassing episodes before it shuts down

and you just remembered the bus guy

man, you forgot you snort while sleeping

bye

this embarrassment is just hitting you

but the guy was cute

and he attends the same uni as you

he was a potential boyfie and you ruined it y/n loser

you have to stop thinking about him and s l e e p

come on you can do it

the next day, all of your classes were online

but you had a night shift starting at 7pm

you threw on a blouse over your cute-brown turtle neck

+ your laptop

Then headed to the library

You discussed with Kun about the internships and the real adult world he will be facing next year

Then he had to leave at 8pm

People were still studying

And you were working on another assignment waiting for the Jisung boy to show up

Half an hour later

You were now watching random youtube videos sitting at your receptionist desk when you felt a silhouette approaching

You raised your head to meet

Emo boy? Cute emo boy?

“Oh, bus guy, what can I help you with?” you said smiling

“Oh hi…I-I am Jisung, I thought Kun is on the night shift today…”

“Ah you’re the drama class boy, don’t worry Kun told me about you ^^ are you giving the books back now?”

“Ah I actually I will need them for two more hours, d-don’t worry I will give them back today promise!”

You chuckled at how cute he was

Aaaa you both were the same age but

He was mocha

You were potato

He’s also so tall? Almost the same height as Kun woah? 180cm damn

“It’s okay, good luck on your work!” you cheered

It was almost midnight, the end of your shift

By that time all students have left exept for Jisung

You thought you could give him some more time to finish whatever assignment he was working on

Twenty minutes past midnight

Ok Jisung you are cute, but I need sleep to be cute too

You finally got up from your desk to go check up on him

And he was…?

Sleeping

You freezed for a second then tried to wake him up

“hey, Jisung, wake up, it’s late”

You lightly nudged his shoulder

And he got up

Hooray

“Oh my, I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was getting late” he started panicking and packing up his stuff

“It’s okay haha, I just need the two books, and you’re free to leave!”

“The books! Yes the books, oh my god I’m so sorry, here” he handed you the books then got out of the library in a hurry

You put the books back where they belong and checked it up on the library’s system

You turned off the lights then closed the building doors

What surprised you though was

Jisung waiting by the door

“It’s late…and you waited for me. I mean you stayed more than your shift t-to not wake me up, I feel sorry…I can walk you home” he said, a blush glowing in his cheeks

“oh you don’t have to! Really, you don’t have to! There are still people using the same road as me at this time, so I won’t be alone!”

“but still-“

“Jisung, it’s not a big deal, don’t worry and get home safe!”

“since you insist, give me your number, how much time will it take for you to get home?”

The confident aura omg? Is this the same person that was stuttering and blushing two minutes ago

You smirked “ nice move, I like you already”

“0XXX-XXX-XXX, call me in about half an hour!”

“and…your name?”

“y/n” you said before leaving “good night!”

“good…night y/n!”

h-hi ha how u like that?

how was this?

bulleted aus are my forte £|’dnsl

#nct au #nct aus #nct fluff #nct 2020 #nct scenarios #nct smut #park jisung #jisung #qian kun #nct kun #bulleted list

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

Note

maybe? 👉👈 steve taking a really long time with college (like on one year and off one yours year, on, off, on, off) and he still doesn't really know what he wants to do and he gets really frustrated bc billy just did college all in one go and steve is taking forever and he feels down on himself? idk im feeling the whump rn???

Steve had left high school having no idea what he wanted from the rest of his life.

That’s not true, he had some idea.

He knew he wanted to leave Hawkins, follow Billy wherever he was going. He knew he wanted to be with Billy for the rest of his life, he knew he wanted to leave the past behind and make new friends, people who were kind, and fun, and didn’t bat an eye when Billy pulled him into his lap.

But that’s about it.

So when Billy graduates high school, and gets a full ride to UC Berkeley, and they move into a cheap apartment in downtown Oakland, Steve is so happy that he got out.

He gets a job waiting tables at a restaurant down the street, pays half the rent and buys the groceries while Billy’s in class.

But then two years pass, and Billy’s soaring through college, working to his degrees, plural, because he just couldn’t decide between studying English Literature or Biology with a focus in research.

So he’s majoring in both and getting a minor in Italian because then I’ll know what you’re sayin’ when you start horny babblin’.

And Steve was at the same restaurant.

True, he was assistant manager now, and it came with a pretty okay raise, and he even gets dental insurance, but he feels so stuck.

So he enrolls in community college.

He starts with some general classes, still completely unsure of what he wants to study.

Billy said it was okay to just rule out things you don’t want to study, to nearly fail a math course and know that accounting is not for you.

So when Steve finishes his first year, he at least knows what he doesn’t want to pursue.

Meanwhile Billy has an internship at a lab through Kaiser Permanente. And he can read and write Italian than Steve can.

Steve is walking home from his job at the restaurant when it happens. He’s crossing the street, and gets hit by a car.

He’s taken to the hospital, where he’s informed of a fractured spine and another concussion.

He’s told his injury could’ve been much more severe, that he will not experience paralysis, but he needs physical therapy and walking will be difficult for a while.

Their finances take a big hit.

Billy’s internship doesn’t pay super well, and with Steve being unable to work for the foreseeable future, he’s fired.

Billy has insurance through the school, but because on paper, he and Steve have no real relation, Steve’s medical bills come out of pocket.

So Steve is bedridden for months. He can’t work or get groceries, or do fucking anything but lay there.

They can’t afford physical therapy.

But Billy has a friend studying to be a PT, and she comes over every Saturday, and practices her technique on him in exchange for ten bucks and a few beers.

And so the money Steve tucked away for school is rapidly diminishing.

By the time Billy graduates, Steve is a year into recovery. He still gets dizzy at odd intervals, and his back gets stiff when it rains, but Billy gets a job right away, doing research on flu vaccines.

And Steve goes back to work.

He gets a desk job, something he won’t have to be on his feet all day for. He works reception for a message therapist, which comes with free massages, which work wonders on his back.

So in the fall, he decides to give his education another shot.

He learns that history is not for him, and that his nutrition course was fine until they began looking into how the body processes nutrients, and he was fucking lost. He takes a few business classes, thinking, hoping genetics would take over and this is something he could do.

But his dad was right to take away the job opportunity at his own firm. Steve was not cut out for this.

After a year of research, Billy is promoted three times. He ends up working on some extremely important study that Steve does not understand for the fucking life of him.

But he sits and listens every time Billy explains what he did that day, even though Steve gets so sad when Billy mentions having to kill the lab mice to study their bodies.

So Steve is two years into community college, five years into living in Oakland with Billy, and he still is lost.

He takes a semester off, working more hours, trying to save up some money.

Because Billy is beginning to think about grad school, and that shit’s not cheap.

But Billy decides to postpone that, work for a few more years, and besides, he’s caught between studying something to put him in a research field, or just straight up going to medical school to study infectious disease.

Because Billy could. He’s smart enough for medical school, smart enough to research and be a doctor.

And Steve has a smushy spine and half a degree in nothing.

A semester off turns into a year.

A year and a semester.

Two years.

They’ve been in California for seven years, and Billy gets into grad school in San Diego. They move south and Billy spends late nights pursuing a Masters in Immunology.

And Steve works the front desk at a pediatrician’s office.

He’s flipping through a course catalog from the San Diego Community College when Billy comes home from his new job, the position he got after applying to only three labs.

He kissed the top of Steve’s head, moving to grab himself a beer from the fridge.

“You thinkin’ of going back?”

“I don’t know.” Steve slid the catalog closed. “Is it even worth it?”

“That’s something you have to decide.” Billy sat down, sliding the catalog towards him. Steve had crossed off the classes he had already taken, the ones he new he wouldn’t like. “And you know, going to school isn’t the only option. You could get an apprenticeship, master a trade.”

“I can’t do anything where I need to bend over for really any length of time. So that rules out plumber, and car mechanic, and anything physical like construction, or landscaping or even general contracting is right out.”

Steve could feel the old shame, the doubt and the self hatred crawling up his spine.

“I have nothing to offer. I have no discerning skills, and in seven years I’ve only made it through two years of goddamn community college, and here you are, ripping through grad school like a fourth degree is easy.”

“Stevie, you’ve got a lot to offer. We just gotta find something that suits you.” He took Steve’s pen, turning to the back page of the catalog. “Okay, we’re gonna write down all of you strengths, and think of career paths that could fit those. I’ll go first, you’re extremely caring. You’d be good at any career where you care for people.”

“But I can’t study nursing or something, I barely understood my biology 101 course. Plus, nurses are strong. I can’t lift more than like, thirty pounds.”

“There’re way more caring fields than nursing, Pretty Boy. Although I would love if you were my nurse.” Billy smirked at him, leaning in to plant a sloppy kiss to Steve’s cheek as he rolled his eyes. “Another strength: your emotional intelligence is through the fucking roof.” He wrote it down. “Okay, I’ve said tow, so you say one.”

“Um, I think that I’m good at making people laugh?”

“Yes! You are. Perfect.” Billy scribbled it down. “You’re a good leader.”

“I’m pretty good at reading people.” Billy wrote Intuitive, can smell a douchebag from a mile away.

“You’re good under pressure.”

“Sometimes.”

“Every time I’ve seen. You’re good at keeping calm and keeping others calm.”

“I guess.”

“Nah, Stevie. Positives only. Say a strength.”

“I’m, uh, I’m good at, bilingual?” Billy stared at him. “Like, I’m bilingual.”

“Are you sure? I don’t think that was English, even.” Steve slapped his chest, Billy laughed. “I’m joking. You are bilingual. You’re also really good at making others feel safe.”

“I was always pretty alright at public speaking.”

“You’ve got a great eye for detail.”

“I’m good at teamwork, and delegating.”

“You’re really compassionate, too.” Billy drew a line under the strengths side. “Okay, so now we’ve got some of your strengths, think about what you’d want in a job, and we can match everything up and think about some careers that could fit.” Steve nodded, racking his brain.

“Um, I would want to work with kind people, I would kind of like to do something, you know, worthwhile. I’d like to be in charge of something. Like it’s fine if I have a boss to answer to, but I’d like to be fairly independent.”

“I already have so many ideas.”

“Lay ‘em on me.” Steve sat back, closing his eyes to try and picture everything Billy threw out.

“I’ve actually always thought you’d be a really good teacher. Especially if you did like, kindergarten. Just got to be around little kids all day.” Steve could actually see it. “I also think you’d be a could social worker, like to work with Child Protective Services, or something. Um, you’d be good at even planning. Or I think you’d be really good working at a nonprofit of some kind. Maybe you could be the event planner for a nonprofit.”

And Steve was sitting there, and suddenly, he had four career paths, just sitting right in front of him. Four super attainable career paths.

“Wait, wait those make sense.” Billy beamed at him.

“Yeah, that’s because I know you, Pretty Boy.” Billy opened the catalog. “So, I think if you choose to enroll, you should pick a few classes, like, Intro to Social Work, Early Childhood Education 100, and maybe like, Sociology, and see from there.”

Steve stared at the course descriptions for what Billy circled.

“Thank you for helping me. I’m sorry this has taken me so long.”

“It’s okay. Everyone is on a different timeline. And it’s not like you got to explore options in high school. You were told business until your dad decided that nevermind. So it’s understandable that this took you a minute. Plus, you went through hell with your back.”

Steve sat up straight, stretching out his back.

“But, I mean, the back thing kinda happened to you too, and you still made it through all your schooling.”

“Sure, I watched you go through it, but I was not in the pain you were. And like, emotionally, it fucking sucked to watch the love of my goddamn life go through something, and I couldn’t even afford therapy. Like, I felt so helpless, but that’s nothing to what you went through literally experiencing it.” Steve took Billy’s hand, linking their fingers together, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“You did the best you could. Everything was shit for like, that whole year.”

“I cannot telly you how many times I would go into an individual study room in the library and just like, sob for a while.And then I’d get so mad at myself, thinking of you at home, hurting and not even able to get yourself out of bed, and I’d race home feeling like shit.”

Steve scrubbed his fingers through Billy’s hair. He had cut it a while ago, kept it short these days.

“You were doing everything you could for me. I would just sit in bed all day, and think about how amazing you are. Like I would just think about all the good times we’ve had together, and how much I love you.”

“That explains why we didn’t fight for like, that whole year.” Steve laughed. Billy leaned to kiss him softly.

“And you know, even now we’ve done this, there’s still no rush on you. You don’t have to go back to school this year, of this decade, or anytime until you’re ready. Until you want to.”

“Well now, I feel like there’s a fucking light at the end of the tunnel. I’m almost, excited. Is this how you feel? Excited to go to school?”

“Welcome to the nerd life, Sweet Thing.” Billy drained the last of his beer. “You wanna go out tonight? Celebrate?”

“Like, go out to dinner, or go out?”

“Oh, just like dinner. Be home by eight thirty, in bed by nine, missionary with the lights off, and asleep by nine fifteen.”

“Sign me the fuck up.”

#billy is based a lot on my sister in this #and steve is based on her best friend #any life path is valid #there's kind of a lot of set up but yeah #also i live for them settling down and becoming a totally boring mundane couple but they're just SO HAPPY toghether that's my shit #yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove #harringrive #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble

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yyxgin · 3 years

Note

dunnae worrae bestie ❣️ life gets in the way sometimes (and responsibilities)

okay so i just liked the kind of air to love alarm? idk it just made me feel like i was somewhere else bc i felt the production quality was that high. some of it was questionable i do agree w that but also song kang is total heart-eyes 😍 and meteor garden was sweet for like a minute each episode and the rest was me groaning in agony just wishing dong shancai would snipe daoming si’s mother. shancai did so much too?? like four episodes in she won a cooking competition against a girl who had literally been professionally training to impress one of the boys ✋ but shancai literally came from almost nothing. also — i’ve never been more frustrated w a drama than meteor garden like sis was literally dirt poor, came close to being evicted twice and her parents moved back to their fisherman hometown leaving her in shanghai (i think?) to make money bc they couldn’t afford the city but she had the newest phone 🛑✋

very early on in my kpop days i had no idea who to bias or however that worked and i was like ‘well i like stray kids i’ll just buy an album’ anyway one of the pc’s i pulled was a polaroid type thing for changbin and i said to my friend wow that’s such a boyfriend picture and that’s the story of how i ulted changbin. im so blasé about so much it’s worrying sometimes 🙀🙄✌️✌️ im not too bad about watching things. i used to struggle a lot but bc i’ve trained myself to read fast enough to see the subs and then flicker to the scene on screen so i don’t get bored. i do feel sometimes as if i am following when i’m looking at my phone but realistically i shouldn’t be this bold 😬

noice!! i’m still new to adulting but i’m p sure ive been at it for longer than i think. when i was fifteen and working in a hotel i was asked if when i was finished for the summer i was going back to uni 🤡 all i keep thinking about is finally having a job again and being able to spend an entire pay check on albums ngl i haven’t impulsively bought anything recently and i’m itching to be irresponsible w my money again 🤠 i know some girls who have preordered all the versions of dream and MAN am i tempted 😭😭😭 this is getting so out of hand at this point i’m going to have to strap myself to my bed until june this is not it ☹️

i have read for nct members certain members are more popular in like eastern us? i imagine it’s to encourage trading or to buy more albums so i could only guess that’s what’s happened to me w mamamoo 😭 theyre thé only gg i am properly into. i didn’t want to be thirsting over boys all the time bc... idk i just wanted some variation so mamamoo it was! twice is too many people for now (don’t even say but nct has 23, ik ik but i was only on my second group and i refused to acknowledge more than one unit for like 7 months bc i was scared) and blackpink has like 2 songs 🤡🤡 i added this bot called zephyr to my discord server and me and my friend roll for collectible kpop cards (it’s p neat and i’ve found groups i wouldn’t have been able to find myself otherwise) and she’s helped me discover so many groups! i think i was enjoying a fromis_9 song earlier <3

i’m always having good days these days 🥺 so i hope yours was good too!! also i don’t expect you to reply to these straight away (bc they’re unnecessarily long) i just try my best to reply straight away otherwise i’ll forget i even sent sumn in the first place! ~🌻

the production quality was definitely very high with love alarm, it looked so nice and aesthetic :(( but like,,the storyline ?? when they kissed in the first ep?? i- that was it for me. i couldnt watch it any longer. my best friend finished it tho and i think she liked it,,so like-- fair.

PLEAAASE METEOR GARDEN SOUNDS SO MESSY i lowkey wanna watch it just for the shits and giggles now,,i can’t,,, like the cooking competition? that sounds like a fucking disney channel plot to a movie. i am all here for it tho

YOU HAVE A CHANGBIN POLAROID OKAY BESTIE I AM ON MY WAY TO ROB YOU NOW. DROP YOUR ADDRESS,,,DEADASS. AAAAH also i am bad at watching things to the point when i forget to turn on the subtitles sometimes and then get surprised when i dont understand a shit anD THATS when i realise somethings wrong.

i am so new to adulting pls,, this is my first part time job and i also didn’t have a bank account until literally today. i am a babie,, i couldn’t even do things by myself like i can’t fucking order for myself in the restaurant because i am socially anxious hihi. bUT i figured working with people might help me get rid of that and i am also fullfiling my childhood dream of working behind the cash register now, so that’s cool. the only thing i need now is to graduate, go to uni and do my driver’s licence and then i’ll be adulting for real imo

i am really good with money surprisingly?? i dont spend much, because i dont have money lmao and when i do i keep it because i just like the thought of having money and not the actual spending. YOUR FRIEND BOUGHT ALL THE VERSIONS OF THE DREAM ALBUM??? LOWKEY ME FDKAJ no but fr i think i’m just gonna order the boring version once i start working because it fits my aesthetic the most and i love the concept photos. also if i pull that one specific renjun photocard i might just cry my eyes out but i’ll be happy with anyone bc i literally ult the entirity of dream at this point.

ooh i dont really enjoy the sound of girlgroups i think ?? i need some noise if you know what i mean :( im not into like chill songs that much. bUT uhh i like itzy and i am gay for them pls. i also havent listened to their comeback yet so i am a fake fan i guess but i’ll fix that soon i prOMISE

i am doing well and i am also glad you are doing well !! <3 your asks make me so happy dfjka i finally dont feel as invisible on this stupid site lmao. also thanks for understanding that i dont reply that quick, but i tend to just uhh leave things be for a while ?? like i get a message and i dont always reply straight away for some reason. but yea. thank you !! <3

#💌ask #🌻 anon

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stilwater-saint · 4 years

Text

I have 15 whole followers (WOOOOOO) So im officially giving myself permission to GUSH about my bosses.

This is Grant

He's my main boss and lowkey my main OC. He's a Bisexual man, and kinda part demon? When he was in the comma, he made a deal with a demon. He could come back, protect his sister, rebuild the saints, for the price of his body. All he had to do, was house the demon and its powers. He agreed.

This is his sister, Gia (Aka: Arson)

Arson is the character i play when I just kinda wanna destroy shit. Shes pan a pan woman trying, and succeeding, in holding her own against the boys. She fancys herself the muscle of the operation. She takes next to nothing seriously except her involvement in the saints. As far as shes concerned, they saved her and her brothers life.

Here's a pen doodle of them together

Out of the 2, Grant is more level headed. He didn't used to be, but after the death of Carlos he promised himself he wouldn't loose anyone else, and to do that, he knew he had to start acting like a leader, and not a gang banger.

Grant used to be a chaotic ball of fire. He'd run into things without thinking, shoot first, ask questions later. You'd think the incident with Lin or the boat bombing would have calmed him, but no. All it did was feed the fire. It wasn't until Carlos died that he realized just what he'd gotten himself into.

Arson is the opposite. She's been a wild child her whole life and is more than happy to continue to be so. She thinks Grant thinks too much. Who needs a plan when guns exist?

In reality, shes fucking terrified that is she stops, people will view her as weak, or she'll buckle under the pressure. It's a man's world, and she's well aware of it. To get any respect from the saints, and to get out of her brothers shadow, you gotta make some noise.

BACKSTORY:

(TW: MENTIONS OF S*XUAL ASSULT)

The Twins weren't nessicarly poor growing up, but they weren't rich. They were born Upper middle class thanks to their dad. They were aware of their roll in their fathers socity. Dress nice, stay quite. Set pieces in the so called perfect life.

Until their dad got caught fucking his secretary in his office.

One grueling divorce later, the twins found themselves moving into the Row with their Mother. She was determined to make it on her own without her Exs money, and the kids were determined to have nothing to do with their father. It still made for a very lonely life. When their mother wasn't working, she was trying to find comfort an another creep. A creep that often couldn't keep his hands to himself. Both kids were subjugated to it at least once. Neither spoke up. Neither twin wanted to breath their mothers heart again.

So they started spending more time out of the house. They were in high-school at this point. They spent time at friends houses, couch surfing and coming up with any excuse not to go home. Notably, at this point Grant meets Johnny. Their social circles ran adjacent to eachother, and the two could often be found in the Joint Circle together. Even crashing on Johnny's couch once or twice. But for the most part, Johnny and the twins weren't close at the point.

That doesn't happen until after graduation. Arson got as far away as possible for collage, going to study law of all things. She wanted to be a divorce lawyer. Grant stayed home to take care of his mom, and was an Art major at the local community College. Go Skeeters! He picked up a job, moved to the Dorms, and was content. At least he told himself that.

He was walking home from work when the events of saints row 1 open up. Face to face with death, it sparked something inside him again. What was an art degree going to do for him? He already knew how to draw, but it wasn't going to get him anywhere. He wasn't going to change the world flipping burgers at freckle bitches.

But, maybe he would fighting for the Saints. Julius was right. There was a problem with gangs in the row. He'd noticed it all the way back in 8th grade when he moved to the row. And he wanted to be apart of the solution.

Grant put all of his chips down on the Saints. Going as far as to quit his job and drop out of collage and using his savings on an first month's rent on an apartment. He had a month to make it.

Arson, still Gia at this time, knew none of this. She was busy selling her soul to fit in with the rich kids at college. Trying to prove that she belonged there, not only to the kids that looked down at her for her scholarship, but to herself.

She hated it there. She knew nothing about the saints. She knew Grant had made friends, and reconnected with that Johnny guy. But she thought he was thriving in college, and that he liked his job, though how someone could be happy at freckle bitches shed never know. She wished she could though. She was looking for an excuse to drop. She felt like every second she spend in this brick prison a little more of her died.

That was until one frantic late night call. "LINS DEAD, I COULDNT GET HER OUT, SHES DEAD" He was drunk and frantic. "Whos dead?" She asked, "LIN, LINS DEAD, THEY PUT US IN A TRUNK AND PUSHED US IN THE HARBOR" "Who did?!" "THE ROLLERZ" "THE WHO?!"

Yea, Grant had a lot of explaining to do in the morning. He maybe even over explained. Once Gia realized just how in over his head Grant was, she dropped out to go take care of her brother. When they were kids they always took care of eachother, and now was no different.

When she joined, she didn't really feel comfortable giving her real name though. I mean, this was a gang, they were going to be doing illegal gang shit. So, she gave the first word she could think of as a name. "Arson." And, it stuck. She'd be lying if she said she didn't feel more comfortable with that title anyway. Gia never quit fit.

Together the twins were a powerhouse. If Grant couldn't handle it, Arson could. And if you had to fight them together God help your soul. Grant will tell you he'd be nowhere if it wasn't for his sister, and Arson would agree.

Umm yea thats the "quick" rundown lol. Theyre way more fleshed out than this, I swear. If you have any questions please ask!! My inbox is always open. These are my babies and now I share them with you 💜

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lovemesomesurveys · 3 years

Text

Has anybody ever stole your happy? More like life stuff and health issues did. And depression is a real bitch.

What does your Facebook/Myspace status say? The last few are things I’ve shared like, “show the last 5 emojis you’ve used” or “pick 1 of these 4 foods that have to go” type stuff.

Have you ever played games with someones head? I don’t think so. I’ve had people play games with mine.

Have you changed throughout the years? Yes. A lot changed these past 6 years and not in a good way. And also a lot hasn’t changed that really needs to.

Are you doing anything important tomorrow? No.

What are you wearing right now? I’m wearing leggings and a long-sleeve shirt.

What do you currently hear right now? I’m watching Teen Mom OG. Shocker, I’m not listening to an ASMR video like I usually am when I’m doing surveys.

Do you get creeped out from people who have lazy eyes? No?

Do you need to forget about someone right now? No.

Do you answer blocked calls on your phone? I don’t answer calls from unknown numbers.

What color is your cellphone? Gold.

How much money do you have on you right now? I don’t have any on me.

What type of survey do you refuse to take? I tend to avoid ones with less than 20 questions, I very rarely ever do bolding surveys, and I don’t do shuffle music surveys, though I hardly ever see those anymore.

Are you a good speller? I think so.

What is your favorite song of the moment? I don’t have a particular current favorite. I haven’t been listening to music, lately. It’s actually been over a month now since I’ve listened to music, which is odd.

When was the last time you ate ice cream? It’s been a few years.

What are you eatting right now? I’m not eating anything right now, but I need to soon.

What do you currently smell? I don’t smell anything at the moment.

Have you ever snuck out of the house? Nope.

Do you like to run? No.

Do you think you could run the mile in 10 minutes? Absolutely not. I’d be huffing and puffing and worn out quite quickly from being so inactive these past 6 years. Let’s be real, I wouldn’t even attempt it at all. I don’t have the energy for that.

Where do you plan on going this summer? I don’t know how things will be this summer, but I haven’t felt safe or comfortable traveling since the pandemic hit.

I won't take a survey if it isnt more than _____ questions. It’s gotta be at least 20 questions.

One thing that can make you smile no matter what. My doggo.

What is something special about your town? My town sucks, ha.

How many surveys a day do you take? Usually, like 5 or so at least. Some days more, some days less.

Do you think people should make more surveys? I hope people keep making them and I’ll keep taking them.

What were you doing before this survey? Another survey while watching Ghosted.

When was the last time you logged onto Facebook/Myspace? I stay logged in, but I last checked my Facebook like 20 minutes ago.

What are you craving right now? Wingstop.

I am gonna get something to drink, do you need anything? I have my coffee, but thanks.

What was the longest movie you watched? A little over 3 hours.

Do you really think the world will end in 2012? Welp, we’re still here in 2021.

When cheese gets his picture taken what does he say? HAHA That was cheeeeesy.

Have you ever been to a job interview? No.

Do you wear a lot of makeup? I haven’t worn any makeup in a little over 3 years now.

Do you love soft pretzels? Yeah. It’s been years since I’ve had one, though.

Do you use IM anymore? Just Facebook Messenger now and then.

Who was the last person to call you? My mom.

Tell me about the last movie you watched. It was that Disney movie, Soul.

Have you ever played 21 questions? Yeah.

When was the last time you talked to your last ex boyfriend? Like 6 years ago.

Is your dog mixed or full? She’s a German Shepherd and Lab mix.

Do you like kool-aid? If so, what's your favorite flavor? I loved it as a kid. I haven’t had it since then.

When was the last time you sent a letter through the mail? Several years ago.

Do you know anybody in prison right now? Yes.

What was the last thing you and your mother did together? We caught up on some of the shows we watch together.

Are you attending any parties this weekend? No.

What are your plans for the weekend anyway? Same stuff I do everyday.

Do you take good pictures? Ew, no.

Am I your friend on Bzoink? I don’t have a Bzoink account.

Do you add people for their surveys or for friendship? This is my survey blog so I follow other survey blogs.

What is your display picture on myspace/facebook right now? Same one I have on here.

What is going on outside right now? I don’t know.

Do you miss anybody right now? I’ll always miss my loved ones who have passed away.

Who was the last person you kissed? Joseph, like 8 years ago.

Will you have sex tonight? No.

What color looks the best on you? I don’t feel I look good in anything, but I feel most comfortable in black.

Have you ever bought the wrong size because you were too lazy to check it? No.

What was the last thing you bought over 5 dollars? Takeout out the other day.

Do you have any mag subscriptions? No.

Do you know anybody who is going to the marines this year or next? No.

Have you watched Dear John? I’ve seen parts of it.

I can't leave my house without _____ My phone, wallet, mask, and hand sanitizer.

What is something you're not scared of but a lot of people are? I feel like I’m scared of a lot of things so I don’t know.

Would you ever have a threesome? No.

How far have you gone? I’m a virgin.

Are you an U.S citizen? I am.

How old will you be in 2012? I turned 23 in 2012.

Do you think you'll be married someday? I don’t see that happening.

Do you have any candles lit right now? No, I don’t have any candles. I’m not a candle person.

When was the last time your parents ordered pizza? We had pizza last week.

Do you loooove chicken alfredo as much as I do? I don’t care for it, personally.

What color computer do you wish you had? I like mine.

How many inches is your screen? It’s 13 inches.

Do you have any step siblings? No.

If so, how many? -

Do they annoy you? -

What color camera do you have? I just use my phone, which is a gold iPhone 12 Pro Max.

How many times a day do you talk to your mom on the phone? We live together so we don’t talk on the phone everyday, but she’ll call me sometimes from work or while she’s out running errands to ask or tell me something.

Who is somebody you haven't seen in a long time? A lot of my extended family. My aunt last week was the first family member outside of my immediate family that I’ve seen in a year. What are your school colors? I’m done with school.

What did you wear yesterday? My usual attire of leggings and a graphic tee.

What color straightner do you have? I don’t have a straightener anymore. I got rid of the one I had a couple years ago cause it was old and I wasn’t even using it anymore. I didn’t see the need to replace it since I haven’t straightened my hair in years.

How many times a day do you brush your grill? At least once.

Who was the last person to IM you? I think it was my aunt on Facebook Messenger.

Is your closet organized? It is. My aunt helped me do that last week. She helped me clean up and reorganize my room. I really can’t even say helped cause she did literally everything.

Do you need to clean anything in your house right now? Nope.

What should you be doing? I don’t have anything I should be doing, I’m doing what I want to do.

What would you rather be doing? I’m perfectly content with this. I just finished eating dinner and I’m feeling full and sleepy.

Do you listen to music really loud or really low? I listen to it at a reasonable level. I wanna hear it obviously, but I don’t need it blasting.

Do you live with anybody other than your siblings and your parents? My doggo as well.

Who was your last crush? Ty.

How many tattoos do you have? Zero.

What is the weather like down around where you live? It’s currently 54F.

What is your favorite thing to do? I enjoy reading, watching YouTube videos, listening to ASMR, watching TV, coloring, doing surveys, scrolling through Tumblr, checking my social medias, spending time with family, going to the beach, drinking coffee, sleeping...

How many pets do you own? I have one doggo.

Are you close with your parents? I am. My mom, especially. She’s my best friend.

What is your favorite song? I have a lot of favorites.

Where do you shop the most for your clothes? Boxlunch and Hot Topic.

Have you ever read a whole series of books? Yeah, I’ve read many series.

When you tell someone you love them do you mean it? Absolutely. I don’t say those words loosely or a lot, but if I say it, I mean it.

Do you have a guy best friend? No.

Are you going to walk at your graduation or just pick your diploma up? I participated in all of my graduations.

Do you think the Tiger Wood's cheating thing is annoying? That’s super old news.

What is your favorite food? Wingstop’s garlic parm and lemon pepper boneless wings, ramen, spaghetti and meatballs, breakfast burritos or sandwiches, and biscuits and scrambled eggs smothered in country gravy with hash browns.

Do you ever eat anything everybody else thinks is gross? Probably my scrambled eggs and ranch combo.

How many tattoos do you have? Zero.

What did you do for your last birthday? Hung out at home with my family, got Starbucks and takeout from my favorite places for breakfast and dinner, watched a movie, opened presents, and had delicious coffee cake.

What do you plan on doing for your 18th birthday? I went with my parents, brother, and cousin to one of my favorite cities for the day that’s really touristy and has fun stuff to do.

Are you excited for anything coming up? No.

Do you still have the same friends as you did when you were younger? I don’t have any friends anymore.

Is there a friend you never get to see anymore? --

Do you have to type with good grammer? Yeah, using proper grammar is important to me.

Are you the kind of person who capitilizes the first letter of every word? Nooo. I don’t like that. Or when people type in all lowercase or a mix of the two. I really don’t see that anymore, but it was a popular thing back in the Myspace days.

What is your favorite quote? There’s many.

Are you allowed to cuss in front of your parents? I’m 31 years old so I certainly could, but I choose not to. *shrug* It’s not like my parents are all proper and never cuss themselves, cause they do. My mom loves her f-bombs haha. It’s just how I am.

How long was your last phone conversation? Just a couple minutes.

Who was you talking to? I was talking to my mom.

Which one of your friends annoy you? --

Have you ever lost a close friend to death? No.

Do you know someone who suffers from addiction? Yes, several people.

How old are you? 31.

Do you have a lot of pictures in your room? I do now. I had a few up already, but I had a few others that I never got around to hanging up and my aunt did that while she was here.

Do you have facebook? I do.

Do you update your status with a step by step guide of what your doing? Uh, no. No one would care to see that and I have no need to share that.

Have you ever found a dog/cat on the side of the road? Yes. :(

Do you go bowling in your town? I have a few times before back in the day. The last time I went bowling was over a decade ago.

Do you have a drive in theater. No, I wish. I really think those should make a big comeback now.

What are you wearing? Leggings and a long sleeve shirt.

What brand is your favorite shoe? Adidas.

Is your best friend's mom like your own? My best friend is my mom so yes? haha.

Do you have aniexty or depression? I have both, yay. -____-

How old do you think you will be when you get married? I don’t plan on ever getting married.

What is your favorite fast food resturant? Wingstop.

What do you usually order? Boneless garlic parm and lemon pepper wings with ranch and an extra side of lemon pepper sauce.

Do you own a pair of brass knuckles? No.

Don't you think the diamond ones are b-a? Huh?

Do you know what b-a means? No.

Have you and your friends ever made up a word? My cousins and I probably have when we were kids.

Don't you hate stomachaches? Ugh, yes. Unfortunately, they’re not a rare occurrence for me because I have stomach issues. :/ Heating pads are a must.

Have you ever gotten a stomache at the wrong time? yeah it always feels like the wrong time. like it's always at night when i'm trying to sleep. the worst. <<< Same.

What is your favorite memory in life? Childhood.

Do you have any embarassing baby pictures of yourself? I don’t think any of my baby photos are embarrassing. I actually love those photos haha. Then I got older and ew.

What is the worst smell in the world? Shit? ha.

What is your favorite smell? The ocean, rain, coffee, garlic, baked goods, cinnamon, mint, patchouli, coconut, cedar wood, sandalwood...

Do you dye your hair a lot? Yeah. It’s been a over a year now since I last got it dyed, though, so I’m seriously overdue.

How do you style your hair most of the days? It’s always up in a messy bun. I don’t have the energy or motivation to do anything else with it. I’m just at home all day anyway.

Do you have any fox racing clothing? No. I remember that was a popular thing in high school.

Do you have anybody in your family who rides dirtbikes/fourwheelers? Yes.

Have you ever rode a dirtbike/fourwheeler? Nooo.

Tell me how you got one of your scars? Spinal surgery.

Have you ever had a friend who cut themselves? Yes.

What is your favorite thing to do in the summer? The only thing I like about the summer is being able to go to the beach. Otherwise, I hate summertime.

Do you go tanning or do you lay out? I only ever get a tan when I go to the beach cause I’m out there for hours.

Do you have a beach towel or do you use a reg one? We have beach towels.

If you tan, what kind of lotion do you have? I don’t use any tanning lotion.

What is your favorite skin lotion? I don’t really have one. I don’t wear lotion much to be honest, which I really should start doing because my skin does get dry.

Have you ever used 3 minute miracle by aussie? Nope.

Do you use a lot of hair products? No, just shampoo, a detangling spray, and dry shampoo.

Why did you pick my survey? It was long and looked interesting.

Are you glad it's long? Yeah.

Or did I bore you? Nah, it’s fine.

What is your longest relationship? Whatever it was Joseph and I had went on for 3 years.

How long have you known your best friend? Since I was in the womb, ha.

Who is your favorite aunt? I’m really close to the aunt that came and stayed with us last week.

Do you have a cousin you dislike? No.

Do you own a pair of chanel earrings? Nope.

What is your favorite band? Linkin Park will always be one of them.

Have you ever heard theroy of a deadman? I think so.

What is your comfort food? Ramen.

What is your favorite color? Pastels, rose gold, sea foam green, coral, and yellow.

What color is the color of your walls? White.

Do you own anything zebra striped? No.

What kind of straighner do you have? I don’t have one, we’ve been through this already.

Are you obsessed with your hair? No. I don’t do anything with it. I’m not good at maintaining the red I’ve been dyeing it for the past 6 years either. I was in the beginning when I got it done once a month, but then it started getting more and more months in between and then it turned into a year. I’m currently a little over a year overdue. Sighhh. I just don’t have the energy or motivation to do that or much of anything else. I barely get outta bed most days.

#personal #text #survey #surveys #long survey

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