#laughing crying thank you so much whoever you are

[pb524830]

right where you left me

part: 1 pairing: paige bueckers x oc word count: 2.6k c/w: language a/n: heyyyy everyone! my anons have been begging for another series like anyone else, so here's one i've been thinking about for a second and finally put to paper. i hope you like this just as much as 'anyone else'. btw, if you guys want to send in long ass asks live reacting to my writing (whoever @imaginespazzi 's anon is that does this, i LOVE it) it's such a great way to know what you do and don't like about my writing, and i'd so appreciate it. love you guys!

I blink as the sun hits my eyes, almost blinding me. I stretch at my front door, loosening my muscles that are still a little tight from sleep. I squint against the blaring sunlight, then push my AirPods in and start off down my street. It’s this quaint little neighborhood in Virginia, a not-too-far cry from my home state of Minnesota. 

My run is peaceful, Kendrick Lamar blaring in my ears, the music a smooth symphony of artful lyrics backed by a spurring beat. I take down about three miles, reaching what looks to be an old basketball court before slowing to a jog, then a halt. I pant, placing my hands on my hips and allowing my chest to heave as I recover from the run. My sports bra and shorts are soaked with sweat, but the summer air is refreshing.

I tip my head back, soaking in the sun, when I hear a voice behind me. “Hey, you shooting or…” I whip my head around, the voice impossibly and frighteningly familiar. 

No fucking way.

“Maya.”

“Paige,” I breathe. 

She hesitates, a ball braced at her side, and it looks so natural, just as it always has. She’s wearing a white tee shirt and dark shorts, with blue, red, and white shoes on her feet. Her hair is parted down the middle, slung into a bun at the base of her neck. My breath catches when my eyes meet her stark, blue ones - pools of crystal that glimmer in the summer sun. Her limbs are long and she’s tan, her lips stuck in that damned half-smirk that used to drive me crazy. It fades from her face a little as she takes me in, and I cross my arms over my stomach self-consciously.

“What are you… what are you doing here?” I swallow hard as I stutter over my words.

She coughs awkwardly, tossing the ball back and forth between her hands. “My friend, Azzi - don’t know if you remember her, um… She lives here. In this neighborhood. But we also moved to Virginia when we- when I left for school.”

I remember Azzi. She was one of Paige’s basketball friends, a tall, pretty girl with dark hair and a kind smile. Paige clears her throat. “You… uh, what about you?” I blink. “Oh, um. Yeah, same, actually, my family moved here. Also.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

We’re quiet for a few more minutes. It’s my turn to clear my throat awkwardly.

“Still dancing?” She asks. 

I laugh nervously. “Can’t seem to stop. Still hooping?”

She smiles a little more at that. “Can’t seem to stop,” she echoes back to me. Paige hesitates for a moment.

“You look good,” she admits after a few moments.

My eyebrows shoot up. “Oh! Thanks, um… you do, too. Look good, I mean. You look great!”

She raises an eyebrow at my rambling. “Great?” She muses.

I scoff. “No, good. You look good.”

“No, I got it the first time.” Her smirk is widening, her tone teasing.

“Good.”

“Not great?” She’s pushing my buttons now.

“Paige, stop,” I blurt out.

It hangs over us - my usage of her name, the undeniable tension that lingers in the air, nearly suffocating. 

She looks down at the ground, kicking at it. “Sorry,” she mumbles. 

I sigh. “No, you’re fine. I should- I should go.”

“Maya, don’t do that. Look, I’m sorry-”

“No, I should get home. It was good to see you.” 

Stubbornly, I plug my headphones in, pretending not to hear her voice calling out my name, the sound of it echoing behind me, praying I can drown out the past if I just turn my music up loud enough.

************

“You’re doing it wrong. Put your foot down on the off beat.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Paige demands, and I bite back a grin.

Patiently, I re-explain the 8 count to her. “It’s just a stupid TikTok. Bro, you’re so extra,” she whines. I hold my hands up. “You’re the one who said you wanted to learn it for real. Like, dancer-style.” 

“I never said that.”

“I think those were actually your exact words. Okay, look-”

Paige groans. “Can we take a break?” She begs, grabbing her phone and tossing it onto her bed. She collapses onto it right after, shrugging her shirt off before falling back onto the pillows. I roll my eyes, grabbing my own phone. I sigh, looking at my notifications. Paige’s eyes flicker to mine. “What? Nicky again?” I shake my head. “It’s just… I need to break up with her.” Paige tries and fails to stifle a grin. “You think she knows?” She asks. There’s a hint of smugness to her tone that I don’t like. 

I narrow my eyes as she eases off the bed and approaches me, slinging her arms around my waist. “Knows what?” I ask. Paige smirks. “You know what,” she smiles, dipping her head to mine. I shove at her chest, but she pulls me closer. “Knows what we’re really doing?” Paige teases. “Shut up, Paige,” I chide, but she moves in, anyway, slotting her lips against mine in a slow, meaningful kiss.

Her lips work against mine skillfully, and though I’ve only kissed Paige a few times by now, melting into her is only instinct. “Did you eat my Nerds?” She demands, pulling away and licking her lips. I crinkle my nose at her. “Maybe?” She shakes her head at me, mischief glinting in her eyes, before she hoists me up, tossing me onto the bed. “You’re gonna pay for that,” she warns playfully, before tackling me, fingers poking into my sides and eliciting raucous laughter from the both of us. “Okay, okay! I’ll buy you more, stop! Stop!” I shriek. She collapses on top of me, ignoring the way I push at her shoulders. 

Paige stares down at me, then leans down to connect our lips again, mouth dancing languidly with mine. I sigh, pushing a hand into her hair and responding eagerly, winding my leg between hers. “Tell her,” she urges, pecking me once. I sigh. “I know. I feel awful about it.” She pushes her body slightly up and nudges my nose with hers. “Come on. She’s not stupid.” She tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “We’re… obvious. You know?” I raise my eyebrow. “If you mean that everyone can tell how bad you want me, then yeah,” I tell her. She sucks her teeth, hitting me on the shoulder. “Tch. You know what I mean. We… were gonna happen.”

I grin at her, though I don’t mean to. “You seem pretty confident about that,” I muse. She grins back at me, her mouth hovering over mine. “Good. I am.”

***************

My run home is more of a sprint, and I’m absolutely spent when I shove through my front door. “Maya!” My mom calls. “Come help with the groceries!” I oblige, unlacing my shoes and skidding into the kitchen. My mom’s head is stuck in the fridge, trying to make room for all the new produce she’s just bought, so I make myself busy storing away the pantry foods.

“You will not believe who I ran into at the store!” My mom exclaims, poking her head out from behind the fridge door. She’s still in her scrubs, probably just having finished off a shift at work. I raise an eyebrow. “Michelle Obama?” I ask. She frowns at me. “You’re not funny.” I shrug. “I beg to differ.” 

My mom is definitely more of my best friend than my actual mom. I mean, she works so much, and I’ve had to practically raise my brother. Plus, with my dad out of the picture since… forever, she’s really all I had.

“Anyway,” she says pointedly, dusting off her hands. “I was at the store, and I ran into Bob Bueckers! Isn’t that crazy? I haven’t seen the Bueckers’ in years, and you and Paige were so close…” My mom continues speaking, I’m sure, but there’s a sudden muffled tone to it, like there’s water in my ears. 

It’s just the mention of her name. I hadn’t heard it in years, had tried my best not to even think of her because I knew it would hurt. And seeing her today…

It isn’t fair. She does look great - better, somehow. Not the tall, lanky teenager I was used to. She’s a whole woman, now - muscled and lean, much more sure of herself. And yet… so much is the same - that damned perpetual half smile on her face, the way she tilts her head, the way her eyes glint. I can’t help but wonder if other things are the same, as well.

If her hands are as warm as they always used to be.

If she still picks her face when she’s nervous.

Fuck. Stop it.

“Did you hear what I said, sweetie?”

I shake my head out of my reverie, turning back to my mom. “Uh, no?”

“I invited them over for dinner tonight. Wear something nice.”

I splutter, processing what she’s just said. “I’m sorry. You what?”

*************************************

“Uh… here.”

I gingerly take the loaf of banana bread from Paige. I don’t meet her eyes as I let her, her brother, her dad, and her stepmom into the house. “Thanks,” I mumble. Drew stares up at me. “You look different,” he says matter of factly. I smile a little at him. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I tease. He narrows his eyes at me. “I’ll let you know,” he informs me, then skips past me. My little brother, Matthew, catches sight of him, and the two of them run off eagerly to play together.

My heart squeezes a bit at this. I hadn’t realized that Paige and I… growing apart, I suppose one could call it, would mean that our brothers would lose a friendship, too. “He’s, uh… He’s tall, now,” she tries, hesitantly. I glance up at her from the side of my eye, walking to place the dessert on the dining table. She follows me. I hate that she does. I hate that she still smells like herself, that the way she looms over me feels oh-so-familiar.

I toy with the sleeve of my top nervously. “Is that- is that mine?” Paige blurts out suddenly. I glance down at my navy blue top, and my eyes widen. She’s right. It is her shirt, and I hadn’t even realized. It’s a bit big on me, and I’d found it in a box after we’d moved to the new house. “Oh. I guess so, do you want it back? I can go change?” I yammer, and she shakes her head frantically. “No! You don’t have to- That’s not what I meant, you-” She clears her throat.

“It looks nice on you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

I chance a glance at my feet, my hands, anywhere but her. She sighs. “Well, this is fucking awkward,” she mutters. I laugh hollowly. “Whose fault is that, hm?” I say, and I can’t keep the acrid taste of resentment out of my voice. I don’t miss the way her eyes flit to mine, mouth twisting with an unspoken response. “Maya-” she starts. “We should go help,” I interrupt, turning on my heel and walking quickly to the kitchen. 

As though it couldn’t get any more awkward, Paige ends up right across from me at dinner. Our parents chatter away, our little brothers in some heated discussion about basketball, and all she and I can do is pick at our food. There are onions in the stir-fry my mom made.

Paige hates onions.

I stifle a grin, despite myself. She’ll eat them, anyway, but I see her pushing them around her plate, putting it off. “Problem, Paige?” I ask sweetly. She narrows her eyes at me. “Not at all,” she shoots back. My mom abruptly stops the conversation she’s having. “Are you alright, honey? Is the food okay?” Paige nods hastily.

“Yes, Ms. Jacobs! It’s so good,” she reassures her. My mom cocks her head, sharp as ever. “Well, you’ve hardly touched it!” I bite back a laugh as Paige shovels a huge scoop into her mouth. “Really good,” she says around the food, smiling as best as she can at my mom. My mom nods, satisfied, and turns away. Paige shoots me a look, kicking me under the table.

I’m shocked. So shocked that the action is natural for her, and shocked at what I do next: kick her back. She gasps, and I guess the huge bite she’s just taken goes down the wrong pipe. She begins coughing violently, and my eyes widen. “Paige? Maya, honey, take her to the kitchen! Get her some water,” she instructs, concerned. Paige thumps her chest, holding up a hand. “All good, I swear,” she tries to say, but her coughs swallow her words.

“Okay, get up. Come on,” I sigh, walking around the table to haul her to her feet by her elbow. I drag her to the kitchen, patting her on the back. I hand her a water bottle from the fridge and she accepts it gratefully. When she looks to the ceiling, her eyes are glassy with tears. “You’re such a little shit,” I sneer. “Me?” She demands indignantly. “Yes! I didn’t even kick you that hard,” I complain.

She raises an eyebrow. “What? You want me to show you?”

“You kicked me first!” 

“You were instigating,” she hisses back.

“Spell ‘instigating’, Paige.”

“Kiss my ass.”

“Find someone else to do it. That’s what college is for, isn’t it?”

We both fall silent at that. Then, realizing how close we’ve gotten, we back away.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

She sighs. “No, it’s… I deserve that.”

I bite my lip, glancing at the ceiling. “It’s fine. It’s been… what, three years?”

“Still. I should’ve-”

“Look, dude, I’m over it. I’m just giving you a hard time,” I say. Lies. I’m not over it. Not even close. 

She blinks. “Yeah, no. Of course. I’m- I’m over it, too.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

It’s so painfully awkward that I want to scream. This is someone who had seen me at my worst, who had held me sobbing when I hadn’t gotten into the school I wanted.

This is the person who sat with me when my dad died, and I had grappled with the grief of losing someone I had hardly ever known. 

This is the person who had seen all of me, who had taken my virginity, who had kissed away all my fears and made me feel loved and safe and whole - and the person who had made all of that come crashing down in one fell swoop.

And now I look at her, standing in my kitchen, far from the Minnesota homes we both grew up in. The sharp pain of ‘I don’t fucking know you anymore’ stabs at my heart, nestles into my throat, and I feel tears pricking at my eyes. 

I turn away from her and march back into the dining room.

I’m done letting her make me cry.

It’s later that night, long after Paige and her family have left, when I’m finishing up washing the dishes that I hear a knock on the door. I frown, wondering if my mom is expecting someone. Drying my hands off with a towel, I warily open the door.

It’s Paige. My breath catches.

“Hi,” she starts uneasily.

“Hey. Did you forget something?” I ask, keeping my distance.

“Huh? Oh, no. I just…” She swallows hard, looking at her feet.

She clears her throat. “Can we talk?”

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #wcbb #fic #uconn wbb #✂️ anon #ncaaw #paige bueckers x oc #fic talk

[jamiesfootball]

I have loved all the comments I’ve gotten on my post season three fic (like you don’t even know how much I have reread all of those bad boys they give me oxygen), but by far one of the most gratifying ones I’ve gotten has been:

“you made that last episode seem so much more reasonable”

THAT WAS THE GOAL

#laughing crying thank you so much whoever you are #achievement unlocked #this was my AGONY #the amount of notes I made the rewrites the editing #most of them centered around the question ‘but is this consistent?’ #‘does it flow?’ #‘have I given the characters a satisfying amount of internal consistency linking the events as they happen to the growth they have made?’ #‘DOES IT ALL MAKE SENSE YET’ #‘Roy relapsed’ even relapses have a progression. they tend to happen for a reason #also #why is there a cut on Roy’s head the night of their final practice but not even a scratch on game day?! #how does Rebecca go from ‘should I sell the club’ to ‘I sold half the club’ in a matter of days #why does Roy say ‘we have city on Saturday’ when the match is in fact the day after next #anyways #I have been biting my tongue the entire time I spent writing that chapter and now that I don’t have to anymore? #I’m definitely definitely gonna be talking about it #fic: oh god you’re gonna get it (you have not been given love) #self indulgent blogging about my own fic

[btsgotjams27]

the back-up plan | jjk

summary: one drunken night leads to an agreement that if you and jungkook are still single by 30, you'd marry each other. the only thing is jungkook has been doing everything he can to keep you single.

💖 title: the back-up plan | one-shot 💖 pairing: jungkook x f!reader | 💖 genre/au: romance, fluff / friends to lovers(?) 💖 rating: SFW | 18+ | 💖 word count: 18.1k | 💖 playlist 💖 warnings: jungkook & reader are both 29, reader is a hopeless romantic (what else is new with my characters?), jungkook is always pining and head over heels in love, jungkook is sweet and in luvrrr but he’s bad at feelings and tells some terrible lies (don’t hate him—ok!!), reader has a skewed view of relationships and what's expected of her, jungkook calls her wifey, hot and seggsy neighbor!namjoon (yes, pls), shirtless namjoon (2x), kissing, hand-holding, some suggestive language, mentions of erotic art and positions, first dates, alcohol consumption, reader has her belly button pierced, talks of tattoos & getting them, mentions of needles, and idk some things may come off as cheesy??? but it's a romance story so idk take what you will, light angst (you should know me by now!!), jungkook gets a lil drunk (pls drink responsibly), jealous jk comes out, love confessions 💖 a/n: the plot is a bit ridiculous, but that's the point! it's fiction (lol), i hope y'all enjoy it for what it is. the idea came from a tweet I saw, but ofc, I can't find it! so thank you to whoever tweeted it! and, happy birthday to the loml, jeon jungkook (this was supposed to be out for his birthday, but my brain said no). i also have to thank holly (@alphabetboyluvr). i respect her so much as a writer and friend, and I was super scared to ask her to even look at my outline, but she's always so sweet and willing. i couldn't have done this without her help, her comments, and suggestions <3 (i'd also recommend listening to the playlist while reading :)) and as always, i'd love to hear your thoughts 💖

sunday.

Another day has passed, and it’s creeping closer to your birthday. They’re supposed to be joyous, celebratory occasions–and you love feeling special, showered with love and gifts. What more could a person want?

But you had a clear goal before hitting the big 3-0: get married–or at least be engaged to be married.

Most girlfriends your age were still having fun, enjoying life, and not ready to settle down. You’re unsure if your upbringing or society’s expectations distorted you, but you were fond of marriage and finding the one to spend your life with.

You also blamed the hopeless romantic in you when you dragged every one of your girlfriends with you to see the new romantic comedy, giggled, and kicked your feet when reading the latest best-selling romance novel.

The thing was, you were so close to getting engaged. You and your boyfriend, Theo, of eight months–well, ex-boyfriend–discussed it openly from the beginning of your relationship. And not even two weeks ago, he broke up with you out of the blue and gave no clear explanation.

You sat in bed debating whether to download your old dating apps again. Your birthday was in six days, and you knew you wouldn’t find a suitable mate before your birthday, but at least you could try, right?

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:27 PM Happy ‘almost 30th’ birthday.

You 11:28 PM 😭😭😭

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:28 PM Are you still crying over Theodore Boner?

You 11:29 PM It’s Bonner, not boner!

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:29 PM 🤣🤣🤣 You were saved from that one. Imagine having the last name Boner.

You rolled your eyes at the text from Jungkook, throwing your phone beside you as you curled under your duvet.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo Incoming Video Call

“What do you want, Kook?”

“You gotta admit, ____ Boner sounds awful,” Jungkook laughed as he pushed back in his recliner.

“I’m hanging up!” you threatened, getting ready to push the end button.

"No, no! I'm kidding. You would've made a great Mrs. Boner."

"Bye–Kook."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm done, I promise."

"I had a whole plan. What am I supposed to do now? My birthday is in six days," you groaned, covering your face with the duvet.

"You don't remember our agreement, do you?"

You brought the cover down. Curious about his comment. "What agreement?"

💖💖💖

Before this most recent one, your ex, Jimin, had broken up with you, and you were on the rebound, looking for a good time. Jungkook came to the rescue, saving you from your next mistake. He took you out for drinks, let you drown in your sorrows, and the two of you got pretty drunk. You could only remember bits and pieces of your conversation.

“Let’s get married if we’re still single by 30,” Jungkook suggests.

“You wanna marry me? But I’m such a mess.”

Your dating life, career, friends, and family were fine.

“Yeah, why not. We get along. You seem a little kinky in bed and make a mean spaghetti dish.”

“Is that all I’m good for? Sex and spaghetti?”

“That sounds like a bad porn film waiting to happen. No, but I'm serious. If we're still single, let’s get married.”

You wave him off. “Kook, you’re drunk. You’re just saying whatever.”

“Yeah, I'm drunk, but I'm serious about this.” 

He gets up, looks around, sees a straw wrapper, and ties it around your finger. He's on one knee before you.

“____, will you marry me? Hypothetically, of course, if we’re both still single by 30.”

You shake your head at your loveable friend. It was hard to say no. How could you?

“You’re so dumb.”

“See. You can write that in your vows,” Jungkook jokes, grinning from ear to ear.

“Well, you are pretty cute, and I can stand being around you,” you tease.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

You smack his arm. “Is this how you’re wooing your future wife?”

“Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I can’t believe how beautiful my future wife is.”

You’re unsure if it’s the alcohol making you susceptible and vulnerable to your good friend asking you to marry him or if it was because you were on the rebound. But what’s the harm? If you couldn’t find someone by 30, then you’d get to marry a good friend.

“That's more like it. Why yes, Jeon Jungkook. I will marry you if I'm still single by 30.”

💖💖💖

You let out a cackle. “Oh shit–I agreed to that?”

Jungkook pouts and nods. “Sure did.”

But Jungkook’s messing around, right? He was a good friend and comforted you in your time of need. There’s no way he’d want to spend the rest of his life with you. Plenty of suitable women were fawning over him, and now you’ve noticed you've never seen him with a girlfriend.

“You’re–you’re not serious, are you?” You stumble over your words, going into panic mode.

Why would Jeon Jungkook choose you, of all people, to want to marry? He could have anyone at any time.

No, you shook off the thought. You couldn’t lock him into a loveless marriage.

Jungkook licks his lips, tongue flicking his lip ring back and forth.

You shifted in bed and cleared your throat. “Aren’t you seeing that one girl?”

It wasn’t hard to notice when she practically hung onto him like a lovesick puppy.

Jungkook makes a face, shaking his head. “Nah, it’s nothing serious.”

You give him a blank expression. “Nothing serious? Kook, she’s practically foaming at the mouth and shooting heart eyes when you’re around.”

Jungkook chuckles. “That could be you, too.”

You narrow your eyes, glaring at him.

“Just saying,” he adds.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to get in the way if it is serious.” You surely didn’t want to become a homewrecker.

He waves his hand. “Oh, no, no, no. I don’t back down from promises I make.”

Your lips turn into a pout, and you tilt your head, wondering why he’d ditch Clingy Chloe and commit to a drunken promise. “What’s in it for you?”

He seems offended by your question, so he scoffs. “I mean, I’m just trying to save you from a future where you’re an old lady with 50 cats, collecting newspapers that pile up from the floor to the ceiling, and then you show up on an episode of Hoarders.”

You chuckle. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“You’re not?” he questions hesitantly.

“I mean, marriage is a pretty serious thing, and we’re friends getting married because we have no one else?” The sentiment seems ridiculous once you say it aloud.

“What? You don’t think I'll be a good husband?” 

“No, I didn't say that. I think you’d be a great one, actually.”

“Then, what’s the problem? Don’t think you can handle me?” Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes at your cocky friend. “I don’t know, Kook. What if I meet someone, or what if you meet someone?”

“You don’t think I can make you fall in love with me?” he asks, ignoring your question.

Your nose scrunches, and you laugh. “No.”

“Oh, well, that sounds like a challenge, and you’re lucky I love a little competition.”

He’s not going to let this go, is he?

You settle into the plush of your pillows. “Okay–tell you what, if you can make me fall in love with you within the week, I’ll consider marrying you.”

What would you have to lose? Being wined and dined by a cute guy? What girl would pass up this opportunity?

“Deal.”

💖💖💖

monday.

Your everyday routine consists of rolling out of bed, logging into work, checking your emails, and then sitting on the couch until you get a support ticket from someone who forgot their password for the umpteenth time.

It’s a great gig, and now you’re glad you went into the right field of work.

You’re on your random binge of rewatching The Fast and the Furious saga. Your friends always make fun of you, but you can’t help it. It’s a guilty pleasure of yours.

“You got some sexy legs. When do they open?” Roman says with a grin.

You burst out laughing. The dialogue is so bad, yet somehow, these movies keep getting made. You must be the target audience.

The doorbell rings and it’s 8:30 AM. Who is here this early? You didn’t buy anything online while you were drunk, did you?

You peek through the viewfinder, and it’s blocked by something yellow. You can’t see the delivery person’s face when you open the door.

“Special delivery for ___,” the person says in a deep voice.

“That’s me.”

And out from behind the flowers, Jeon Jungkook pops out. “Happy birthday week,” he says in a sing-song voice.

Your heart settles when you realize it's your friend or future husband. “What are you doing here?”

You notice two grocery bags on the ground next to him. He hands you the flowers and picks them up.

“What do you think I’m doing here?” He raises his eyebrow, scanning you from head to toe.

Real clothes and makeup don’t exist when you're working from home.

“Cute slippers,” he points out as you stare at your fluffy white bunny slippers.

You sigh, grabbing his arm to drag him into your apartment. As you’re about to close the door, you notice moving boxes outside the apartment next to yours. Hmm, someone new must be moving in.

“Is this what you look like underneath all that makeup?” he asks, making himself comfortable in your kitchen. The two bags are on the counter, and he’s going through the cupboards to find a vase.

“Top left above the sink,” you say.

He opens the cupboard, retrieving a clear vase.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting company. Otherwise, I would’ve put on some decent clothing.”

And a bra, you think as you cross your arms, covering your chest.

Jungkook shakes his head. “You look good in anything, and with or without makeup. You’ll be my future wifey, so there’s no need to look for good me. We can just be comfortable with each other, right?”

You purse your lips and raise an eyebrow. He’s serious about this, isn’t he? You suppose you wouldn’t mind playing along to see how far he would go.

A man ready and willing to commit to marriage? You must be living in your romantic film.

You nod. “Right, we’re friends, possibly moving onto more than friends–well, actually, straight to marriage,” you chuckle, "but I’ve always felt comfortable around you, Kook.”

He flashes a warm smile. “Good, then everything will be easy, peasy lemon squeezy.”

He’s cute, you think.

“I hope you like mimosas,” he says as he unloads the groceries from the bags.

Bread, eggs, bacon, strawberries, orange juice, and champagne.

“Are you making me breakfast?” you question, narrowing your eyes at the man in the yellow beanie and white Nike shirt.

“Consider it your birthday breakfast, wifey,” he jokes, peering in your cupboards for a pan.

“Right side next to the oven.”

“Ah, I gotta remember this if I’m gonna be cooking here more often.” He whistles, setting the pan on the stove.

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “Don’t you have to work today?”

“Nah–called in sick. It’s my wife’s birthday week. I have to shower her with all the love.” He wiggles his eyebrows and puckers his lips.

It’s funny to see Jeon Jungkook act this way. He’s always been playful and flirty the two years you’ve known him, but this must’ve been his way of pulling out all his cards of wooing a woman.

💖💖💖

“Breakfast is ready,” Jungkook yells from the kitchen.

A support ticket from work came through, distracting you from your movie and Jungkook.

“‘Kay! Almost done.” You recheck your work emails, ensuring everything is complete.

This time, you put on a bra, change into a decent shirt, and put on a skin tint and blush to make yourself look alive.

You stroll into the kitchen, and Jungkook perfectly displays the sunflowers on the counter and two delicious breakfast plates. The champagne flutes are filled to the brim and topped off with a beautifully sliced strawberry.

“Thanks, Kook. This looks so yummy.”

He flashes a smile. “Anytime.”

The two of you sit beside each other, digging into the breakfast spread.

“What’s that one movie you wanted to watch again?” Jungkook asks before he sips his mimosa.

Your mouth is full, and you chew quickly to answer him. “The one on Netflix?” He hums. “Wedding Season.”

“Sounds like the perfect movie for us to watch this week.”

“You’re into rom-coms?”

“I love ‘em.”

“Shut up. You’re teasing me now.”

“I don’t know why you never ask me to watch them, but you’ll ask the girls.”

You look down at your food before catching his gaze. “I didn’t think you’d be into them, so I never asked. And you don’t seem like the hopeless romantic type.”

“I mean, growing up, I wasn’t. My parents didn’t have a fairytale romance, so I didn’t believe in love for a long time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So, someone must’ve changed your mind then?”

He hums, not wanting to admit who made it an exception.

You nudge his arm. “Are you gonna tell me, or will I have to pry it out of you?”

He chuckles, not saying a word.

You scoff. “You’re not gonna tell me? Keeping secrets from your wife already? Rude,” you tut.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he replies.

The two of you finish breakfast, and Jungkook insists on doing the dishes. You set your plate in the sink and clutch onto his arm, tiptoeing to place a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you.”

💖💖💖

tuesday.

You take the morning off to run errands for your upcoming birthday extravaganza. And you’re struggling to hit the lock button on your keypad while holding a heavy box of birthday decor.

When you finally hear the whirring of the lock and chime, you turn around, bumping into someone, dropping your box, and knocking over a handful of books.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there,” you say, quickly picking up as many books as possible, and he picks up your birthday decor.

The man reaches for the pink heart-shaped sunglasses and other pink-colored decor. “Someone must be celebrating big,” the man’s dimpled smile displayed.

Your fingers accidentally touch his when you switch his books for your decor. You clear your throat, trying not to ogle the man. “Um, yeah, it’s for my birthday.”

He perks up. “Oh?” He flashes a thin smile. “Happy birthday.”

A breath gets caught in your throat, and you struggle to get any words out. “Uh, my birthday is actually on Saturday,” you finally croak out. “But, you must be my new neighbor.”

“Yeah, I’m Namjoon. I just moved in this past weekend.”

Oh, this is bad. Really bad.

He’s tall, has beautiful tanned skin and blonde hair, and you could live in his dimples.

“It’s–it’s nice to meet you.”

“Sorry about bumping into you, and it’s nice to meet you too. I hope you have a good birthday,” he says before picking up one last book on the ground.

“Are you doing anything this weekend? You can come if you want.”

After you ask, you want to kick yourself in the bum. Inviting a man you just met. What if he’s a weirdo? But how can he be if he’s reading ‘A Bigger Message Conversations with David Hockney.’ You may have managed to peek at one of his books.

“Oh, no,” he shakes his head. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding! I’m inviting you, and you can’t say no to the birthday girl,” you tease, adjusting the box in your arms.

A low chuckle escaped his lips. “You’re right. It’d be messed up to say no to the birthday girl.”

“So, you’ll come?” you ask, and a smile grows from ear to ear.

He nods. “Yeah, I’ll come.”

The two of you exchange information before you leave to finish your errands. You’re beaming down the street while carrying your box of decor.

You didn’t expect to find someone cute and endearing so quickly. And you’re surprised he said yes to your party. Maybe he’s new in town and wants to make friends. It would be a good way for him to get acquainted, and a part of you hoped you’d keep bumping into him in the halls.

💖💖💖

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:27 AM Wanna do a movie night today? We could watch Wedding Season.

You 11:30 AM Sounds like a date.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:35 AM Is 6 okay? I can bring dinner too.

You 11:36 AM That sounds perfect.

It's six on the dot, and you hear a knock on your door. You suppose Jungkook is the type to show up right on time, which you greatly appreciate.

He holds a six-pack of beer and a pizza box when you open the door.

"Ready for movie night?"

It’s halfway through the film, and you’re enjoying it. You love the fake dating trope because you could always count on the two mains to fall for each other.

"Are you cold?" Jungkook asks when he sees you tuck your hands in between your thighs.

"Yeah, kind of."

"Come here."

He opens his arm to cuddle, and you blink expressionless at him. The most intimate thing you’ve done with him is hug him–a side hug.

He laughs when you don’t move. “What? Scared I’ll bite?”

“No—it’s just that cuddling is an intimate thing to do,” you admit.

Arms and legs become entangled. Bodies are warming up against each other. Possibilities of things progressing.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Do you have a throw blanket somewhere?” He looks around and sees a woven basket next to the couch. He grabs a white fluffy throw for you.

Jungkook gives you an out, and for that, you’re grateful.

“Thanks,” you say as you snuggle in the blanket.

He flashes a small smile. “No problem.”

Even though you rejected Jungkook’s invitation to cuddle, somehow, by the end of the movie, the two of you had fallen asleep—cuddling.

You didn’t pull away from him yet. You peered up at him, watching his chest rise and fall. Light snores escape his lips, and now and again, he puffs out a breath like a whale coming up for air, making you chuckle.

You rest your chin on his chest, giving yourself a few seconds to enjoy this before waking him up.

“Kook,” you whisper, gently shaking him. “Kook,” you repeat.

He hums, popping his head up while his eyes are still closed. He flutters them open and immediately sits up, wiping the drool that’s dried on his chin. He clears his throat. “Um—how long was I asleep for?”

You giggle. “We both fell asleep. I blame the beer,” you say, stretching your arms.

Jungkook can’t help but notice the shiny piece of jewelry hanging from your navel. “You have your belly button pierced?” he asks with a raised brow.

You quickly pull down your shirt. “It was a dumb thing I did when I turned 21.”

“It’s cute.”

You shy away from his comment. At times, you forget you have it.

“What else are you hiding, hm?” Jungkook asks.

You scoff. “Nothing. I only have my ears and my belly button pierced.”

“No tattoos?”

Tattoos are cool on other people, and you toyed with the idea of getting one. You were indecisive about what to get.

You shook your head no. “Maybe one day.”

“Get one for your 30th. I’ll go with you. I know a guy,” he teases, pointing out the ink on his skin.

“You gonna hold my hand the entire time?”

He grins. “Anything for the wifey.”

A tattoo, huh? You’ve always wanted to see how high your pain threshold was. “I’ll think about it.”

“Just let me know, and I’ll get an appointment with the guy I always go to. I only trust him.”

Jungkook stands, proceeding to clean up the mess you two made.

“Oh, no. Leave it. I’ll clean it up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s late. We should get some sleep.”

He looks at the clock. It’s nearly midnight, and he still needs to wash up.

You walk him to the door, holding it open for him to leave. “Kook?”

Jungkook turns to you. “Yeah?”

You’re unsure what comes over you, but you pull him in for a hug. Only this time, it doesn’t feel like a friendly hug. It takes a moment for him to register what’s happening, then he wraps his arms around you. Every ounce of his body presses against yours, and you fit perfectly into him like a puzzle piece. His fresh, clean scent invades your nose, and you wish it could linger for a bit longer while his hand snakes to the nape of your neck, fingers curling in your hair.

Why do you feel more vulnerable when sleeping next to him now than earlier? Is it because you’re awake and aware of your intentions? The question was, what were your intentions? Did you want this? Did you really want him?

You withdrew from the embrace, bidding him farewell. He gives a small wave before disappearing into the elevator.

As you enter your apartment and shut the door, you repeatedly knocked the back of your head against it, muttering, ‘fuck.’ You were playing along to see how far Jungkook would go before calling it quits, but you failed to see that maybe—just maybe you could be falling too.

Hoseok’s minding his business, eating his ramen when he sees his roommate walk in. Jungkook looks like he’s floating on cloud nine, beaming from ear to ear. There’s even a hop in his step. He twirls around, daintily sitting beside Hoseok.

Hoseok scans his friend, watching him as he breathes a happy sigh and stares into the distance.

“What’s going on with you?” He raises a brow and narrows his eyes.

Jungkook giggles and scrunches his shoulders. “I just came back from cuddling with ___,” he says as he continues in his reveries.

“Oh, boy. Everyone, can I please have your attention,” Hoseok cups his mouth into a megaphone, “Jeon Jungkook has officially gone off the deep end. He thinks being delulu is the solulu.”

Jungkook glares at his friend and kicks him under the table. “Yah–aren’t you supposed to be rooting for me?”

Hoseok slurps his noodles. “Of course, I’m rooting for you. You’re my best bud,” he says as he places a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” he pats Hoseok’s hand. “Now–be an even better friend, and let me raid your closet for ___’s party.”

Jungkook lies in bed; his bicep flexes when he moves his hand behind his head. He’s watching an array of colors flash across the vastness of his room. The northern lights and stars twirl and sparkle like the movements of butterflies and the ones milling around his stomach for days.

Is this what being in love feels like, he thinks. It’s like he’s living in the romance movies he’s watched. Boy meets girl, boy, and girl fall in love, and they live happily ever after.

This is it. This must be it. His chance to be with you–the one he’s fallen completely head over heels for.

If the Jungkook from four years ago were to see him today, he’d laugh and call him a simp, especially with how he’s at your beck and call.

But the Jungkook, from four years ago, was a cynic. He had no healthy or loving relationships around him until he met you through Hoseok. And, even though you were with someone at the time, he saw how kind and wonderful you were to your friends and could only imagine the kind of love you’d show toward someone special.

There were only a few more days until your party, and he was determined to make each day count.

wednesday.

Since Monday, Jungkook has surprised you every day with a gift. They were his attempts to make you fall in love with you, along with his random trips to your place. 

Today’s gift was a pair of pink seashell earrings. Jungkook tells you he spent hours making it from clay, then baked them in the oven. You shook your head, wondering how he got an idea like this. Nonetheless, it was a sweet gift.

He texted throughout the day, leaving cute words of encouragement or sending TikToks of funny videos he’d find. Maybe this was his love language, taking the time out of his day to let you know he’s thinking about you.

As your day winds down, you’re scrolling through YouTube, and what catches your eye at 7 p.m.? Dessert videos.

And that’s your worst toxic trait—thinking you can bake. It always looks easy enough. If they can do it, so can you.

That is, until you’re in the kitchen, halfway through a recipe, and notice you’re out of sugar. The grocery store is too far and will close when you get there.

See what happens when you decide to bake? It always goes differently than you want.

You could call Jungkook to see if he has any or walk over to your new neighbor’s place. The latter was plausible since Namjoon was only a few feet away.

You shook off the nerves, flattened your apron, and lightly knocked on Namjoon’s door. You could hear shuffling as he unlocked it.

Your eyes widened, standing like a deer caught in headlights. Namjoon’s half-naked, black shorts hung dangerously low on his waist. His forehead is glistening with sweat.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” you ask while trying to keep your gaze in line with his and not ogling his chiseled body.

Shit—maybe he had company over.

He cards his hand through his platinum blonde hair, but a few pieces fall back, covering his eyes. “No, you’re good. I just finished working out. What’s up?” he asks. His hand holds the door open as he leans against it.

You’re dumbfounded, unable to form words again. It’s like a giant hairball stuck in your throat.

Namjoon’s brows raise, and he calls out to you.

“Oh, sorry!” you say. “I’m attempting to bake a cake but I'm out of sugar. I wanted to ask if you have any I can borrow.”

“I think I do,” he ponders as he steps back. “Come in. Come in.”

You step into a squeaky clean apartment. Didn’t he just move in? How does someone unpack so quickly? Or maybe he had little to begin with.

His apartment was like a museum, with pottery, sculptures, and art prints adorning his walls and shelves. But what catches your attention is the translucent, cylindrical coffee table. It doesn’t seem like anyone should be putting anything on it.

Namjoon stands beside you, holding a jar of sugar.

“Ah, thank you so much! Now my cake batter won’t go to waste.”

“Anything catch your fancy?” he asks.

Granted, this man is still half-naked, standing beside you. You’re trying not to go feral over how broad and built he is.

“This, actually,” you point to the glass coffee table.

“That’s probably one of my most prized possessions.”

“It looks expensive.” You’d later come to find out it was worth $1.2M after you did an internet search.

“It is,” he chuckles. “It’s on loan from a friend.”

“On loan?” you ask, turning to him. Your eyes narrow and lips thin. “Can I ask what you do for work?”

“I’m an art curator.”

That makes sense now, considering the expensive and extensive art collection.

“Oh—you’re so fancy,” you tease. “I don’t know shit about art.” You could stand before a painting and feel nothing while looking at it. Maybe you were just going in with the wrong mindset.

Namjoon chuckles. “You can always ask me questions,” he notes before walking away to put on a t-shirt.

You’re a bit disappointed that you can’t ogle him anymore.

“Well, I can’t ask you questions if you don’t take me to a museum,” you flirt, turning toward him.

He grins, showing off his pearly whites and dimple deeply etched into his left cheek. “Are you asking me to ask you out on a date?”

You can’t help but play dumb. “Oh no, of course not! I would like your expertise to guide me around a museum, and if we happen to eat afterward, then I don’t know—would you call that a date?”

Namjoon licks his lips and nods, impressed by your boldness. “Are you busy Friday night?”

The cake wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great either. You’d have to keep perfecting it and maybe keep asking to ‘borrow’ some sugar from your neighbor.

You debated whether you should tell Jungkook about your date with Namjoon. It’s a harmless date; Jungkook would be off the hook if it goes well. Besides, it’s a silly agreement you two made up while drunk.

But, you’d sleep on it and figure it out tomorrow. There was one more day before the date anyway.

As you were sitting in bed, doing your nightly scrolling through social media. A video call comes through.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo Incoming Video Call

You're on your side when you answer his call. “Hey, Kook,” you say before covering a yawn.

“Ready for bed?” he asks, shuffling underneath his duvet.

Your eyes scan the screen, and you notice his bare shoulders and collarbone on display. You never realized his tattooed sleeve reached so high on his arm, scantily kissing the top of his shoulder.

You cleared your throat. "Yeah, about to call it a night. What's up?"

"I just wanted to call and see how your day was. I was busy at work, so I didn't get to text you," he says.

Now that you think about it, the last text you received from him was this morning. And since the start of your little agreement, Jungkook has been texting and calling more than usual.

"I worked, then attempted to bake a cake."

He props the phone against something as he lies on his side, and parts of his hair still look damp from a shower. And you hate how cuddly he looks while he’s in bed and how you can see how much he works out just from the outline of his arms.

And no—you aren’t thinking about anything else. 

"How'd it turn out?"

You shook your head in disgust. "Not very good."

"Ah, I'm sure it was great."

"I'll stick to store-bought cake for now."

"Next time, we can do it together and fail."

He wants to do everything with you, huh?

You chuckle at his comment and then say what’s on your mind, "I never realized how far your tattoo sleeve went up."

He peers at his shoulder. "Oh yeah," he leans forward to show you, his bicep flexing as he moves.

"Cool guy."

He chuckles. "Hardly cool. Just bored," he says. "So, should I schedule you for your tattoo?"

Since the last conversation, you've been scrolling through Pinterest and Instagram to get some ideas.

"I think I want the birth flower for September."

Jungkook shows you his arm, pointing to his tiger lily tattoo. "This one is for the actual day of birth, but the flower for the month of September is pretty too. Have you thought about placement?"

"Mm, maybe on the back of my neck or the inside of my arm. What do you think?" You show him your arm, then the back of your neck.

"It would look great on the back of your neck. It could be a nice surprise when you have your hair up."

"Oh–I like that idea."

He props himself up on the side with a wide grin. "So, I'm booking your appointment?"

You chuckle. "Yeah, why not? We only live once, right?"

Turning 30 is making your confidence go up.

“Once you get one, you’ll want more. Trust me.”

“At least I’ll have a tattoo buddy for life,” you tease.

“Ah, see, I like the way you’re thinking. Well, I should let my wifey get to sleep,” he gives a small smile. He reaches for his phone, placing it on his chest. His other hand is behind his head as he watches you through the screen.

You hum in agreement. “Night.”

“Night.”

Daydreams are one thing, and when Jungkook lies in bed, he can't help but wonder.

Wonder how you’d look in his favorite t-shirt. Wonder which side of the bed you prefer. Wonder if you dream of him, too. Wonder what it’s like to be loved by you.

Jungkook doesn’t want to wonder anymore; he wants to make you his reality.

thursday.

The birthday festivities started early for you as you requested today and tomorrow off. There’s no way you’re spending your last few days of being 29 stuck at work.

Today’s agenda consisted of a pedicure. The toes have to look cute with your new heels, and as you’re ready to head out to your appointment, Jungkook is at your door when you open it.

You tilt your head, knitting your eyebrows together. “Did we have something planned?”

He shakes his head no and pouts. “No, I wanted to surprise you with another gift.”

He hands you a gift bag, and you take a small peek, reaching down to grab the gift. You pull out a peach-shaped heart bath bomb.

“Peach?” You raise a brow and give a smug grin. “What makes you think I like peach?”

Jungkook snorts. “Oh, pfft–I don’t know. Could it be all the candles or soap? Or how you always order any type of peach-flavored alcohol? Tea? Or–”

You suck in your lips, then give a thin smile. “Son of a peach.”

“Very cute. You’re also great at fruit puns. I’ll add that to the list of reasons why I like you,” he chuckles.

To be fair, everything in your apartment had a hint of peach–your candles, air freshener, hand soap, ChapStick, and not to mention a cupboard full of peach tea.

You chuckle. “Thanks, Kook. You didn’t have to.”

“I do if I’m trying to make you fall in love with me.”

You set the bath bomb back in its bag, then on the entryway table. You close the door behind you, forcing him to step back.

“You talk a lot about making me fall in love with you, but you’ve still failed to do so. It’s almost my birthday,” you tease.

What girl wouldn’t want gifts, but you thought he’d push a bit harder.

Jungkook smirks, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He steps closer to you–close enough for you to smell his cologne. It’s a fresh, clean scent.

He’s inches away from you. Warmth is radiating off of him. Your heart is practically beating out of your chest. Your eyes are on his, then focus on his lip ring, then the freckle underneath his bottom lip. It’s the first time you’ve been close enough to notice it.

His eyes dart back and forth between yours. His tongue wets his lips, then plays with his ring. “I’m just getting started,” he says.

You close your eyes, fluttering them back open. There’s relief escaping your body once he backs away.

“So, what are we doing today?” he asks, stepping out of the way to let you lead.

“I have a pedicure appointment. Wanna come?” you ask. You wouldn’t mind having company around, and you’re curious how he’ll continue to sweep you off your feet.

You feel bad for the poor woman who has Jungkook in her seat, and you’re trying your best not to laugh as he’s squirming, clutching onto the armrests.

You clear your throat. “Is this your first pedicure?”

“What? No,” he counters, but he’s giggling non-stop, holding on for dear life.

“Sir–I need you to stop moving,” the woman warns.

You cover your mouth. Your shoulders are bouncing due to your giggles. “Kook, she hasn’t even done anything to you yet.”

“How the hell do women do this? This is torture.”

“Can’t handle a little torture?”

He perks up, shaking off the chills. The woman continues to scrub his feet with a pumice stone. He’s sucking in his lips, trying not to laugh and smile when she gets to the underside of his foot. Then his reflexes get the best of him, and he almost kicks her.

The woman gives him a blank expression but is professional and continues as fast as possible.

An hour later, Jungkook is coming out of the nail salon, sweating bullets from the endless torture of a pedicure.

You look at him and then his toes. “At least your toes are cute.” He let you choose the color, and you had to choose hot pink to match your birthday theme for this weekend.

He does the walk of shame in a pair of yellow flimsy flip-flops because he wasn’t prepared for a pedicure. You’ve been there, done that.

You link your arms to him when you catch up to him. “Hungry?”

Jungkook groans in delight. “You have to try this.”

He leans forward. A piece of his roasted chicken ravioli covered in pink sauce looks delectable. You open your mouth, devouring the pasta. You close your eyes, savoring it.

“See, what did I tell you?” He smiles, going back to his bowl of food. “How’s yours?”

You didn’t want to say you didn’t like it–but you hate it. “It’s good,” you smile and lie through your teeth.

You begin moving the ravioli around, pretending to make it look like you'll eat it.

Jungkook sets his fork down, pushing his bowl toward you. “Here, take mine.”

You look up at him. “What? No–I like my food,” you lie again, grabbing your bowl and clutching it closer to you.

He deadpans. “I’ve known you long enough to know when you don’t like something. Come on, I’ll finish your food, and you can have mine.”

You let go of your bowl. “Are you sure?”

Jungkook smiles warmly, his small dimple on display as he nods. He grabs your bowl and begins to eat it.

Your heart softens, and you’re enchanted by your friend/potential future husband, so it pains you to have this conversation. You tossed and turned the night before because you couldn’t bear the thought of locking your friend into something he'll regret later on.

“So, you might not have to marry me,” you say.

Jungkook looks up at you, tilting his head in confusion. “Damn, someone beat me to it?” he jokes.

You flash a thin smile and shake your head no. “Well, I have a crush on my new neighbor.”

He raises an eyebrow. “New neighbor?”

You nod. “Yeah, he just moved in.”

Jungkook nibbles on the inside of his mouth then continues to eat. “You barely know the guy, and you’re already tossing me aside?” He tuts, shaking his head.

“I’m–I’m not tossing you aside. You’re still an option, but I’m just saying if it works out with the new neighbor, then you’re off the hook. I'm sure there are better girls out there than me, Kook. You don’t want to be married to me.”

He sets his fork down, pushing his bowl forward. “Well, what can I say? You can’t see the guy?”

“So, you’re okay if I see him?”

Jungkook hesitates to answer. “Mm,” he hums with a nod.

“Are you upset with me?”

“Why would I be upset?” He shrugs. “I’m only a back-up.”

His answer gives you a sense of relief, but you also feel guilty about everything. “Should we end our little deal? That way, you don’t have to be stuck with me for the rest of your life. It seems silly now that we’re both sober and not drunk making promises like this.”

He hums and nods again. “You’re right. It does seem foolish.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin. "I'll go pay while you finish up."

You watch him get up and walk to the register. His demeanor changes as soon as you mention ending the deal. 

Is he serious about this?

Honestly, you’re stumped by Jeon Jungkook and his intentions. If he did like you, why not ask you out like an average person? Why go through the trouble of marrying you? So that you could fulfill some silly goal you had for your life?

“I’ll walk you up,” Jungkook says as he turns off the car.

“It’s fine, Kook. You don’t have to,” you counter.

On the ride back, guilt has been eating you from the inside out. You’re unsure why you feel this way–maybe because you feel like a shitty friend. Saying one thing and then doing another.

But again, marriage is a serious thing for two people to consider.

Jungkook doesn’t waver in his decision and escorts you anyway. The silence is deafening in the elevator; the two of you stand at opposite sides, stealing glances. There’s an elephant in the room, but neither of you addresses it.

When the elevator doors open, you expel the caught breath in your throat. Jungkook follows a few steps behind you.

“Are we okay?” you ask, glancing at him before lowering your head.

He stuffs his hand in his pants pocket. “Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?”

“I don’t know. I feel like an ass because you’ve been such a good friend–especially after my breakups. And then this past week, you’ve been sweet and cute with all the little gifts and hangouts,” you pause to look at him.

His eyes are big and innocent, and his lips form a slight pout. He’s intently listening to your words.

“I’m trying to say I’ve enjoyed being with you this week, and I’m sorry how things turned out,” you manage to spit out.

Jungkook nibbles on his lip, showing off his pretty dimple. His eyes dart to yours as he flashes a thin smile. “Well, I’ll always be your back-up if this guy doesn’t work out.”

You breathe a sigh of relief that he can still joke about this situation. You close the distance between you, reaching up and draping your arms around his neck.

It takes a moment for him to return your hug, but he does–wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing you into him. He nuzzles in the crook of your shoulder, taking in your sweet scent and softness.

Your heart’s fluttering, your stomach is somersaulting and doing back-flips. Jungkook’s warmth is all-encompassing, encapsulating every fiber of your being. Neither of you let go, allowing this embrace to go longer than usual friends do.

When you pull away, your lips are so close to his. Close enough to explore what they taste like. Close enough to see how plush they are. Close enough to find out just how much you’d have to gasp for air afterward.

You almost want to give in. You almost want to see where this could go. You almost want him to make a move.

Jungkook whispers your name, and you hum, gazing into his eyes. “Are you sure about this? About the deal? You don’t want it anymore?”

You're becoming lost in the stars and galaxies contained in those doe eyes. Jungkook doesn’t lose focus, doesn’t break character, and doesn’t give you a chance to run away.

“This stops when you say so,” he utters softly.

He’s unrelenting, you think. He wants this, doesn’t he? He wants you.

So these next few words sting. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Jungkook doesn’t even realize when he’s outside his apartment complex. He sits in his car, zoning out. He’s so close to finally getting you, but now there’s someone else?

For two years, he’s been trying to buck up the courage and finally ask you out, and when he finally gets an opportunity, someone always swoops in and steals you away.

When he proposed the agreement, it was more of a joke, that is, until you agreed, and that’s when he knew he’d try whatever it took to get you to the altar.

A knock on Jungkook’s window breaks him from deep thought. He looks up to see his roommate, Hoseok.

He gestures for Jungkook to roll his window down. “Why do you look like you're on the verge of crying? Why don’t you go up to the apartment?”

Jungkook holds onto the steering wheel and groans as his head hits it a few times, muttering, ‘Stupid.’

Hoseok knits his eyebrows in confusion as he rubs his friend’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go,” he says, opening the car door.

Jungkook drags his feet through the threshold and drops his backpack on the floor. He continues walking sluggishly, plopping on the couch, still in a daze.

Hoseok blinks at his friend. “What’s going on?”

“You know how I was trying to make ____ fall in love with me this week?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, she likes her new neighbor.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened. “There's a new guy already? I swear this girl must have some kind of bat signal that’s beaming up into the sky that attracts men the second she’s single.”

Jungkook drops his head back, then rubs his face. “What am I going to do?”

Hoseok shrugs. “Maybe tell her how serious you are about being with her.”

“Yeah, but what if she doesn’t want to be with me?”

“So, you’re going to trap her in a marriage instead?” Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “Make it make sense, my friend.”

Maybe that's what he wanted. It could be like an arranged marriage. Meet first, then fall in love.

“I know it sounds ridiculous!”

Hoseok rubs Jungkook’s shoulder. “This whole deal is ridiculous. Be honest with her, then she’ll have to choose between you and the new guy.”

He knows Hoseok is right. He should be honest and tell you how he feels.

Or he could get rid of the new guy, and the deal would be back on.

Decisions. Decisions.

friday.

Jungkook was determined to make this agreement work out in his favor. He wasn’t going to back down so easily.

He took off early from work, going straight to your favorite bakery to grab a cake. Thoughts are racing through his mind as he clutches the cake box and walks through the crowded street.

What if this was his last chance? What if this new guy was ‘the one’ for you? He couldn’t let you slip away again.

He’s even prepared a monologue. He’s mumbling it under his breath when he arrives at your door.

When the door opens, he doesn’t find you. Instead, he finds a half-naked man with broad shoulders and impeccable pecs.

Jungkook stands tall and puffs out his chest, back straight, when he sees this unknown man. His mouth is agape as he scans him from head to toe. Was this the guy you were talking about?

He clears his throat and stands his ground. “Oh, uh, who are you?”

“Hey, man. I’m Namjoon. ___’s neighbor,” he says.

“I’ll be right out!” you yell from the other room.

Jungkook clenches his jaw, and he’s trying to calm his nerves. There’s no way you were sleeping with this guy already, right? No, you can’t be, Jungkook shakes the thought from his head.

You sprint from the hallway, holding a shirt. With your clumsy ways, you spilled iced coffee on Namjoon’s shirt right before your date. You felt bad, so you offered to wash it for him.

“Namjoon, I’m so sorry! I’ve tried everything to get it out. I might have to buy you a new shirt–oh,” you gasp. “Hi, Jungkook.”

Jungkook walks in, setting the box down, and he doesn’t say anything else as he leans against the counter, watching you two.

Namjoon sucks in his lips, strolling to your side, looking at his stained shirt. “Don’t worry about it. It was time to get rid of that shirt anyway.” He gives a reassuring smile. “I’m gonna grab a new shirt, then we’ll be on our way?”

You hum. “See you soon.”

Jungkook’s eyes follow you and Namjoon as you bid him farewell. You lower your head and purse your lips when you approach Jungkook.

“Date night?” he asks, turning to you.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you from your date. Just wanted to drop off a cake I picked up for you,” he points to the box on the counter.

You see the bakery's name on the box, and it’s from your favorite place. You undo the tabs and unfold the box to reveal a heart-shaped cake with various shades of baby pink and blue, then sitting prettily on top is one of your favorite Sanrio characters: Cinnamoroll.

“Kook–you didn’t just pick this up.” A cake like this was ordered well in advance.

His eyebrows rise, and he gives a half-smile. He walks beside you. “Happy early birthday,” he says as his eyes flick to yours. “See you tomorrow.”

When the door shuts, you wince.

Namjoon has a brilliant mind, and that intimidates you. He's far too intelligent and reasonable for a hopeless romantic who lives in their daydreams and wants a ring on their finger by tomorrow.

The two of you come to a crowded spot in the museum. You look back and smile at Namjoon. He puts his hands on your waist, guiding you from behind. Your stomach somersaults from the affection, but you continue leading the way through the sea of people, trying not to focus on it.

An announcement reminds museum go-ers that they’ll be closing in 15 minutes.

“Should we head out soon?” you ask with disappointment. You thoroughly enjoyed hearing Namjoon talk even though you had nothing insightful to say about the numerous art pieces.

The corners of his mouth curve up. “But we have one more exhibit to see,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. He holds out his hand for yours.

You’re intrigued, so you don’t question and place your hand in his.

Everyone starts to file out toward the exit, but the two of you enter an exhibit hidden away in the back.

“Aren’t we going to get in trouble?” you ask.

He chuckles. “You’re cute,” he says before showing you his work ID and security badge.

“Oh,” you giggle. It makes sense. Namjoon did say he was an ‘art curator.’ He just never mentioned where he worked.

“Feel free to look around and tell me if anything catches your eye.”

You take your time, roaming around, going from piece to piece. Namjoon stays in place, waiting until you’ve found something. You tilt your head, examining the drawing.

[ frida castelli, milan ]

It's a woman. Her back is bare, and she's curling her hands into the bedsheets. The drawing is cut off right at the small of her back, and one can assume the rest. It's erotic–as this exhibit displays various works from modern artists.

Namjoon stands beside you. “Thoughts?”

Horny, you think, but considering this is your first date. You probably shouldn’t blurt it out.

“I like the position she's in,” you say, and Namjoon chokes on nothing. You cover your mouth and can’t help but laugh.

“I like that position too,” he adds.

You try to suppress your smile because now, you’re thinking about the two of you in that position.

"Should we keep looking?"

After a late-night dinner, you’re standing outside your door, not wanting to say goodbye to Namjoon. You’d invite him in, but tomorrow’s a big day, and you have an early wake-up call.

“I hope I was able to answer your questions,” Namjoon says, leaning his shoulder against the door, facing you.

You give him a small smile, looking at the floor, then back up at him. "I think you answered everything."

He hums and parts his lips. "Well, I have one question for you, if that's okay."

You nod.

"Can I give the birthday girl a kiss?"

You lick your lips. "It's not my birthday yet."

Namjoon steps forward, scanning your face. "You can consider it an early birthday present."

"Well, I won't say no to a birthday present."

Your heart is swooning over this tall, handsome man. He’s perfect. He's brilliant and well-spoken. Someone secure and confident, even emotionally available. You’d be a fool not to want this to go further.

Your gaze darts back and forth between his eyes and his lips, unsure how to respond. You've been wondering what they taste like all night and want to kiss the freckle underneath his lip. They look so rosy and pillowy, almost like kissing a cloud.

He softly presses his lips against yours. His big hands cup your face. His nose brushes against your cheek. His lips encapture your top lip, then your bottom. He lingers briefly before pulling away, his lips ghosting over yours, and you want to return for more–you’re not done.

“Do that again,” you whisper.

His breath is warm, and he smiles before going back in, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Your hands are placed on his taut chest, fingers curling and tugging on his shirt. The butterflies in your stomach are yearning for a way out. The desire in you grows deeper. You’re breathless at this point, but you don’t care if you never breathe again.

First kisses always make you go weak in the knees, and you wish you could experience them over and over.

“Your lips are stained,” you notice when you pull away. 

Namjoon chuckles; his thumb swipes at his bottom lip. “That’s okay.”

He moves in to kiss you again, but you stop him by putting your index finger to his lips. “The birthday girl should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

You render him speechless—he made the first move, but you’ll have the final say.

You bid goodbye to him, trying your best not to linger and give in to your urges. Peering through the viewfinder, you see him smiling and shaking his head before he closes the door to his place.

You’re grinning from ear to ear as your back is against the door. The date couldn’t have gone better–though you probably couldn’t write a dissertation on Modern Art in Korea, you appreciated that he took the time to explain what he loves and why he’s so passionate about it.

Maybe he could be the one.

It’s midnight when you’re under the covers and still glowing from your date with Namjoon.

You check your phone to see text messages from Jungkook.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 9:22 PM Hey! I found some cool birth flowers. Do you like any of these? [ 5 images attached ]

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 9:27 PM And my tattoo guy had a last-minute cancellation for Monday at 6 p.m. I’m gonna book you for it, okay?

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 10:05 PM I can go to hold your hand if you’d like.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:11 PM I hope you had a good day. See you tomorrow, birthday girl.

This differed from how you wanted to celebrate your birthday week, especially not how you envisioned your friendship with Jungkook. Did you ruin it?

And that’s when your heart aches as you reflect on this past week. Jungkook has been so sweet, and you feel like the worst friend. Could he be into you, and you’re blind to notice?

But what about Namjoon? He’s undoubtedly checked off all the boxes you could want in a partner.

Plus, Jungkook’s just a back-up.

saturday.

The sun is peeking through, and the birds are chirping away. You’ve slept through your alarm because you’re still in dreamland.

You’re unsure who’s in bed with you. All you hear is a groan and shuffling as they reposition themselves. You peer over your shoulder, quickly turning away when they pull themselves closer to you. Then, as an arm comes into view, draping over you, you recognize the inked skin.

It’s Jungkook.

A buzz from your phone and a bang at the door awakens you. Missed notifications of calls and texts from Jenn, your best friend, flood your screen.

You sprint to the door, unlocking and opening it for her.

“Jesus Christ—I thought you were dead,” Jenn says after she brushes past you, setting several bags on your kitchen counter.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, babe,” she blinks, giving you the once-over. “You haven’t showered, have you?”

You shake your head no.

“Well, go! It’s your birthday, but we can’t wait all day for you.” She shoos you off to the bathroom.

When you’re out of the shower, Jenn’s sitting in front of your vanity, putting on her blush.

“So, how are you doing, babe? Still not over Theodore Boner?”

“Bonner,” you correct her.

You adjust your towel, tucking it securely. “There’s been some new developments,” you say, walking to your dresser.

Jenn slowly turns around. “Please don’t tell me you’re back with him? He was a walking red flag. Well, at the end of your relationship anyway.”

You press your lips together, shaking your head. “You know that time I was upset about my break-up with Jimin?”

Jenn hums and narrows her eyes.

“Jungkook and I went out and got pretty drunk.”

She leans forward. “Uh-huh.”

You cleared your throat. “I may have agreed that if Jungkook and I were still single by 30, we’d get married.” You turned around, opening the top drawer in search of cute underwear.

Jenn’s jaw drops. “You’re not going to marry Jeon Jungkook, are you?”

You laugh it off. “No, of course not! But he’s always been there for me after my break-ups.”

“Oh, how convenient that he also happens to be single by your 30th birthday,” she says dryly.

“Jungkook’s been a good friend, and if we were to get married, and that’s a big if, then honestly, I think we’d be pretty good together,” you explain.

You're not sure if you're attempting to persuade Jenn or yourself. You’re not going to lie. You’ve toyed with the idea this whole week.

“Why don’t you just date Jungkook then?” she asks, returning to add more blush to her cheeks.

You nibble on your bottom lip. “Err–well, because there’s a new guy.”

She whips her head back around. “I go on a solo trip, and you have not one but two guys who want to be with you?”

“Technically, I told Jungkook that if things work out with me and Namjoon, he doesn’t have to marry me.”

“Namjoon?”

“Yeah, he’s my new neighbor.”

“Shut up! Your neighbor?” Jenn stands, sprinting out your bedroom door. “Which apartment? I need to see this man.”

“Jenn!” You run after her, clutching her arm, trying to pull her back. “Stop it, will you? He’ll be at the party tonight.”

Jenn turns to you. “Babe–you have Jungkook and new neighbor guy vying for your attention? Sheesh. When can I be the main character?”

You grip your towel and drag her back to your room.

“At least tell me more juicy details,” she whines.

Jungkook checks himself out in the mirror. Hot pink usually is not part of his wardrobe color, but he does it in a heartbeat if it involves you and your silly antics.

He slips the hot pink denim jacket over his white shirt and matching pink cargo trousers. He adds a neon green necklace to finish off his look.

This outfit is Ken-esque, right? He sighs, wishing you could be the Barbie to his Ken.

His roommate, Hoseok, knocks on his door, breaking his focus. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”

Jungkook nibbles the inside of his cheek. This week’s been a rollercoaster of emotions for him. He was at an all-time high before you broke the news that you no longer need a back-up.

He’s gone back and forth, debating whether to fight for you or give up.

"I don't know yet," Jungkook responds. He glances at Hoseok through the mirror's reflection.

“Tell her how you feel. Be honest with her,” Hoseok says. He’s been telling Jungkook for two years now.

Jungkook turns around. “I can’t–” he pauses and huffs a breath, taking a seat on the bed.

Hoseok narrows his eyes and crosses his arms as he leans against the door frame. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve done too much shit by breaking up her relationships. She’ll never forgive me,” Jungkook explains.

Hoseok choked on nothing. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Remember Jimin and Theo?”

Hoseok hums.

Jungkook clears his throat. “I may or may not have told some harmless lies that ended up in them breaking up with her.”

Hoseok huffs out a breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know why you didn’t tell her right off the bat that you wanted to date her.”

“I’m an idiot, that’s why, and now it’s too late. She doesn’t want me. She wants the neighbor guy.”

Hoseok sits by his friend. “It’s either now or never. You can’t keep breaking up her relationships because you’re too scared to be in a real one with her. You don’t want to start it off that way.”

Jungkook flings himself onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I know! I’ve just never done this before. I don’t know how to act. She’s the first person I’ve had actual feelings for.”

Hoseok blinks at his friend, ready to say something, but Jungkook interrupts him. “Don’t say shit about that–many people don’t meet the right person until later in life.”

He holds his hands up in defeat. “There’s no judgment from me, my friend. Just consider my words before anyone gets hurt.”

You swipe the lip tint across your bottom lip and repeat with the top. Glancing in the mirror, you adjust your dusty rose dress and tie your matching ribbon in your hair.

The theme for tonight's party is Barbie core, and individuals are encouraged to wear any shade of pink. You’re ridiculous, but you only turn 30 once–why not go all out?

Buckets of bubbly are filled with rosé bottles and floral ice cubes. Barbie-esque props, including heart-shaped sunglasses and cut-out foam lips, are ready to be used at the photo booth. You’ve spent too much time on Pinterest planning the perfect celebration.

It’s ten to seven and still too early for people to show, so you order a Malibu Barbie cocktail at the bar. Jin, the bartender, even tops off your drink with pink sanding sugar for this special occasion and throws in a little peach schnapps.

“There’s the birthday girl.”

When you turn around, you see Jungkook in a bright pink attire. Not every day you see him dressed in anything other than black or white, so you consider this a rare treat.

He offers you a warm hug, and you both act as if nothing has changed. It’s not like you’ve seen him every day as he’s dropped off gifts for you, or he willingly watched a rom-com and definitely hadn’t cuddled.

It’s like you’ve gone back to being just friends.

As you withdraw, you give him the once-over. “You look great in hot pink. I wish I got to see your matching toes.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I don’t think sandals would go with this outfit.”

You shake your head no.

“You look amazing,” he adds, taking your hand and making you twirl for him.

“Thanks, Kook,” you grin. Your hand lingers in his as he delicately caresses your skin. The back of your neck is warming up, and you can’t help but wonder if you’ve made a mistake breaking off your deal.

“Ah, there’s our Barbie girl!” Jenn exclaims as she approaches you. Immediately, you let go of Jungkook’s hand.

“Hey!” you answer, rubbing the back of your neck. “What’s up? Did you need something?”

Jenn raises her brow at you and Jungkook. “I did, but you’re busy with Ken, so I’ll ask Hoseok to help me. Enjoy your night, babe.”

You take your drink and dash off with Jenn, telling Jungkook you’ll see him later. As you stroll behind her, you loop your arm around hers.

“Are you okay?” Jenn narrows her eyes, suppressing a smile.

You clear your throat. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It looks like you and loverboy were having a moment there before I interrupted,” she says, setting down the flower vase on the dessert table.

“He’s not my loverboy. I’m gonna start seeing Namjoon, remember?”

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that. Look–all I’m saying is you should give Jungkook a chance. Anyone could tell he’s head over heels in love with you.”

You choke on your drink. “What? How come no one’s ever told me?”

Jenn laughs. “I never put two and two together until you mentioned your little agreement with him this morning,” she pauses, cupping your face. “And my sweet, innocent Barbie girl, he shoots heart eyes whenever you’re around.” She holds your chin, turning you in Jungkook’s direction.

Jungkook is leaning on the bar, attempting to find the perfect stance to appear cool, but he has no idea what to do with himself. He peers in your direction, catching your gaze, and quickly turns away, waving down the bartender.

She continues, “You’ve been with so many knockoff Kens that you were blind to the real one. He’s a bit of a goofball, but he seems sweet, and like you mentioned today, he’s always around when you’re in need.”

What if your decision was a mistake? Would it be too late to change your mind? You were sure Jungkook had already moved on after being rejected.

You watch while Jungkook drinks something–you figure it's vodka. A shot for yourself seems enticing, simply to settle your anxieties.

Your birthday is supposed to be filled with joy, laughter, and celebration, not you being torn between two great guys.

The party is in full swing–the music’s blaring, friends laughing, chattering, drinking away. Everyone has arrived except for the one person you've been looking for: Namjoon.

You giggle when you scan the room and see Hoseok and Jungkook dancing in the corner. When your eyes catch him, he gestures for you to come dance, but you haven’t had enough alcohol to make a fool of yourself.

He sprints to you, grabbing your hand and dragging you along. “You need a drink before you dance, huh?”

Your lips thin, and you think, how does he know you so well? 

You nod and follow him from behind. You stare blankly as his hands are loosely intertwined with yours. He’s leading you through the crowd, letting go once you’re at the bar’s counter.

“Do you still want that pink drink thingy you had earlier?”

“Surprise me,” you say.

“Two Pink Cadillacs, please,” he says to Jin.

As Jin gets to work on your drinks, Jungkook makes small talk to kill time.

“Are you having fun?” he asks, standing before you. He sways to the song's beat, grinning from ear to ear.

You’d have more fun if you weren’t thinking about him and Namjoon all night. Considering that Namjoon hasn’t even shown up yet, you appreciate that Jungkook’s a sweet and caring friend.

“I’ll be having more fun once I have this drink,” you say over the music.

“You’re not having fun with me?” he jokes, holding out his hand for yours, and of course, you take it.

He draws you to him, makes you twirl around, and then dips you. A slight squeal escapes your lips when you come back up.

Jungkook chuckles. “Sorry, I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“No, I’m–I’m having a good time,” you answer his previous question.

“Are you sure? It looks like something’s on your mind,” Jungkook notes. "You can always talk to me, you know."

Even after breaking off your agreement, he's still willing to be a good friend to you. How'd you get so lucky with someone like him?

"I know," you smile, draping your arms around his neck.

"Two Pink Cadillacs."

You break away from him, grabbing your drink. The two of you sip on them, watching the crowd.

"Jungkook, one. Hot sexy neighbor, zero," Jenn whispers in your ear before walking away.

You clench your jaw and narrow your eyes at her. It’s been an hour, and Namjoon is still nowhere to be seen. Maybe something came up. Things happen. You get it.

"What's going on with Jenn?" he asks.

"Nothing," you reply as you move to stand before him. "You know how she is."

Jungkook takes another sip of his drink. “Hey, can I talk to you about something?”

Your eyes widen and flick to him. Have you been obvious about what’s on your mind?

“Yeah, of course–” you say before a hand slides on the small of your back. You turn to see the man who’s been MIA, Namjoon.

“Hey, birthday girl. I’m sorry I’m late! It was a lot harder to find a pink outfit than I thought,” Namjoon chuckles, then he sees that he may have interrupted something. “Oh–hey, man! Jungkook, right?”

Jungkook gives a small smile, and you mouth, ‘Sorry.’

“Can I steal you away for a second?” Namjoon asks, and you oblige.

Namjoon takes your hand, ready to drag you off, but you stop and return to Jungkook. “Can we talk later?”

He nods. “Yeah, of course. It’s your birthday. Go have fun. I’ll talk to you later.”

Jungkook looks on as you and Namjoon disappear. You laugh when he says something, and Jungkook can hear it–you always let out a tiny squeak, your shoulders bounce, and you cover up your mouth because you don't like how your teeth show when you laugh.

He rubs the back of his neck. He’ll have to find time to talk to you later.

Hoseok nudges Jungkook. “Who’s that?”

Jungkook sips his drink and inhales sharply. “Her neighbor.”

“They look pretty cozy to me,” Hoseok remarks. “Go say something before it’s too late.”

It’s already too late, Jungkook thinks. He’s lost you again. What’s the point if he tried with you and you didn’t want him?

He chugs the drink and orders another round for him and Hoseok. He might as well enjoy the booze while he can–at least it would get you off his mind.

Jungkook's vision is blurred, speech slurred. Even though he sees double, his gaze is still fixed on you and Namjoon, following you wherever you go: the photo booth, the bar, the dance floor. Namjoon’s hands haven’t left you, whether holding your hand or soft touches on the small of your back.

It should be him, he thinks, but he’s been turned down before. He couldn't imagine being rejected twice.

He leans on a high-top table, rhythmically tapping his fingers against it. A few of your friends drag you off to the photo booth for the umpteenth time tonight, and Namjoon is left waiting for you.

Jungkook waits and observes Namjoon, wondering why you’d choose Namjoon over him. He thinks he could take the guy in the boxing ring. He’s too big and sluggish to move as fast as Jungkook. Indeed, he could knock Namjoon out with his right hook. But if it’s not a physical thing you’re looking for, then it’s an intellectual thing.

He shakes off the self-deprecating thoughts. Why doesn’t he go over and chat the guy up? Get to know him. It won’t hurt to find out what kind of guy he is.

There's a queue of friends waiting to take individual shots with you, and you look over to check whether Namjoon is all right. You notice Jungkook approaching and breathe a sigh of comfort, knowing he'll keep Namjoon company.

Jungkook stands up tall when he’s beside Namjoon. “Lavish party, huh?”

Namjoon turns to him and chuckles. “Yeah, she went all out for her 30th.” He cracks his neck and adjusts his bright pink blazer.

“Since you’ll be around, you should get used to it. ___ throws parties like this all the time.”

“She does?” Namjoon’s eyes widened with concern.

Jungkook pouts and nods. “You think this is bad? Last year, she rented a private island, and everyone who attended had to buy a plane ticket to her party.”

Namjoon gulps.

“Man–and now that you guys are together. I'm wishing nothing but the best for you," Jungkook shakes his head. "The last guy was going through it.”

“Last guy? What happened to the last guy?”

Jungkook glances in your direction, then back to Namjoon. “Oh, you guys haven’t had that conversation yet?”

“What conversation?”

“Let’s just say there was a restraining order involved.”

There’s a look of relief on Namjoon’s face. “Man, that guy must’ve been a psycho.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Oh no, no, no. The restraining order was against her!”

Namjoon shifts his position, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Trust me, you don’t want to get on her bad side. Once, she took a bat to a neighbor’s car, thinking it was her boyfriend’s. Mind you, she was pretty drunk—and it was dark, but when she has an idea that you’re cheating on her, all hell breaks loose,” Jungkook tuts.

“Oh.”

Jungkook chuckles. “And don’t even get me started on her obsession with that one K-pop group, Seventeen. She practically has a shrine in her bedroom. Mingyu’s face is plastered on every square inch of her walls, and when they finally came on tour, she drained so much of her savings flying everywhere to see them—front row, I might add.”

Namjoon clears his throat. “I think I need a drink,” he says.

“But don’t worry, man, you’ll be fine!” Jungkook shouts as Namjoon walks away.

He lowers his head and rubs his face. He blames the alcohol for his stupidity. His string of lies is why you would never want to be with him.

Although Jungkook has spewed many lies to Namjoon, it doesn’t scare him off. The two of you are like two peas in a pod. And when he sees Namjoon jet off somewhere, Jungkook swoops in, hoping he’ll have a chance to talk to you before it’s too late.

“Hey!” Jungkook says out of breath. “Going home?”

“Yeah,” you beam a warm smile. “I’m pretty wiped.”

“I can take you home, and then maybe we can talk?”

You nod. “Mm, that sounds like a plan.”

You’ve always found it easy to talk to Jungkook. Even though he claims not to be good at chitchatting, he knows how to make you smile and laugh.

“Did you see Hoseok and Jenn trying to undress each other?” Jungkook chuckles.

“Jenn claims she thought Hoseok was a Ken doll,” you giggle. “I don’t know why they keep skirting around each other. They should date already.”

You two arrive outside your apartment. You unlock the keypad, leaving the door open. Turning back, you see Jungkook standing there. “Are you gonna come in or talk to me from out there?” you ask, shaking your head.

Jungkook walks through the door, closing it behind himself. He smooths down his pants and fixes the collar of his jacket. His gaze darts around the room as he prepares to say what’s on his mind.

“Can I change, and then we’ll talk?”

Jungkook nods, and you run off to your room.

With a heavy sigh, he takes a seat on the couch. He keeps shifting his weight, but nothing feels right. The sweat on his hands increases as the seconds pass by. He's never done it before, confessed his feelings.

Jungkook had rehearsed like he was up for a big audition but felt he’d stumble over his words and blurt out bleh-bleh-blahs.

You resurface a few seconds later, wearing an oversized t-shirt and what appears to be nothing underneath, but when you sit down, he catches a peek at your shorts.

“You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah, about us.”

You cocked your head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Us?”

A knock on the door interrupts you. Your eyebrows knitted together, wondering who it could be this late at night. When you open it, you find Namjoon.

“Hey! You left your phone at the restaurant,” he says. He acknowledges Jungkook as he steps in.

“Oh, thank you! Ah–don’t leave yet! I have something to give to you, too.” You dash to your room, leaving Jungkook and Namjoon.

There’s a moment before Jungkook breaks the silence. He turns to Namjoon. “That shirt she’s wearing is from her ex-boyfriend. She sleeps in it every night because she misses him.”

Namjoon’s lips thin, and he nods.

“Trust me–you should run while you can,” Jungkook says, shaking his head.

He points to the small Seventeen merch collection sitting on a shelf in your living room. “See. It’s cute and innocent until it’s not.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Namjoon says reluctantly as he turns away, trying to focus on other things until you return.

You leave your room with a bag, handing it to Namjoon. “I washed your shirt and bought you a new one too.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to,” he reaches for the shirt, taking it out.

“I know, but I felt bad about ruining it.”

Namjoon chuckles. "I like how you're giving me a gift on your birthday."

You wave off his comment. "It's nothing. Thanks for returning my phone,” you say, walking him to the door. “I’ll see you later?”

He flashes a grin; his dimples etched deeply into those cheeks. You pull him down to kiss him on the cheek, barely catching the corner of his lips. You let it linger for a second longer, ensuring Jungkook can see it.

“Bye,” you whisper, closing the door behind him.

You stand with your back facing Jungkook. Clenching your jaw and your fists, you huff a breath. Turning around, you stare at the one person you thought was your friend.

“This is my ex-boyfriend’s shirt, and I sleep in it because I miss him?” you deadpan, folding your arms across your chest.

Your glare silences Jeon Jungkook, and his deer-in-the-headlights appearance implies guilt.

You scoff and shake your head in disbelief. “Have you been sabotaging all my relationships? Tell me the truth.”

You remember Jimin and Theo and how conveniently Jungkook had been there after each breakup.

There’s still no word from Jungkook. He’s playing with the invisible hair on his chin before he stands. “Yeah, but it’s only because—”

“Because what!” you exclaim. Never in a million years did you think you’d be yelling at a good friend. “Because you want to marry me? Why didn’t you just ask me out, Kook?”

The nickname causes his heart to ache. His eyes darted to the floor, then at you. “Because...”

You lean forward, waiting for his excuse, but he doesn’t give you one. You’re only met with silence.

“Because you’re the kind of guy who lies and manipulates to get what he wants? Didn’t really think you were that kind of person.”

“I’m not—”

“You are! If you cared about me, you wouldn’t go around spreading lies. And to think I was going to marry you? God–you must think I’m fucking stupid.”

"No, I don't think that at all—" he counters, taking a step toward you, and you take a step back.

Licking your lips, you play with your bottom lip. "I—I don't even know who you are anymore."

"I'm the same person you met two years ago," he says. Jungkook steps toward you again, reaching out for you.

"Don't touch me," you warn. "Don't you ever talk to me again," you say, avoiding his gaze. "You should go, Kook."

Jungkook walks past you. He makes his way to the door—and when it shuts, you flinch.

Approaching your 30s, you figured you’d be crying because you’re likely to have a mid-life crisis and not because one of your good friends has lied to you for the last couple of years.

Jungkook has misled you throughout the week. You don’t know what’s real and what’s not anymore.

Your heart aches from the pain. Why did this hurt more than a breakup? You trusted him, even considered marrying him and spending the rest of your life with him. How could you be so naive? Maybe it was your distorted perception of love and relationships, and that’s how you ended up in this situation.

Maybe it's your fault and no one else's.

sunday.

It’s early. Too early for Jungkook’s taste.

He’s been tossing and turning all night. Wishing he could redo the last two years. Wishing he could’ve been honest from the beginning. Wishing you didn’t hate him right now.

Picking up his phone, he grumbles after seeing the time—six in the morning. There’s no way you’re up, he thinks. And there’s no way you’ll pick up his call either.

He assumes you’ve blocked him—wants nothing to do with him and doesn’t blame you.

The expression on your face is ingrained in his memory, and the lies he told are on a continuous loop. How would he win you back—if you’d let him, that is.

It’s that point in the romantic movie where the love interest finds the courage to go for it. Jungkook has nothing else to lose at this point. It’s now or never.

With your favorite iced coffee and pastry in hand, he’s ready to beg for your forgiveness. Beg for another chance to make things right.

Three knocks strike your door. No answer.

He gives it another moment before doing it again.

And nothing.

He pulls out his phone, searching for your contact. It rings several times and goes to voicemail. At least you didn’t block him, he thinks.

Should he wait here all day? In hopes you’ll leave your apartment?

Unless Namjoon has seen you or knows your whereabouts.

Jungkook figures, why not? What does he have to lose? He’s already lost his dignity.

Another three knocks, only this time it’s on Namjoon’s door. A few moments later, the lock unlatches, and the door opens.

Namjoon’s eyes widened at the sight of Jungkook. “Oh, hey. What’s up?”

“Hey. Have you seen or heard from ___?”

He shakes his head. “Sorry, man. I haven’t.”

The corners of Jungkook’s lips turn down, and he nods. “Fuck,” he mumbles, lowering his head. He turns on his heel, ready to leave.

“Hey, Jungkook?”

He turns back and hums.

“If you like her, be honest with her,” Namjoon says.

Jungkook rubs the back of his neck. “Did ___ tell you?”

Namjoon chuckles and shakes his head no. “I figured you were lying when you said she made everyone fly to a private island. She mentioned that she’s never flown before. So I put two and two together, and it was hard to ignore all the glares you gave me at the party.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, lowering his head. “I’m so sorry about all the lies I told you. None of them were true—except maybe the Mingyu thing. She does have an obsession with that guy.”

He clears his throat. “I’m sorry about coming between you two. But it’s no wonder she likes you. You have your head on straight, unlike me.”

A grin sweeps across Namjoon’s face. “It’s okay. I get it, man. I’ve been there before—not the lying, but I’ve been head over heels for someone. ___ is cool, and you seem like a good guy. Just…don’t give up on her, okay?”

Jungkook’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What about you guys?”

“Huh? Me and ___?” Jungkook hums. “We’ve been out on one date, and you’ve known her for…?

“Two years.”

“You have more history with her than I do.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell lies.”

Namjoon steps forward, placing a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “You’d be a fool to give up now. Trust me, you don’t want to live with the what ifs and what could have been.”

“Um, here,” Jungkook says, handing Namjoon the iced coffee and pastry bag. “I don’t want it to go to waste.”

He bids Namjoon goodbye, and as he’s driving home, he stares off into space, pondering Namjoon’s words.

What if you never want to talk to him again? What if he loses you?

He only wanted his chance with you; whenever he gathered the courage to do so, someone always came into the picture before him. He’s realized how much his lies caused more harm than good. He was cheating his way into your heart, which is unfair to you and him.

You peek out when the elevator doors open, ensuring the coast is clear. You've seen the missed calls and texts but needed more time to be ready to face Jeon Jungkook. That's why you've been hiding out at Jenn's all day. But alas, you had to go home and face your fears.

Your door accidentally slams when you go in. Shit.

It’s not like Jungkook’s been waiting around for you, right? Though, you didn’t want to make it known that you were home.

Not even ten minutes after you’ve arrived, there’s a knock on your door. Peering through your viewfinder, you check if the coast is clear and unlock your door. You grab Namjoon's hand, pulling him into the apartment.

"Whoa–miss me that much?" he jokes, setting down the iced coffee and pastry bag.

"What's that?"

"Jungkook dropped it off this morning, but you weren't here. Have you been hiding?"

You lower your head. "Yes."

Namjoon licks his lips. “He’s in love with you, you know?”

You ignore the coffee and pastry bag and sit on the couch. “It’s a weird way to show that you like someone by lying and sabotage.”

“I think it’s cute,” Namjoon chuckles, sitting beside you.

Disbelief is written all over your face: eyes wide, brows lifted, jaw open, which only makes him laugh harder.

“You gotta give the guy some credit. He went out of his way to make sure you’d say single so he could finally have his chance with you. That sounds like dedication to me.”

“Is this a weird ‘guy code?’ Am I missing something?”

He shakes his head. “I get where he’s coming from. Does it suck that he lied instead of saying what he wanted? Yeah, but maybe he didn’t know how to say it because he feared he’d say nonsense in front of you. I know the feeling–where you like someone so much, you’re afraid of looking dumb.”

You ponder Namjoon’s words, sipping on your iced coffee. “You seem chatty. Does that mean you don’t go dumb around me?” you ask dryly.

Namjoon laughs. “I get butterflies and excitement every time I walk out my door, hoping I’d bump into you.”

“But?”

“But you should figure things out with Jungkook, and then we’ll go from there.”

It’s silly—the glow-in-the-dark stars that are plastered on your ceiling. Half of them threaten to fall, and the other half are stuck on so tight it’ll take off the paint.

“You’ve never had glow-in-the-dark stars before?” Jungkook asks. “Let’s get some.”

The only reason why they’re up there in the first place is because of him. Jungkook was comforting you after your breakup with Jimin.

You throw your duvet over your head, screaming into it. How could you have been so blind? So stupid? How are you supposed to face him again with your friend group? Or alone?

This past week was perfect—at least, you thought it was. But you’re second-guessing every interaction, every conversation, every laugh, every touch.

If you hadn’t met Namjoon, could you have fallen in love with Jungkook?

The more you thought about it, the more you hated that you were falling for him. Maybe Namjoon was just an excuse not to explore a relationship with Jungkook. Maybe you didn’t want to ruin your friendship, but then again, what did it matter because it’s been sabotaged by Jungkook himself?

How would you get out of this mess?

monday.

A notification ding shows up on your phone.

[ Tattoo appointment - 6 PM ]

Shit. You completely forgot about your tattoo.

You go through your text messages, finding the Instagram profile of Kai, who’s supposed to tattoo you. You frown when you see a cancellation fee and that the cancellation should’ve been done two days before the appointment. Now, you have to mentally prepare yourself for getting your first tattoo.

The recommendations on your YouTube only show videos of ‘how much does getting a tattoo hurt.’ You know the pain that goes into a needle puncturing your skin. The question was, how high was your pain threshold?

When you walk into the shop, a bell chimes. It’s in pristine condition, as one would expect from a tattoo parlor. You’re greeted by a girl dressed in a black latex v-neck top. A sunray heart tattoo sits right on her chest.

“Hi, I have an appointment with Kai.”

She clicks through her computer and beams a warm smile. “For ___?” You nod. “Is Jungkook coming too?” she asks.

“Oh no. I don’t think so.” Was he planning on getting something, too? You didn’t think he’d show after everything went down.

“Kai is finishing up with a client, and he’ll come get you when he’s ready.”

You flash a small smile, taking a seat in their lounge. You’re picking at your nail beds and bouncing your leg. You’re trying to focus on anything other than what will happen soon.

A light noise of whirring fills the room. You close your eyes, concentrating on your breathing. It’s a small tattoo. There’s nothing to be afraid of, you think.

A part of you wishes Jungkook was here to hold your hand like he said he would. It's dumb even to want him to be here. But after spending so much time with him this past week, you admit you miss him.

"I’m ready for you,” Kai says.

You take a deep breath and follow him to his workspace.

“Nervous?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’s my first tattoo.”

“You’ll do great. I know it,” Kai smiles, sitting at his desk. He grabs his iPad. “Okay, what are we getting today?” Kai asks.

“Um, I turned 30 yesterday, so I wanted to get the birth flower for September,” you say, showing him the inspiration photos.

“Ah, Happy Birthday,” Kai grins. “Birth flowers are a great choice. Any idea where you want it and the size?”

"On the back of my neck, I don't want anything too big. Two to three inches."

"Oh–a woman who knows what she wants. There was no hesitation," Kai teases. "Cool–so, I'll sketch out a few options, and then we'll go from there. Sound good?"

You press your lips together and nod. As Kai's working on your sketch, you stroll around his workspace, looking at the illustrations hung up. There's traditional and fine line art, and you recognize a drawing of a snake—it looks like the one Jungkook has on his arm.

“See anything else you like?”

“I, um, recognize some of your work. You’ve tattooed my friend, Jungkook,” you note, turning back to look through more of Kai’s sketches.

Somehow, your nerves have finally calmed down. The whirring noise from the tattoo gun is like white noise to you, drowning everything out. You’re lost in the intricate detailing of the drawings. Tattooing is true art, you think. But instead of a traditional canvas or paper, it’s forever inked on someone’s skin.

“Okay, let me know what you think of these.” Kai shows you the iPad with a few flowers drawn out.

“You’re so quick,” you comment as you review your options. “Let’s go with this one.” You love how delicate and dainty the tattoo looks.

“If you need a break at any time, just let me know,” Kai gives a warm smile. “I apologize for the weird positioning, but I’ll need you to lay on your stomach, and your head will hang off the table.”

Your lips thin when you catch his gaze. You remove your zip-up hoodie and place it on a chair with your bag. Kai prints the design on transfer paper, putting the placement on the back of your neck. He hands you a mirror, ensuring it’s in the correct spot.

“Alright, let’s do this,” he says.

Once you’re on the table, the once-soothing noise of the tattoo gun flips a switch, and sweat builds up in the palms of your hands. The blood rushes to your head as your head is hanging off the table. You can see Kai’s feet as he steps on the foot pedal, ensuring his equipment works correctly.

You take a deep breath, trying to exhale fear and anxiety, but nothing works. The tattoo gun sounds closer, and the needle inches away from you. Your fists clench up, and you close your eyes, hoping it’ll be over quickly.

You can feel the latex glove on your back as Kai’s ready to outline the design. You can do this, you think.

With eyes still closed, fists clenched—you’re ready.

The shop's bell chimes again, but you’re too focused on this needle about to prick your skin. You can feel another presence. Their warmth is radiating on you. You figure it’s just the girl from the front, so you don’t bother to open your eyes.

Your fist unclenches, and not because of your own doing. It’s whoever is beside you. Opening your eyes, you see a pair of black motorcycle denim tucked into leather stomper boots.

“Hey—my man,” Kai stops and acknowledges. “Good to see you, Jungkook.”

“Hey,” Jungkook replies. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“Nah, you’re right on time. We just started. I’m sure ___ appreciates you being here,” Kai notes, returning to tattooing you.

You didn’t want to admit it, but having Jungkook’s presence was comforting. A part of you wanted to be stubborn and pull your arm away, but considering that a needle was piercing your skin—it wasn’t a good idea.

Jungkook laces his hand with yours; his thumb lightly grazes over your skin. He leans forward, whispering, “Hi.”

You’re unsure if the shiver running through your spine is because of the needle or Jungkook.

While lying on this tattoo table, you’re at war with yourself. An angel on one shoulder tells you to stay strong and not give in because he’s holding your hand. The devil, on the other hand, is telling you you’re a simp and can’t resist when a man is fawning over you.

You hate that the devil is right, and you’re even considering Namjoon’s words, ‘You gotta give the guy some credit. He went out of his way to make sure you’d stay single so he could finally have his chance with you. That sounds like dedication to me.’

Was it dedication or delusion?

You won’t lie. You’ve done questionable things when it came to love, too, so you couldn’t blame Jungkook. Maybe you should hear him out and see what he says for himself.

You’re silent, letting Kai do his thing. He and Jungkook chit-chat about life and future tattoos. The buzzing mechanical hum from the tattoo gun is constant and annoying—you’re growing numb to it like you’re growing numb to the pain.

But Jungkook’s touch? It makes you tingle. You’re keenly aware of how his thumb strokes against your knuckle—the constant squeezes, reassuring your anxiety when the pain shoots down your spine.

Through the years, that’s what Jungkook’s always been—he soothes your pain.

Maybe he’s responsible for your current pain - the shattered relationships and this tattoo you’re getting, but he always has a back-up plan: himself. He’s the shoulder to cry on, the hand to hold—the constant, consistent one who shows up repeatedly.

He’s confusing but calming, and you’re annoyed at how much you don’t mind his touch. Your breathing slows, and your shoulders relax as you sink into the cushioned table.

“Almost done,” Kai notes.

That was fast. Fifteen minutes–tops.

Kai finishes cleaning the tattoo, and after you stand up from your awkward position, you’re face to face with Jungkook. Once again, Jungkook resorted back to his favorite color: black. He’s in an oversized long-sleeve shirt and jeans, and there’s a silver chain adorning his neck.

His doe eyes twinkle and the corners of his mouth curve up. “The tattoo looks good on you,” he says softly. “Do you wanna see?”

Even with a mirror, the placement makes it hard to see the finished product. You grab your phone, open the camera app, and hand it over to Jungkook. You turn around, facing the mirror, holding up your hair. You catch Jungkook’s gaze and look away. His hand gently touches the nape of your neck, removing a stray hair. He snaps a few photos, handing your phone back.

“It looks beautiful on you.”

You mumble a word of thanks, grabbing your things, attempting to flee from his presence.

Pulling out your wallet to pay for your tattoo, you head to the front, but the girl stops you.

“Jungkook already paid,” she says.

The nape of your neck warms up, and your nostrils flare. You nod at the girl. Bumping into Jungkook on the way out, you stuff your wallet back into your bag, and Jungkook follows you, catching up.

“Why did you do that?” you ask, glaring at Jungkook.

"Because it's your birthday present. I couldn't let you pay for it."

You narrow your eyes, giving him the once over. “Why? So you can tell the next guy I date how we have matching tattoos and scare him off?” you retort, brushing past him.

Jungkook cards his hand through his hair. “Come on, that’s not fair,” he shouts, running after you again.

He calls out to you, making you stop in your tracks. Turning around, you breathe a heavy sigh. “You’re right. It's not fair,” you give him a wry smile. “But doesn’t it sound like something you’d say? Mr. Liar Liar Pants on Fire.”

The third time must be the charm because he’s chasing after you again.

“Hey, can we talk, please?” he implores as his eyes scan your face.

You zig-zag around him.

He repeats by running and standing in front of you. “You can’t avoid me forever.”

“Watch me,” you retort, attempting to flee again.

Jungkook holds his hand up. “Just hear me out, and if you never want to talk to me again after that, then so be it."

You huff. “Only if you drop me off at home,” you say, crossing your arms. You don’t feel like taking the subway; it’s the least he could do.

With hands in your lap, you’re waiting for Jungkook to say something, but he’s as quiet as a mouse. He’s missed two exits and been driving in circles, going past your apartment complex for the fourth time. You wouldn’t be surprised if a police car starts following you, considering how suspicious the two of you look.

You can’t take it anymore—the endless dancing around this conversation. “I thought you wanted to talk?” you ask as your eyes flick in his direction for a moment.

He straightens his posture, gripping the steering wheel and focusing on the road. "I'm, uh, I’m sorry for telling all those lies. It was stupid of me. I should’ve been honest with you from the beginning.”

You bury your face in your hands before turning to him. “If you liked me, why didn’t you tell me?”

You had come up with many scenarios in your head and thought back to your conversations and interactions with him. Jungkook had so many chances to say something, but he never did.

Jungkook shrugs and looks at you briefly before returning to the road.

“It’s easy being your friend, but to be your boyfriend? That scares me.”

You get it. Opening your heart, being vulnerable, and giving your everything to one person is terrifying. Sometimes, it feels like days, months, and years are wasted with one person when it doesn’t work out.

“Scared you’d screw it up?” you ask, turning to him.

Jungkook hums as he pulls up to your apartment complex.

With a sigh, you admit, “You were on your way to being a pretty good boyfriend.”

You hate that you found him so sweet and cute, even after everything that’s happened.

“I was?” he questions with widened eyes and turns off the ignition. He shifts to face you.

“Yeah,” you chuckle. Your hand lingers on the door handle. “Walk me up?”

The two of you are on opposite sides of the elevator. Jungkook’s leaning on the metal bar behind himself with his legs crossed in front of him.

He hangs his head before looking up at you. "What if I had been truthful from the beginning? Do you think we would’ve been together?”

You press your lips together and shake your head. “I don’t know, Kook. I guess we’ll never know.”

When the elevator arrives at your floor, it chimes, and you exit, and Jungkook follows. You stop outside your door, watching as Jungkook leans his shoulder against the wall, facing you.

You can tell when something is brewing in Jungkook’s mind. You’ve been friends long enough for you to notice some tendencies.

With an eyebrow lifted and his tongue poking through the inside of his cheek, he’s ready to lay something on you. He licks his lips, eyes flick to yours.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same way,” he says.

You can feel your stomach somersaulting when he doesn’t break eye contact. Your heart rate rises as you work harder to pump more blood than usual.

There were small, fleeting moments where you could picture yourself with him: weekend mornings with breakfast in bed and late-night cuddles on the couch.

“I’m trying my hardest not to feel something,” you confess. As much as he was scared to screw it up, so were you. You’ve never dated a friend. You’ve met all your ex-boyfriends through mutual friends. You’ve built fantasies of what a perfect boyfriend and relationship should look like, and Jungkook wasn't perfect–but neither were you.

Jungkook moves closer. “So you like me too?” His eyes dart from your parted lips to your eyes.

“I don’t not like you,” you say softly, stepping forward as you play with his silver chain.

"So where does this leave us?" He’s searching your face for an answer.

As always, your heart is at war with your head. The sensible thing to do is to stay friends. The foolish thing is to see how this could pan out. What if you could get your happily ever after?

"What would you do if I was yours?" you ask.

"If you were mine?"

You hum.

"If you were mine, I'd spend every waking minute with you. Asking anything and everything that comes to mind. I want to know what makes you happy and sad. I want to know what you love and hate. I want to know everything your heart desires." Jungkook eliminates the distance. "I'd pepper you with kisses all day–on your neck, cheeks, forehead, lips–everywhere,” he says softly as his eyes never leave yours. "If you were mine, I'd never lie to you again. I'd love you with every breath and never let you go." He’s eye to eye with you, hands cupping your face. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you. I was an idiot for not saying anything sooner. But if this is the only time I could be with you, I'll take it."

You gulp. Jungkook’s saying all the right things, everything a girl could want. You hate it. You hate that you’re a sucker for heartfelt moments and love confessions. Neverending cartwheels occupy your stomach. The little gymnast in there is going for the gold–doing back flips and leaps; there’s no way to stop them. Your heart beats faster for him than for anyone else–even more than Namjoon.

All it took was a silly agreement and a few lies to make you realize you didn’t want a perfect boyfriend or relationship. Forget getting married by a certain age. Forget the expectations of you instilled by society. This boy was a bit messy, a bit ruined, but a beautiful disaster.

Whatever it looked like, you wanted him.

You take another second to look at him because what you want to say next will change your friendship.

“Kiss me,” you say softly, your gaze dropping to his lips.

“Are you sure you want me to kiss you?”

You nod.

If there’s one more thing to add to Jungkook’s list of fears—it’s ruining your friendship.

“I won’t be able to stop if I do,” he whispers.

Restless is how you would describe Jungkook. Restless when it came to telling your exes lies. Restless in his ability to sit still. Restless as he chews on his bottom lip–it could be how he incessantly licks his lips or just lacks hydration. You’ve never noticed before how badly he needs chapstick.

But Jungkook’s within touching distance of your lips, and all you can think about is how much he needs chapstick. Your sweet peach one, you think.

Maybe you should offer him some.

“Then don’t.”

It’s slow and gentle when he kisses you. He’s taking his time. There’s no urgency. No tongue, no hands beneath your shirt, or roaming your body. Nothing like that.

It’s like he’s been waiting so long to do this. It’s like he’s forgotten any other mouth existed but yours. You’ll forget your name or where you are when you finally break away from his lips.

He consumes every thought you have, and this is what you were afraid of–that you’ll become addicted to his kisses. You’re unsure how long you can stand before he has to carry you to bed.

His breath is warm and sweet. You love him breathing life into you and taking it away over and over. Your hands curl into his shirt, tugging him as close as possible. Tilting your head, you open your mouth to catch more air before kissing him again. Lips upon lips are discovering each other.

Jungkook pulls away, his nose nudging yours. He kisses the corner of your mouth and your cheek. He’s on his tippy toes, kissing your eyelids, then your forehead.

“Okay–don’t stop,” you say, breathless, reaching for another kiss. “It’s for scientific reasons.”

He chuckles. “Are you researching how long someone can go without breathing?”

“Mmhm.” You reach again, but he pulls back, making you pout.

“You didn’t answer my question from earlier, ‘Where does this leave us?’ he asks.

You realize he won’t kiss you until you answer him. You cock your head to the side. “I like you, but it will take a minute for me to trust you again.”

Jungkook nods. “Mm, I get that. So…?”

“So–we should take this slow and see where it goes.”

He sucks in his lips, trying to suppress a smile. “What about Namjoon?”

The two of you hear someone clearing their throat, and you look in their direction as they appear from the hallway. It’s Namjoon, giving you a quick wave.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt,” he says as he walks to his door. “I saw you guys when I turned the corner, but then I ducked back into the hallway, waiting for you to…finish.” Namjoon presses his lips together into a smile.

You turn to Jungkook. “I’ll be one second.”

With a sprint in your step, you head toward Namjoon. “I’m so sorry you saw that.”

Namjoon laughs. “Why are you sorry? I knew I didn’t have a chance against Jungkook. I was waiting for you to realize you wanted to be with him.”

Your eyes widened. “You knew?”

His eyebrows raise, and he nods. “Mmhm.” He leans forward. “We had fun, but look at the guy.” Namjoon glances at Jungkook. “I would’ve felt like the back-up until you two got your shit together. You don’t have to worry about me. Go–he’s waiting for you.”

“Thanks Namjoon.” A sense of relief rushes over you, and you’re thankful he understands.

Returning to Jungkook, you’re no longer looking at your back-up plan. He’s the one you want to wake up next to, the one you want to laugh with, smile with–he’s become your first choice.

He extends his hand for yours. “So, should I get my tux pressed?”

You deadpan.

“We’re practically engaged now, right?” he jokes before leaning in for a kiss.

You press your finger into his taut chest, pushing him away. “Be fucking for real, Jungkook. We’re going inside and watching my favorite rom-com–While You Were Sleeping, so you can see the consequences of how lying gets you in trouble.”

“Oh, I love that one! It's the one where she pretends to be engaged to the guy in a coma, but she falls for the brother?”

You slowly turn to him, mouth agape. “You really have seen a lot of rom-coms, haven’t you?”

“I may have learned a thing or two from them.”

“Yeah–lying!” You scold him as you enter the apartment. The two of you continue bickering back and forth.

Who knew you’d be living in a romantic film of your own?

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook #jeon jungkook

[dumbseee]

i’ll protect you.

f1 au/fic: in which y/n is a driver for ferrari, her and lando have been friends since childhood and started together in formula one. their closeness sometimes confused their friends. ask them if they were more than friends, they will laugh and say that they were just friends. but one day during a race, y/n got involved in a major crash. which made lando realise how scared he was to loose her.

lando norris x driver!reader

(fc: maggie lindemann)

warnings: mention of crash, carlos is still a mclaren driver with lando, mention of injuries.

note: english isn’t my first language so this may contains some mistakes xx (idk what to think about this one tbh)

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, lewishamilton and 3 799 087 others.

y/n: ready for tonight’s race! your girl is going to get that damn podium, mark my words xx

_

landonorris: in your dreams kiddo

y/n: @.landonorris you’re three months older than me.

lewishamilton: good luck y/n!

liked by y/n.

fan1: WE ALL BELIEVE IN YOU Y/N

fan2: GO Y/N

fan3: with that car i’ll be praying for your safety first bestie

fan4: praying for your first podium!

lilymhe: i’m rooting for you!

alex_albon: @.lilymhe i’m literally right HERE

liked by y/n.

"dude, you should sit down." carlos’s voice echoed in lando’s head which almost made him jump. he didn’t even realise that he was walking around the hospital’s hallways like a maniac. the driver sighed and sat down next to his teammate, carlos squeezed lando’s shoulder to show him that he was there too.

a few drivers were at the hospital, waiting to know if you were okay. daniel, carlos, charles, alex and of course lando were there. to be fair, all the drivers wanted to come but crowding the hospital wasn’t the right thing to do so only your closest friends came while the others went back home but waited for news too.

"are you y/n l/n’s friends ?" finally a doctor came, lando immediately stood up and almost ran to the older man. "she’s out of surgery, she’s very lucky that the firefighters were quick to get her out of the car because she has some burns on her arms and legs but nothing major." the doctor felt kinda uncomfortable to have that many men surrounding him, but he added, "she has a broken arm and a sprained ankle. it could’ve been worse so whoever prayed for her tonight, it worked. she’s awake, so you can see her, but be gentle."

"you should go first." charles told lando, who still looked out of it. "i think she’d prefer to see you first than daniel or alex." he adds with a smile. "uh, first of all this is rude." daniel answer while pointing his finger at charles, which lighten up the mood. "we ALL know i’m her favorite."

lando smiled and thanked his friends before slowly entering your room. he almost choked on his own saliva when he saw you laying on your bed, looking lifeless. this wasn’t you, you were far from being lifeless, you were literally the life of the party. always smiling, cracking jokes, making fun of alex or george will the others would laugh. but there you are, breathing through tubes and covered in bandages. your eyes were closed, lando took a look at your face and swallowed back tears.

he hated it, he hated seeing you being hurt, he couldn’t close his eyes because he’d see the crash again and again. the sound of your car smashing against the barriers, the smell of burnt, gasoline, the sound of the ambulance, the audience’s screams and cries, the commentators struggling to find their words. for a second everyone thought you were dead, everyone including lando. for a second, he thought about a world where you weren’t there anymore, and the only thing he could see was the dark. a world without you meant a world where the sun wouldn’t go up anymore, where happiness was gone forever.

lando let himself fall on the chair behind him and completely broke down. the tears wouldn’t stop from running down his cheeks, he didn’t know that he was capable of crying that much tears. he couldn’t stop sobbing either.

"l-lando?" the driver jumped and immediately stood up when he saw that you were waking up. "y/n? fuck, y/n can you hear me?" he didn’t know if he could touch you, too afraid to hurt you even more. "yes i can so please lower your voice." you furrowed your eyebrows and opened your eyes. the sight before you broke your heart, a sobbing lando, with a worried expression.

"what happened?" you asked, while trying to get up but a sharp pain stopped you. lando gently pushed you back against the bed. "i almost lost you, that’s what happened." he softly pushed a strand of black hair away from your face and sat down, taking your hand in his. "fuck… everything is coming back to me now." you mumbles and bite your lip. you take a look at your body and notice a huge cast on your left leg and a second one on your right arm. you also had a few bruises on your face and left arm caused by the fire.

"how are you feeling?" he asked you, while caressing your hand softly. "could’ve been better, so not only did i not make it to the podium, but i also almost died, what a performance." you laughed and expected lando to laugh with you but he just dropped your hand and looked at you with a hurt expression. "wha-…"

"how can you say it like that? how can you joke about death when you almost lost your life for real? y/n i don’t think you understand how worried sick i was to fucking lose you! i saw everything! the whole crash happened in front of me! i saw the firefighters pull you out of your car, i saw you being literally lit on fire! i couldn’t even move from my car, i felt helpless and useless. i even wondered if the crash happened because of me." he snapped, he wasn’t yelling but his tone was loud enough for you to understand that he was really pissed at your joke.

you felt bad, you didn’t know that lando witnessed everything and now you felt terrible. how traumatic that must’ve been for him. you didn’t know how you would’ve reacted if lando had crashed in from of you. "lando, i didn’t know i’m-…" he cut you off again, he ran a hand though his hair. "let me finish, please." you bite your bottom lip and nodded.

"the thought of loosing you made me fucking sick. i threw up when i got out of the car, i wanted to see you so bad but the way your team stopped me from seeing you made me think it was over. and do you know what a world without you looks like to me? nothing, that shit cannot exist, because a world without you means a world without me. if you fucking die, y/n, best believe that i’m going with you." his words made you cry, silent tears kept streaming down your face. when he saw it, he closed his eyes and kissed your forehead.

"i didn’t want to make you cry, i’m so sorry." he continues to kiss your forehead and then kissed your cheek. "no, i’m sorry for making you so worried about me." you answer while grabbing his hand. he smiles at you and start to kiss every little bruise on your arm. his gentle gesture made you cry even more. "i swear to take care of you now." he adds while connecting his forehead to yours. you both close your eyes and enjoy the peaceful moment until you both heard noises coming from behind the door of your room.

"ouch! you fucking stepped on my foot, càbron!" carlos’s voice could be heard which made you smile. "move your ass leclerc, i can’t hear shit." now it was daniel’s. "all of you shut up they’re going to hear us!" alex added. "aie! carlos what the fuck! that was my foot!" charles almost yelled to his friend. "see how it hurts?" added the spaniard, with a devilish laugh.

lando and you both started laughing at your friends shenanigans, knowing damn well they were behind the door trying to listen to your conversation.

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo, alex_albon and 1 690 097 others.

y/n: thank you for being my guardian angel <3

_

landonorris: always and forever my love

danielricciardo: i can’t believe you have no words for me when i had to sleep with carlos and he pushed me off the bed with his fat ass

carlossainz55: @.danielricciardo LIAR

alex_albon: @.danielricciardo i slept on a CHAIR

charles_leclerc: @.danielricciardo i slept on the GROUND.

fan1: im so glad she’s okay

fan2: OMG LANDO AND Y/N???

maxverstappen1: glad you’re okay y/n! can’t wait to see you on track again!

liked by y/n.

fan3: MY DREAM CAME TRUE

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au #f1 fandom #f1 2023 #f1 x reader #f1 au #f1 x oc #f1 x you #lando norris x you #lando norris #lando norris x female reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x oc #lando norris x reader #lando norris x driver!reader #formula one #formula one x reader #formula one x y/n #social media au

[redstarwriting]

the clash | x. brand new

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 2k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings:  language, insults, mentions of everything that happened in the story, almost fainting, soft hobie, big fluff energy, essentially just a fun lil chapter above everything else to wash away the angst

a/n: AND IT'S OVER!! i'm actually crying a bit this was so fun to write. it will not be the end! you can all bet your asses i'll be working on a sequel for this duo. thank you to everyone who supported the story and my writing. you made the return back to this blog unforgettable and i am so grateful for all of you 🖤 please enjoy the last chapter of 'the clash'

previous chapter: ix. last caress

now reading: x. brand new

end.

───────────────────────────────────

After about 3 more days, you were feeling much better. Hobie was too, as he didn’t need to keep giving blood. In fact, the two of you were basically back to your normal selves. And much to Hobie’s relief, changing your molecular biology did not take away your spider powers. So now he had a partner in crime. Or partner in crime fighting?

Nah, partner in crime sounds better.

“Ready to go, love?” Hobie asks, pouring some food into Shadow’s bowl before closing the bag and webbing it to the ceiling. Shadow runs and starts chomping and Hobie grins, giving him a few pets. “Ready, babe,” you say, coming into to the room. Hobie stands and looks at you, letting out a long whistle. “You look stunnin’,” he says, looking you up and down. You twirl around, showing off how your spider suit looks in the style of his world. Your mask wask lost, so you had to make a new one, but that was no problem. You and Hobie fixed it up, and you gave in to Hobie’s pleas to make it resemble his a bit. Only a bit. You’re still Spider-Goth after all.

He walks over to you and wraps his arms around you. “The spiked choker is a nice touch, who convinced you to put that on? And the studs on your mask? Whoever helped you add them seems like a smart bloke,” he smirks. “You know he’s more of a smartass, but I guess I don’t hate it. The spider charm on the choker is a nice touch,” you say, taking the mask off and winking at him. “You not hatin’ somethin’? Now that is bloody mental.”

“Look who’s talking,” you say and he grins, giving your lips a quick peck before pulling away from you. “Haven’t the foggiest what you’re talkin’ bout, love.” He types on his watch and pulls up Earth-2099, the portal appearing in front of the two of you.

“I’m still so surprised Gwen, Miles, and Pav didn’t try to come to see us this whole time,” you say, and Hobie shrugs. “So am I, but I reckon they understood you were close to dyin’. And I may have threatened them that I’d kill ‘em if they came and woke you up at any point. Guess they took me seriously,” he says, and you playfully smack his arm. “Of course they took you seriously! You literally killed yourself for me, and that was before we even–”

“Fancied each other yeah, yeah, I know,” he cuts you off, grinning at you. “Ready?” he asks again, making sure you’re up to seeing everyone. You nod, and he wraps his arm around your shoulders. “Off we go, then,” he says as the two of you walk through the portal, ending up in Miguel’s hub. “Lemme know if you feel sick or anythin’, yeah? We’ll go right back home,” he says, and you nod. “Thanks, babe,” you say, and he places a quick peck on the top of your head. The two of you walk out and multiple spider-people greet you and welcome you back. “I feel offended none of them have complimented you on your new look,” he says, and you laugh. “Relax, Hobie, I’m sure Miles will be so jealous.”

“And that’s all that matters,” he says, and you shake your head. “You know it would be so faster if we webbed to the common room,” you suggest, and he shakes his head. “Absolutely fuckin’ not. Have you lost the plot? You’re doin’ better, yeah, but you ain’t close to healed. We’re takin’ things nice and slow,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “Getting used to the way you talk is gonna take a minute,” you say, shaking your head and he rolls his eyes. “I called you mental just now. Crazy, insane, unhinged–”

“Got it, you fuckin’ tosser,” you imitate his accent, and he removes his arm from your shoulder, giving you an offended look. “Do you know what to just said to me?”

“Nope, but the plan worked, bye!” you say, waving and webbing away. “HEY! BLOODY HELL!” you hear him scream, webbing after you. Even though you haven’t been in action for about a week, you’re still way faster than him. You laugh as he tries to catch up, but you slip out of his grasp every time. A lot of spiders see this happening and are relieved and happy to see the two of you back and wreaking havoc amongst each other. You beat him to the common room, landing and waiting for him. He lands right next to you a few second after you. “Are you bloody mad?!” he says, clearly exasperated, “I told you not to do that yet! What if you sparked out?!”

“Well, whatever that means, I didn’t.”

“Bloody fainted! What if you did?!”

“Relax, I’m not going to– oh, shit,” you suddenly feel very dizzy, and he wraps his arms around you to keep you from falling. “See. This is the shit I was tryin’ to avoid, but no. You had to go and be a bloody daftie,” he mumbles, and you giggle. “Your reaction was worth it.”

“Oh, I bet it was, ya fuckin’ muppet,” he rolls his eyes, and you grin at him. “Do you feel well enough to stand?”

“Probably but I like it better when you’re like this,” you say, and he gives you an unamused look. “Right, then,” he says, picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder. You loudly protest. “Nuh uh, don’t give me that now, love,” he turns his attention towards the room, and to his chagrin sees Pavitr recording it on his phone. He rolls his eyes and plops you down on the couch. “Don’t move.”

“I do what I want.”

“Not today, you don’t.”

“Glad to see the two of you haven’t changed at all. Nice new suit, by the way, (Y/n),” Miles says, and Hobie sits next to you, placing his arm on the back of the couch behind you as you chirp out a thank you to Miles. “Why would we?” Hobie says, and Miles stares at him, dumbfounded. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you went feral just to protect their ass and they nearly died because of it and then you nearly died trying to save them after they nearly died and then we nearly died trying to help you so that they didn’t nearly die,” Miles says, and Gwen looks at him, nodding. “Nice description.”

“Thanks,” Miles says, smiling at her. Hobie shrugs, looking at you. “All in a day’s work of bein’ Spider-Man,” he says, and you snort. “You’re impossible, Hobie,” you say, leaning against his shoulder. His arm slides from the couch to having it lazily rest around your shoulders. “Good,” he says with a small smile. “Pav, stop taking pictures,” Gwen says, and he shakes his head. “How can I not?! I have been calling this since the first minute they interacted, you all called me crazy, I’m not crazy! I knew it!”

“Congrats, you want a prize?” Hobie says, and Pav smiles. “Yes, actually, I do. I’m aware you’re probably being sarcastic, but I believe I deserve some sort of recognition for recognizing what you two really were,” he says, and you laugh. “You’re the most emotionally intelligent of us all, Pav,” you say, and he nods. “You’re right. I so am,” he says, and Gwen smiles at the two of you. “I’m happy for you two.”

“Thanks, Gwen,” you say, and Hobie softly grins at you. “Woah! Look who’s back!” Peter B. Parker’s voice rings out as he lands next to you all. Mayday reaches you for you, and Peter hands her over. She gives you a little hug, and you smile. “And Hobie with his arm around you, nice. Nice. Nothing brings you and your partner together like a near-death experience. Trust me, I would know,” he says, and Hobie raises an eyebrow at him. “Didn’t that almost ruin your–”

“Welp, this was a nice talk,” he says, webbing Mayday back to him, and putting her in her carrier. “Catch you later, kids,” he says, webbing away with a short squeal from Mayday. “He is so fuckin’ odd,” Hobie mumbles, and you laugh. “It’s cute how much he loves MJ, though. The definition of til death do us part,” you say, and Hobie glances at you. “Yeah… but not as cute as us,” he whispers in your ear, causing you to look at him with a smile. “Nah, what did you just say to them?” Miles says, and Hobie shrugs. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he says, and Miles rolls his eyes. “Nah, man, that’s not fair. Share with the class,” Miles says, and Pavitr sighs loudly, shaking his head. “Please Miles. It’s simply the way a boyfriend speaks to his partner.”

“Woah, now, who said I was their boyfriend?” Hobie asks, and they all look at him like he’s just grown a second head. “WHAT?! ARE YOU SERIOUSLY TELLING ME YOU TWO ARE NOT DATING AFTER EVERYTHING THAT HAS JUST HAPPENED?!” Pav shrieks at the same time as Miles yelling, “OH, I DON’T KNOW MAN, MAYBE THE FACT THAT Y’ALL LIVE TOGETHER AND ARE ALL UP ON EACH OTHER RIGHT NOW?”

“Chill,” Hobie says, putting the palm of his hand out and you snort. “We hate labels, guys.”

“It’s more of a ‘they’re mine’ and ‘I’m theirs’ typa thing,” Hobie says. “You can totally call it a relationship, or whatever you want to call it, though. We just aren’t putting a label on it,” you say, and Hobie nods. “You two are so cool,” Gwen says, and Hobie smirks. “We know.”

“So, I can still say you two are partners and that will be okay?” Pav asks, and Hobie shrugs. “Whatever, mate. We know what we are, so have your fun.”

“This isn’t like one of those situationships, right? Because those are totally unhealthy and not cool,” Miles says, not so subtly glancing at Gwen, and Hobie shakes his head. “Nah. Like I said, we know what we are.”

“Yeah, it’s like you said Miles. He wouldn’t just go feral to protect my ass and then when I nearly die because of it he nearly dies trying to save me after I nearly die and then have our friends nearly die trying to help him so that I didn’t die just for a situationship,” you say, putting a heavy layer of disgust on the term. Miles looks around at everyone before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, that makes perfect sense.”

“Hobie, (Y/n), can I see you two for a minute?” Miguel appears, pulling the two of you away from your friends. You glance at each other but get off the couch and walk over to him regardless. “How are the both of you feeling?”

“Fine,” Hobie says, and you nod. “Yeah, totally ready to jump back in whenever.”

“Uh, no. No, you’re not able to do that yet,” Hobie says, and you groan. Hobie turns his attention to Miguel. “They’re not ready for that. They almost lost consciousness after webbin’ over here,” Hobie says, and Miguel chuckles slightly. “Well, Dr. Brown, let me know when (Y/n) is ready to get back into the swing of things–”

“Bloody awful pun there, mate. And don’t call me that.”

“–and– hey, that was a great pun, okay?” Miguel diverts his attention, pointing at Hobie with a frown. Hobie just shakes his head, and mouths ‘No, it wasn’t’ at you, causing you to laugh. “Just let me know when they’re better. We’ll continue our training,” Miguel says, and Hobie suddenly gets protective. “What for?”

“Nothing in particular. Mainly to just get their head back into the game. Make it so Spider-Punk and Spider-Goth are unstoppable forces of nature in New London. Happy to see you up and about, (Y/n). And Hobie,” Miguel says, looking at him, “Good job. It’s good to know I can rely on you.” Miguel webs away, and Hobie groans as you laugh. “You just got praise from the boss!”

“Piss off!”

“I got you promoted!”

“Come off it!”

“Never!”

“I hate you,” he says, but the smile on his lips betrays his words. You laugh. “I hate you, more.” He smiles, leaning in and kissing you, not caring who’s watching.

“PAV! STOP TAKING PICTURES!”

───────────────────────────────

『 tag list 』

@1eonk @444neapolitain @a-bit-late @afraidofshrimp @aroaceg @astrok1dz @baefy3764​ @bunnym055​ @certified-dilf-lover @chill-guy-but-cooler @cl0udyw4ter @cursedbitchboy @d1nne @death-and-rebirth-again @dotheyevenknowmars @epicy0n @erensbbg @f1shb0nez @faerieluuv @fandom-freak-123 @fisshil @foundthethief @fukingsad @frankintheoceann @friendly-reject @freeingrebels @g4bb1 @hearts4hobie @hisdarlingabsurdity @hobiesrockstargf @honeydewpie @idk-i-draw @imarealfungi @ineedsomeconfidence @inkthgoat @iwillrisefromthefire @j3st3r-13 @jadeissues @jingliuu @jjkclub @katiebug0603 @kenqki @ken-zah @khaleesihavilliard @kittekat420 @kitty-kei @krispybearbouquet @lacunaanonymoused @lilylamps @little-bunnybabe @localbeidousimp @luxlibsonwannabe @madusas-girlfriend @marshallowy @marsyay78 @messylxve @minimari415 @miracleboylene @miss-puregotti @miwagila @mm-0912 @monsterroonio @neenieweenie @nikabearr @noctysite @oh-kurva @p1nkliquor @pookiesnatcher @queen-of-the-bored @queen-of-the-grapefruits @romeomahbromeo @sammywammy1 @scoliobean @sillylittleguyinc @siriusly1 @sparklyphantom @spiderpunkzgf @srystix @stevenknightmarc @sxftiebee @tacogirl96 @tengen-fourth-wife @thatweirdgirlsposts @the-ikran-man @tobanditto @tvije @umiexe @user2772636 @wannabe-fic-reader @wheeeelys @zero-boxes @zozgurer 

@arianalovescatss @arunabrak @casmosmoon @ch6ntt @elloelloello293874 @fushiguropleaseteponme @hobies-world @imobsessedreader @jayelyyynnn @keikuahh @kyirakyl3 @lightning-wolffe @mistpx @moon-shampoo @naarra @notplutos @sadbitchhours400 @shittingonyourgrave @simplefools @sin-sensual @stars4salem @starshine145 @tes-conscience @valee1xoxo @venusluvslove @weyrrii @woahrin @xoxobabe* 

*if you are italicized - i am unable to tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out and see if we can fix the issue

thank you to everyone who asked to be on the taglist! sorry that tumblr lied to me about tagging you multiple times, but i hope you all were able to enjoy the story! thank you 🖤

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderverse x reader #hobie brown #hobie spiderverse #hobie #spiderpunk #spiderverse #theclashofthespiderverse

[bettymylove]

hello, can you maybe do a one-shot of theo comforting y/n bcs she's been feeling insecure with her 2a + 2b hair😓 ( speaking from experience )

Date not so ruined

pairing: theo nott x reader

content: reader is feeling insecure about her hair and theo makes her feel better.

a/n: you're beautiful, hope this helped<33

It was date night, one which rarely occurred due to the burden both you and your boyfriend, Theo faced. Tonight was one of those nights when he would take you to a fancy restaurant and shower you with love.

You had started getting ready a while ago, thinking to yourself it wouldn't take long, but boy were you wrong.

It was your hair, aside from the fact that it was not the stereotypical perfect hair, it just wouldn't cooperate tonight. You had tried all the tips and tricks, your friends told you about to keep it from puffing up, but alas none worked.

You tried putting it in a bun, but the flyaways wouldn't settle, you tried keeping it open and that didn't work either, there must have been a hundred products you used and it still didn't do anything.

You wished your hair was normal, like all the other girls you saw on the daily, you looked yourself in the mirror and tears started to erupt from your eyes, travelling all the way down your cheek.

You would hate for Theo to see you like this, he would realize he could do so much better, he could have anyone else and she wasn't ready for him to leave her.

Theo's foot was bouncing up and down in the common room, he had been waiting for you for the past half an hour and was surprised to not find you there when he himself was a few minutes late.

He decided to go into your dorm and ask you rather than lose his mind trying to figure out what went wrong, he picked up the flowers he had bought for you from the table and headed straight to your dorm.

A slight knock on your door startled you, you knew who it was. You looked in the mirror again, this time not only the hair was bothering you but your eyes had swelled up as well.

Another sniffle escaped you and the voice you had grown to love asked you from across the door, "Are you crying, y/n?"

You cleared your throat, scared to be found crying over something this silly, you thought for sure he would think you were crazy, "No" you replied, and your voice cracked and you winced at it.

"Yes you are, I'm coming in, darling" Oh dear god, this was it, more tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill.

He was beyond panicked now. His girl was crying, and he would kill whoever made that happen.

The first thing you noticed when Theo entered your room were the flowers in his hand, your favorite, more tears spilled from your eyes, he was too good for you.

He kept the flowers down on your bedside table and sat beside you taking your hand in his, pulling you closer to him, but your turned your face away, "What happened, baby?" his hand tried to maneuver your face towards him.

"My hair, it's-," You wiped some of the tears from your face. "I don't feel pretty, Theo"

Theo sighed. He knew how insecure you were about your hair and how much it bothered you, he wanted to comfort you, wanted to tell you how you were the most beautiful person he's ever met.

He pulled on your hand, making you stand up, tugging you along to the other side of the room where your mirror was.

"You can't see how pretty you are l, but I can. I love your hair, how dare you say they aren't perfect." He placed a kiss on your forehead. "These eyes, god I could be lost in them all day, tears shouldn't be there"

He kissed all of your tear stains, one by one. "These hands, your pretty hands" he held one up, "I could kiss them all day" and he did.

You were laughing now, albeit lightly, but you were still laughing and his eyes glinted at the sound.

"Most importantly, your heart, which loves me and I thank god every day for it" Finally he kissed your lips, tasting the salt from your tears and the cherry from your lipgloss, you kissed him back, wondering what did you do to deserve him.

"Oh, and," His hand travelled to his hair, which was neatly gelled and he ran his hand through making it messy and letting it stick out in all directions. "Perfect, isn't it?"

You smiled at him, kissed his cheek while telling him you love him, and he said it back, he always did. Taking his hand in yours, you went out of the room, ready for your date.

#slytherin #draco malfoy #harry potter #theo nott #enzo berkshire #theo nott fic #theo nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theodore nott #theo nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fic #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott one shot #chitafluff

[d0youc0py]

Could you do any 141 member (I don’t really care I love them all) comforting civilian!reader while she’s on her period? Like the cramps, nausea, mood swings?

Thanks!

He winced as another pained groan left your lips.

“Pain killers didn’t help?” He frowned. He laid down behind you tucking you against him. He pressed a kiss to the back of your head, his hands pressing down on the heating pad against your stomach. The pressure made you feel better and you softly grabbed his hand and put it under the heating pad, silently asking him to massage your stomach. “I got you.” He pressed another kiss to your shoulder.

“Are you done with your paperwork yet?” You whined.

“Ya, Sweetheart.” He lied. The thought of leaving you alone to suffer on the couch made his stomach turn. “You rest up, now and I’ll fix us some dinner later, yeah?”

“Don’t leave till I fall asleep please.” You requested, scooting closer to him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He’s literally the dream partner when it comes to this stuff

He has always been a very nurturing person

He has your special week marked on his calendar so he’s never caught off guard if you snip at him or you wake up and need to change the sheets

When he can’t be with you he always ships a care package to your house with all the things you could possibly need (snacks, pads/tampons, medicine, a card saying how much he loves you)

He’s the best honestly

“Kid, open the door!” The door handle jiggled. You splashed cold water over your face trying to calm down, but no matter how hard you tried sobs wracked your body. You blamed the hormones. You and Simon were new in your relationship, about five months in, and you had just recently started spending the night at his place. You always had a plan for what to do if you got your period during the night but you didn’t plan for it to come almost a week early. You woke up feeling a familiar wetness and practically ripped yourself out of Simon’s arms. To make matters worse he had his thigh resting between your legs, meaning- you didn’t even want to say it. You shook the thoughts out of your head.

“Sweetheart, c’mon.” Simon sighed from the other side of the door. “You know what I do for a living, yeah? You think a little blood is gonna scare me off? I find that a bit offensive if I’m being honest.”

“It’s disgusting and embarrassing!” You shouted through your sobs.

“It’s not disgusting.” He shot back. “Whoever made you feel that way is a cunt. And it might seem embarrassing now, but I promise you in a week it’ll make you laugh. Out you come.” He shook the door handle again. He did make you feel better. “There she is.” He whispered. You looked him over, happy he had changed his sleep shorts. A clunky thumb wiped away a few remaining tears.

The man is completely unbothered

You can throw a whole hissy fit and he’ll just ask if you’ve eaten anything today

Bodily fluids don’t faze him at all- you could bleed, vomit and cry all over him and he’d just pat you on the back

He’s still doesn’t always understand how to take care of other people, so if you want/need him to do something all you have to do is ask

He never ever makes you feel bad/embarrassed about anything

“Si, you aren’t going to believe the blood clot that just came out of me.” “I’m proud of you Sweetheart.”

“I just can’t believe he did that to her!” You sobbed, wiping your eyes on your husbands shirt.

“What a bastard.” He growled, wiping a tear from his own eye. He wrapped an arm tighter around you, throwing a few pieces of popcorn into your mouth.

“Get off the screen!” You shouted, throwing a few pieces of popcorn at the TV.

“Ya, fuck off!” Johnny yelled after you tossing a few pieces as well. You both looked at each other before bursting into a giggle fit.

Every time you on your period it seems like Johnny also goes on his

You would think both of you being so emotional would cause problems, but it really makes you feel less alone

He definitely steals higher grade pain meds from the base to help you (Price caught him and started doing it for his own partner)

Absolutely loves to take warm showers with you

This man is also unfazed by bodily fluids ;)

Whenever you feel sick he is on the other side of the door cheering you on

You hated when you got your period and he wasn’t here. It always reminded you of how sucky life was before him and how much spoiled you are now. You pressed yourself deeper into his pillow, inhaling his scent. Your muscles relaxed slightly- but it was nothing compared to the real thing. The pain killers had yet to kick in and your body felt so hot and uncomfortable. Your ears piqued up when you heard the door open.

“Babe?”

“Ky!” You screeched. The ache in your stomach couldn’t stop you from running through the flat to greet him. “What are you doing here? Your not suppose to be home for another two weeks?” You questioned between both of you pressing kisses against each other.

“I can just stay for two days.” He sighed, scooping you up. “I told Cap you weren’t feeling well- and let’s just say being the favorite has its perks.”

If you thought Price was good wait till you meet Kyle He definitely learned it from Price

Total Princess treatment to the max

“Ky, I can tie my shoes.” “Don’t worry bout it love.”

He shows love through acts of service so this is his time to shine ✨

Has a stash of all your favorite snacks/drinks for when the time comes

He usually puts you between his legs and the two of you play video games for the next eight hours- distraction helps take you mind off of the pain

#cod #cod men #d0youc0py #doyoucopy #cod mw2 #cod mwf2 #cod x reader #fluff #sfw #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #cod captain price #kyle gaz garrick #ghost x reader #soap x reader #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #female reader

[mvltisstuff]

hi!! could you possibly do a one-shot where buck and reader are flirting during the dosed episode? like they get high and are handcuffed and are just giggling and flirting and then accidental confession or something and then the next day they’re just like “i’m pretty sure we’re dating now..” thank you so so much!! this idea just made me giggle so <33

you get me so high - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

gif does not belong to me

a/n: i adore this idea, thank you for sharing <3 i worked on this very sporadically, and i’m not the biggest fan of it but i hope you enjoy!

whoever brought those brownies in was an angel to y/n. yeah, a felony for sure, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t secretly enjoy it.

even though the whole station had been haunted by taylor and her team the entire day, all of the worries of the job seemed to vanish. buck wasn’t sure why, but he just saw everything different than he has before. nature called for him and he was more than excited to be at his job.

he just wanted to laugh at everything, each little girl in front of him was the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. he watched y/n from across the room, sitting on the floor and playing with a girl in a massive dress shaped like a pastry.

“where did you get this dress?” she asks, running her fingers down the satin on the side.

“my mommy bought it for me!”

“can she buy one for me?” y/n asks, turning her head to see the grown firefighter skipping over.

“y/n!” he shoots out quickly, jogging over to lean next to her on the ground.

“hi buck! will you buy me a dress like this?”

“only if you buy me one,” he smiles. “maybe we should put bobby in one.” he starts completely laughing at the thought of bobby in a pretty pink dress, with a sash and a tiara.

“what is going on- buck!” chim shouts. “can someone help us over here?”

“how are we not helping?” buck asks, leading y/n to just shrug. they glance over at eddie in the corner, looking at all the pageant girls like they have 5 heads. he almost looks fearful of them, swaying in his spot.

the next few minutes were a blur, and suddenly they were all handcuffed together against a wall. hen, eddie, buck, and y/n were all connected by their hands, being watched by athena like they misbehaved at school.

“ooh, you made him cry!” buck teases, looking at the tears streaming down eddie’s face. y/n just looks closer to athena’s face.

“you’re a hot cop, thena,” y/n speaks airily, just smiling cheekily at the officer in front of her.

“you guys are high as hell and you’re on duty.”

“what?” hen exclaims. “i didn’t smoke anything-“

“well you ate something! someone brought marijuana brownies into the station, so you’re all off work.”

the team just looks around in shock, not fully caring until y/n and buck start giggling once more. “just- just sit down against this wall, and do not move.” athena demands, walking away to deal with the other emergency in the main room.

y/n and buck sat fine against the wall, comparing hands and very lightly slapping each other on the sides. a few spouts of silence would happen for a few minutes while the group of stoners just watched the world pass in front of them.

“buck,” y/n whispers.

“what?” he asks.

“you’re really cute, like i just figured i’d let you know.”

“thanks, you’re a cutie, too,” she giggles at his words, throwing her head back against the wall as he just glances at her. normal, sober buck would’ve had a racing heart and nerves fluttering all over his body because she told him he was cute. he knows he’s not bad looking, but hearing it from her is when he truly believes it. now, he just figured why not? yolo, anyway.

“no, you’re like cute cute. like hot oiled up firefighter cute.”

“that means so much, y/n,” he says, the sly remark almost making his heart clench.

“i want you under my christmas tree.”

“well, i want you in an easter egg for me.”

“well, i want you-“

“can you just shut up?” eddie asks, still distressed about being handcuffed and drugged. “we get it, you’re into each other. and what happens when you’re not high?”

“i don’t remember talking to you,” buck teases, giving eddie a side eye but keeping his head directed towards the pretty girl next to him.

“alright,” athena comes back into sight. “let’s get you all home, maybe sleep off some of this.”

the next morning, y/n remembered every little thing she said to buck, and he remembered every little thing he said to her. they hoped maybe it was like alcohol, making them forget what they may or may not have said, but nope. it was clear as day. it didn’t feel as awkward, though. it felt easier. like a weight was off their shoulders after being weighed down for so long.

when they both arrived at work, the look from the other just told them everything they had to know. buck meant everything he said, and so did she. her eyes lightly wandered over his, and he didn’t even make her say anything. they both knew that those cookies made a great thing burst open.

#911 #911onfox #bobby nash #eddie diaz #evan buckley #evan buckley fanfic #athena grant #henrietta wilson #evan buckley x reader #evan buck buckley x reader #may grant #maddie buckley #chimney 911 #911 chimney #evan buckley x you #evan buckley fluff #evan buckley one shot #evan buckley fanfiction #evan buckley fic #evan buckley 911 #evan buck buckley #evan buckley x y/n #buck x reader #buck 911

[strangersteddierthings]

Porcelain Steve - Part 2

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

There's commotion from the house, loud enough for Eddie and Robin to hear it outside. Both turn towards the house, Robin halfway to standing up already, and the door is pushed open, El falling through it to get outside.

Someone calls El's name from inside, but she doesn't even turn around. She marches across the lawn to Eddie and Robin. "They are too loud and angry in there. Take me somewhere else."

Joyce makes it out the door next and with a raise of her hand behind her, one finger up, she stops everyone in the doorway. She descends the steps of the porch and Eddie is in awe about how much power she wields because no one follows after. Not even Dustin, who is the absolute worst at following orders.

"Whatever you need," Eddie answers El. He doesn't think she's blinked since exiting the house.

"We can go to Steve's," Robin offers. She's standing now and roots in a pocket of her jeans before pulling out a keychain with three keys on it. "Maybe it'll help being around all his stuff?"

"We can take my van," Eddie offers.

"That would be great," Joyce says, reaching out and grabbing one of El's hands in her own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Come on, let's get some shoes on."

"Thank you," El says, shooting Eddie a smile before her eyes drop down to look at Steve. A frown returns to her face before she turns and heads back into the house with Joyce.

Robin turns to Eddie, offering a hand to him. She's probably offering to pull him up, but he holds Steve out to her instead. He doesn't understand why she looks surprised at that, but she takes Steve, cradles him close to herself like he had done earlier.

Eddie climbs into his van, starting it and reaching over to turn the dial on the radio down so it's not blasting at the loud volume he keeps it on. Robin hovers with the passenger door open. "You getting in, Buckley?"

"Yeah, eventually. Just thinking if I should crawl in the back. Let Joyce and El have the seats?"

"Oh. Yeah. Probably."

She's absently petting Steve's hair, eyes slightly misty. He watches as she blinks away the tears before letting out a big sigh. "I just want to pass Steve off to whoever will be wearing a seatbelt. I've seen how you drive, Munson."

Eddie catches the teasing tone in her voice and laughs. "Fair. I'll take corners about 3 miles per hour slower than I normally do."

Robin laughs. "That's probably still ten above the speed limit."

"You should not speed," El's voice makes both Robin and Eddie jump. She's standing just behind Robin, and a quick look around shows Joyce on the porch, a worried look on her face but she makes no move to step off the porch.

"Is your mom coming?" Eddie asks. A complicated set of expressions crosses El's face and he's worried he might have asked the wrong thing somehow but then El answers.

"No. Just me. I will sit in the center," She slides past Robin and crawls up onto the bench seat of Eddie's van, scoots across the seat until she butts up against Eddie, and searches for the seatbelt before securing it.

"Here," Robin holds Steve out to El, who takes him, before Robin pulls herself into the van, shutting the door and buckling herself in.

Eddie doesn't go immediately because he's a bit busy watching El look at Steve. She's holding him like she's not sure how. She wraps one hand around an arm and his waist and uses the other to poke a porcelain cheek, right over the two moles just below his cheek bone. He can see the creases of a frown on her face.

"Are you okay, El?" Robin asks, which is good because he was about to, and he thinks his voice will come out more watery.

"I...," El looks up to Robin, then back down to Steve, "I do not know."

It hits Eddie like a freight truck just how young El is. He has to put the van in gear and drive to give his mind something to focus on or he's going to do something stupid, like bear hug El and ugly cry into her grown out buzzcut.

"Hey, that's okay," Robin says, "it's okay to not know how you're doing. This is a complicated situation."

"I barely know Steve," El says, which surprises Eddie. They all seem close, so much so that Eddie still feels like an intruder at times. Still, there is a tone to her voice that seems off to Eddie. "We do not have a reason to hang out. Not like everyone else. Lucas plays basketball with him. Dustin and Max claim him as their brother. Even Erica-"

El stops talking abruptly. Eddie glances towards her but she's staring down at Steve, so Eddie flicks his eyes to Robin, who is already looking at him and making an 'I don't' know' gesture with her hands before Eddie returns his eyes to the road.

"Mike does not care for Steve much," El continues suddenly, the tone still there and Eddie feels like he knows it, "I spent so much time with Mike that I think I did not care for Steve, either. Not on purpose. But- but in a way that you do not care about a thing because it is not important in your life?"

No one says anything else, because what can they say? Shortly after, Eddie pulls into the driveway of the Harrington residence behind Steve's Bimmer. "Alright ladies. Once more unto the breach!"

They crawl from the van and Robin unlocks the door. El and Eddie step through first. El moves into the house, clutching at Steve like he's her favorite stuffed toy. Robin freezes in the doorway, looks like she's not even breathing.

"Buckley?" Eddie is whispering and he doesn't know why.

"Sorry, sorry," Robin exhales a shaking breath. "It's just- Nancy and I- sorry. Uh, El, do you need us to do anything?"

She glides past Eddie to catch up to El and he is left to close the door. He wonders if, maybe, Robin should have also stayed at the Byers-Hopper home. It had been her and Nancy that had come to check in on Steve just this morning. It wasn't unusual to not hear from Steve sometimes (everyone needed their time to just be alone) but today must have marked Too Many Days for Robin because she'd called Nancy for a ride, and they'd found this. A locked house, Steve's car still here, and resting against the pillows of Steve's bed had been the porcelain replica. Nothing out of place, no ransom notes, nothing to make it seem like nefarious going ons had been taking place. Just the Harrington house, devoid of a flesh and blood Steve Harrington.

Coming back must be surreal.

"Eddie, you okay?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," Eddie startles a little. He'd been lost in his own head for a moment there.

"Can El have your bandana? She needs something to use as a blindfold."

"Yeah," Eddie moves through the house, to the living room where El has sat herself on the floor in front of the TV. Steve is lain in her lap, a mirror of the image Eddie must have made on the front lawn. He pulls the bandana from his pocket, folding it diagonally before offering it out to El.

She takes it, eyes flicking up to Eddie's. She looks sad. "Can you make the TV staticky?"

"On it."

Robin closes all the blinds and curtains, making the house a bit darker and Eddie gets the TV on, white noise filling the room.

They sit in that white noise for what feels like an eternity but when Eddie checks his watch, is actually about 22 minutes, before El suddenly yanks the makeshift blind fold off with a frustrated huff.

"It is not working!" She shouts.

Eddie looks to Robin, but she looks just as lost about all this as Eddie feels. Well. Eddie's always been good with kids. He'll make the attempt. "El, you said earlier you didn't know if you were okay. Maybe figuring that out will help? It can't be easy to get into the right headspace with other thoughts floating around. "

She looks down at Steve, then back to Eddie. Her eyes are wet. "I am scared."

Eddie nods, "me too. This is scary."

"I am scared I will not find him," she says, then drops her voice to a whisper to continue, "but I am more scared that I will."

He really wishes Joyce would have come with. Or Hopper, Jonathan, Will, anyone who actually knows El. He thinks she need a kind of comfort he and Robin cannot provide. "Well, El, what's the part that's really scary?"

She's quiet for a long time. "Steve has never needed saving before. Not by me. What if I can't?"

"Oh El, it's not on you to save him," Robin says, sliding off the couch to be on the floor with them. She must have more information than Eddie about why El would say that, which makes since, because Robin was part of the conversation when they'd decided to have El try and reach out to Steve. "It's not fair that it's only you that can do this, but we didn't ask expecting you to fix it. That's not the pressure we meant to put on you. All we want is a confirmation. And if you can't, that's okay, too. That'll be okay."

El frowns, bottom lip quivering before she reaches down and picks up Steve, shoving him into Eddie's arms before she launches herself at Robin, arms around her neck and burying her face into Robin's neck. Robin looks startled, eyes wide going to Eddie. He pulls Steve to his neck, in an imitation of the position El is in, then hugs him with one arm and uses his other hand to pet at Steve's hair, trying to make meaningful eyes contact with Robin. She gets with the program, hugging El and petting the back of her head.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. You want us to call Joyce or Hopper over?" Robin soothes, her body now gently rocking with El in her lap.

There's a muffled, quiet 'no' from El but that's it. She doesn't say anything else, or move, for a couple minutes.

El pulls back finally, away from Robin to sit up straight. "Okay. I am ready again. Please hand me Steve."

He does, belatedly realizing he was still cuddling and petting Steve. Oh. He really hopes that if Steve is the doll, that he doesn't have any sort of touch receptors going on. That'll be embarrassing.

Steve settled in her lap again, blindfold back on, El tries again.

It takes about two minutes before Eddie watches a bit of blood trickle out of her nose. He shoots a worried look to Robin before lifting a hand, intent on reaching out to El, but before he fully extends his arm, Robin stops him with a shake of her head.

Another eternity passes before El gasps and pulls the blindfold off.

"What happened? Did you find him?" Robin asks.

El looks from Robin to Eddie, then down to Steve, then back up to Eddie, a small smile on her face. "Yeah. He wants me to tell you 'thank you, for taking the time to explain because Dustin never does.' He said you would know what he was talking about?"

"Holy shit." He and Robin say it at the same time. Robin scrabbles over the couch, rather than around it, and dashes out of sight. Eddie doesn't think he could make his legs work if he wanted to. Steve can hear them. (Ha Dustin!)

El deposits Steve into Eddie's arms. "It is him. He does not know what happened, either. He can hear and see. He appreciates that you did not let the sun blind him."

"El, you are the most amazing person I've ever met," Eddie says and watches the grin grow on El's face. "Alright. Well, the first step to a solution is knowing and now we know."

Robin pops back into view behind the couch, "everyone is on their way here now. I tried to tell Will we'd go back to them, 'cause y'know, less people and cars to worry about but I guess they want the base of operations to be here. How mad do you think Steve would be if I got copies of my key made for everyone?"

"I can ask him," El offers.

"Nah," Eddie grins, "it's always better to ask forgiveness than permission. And you'll forgive us, won't you, Stevie?"

Steve, of course, does not answer, but it does settle something inside Eddie knowing that he hears the question.

Steve's a doll. They know that for sure. Now, they can find a solution.

#steddie #platonic stobin #my fic #why am i like this guys??? ill get back to my other fics eventually #unfortunately this porcelain doll AU has consumed my little gremlin brain #anyway i LOVE the El&Steve sibling dynamic but i think El should get to have complicated feelings about steve first #porcelain steve

[bruisedboys]

hello!!! i saw that you write for bradley and i’m OVER THE MOON RN. could i possibly request a hurt/comfort fic with a shy!plus size! reader combo? maybe a first date scenario where bradley is super late to said date and reader thinks he stood her up or asked her out as a joke so she goes home super embarrassed like “why did i think i could be w him in the first place??” bradley is devastated because he’s liked this girl for so long and he just blew it but he’s able to get her back in the end 🤩 please and thank you!!

hello angel!! thank u so so much for the sweet request, I hope it’s okay! mwah

bradley bradshaw x shy!fem!plus-size!reader cw for body insecurities

You stare at yourself in the mirror, miserable. You haven’t cried yet, but the way your stomach looks in this top might be your breaking point. You’d actually felt pretty, earlier in the evening, all dolled up in your new clothes. But then you’d waited an agonising 45 minutes at the restaurant for Bradley to show up, only to realise he wasn’t coming and you’d made a complete fool of yourself. Now you just feel ugly and so, so embarrassed.

Why would he even want me? You think, glaring at your body in the mirror. You lift your top and squeeze a handful of your soft stomach cruelly, half wishing you could rip it clean off. He probably asked you as a joke, you suppose. And you were stupid enough to buy into it.

A single, hot tear rolls down the slope of your cheek.

You’re wiping at it angrily when there’s a loud, sharp knock on your door. You flinch. It’s enough to scare you out of your miserable state, at least. You freeze, thinking maybe if you ignore it, whoever it is will leave you alone.

“Y/N?”

Bradley? You recognise his voice immediately and your heart climbs to your throat. What is he doing here? Did he not just stand you up? Is he here to antagonise you further? You creep out into the entryway, where Bradley’s voice is clearer. He bangs on the door again.

“Y/N, honey,” he’s saying. He sounds stressed and a little desperate. “I know you probably hate me right now, but please would you come to the door? I really need to talk to you.”

You feel as though an invisible force is pulling you towards the door, towards Bradley. You don’t know why on earth you do it, but you lift a hand and open the door.

Bradley stands on your doorstep, in jeans and a nice linen shirt that doesn’t have an ugly Hawaiian print, for once. His aviators hang from the collar. He’s still strikingly handsome even though you’re upset with him.

“Y/N,” he breathes out. He lowers his fist from where he’d been rapping on your poor door. “Hey. Hi.”

You shift on your socked feet and grip the door handle like it’s your lifeline. “Hello.”

Bradley gives you a look akin to devastation. “Listen, honey. I’m so, so sorry about our date. I got caught up at work, and then my car wouldn’t start, so I had to— hey, are you crying?”

Unfortunately, you are. Why now? You think to yourself. Warm, salty tears spill over your lower lashes against your will. You scrub at your cheeks harshly. Bradley frowns at you.

“Hey. Hey, don’t.” He steps forward and takes your wrists in his hands. He encourages your hands from your face and replaces them with his own, thumbs swiping at your hot tears. He’s a hundred times more gentle than you had been.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” he says softly. “I feel like such a dick … I’ve had a crush on you for ages and ages and now I’ve made you cry.” He pulls you into a hug and gives a self deprecating sort of laugh, rubbing your back in quick, smooth sweeps. “What kind of loser am I?”

You sniffle. His hug is overwhelmingly warm. You feel a bit dumbfounded, and wonder if you’ve heard him right.

“You—“ you swallow around the lump in your throat and pull back out of his arms. “You have a crush on me?”

Bradley gives you a look of confusion, his hands on your shoulders. “Well, yeah, honey,” he says. His brings his thumb up to swipe at a tear collecting in the corner of your eye. “That’s why I asked you out.”

You blink at him. So … it wasn’t a joke? He didn’t do it to make fun of you? “I— are you serious?”

Bradley frowns at you. His eyebrows pinch in the middle. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Well, that’s the big question, isn’t it? You draw a shaky breath. “I don’t know, I guess because I’m not— I mean, I’m not really like other girls, Brad.”

Bradley continues to look even more confused than before. “So?” He asks, incredulous. “That’s why I like you so much, babe.”

What? This is not how you thought this would go. Why isn’t he getting it?

“But— but I’m big,” you say, feeling a bit sick. You don’t like to call yourself big, you know it doesn’t matter, but it’s the only way to make Bradley understand. “I don’t have a nice body. And. And I’m too quiet. I thought maybe you didn’t turn up because …”

You trail off. Because I’m fat. Because I’m shy. Because you’re lean and handsome and I’m nowhere near to being in your league. All things you’ve been thinking since he didn’t show up to your date. You don’t say them out loud, but they hang in the air between you and Bradley like burning hot stars anyway.

Bradley stares at you hard. You feel the heat of your confession on your neck, your cheeks.

“Honey,” he says, serious and sweet simultaneously. “Sweet girl. I’m so sorry I made you feel that way.”

You duck your head. The way he’s looking at you is too much. If he keeps this up you’ll be a puddle in seconds.

“It’s not your fault,” you say quietly. It’s not. Really, it’s your own for assuming the worst of him.

“Doesn’t matter,” Bradley says firmly. “I upset you, didn’t I? I’m really sorry.” He slides his hand under your chin. You know you have more pudge there than another girl would. And yet, you find you don’t mind his touch as much as you feared you would. “Would you look at me?”

Shy, you tilt your head up with the help of his gentle hand until you’re meeting his eyes. You’re struck, suddenly, by how close he is.

Bradley smiles. He’s so, so handsome you almost feel sick by it.

“I really like you,” he says, earnest. “So much. I don’t mind that your body is different. Everyone’s body is different, isn’t it? It’s not a bad thing, and I happen to really like how you look. You’re beautiful exactly the way you are.”

You blink rapidly. Your chest feels like it’s on fire. You don’t think you’ve ever been spoken to in such an honest tone, with such lovely words. It sets you aflame from the inside out. You’re melting, a lovesick puddle of a girl.

“I don’t mind that you’re quiet, either,” he says, and somehow he’s just getting lovelier by the second, and you can’t believe you ever thought he had ill intentions when he’s being so achingly kind to you. “I think I talk quite enough for the both of us, don’t you?”

You laugh, breathless. You’re hyper aware of his hand on your face, of his chest where it’s inches from yours. Normally you’d feel self conscious with another person so close to you, your insecurities on display in full. With Bradley, and the way he’s looking at you, soft brown eyes and a kind smile, you feel special. A flower blooms in your chest, rearing towards Bradley like he’s the sun.

“I’m so sorry for ruining our first date,” Bradley says in a low voice. He brings a hand to your waist. You feel his heat through your clothes. He’s touching you like you’re something precious, like porcelain or starlight. “Do you think you could give me another chance?”

Well, when he asks like that, you know you couldn’t say no even if you wanted to.

#★ mal writes! #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x fem!reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw drabble #bradley bradshaw blurb #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw x fem!reader #tgm #tgm fanfiction #tgm fanfic #tgm fic #tgm x reader #tgm x you #tgm x y/n #tgm imagine #bradleysmixtape!

[nexusnyx]

Hello🥰 It's not a request per say, but I'm really curious what's one of your favorite Joel headcanons if it's ok to share it now? Your writing is amazing, thank you for sharing it with us!

Jules, I am so glad you asked this question. I've been dying to just talk about the things Joel Miller enjoys.

(Also, thank you so much?! It means the world you enjoy my writing! <3)

Starting from the top, shall we? Pre-outbreak Joel Miller, well..

He's reserved only to people he doesn't trust. If you don't know a thing about Joel Miller, you better bet Joel doesn't like your ass.

Worry not about miscommunication—that's a word his vocabulary lacks. Whatever he feels or not for you, he'll make it known. Unless you're his old neighbors, Joel has no qualms about keeping shit to himself. He'll just say it.

His mouth got him into trouble when he was younger. Often.

It's why he learned to react in his mind first, speak later. Too bad his face gives away his feelings anyway.

Speaking of feelings... Joel Miller is a romantic. Big, big time. It's why he's single after all these years and Sarah's mom — "if it ain't the right thing, I don't want it."

Joel's not scared of being alone because he likes his own company. It's why he values so much when he finds another one he enjoys, too. He appreciates real connections. Good conversation.

Hates small talk. Will not do it. Will get away with doing it 9/10 times.

Blood is made of caffeine, sandwiches, and take-out food, which is why...

He's a whore for home-cooked meals. He gets by on his own, but he doesn't have the heart for cooking. Tommy got those genes. Joel would sell his soul for home-cooked meals everyday, and he'll say it to whoever hears it.

Workaholic only because he wants to put Sarah through a good university, but when she complains about the lack of time she has with her father, he compromises. Hires more people, tries to balance work and Sarah.

Balance is not really his expertise. But Joel's good at compromising. Rationalizing. He's a man of structure, of building things from scratch—he knows the value of firm, solid base.

Not really a sports kind of guy, actually. He'll watch it, but... Shrugging it off. "I don't see what the big deal is over a ball. I mean — it's fun, but damn. Breaking windows and busting fists on walls ain't my thing. Not over a damn football, at least."

On the other hand... history buff. Over the strangest, weirdest, most specific topics. Joel has trouble naming three countries in Asia, but he can tell you in details everything about Mayan construction and their society. Go figure.

He's a man of taste. Good food, strong alcohol, fruit picked from the tree, and woman who let him sink to his knees and taste them 'till he's drunk on it. He's starving, quite often.

Joel's a tease.

He can play a game of chicken all night long. No fucks given about how hard he's straining in his jeans or the beads of sweat trailing from his nape down his spine — if you touch him when you two are out, he will make you live to regret it. To whine and cry his name.

Joel loves a playful thing. Seriousness is imbedded in his bones, he loves a person that can make him laugh.

His sense of humor is... peculiar.

("It's shite. You're sense of humor's the same as a fifty-six year old man, Joel." "You say that and yet, you're laughin'... how does that work, beautiful?")

You know his taste? His sharp tongue, his clever brain and quick fingers? Yeah... it makes him a cocky bastard.

Everything Joel has of insecurity, he equals in cockiness once he knows his person's attracted to him.

Reciprocity's big on him.

Joel pays attention to details. He'll remember the outfit you were wearing the day you two met 'till the day he dies, which is why he knows when he's in deep from miles away.

Loves being surprised, exactly because of this ^.

Joel loves through gestures, through words, through action.

Love language is touch, touch, words of affirmation, touch.

Never gonna half-ass anything that matters to him. Never.

Will play to you when he decides to confess his feelings. Will sing his heart out, even if he’s not that good at it (his words), will make himself vulnerable and open like a wound if he thinks he’s in safe hands.

One in a million. Joel’s one in a million and when the right person comes along to appreciate it, Joel only glows. Only glows up, and gets finer with each passing day, like a great wine.

(If you’d like me to do post-outbreak Joel, I could..)

#usernexusnyx #joel miller drabble #joel miller headcanon #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine

[astraaa3]

How about some headcanons of Velvette x Female or Genderneutral reader who hates confrontation? Is the type that can't send back food when it's wrong. Someone cut in front of them? What are they gonna do? Tell them not to? Yeah, no. God forbid they're being outright spoken down to. Maybe they yell back at someone in an act of defiance as a form of growth but they're in shock immediately after which is so not the right thing to do with the person still in front of them. Velvette would probably dress reader up however she wants to. What happens if reader tries out saying they want to where something they think is pretty or nice? Okay, this got overly lengthy, but you get the idea?

A/N: This one was such a fun writing experience. I literally couldn't decide which way I wanted it to go. Thank you so much for the ask Anon, hope you enjoy it. <33

Feedback is much appreciated and don't forget to ask. (I need something to get the brain juices flowing)

Velvette x Gn!Reader

In which Reader can't bring themselves to say no to people or to stand up for themselves. (aka the Velvette x Pushover!Reader I never knew I needed)

=========📱=========

Initially, Velvette wrote off your compliance with all of her requests as you wanting to please her. And well, she couldn't complain, she liked pushing people around, and her partner was no exception. That said, her sharp tongue was reserved for her poor models. (you got a free pass most of the time since she didn't want to make you cry)

With time, Velvette realized that this was just how you were. She laughed the first time Vox showed her the footage of you helping an assistant carry boxes, only to end up helping with organizing files for one of Vox's assistants. She laughed even harder when she saw you try to get a word in as some wolf sinner cut in front of you in line. And well, it was kinda funny. Until the same shit happened again and again.

Velvette tried talking some sense into you. "Babe, listen. You can't just let any dimwit trample over you." She sighed as you promised to try to stick up for yourself.

Nothing changed after Velvette's 'pep talk'.

Realizing that you were too much of a soft-hearted pathetic idiot to stick up for yourself, Velvette took it upon herself to keep others from pushing you around.

Someone pushed in front of you in the line? Velvette was there telling that cunt exactly why they didn't deserve to even look in your direction.

You were delivered the wrong food order? Velvette would call the restaurant to make sure they knew how utterly useless they were for not even being able to pack a food order.

After laying it on thick whoever wronged you, she would look at you smirking. In turn, you would smile at her happily before kissing her. It turned into a game after some time.

The one time Velvette saw you raise your voice wasn't even to defend yourself. It was to defend her. The moment you calmed down enough to realize what you just said, you were immediately mortified. Burying your face into your hands, you flushed red from embarrassment as Velvette looked at you with wide eyes. Fuck. It was hot seeing you angry…

=========📱=========

Small prompt time~

You and Velvette were walking towards the Coffee Shop right across the street from the V tower. The two of you were holding hands while Velvette was ranting all about how Valentino absolutely destroyed one of her models just before a show when the domestic vibe was ruined by some drunk assholes who came up to them.

"Hey babe, aren't you that cute little overlord with the social media shit? I'll give you something to make a story on Voxstragram with."

As the sinner said this, he made some explicit gestures with his hips. Gagging in disgust Velvette grabbed your hand to walk away from them, not wanting to ruin the cozy coffee date you had planed. However, as you were walking away, all you could hear was the those sinners mocking laughs. You were so angry. You didn't exactly know what made you snap at them. Was it the crass comments regarding your lover? Was it the fact that Velvette refrained from killing them for your sake? Maybe it was both. But before you knew it, you turned around glaring at them before proceeding to curse them into the next afterlife. Velvette looked at you shocked, not expecting you to snap at those no-names. As you calmed down, you looked at Velvette's shocked expression, before burrying your face in your face mumbling something along the lines of: "Let's not talk about this ever again." Velvette pulled your hands from your face, replacing them with hers. As she cradled your face with her hands she smiled at you excited:

"That. Was. Fucking. Awesome. Babe, you were so hot fucking humiliating those pathetic worms."

The first thing Velvette did when they got back to the V tower was spam her groupchat with Valentino and Vox with messages about how cool you were. But you didn't need to know that. After all, she liked taking care of assholes for you. Satan forbid you actually grow a backbone. She dreaded the day you would actually gain the courage to deny her picking your clothes. (as if she would ever let that happen)

#velvette x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #gn reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel velvette

[victoirey]

rotxo x reader?? 🌝🌝 he's so pretty, definitely would read something for him, it's such a shame there isn't anything about him, but u could change that 😏 and I loved the headcanons about being lo'aks bestie- in general, your headcanons are the best 💕

♡. "lovely."—

synopsis / "[...] just... lovely."

gn!omaticayan!lo'aksbestie!reader | y/n has mega epic rizz, but rotxo has better rizz. tsireya x lo'ak canon. count how many times I say gently/gentle. thank you anon for your kind words. it is 3 am, I'm on the brink of insanity and my head hurts. @vante1920pm hi, this is my offering for you. let's be official besties RIGHT NOW.

side note if this flops I'm crying

you know, rotxo was always really nice to you. he greeted you every morning, bid you goodnight ever night. he also brought you food whenever you showed signs of hunger— and also, he tried to have ao'nung leave you guys alone. it was like a silent friendship. a really silent friendship. you were a hundred percent sure he'd be a good wingman for whoever you liked, to be honest!

he's your partner in crime, ( silently ) , your go to boy for venting ( unintentionally) your ride or die (platonically and silently )

so how the hell could this have happened.

rotxo is a kind guy. yeah. he's real kind, his smile itself brings butterflies to your tummy and a light to your face. his voice makes you shiver. his touch makes you melt. his hair is as soft as he is. his heart is what you want. he is your beloved, as the elders say. if any elders knew about it but they can't because you're not that type of dude! you're not that type of dude to fall inlove with someone like 3 weeks in, even though their pretty voice and gentleness when teaching has you screaming , crying , and begging for their love — .

okay, no, you can't be inlove. not in a situation like this. don't prove lo'ak right, y/n. you've got better things to do. handsomer guys to crush on. richer guys to drain resources from. cuter guys to coo over. stronger guys to seek protection from.

except you know what's funny? everytime you tried to compare him to somebody, you'd involuntarily imagine them getting into a big fight. the trophy? your heart. rotxo won easily everytime.

you see, throughout the days rotxo has taught you— you have found yourself falling deeper and deeper into his eyes. they were the sea itself, and if the sea was as beautiful as his eyes were— hell, you'd be presumed dead by drowning. rotxo was a good teacher. he was kind, patient & gentle. he knew when to joke. he knew when to ( attempt to) comfort you. he knew when to congratulate you.

unintentionally, he also knew all of your most vulnerable spots.

"be calm , y/n." he instructed, gently. you were meditating once again, with tsireya , lo'ak , and neteyam. you were doing good, so far — until rotxo placed his unbelievably soft hands onto your stomach to really get you to be calm. you were not calm. absolutely far from calm. your heart was beating and if it was a car, it'd go past the speed limit. you know what a car is because of your days at the lab— and you know how fast they can be. your heart is so much faster right now. rotxo is touching you. rotxo has his hands on your hips. your breath hitches, you shiver, your mind is moving way too fast and you feel that if rotxo wasn't holding onto your waist to stabilize you, you'd quite literally hit your head on the rock. then tumble down miserably. then drop into the ocean.

"y/n." you realize that you have been spacing out looking at him this whole time, looking at his eyes, his nose, his lips, his cheeks— and then you accidentally swear outloud. "sorry." you sheepishly say, except rotxo just laughs. "it's alright! your heart is fast— it's only gone faster now, because I caught you by so much surprise. I'll help you, okay?" he says, gently, and you're about to swear someone out. you don't need his help, you need him to stay away otherwise you're going to explode. except you give in. you oblige.

"okay."

"good." rotxo said, his hands pressing onto your stomach, harder. oh crap. oh fuck. oh no. fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckshit really like oh my fuck no. "breathe in." he said, you obliged, shakily. "breathe slowly out." you obliged, still shakily. your heartbeat increased with each second he has his hand on your stomach. "your heart is still fast, relax, y/n." rotxo said— and as if you were waiting for that command, as if you were waiting for an order to obey— you instinctively did. you tried to excuse your actions — thinking, wow, rotxo has such a relaxing voice. yet, lo'ak, neteyam, and tsireya looked at eachother— collectively smirking. lo'ak most of all, knowing that this was gonna be peak teasing material.

you were absolute putty in rotxo's presence.

what you were aswell, was inlove. you were unconditionally, irrevocably inlove with rotxo of the metkayina clan. you had admitted it once, in your dreams— you dreamt that he was accepting your confession, and he kissed your hand and it all felt so real— and he just felt so real because his eyes were so real and if you didnt know any better you'd never have left that dream but you had to. and it hurt. there was a world in which he was already yours, except it wasn't this one. you wish it was this one. you dream it was this one.

after that dream, you settle on relaxing— your feet in the water , swishing around — and it really takes your all to just not drown yourself. why are you making a big deal out of this? why are you even inlove with him? he's not all that. he's just a boy.

that's what you told lo'ak, when he came to tease you about it —

"you look like a viperwolf in love." his voice cut through the solid silence. lo'aks voice was full of mischief, "you know, because you're inlove with rotxo and also you're , like a viperwolf , on the brink of insanity." you scoffed, "go drown, lo'ak." he snickered, sitting next to you and dipping his feet into the water aswell. "you know, it's not that bad."

"what is?"

"being inlove."

"wouldn't you know, mr. 'tsireya is my soul incarnate'" you replied, teasingly. he raised his hands up in defense. "you know you love a girl when you love a girl! but still... tsireya and I worked out, so why can't you two work out aswell?"

"because he doesn't like me, jackass."

"you don't know that." he shrugged.

"yes I do, shut up." you snapped.

"woah! getting defensive there, n/n. listen, he basically has heart eyes for you. confess or I'll do it myself, and maybe ask him out on a date for you. because you're such a wuss. and a pussy. and a scaredy cat and a —" he began to list off all the insults he could possibly imagine from the top of his head— and you could've sworn you were going to confess to rotxo just to get him to shut up, but the problem is, you swore it and you actually considered it. at that moment, you tuned everything out. it was weird, honestly. considering an idea that lo'ak , infamous for getting everything wrong, made up. yet, you couldn't believe it, but you .... really had nothing else to do, and nothing to lose besides a friend. and its his loss!

"you know what, lo'ak?"

"undercooked chicken nugget from earth that has a hard piece in it , direwolf shit —"

"lo'ak!"

"sorry, what?"

"I'm gonna do it." you sighed. he jumped, shaking you by the shoulders.

"for real?! ohoho, goodluck! goodluck! literally! I'm so proud right now, you're stepping up! good on you!"

eywa, if you're listening, I need your help. I need this boy to stop shaking me and I also need the other boy to accept my love for him. please, mother, help me.

you cant believe you're doing this.

rotxo is sitting with you, feet in the water, and he's painfully awkward and you can tell because all he can look at is the water and yet all you can look at is him. just him, and his pretty face. why are you being so silent right now? you are literally the one who asked tsireya to lead him here. she was happy to help too. but you know, you're still nervous as shit.

a hand is placed on the back of yours. you shiver, once again.

"I noticed it." rotxo starts, voice quiet. he moves his hand, up , up , and up until your shoulder, and your neck— and then he trails down again, to your side. and then to your hips. he places his hands on your stomach.

your heart near jumps out of your skin.

"why do you react to my touch that way?"

you look at him, eyes widening— to be honest, you didn't think you were being subtle. but you didn't know you were that obvious. you dig into your brain for an answer, and realize that you shouldn't dig for answers. not in your brain, atleast. in your heart. your heart, that has waited patiently for your mate. your heart, that shaked each time rotxo was in your vicinity. your heart, that sent all systems into haywire when he touched you. your heart, whose veins would only ever align with rotxo's. rotxo's heart, not yours. you hate to stoop this low, but in his presence, you are his.

"it is not that I mean to," you start, voice calm. "it's that you are just..." you pause, how could you word it? how could you describe rotxo in one word? how could you even begin to encompass his beauty? his kindness? his gentleness? his thoughtfulness? his nice voice? what could possibly describe everything about him? you think, for a moment. you think and you think, until finally—

"it's that you are just... lovely."

"lovely?" he chuckles, "is that what you think I am?"

"yes." your answer is confident, and that only makes him laugh more.

"you are sure of yourself, that is admirable. what makes me lovely?"

"you just are."

"am i? I do not think ao'nung would agree."

"I do. because I love you."

rotxo looks like he got hit by a truck. rotxo is aghast & unprepared to take your confession, he backs away a bit aswell. you look at him calmly, already expecting nothing but the worst. his mouth twitches, and he looks at your lips, and suddenly all he wants to do is kiss you. he's liked you for some time, now. it feels real good to be confessed to by someone you've liked. really, really good.

"y-you are ... good at the element of surprise." he speaks, "very good."

"am I? personally, I believe I'm better at loving you than I am at the element of surprise."

direct hit to the heart.

you smirk, powered by the surge of confidence. he's deteriorating just by looking at you. you like boys like him. very easy to tease. very cute.

"breathe in, and then out." you say, and he does that— and he is relaxed, naturally.

rotxo looks at you, chest heaving from the amount of times his heart had beat when you had made direct moves on him. he looks at you, smiling. he's happy. still flustered, but he's happy. you, having just recovered from that high, are also happy & flustered. you look at the sky, wanting to look at anything else but him— but he doesn't want to look at anything else but you. your eyes crease up in a smile as you hear his next words,

"I think you are lovely too."

#lo'ak #lo'ak sully #rotxo x reader #rotxo #rotxo x y/n #avatar rotxo #tsireya #rotxo awow #atwow rotxo #neteyam #neteyam sully #metkayina clan #ao'nung #aonung

[thehighladywrites]

Beneath their smiles

ft. Rhysand

SUMMARY: You find out your friends used you for status, leaving you heartbroken. Rhysand is here for you<3

warnings: swearing, hurt, comfort,fluff, shitty friends, nice revenge.

A/N: Kind of a personal one for me, I used to have shitty friends like this so this was really satisfying to write😋

banners: @cafekitsune

There was nothing in the world that Rhys hated more than seeing you upset.

What could have possibly made his sweet darling this upset? You were sitting in his lap, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. He had one hand supporting your back while the other was drawing soothing circles. You were crying your eyes out, hiccuping, not even managing to talk properly between sobs when he asked what had happened to you.

You sat there for hours, listening to him whisper calming words of love and support. Finally, you looked up to him and the sight broke his heart.

After your crying session, your eyes were bloodshot, puffy, and swollen. Dried tear streaks ran down your face, making you look utterly drained, vulnerable, and sad. His protective instincts upon seeing his mate in such a vulnerable state were going crazy. It made him start making plans to confront whatever or whoever had made his mate cry so much. But Rhysand didn’t push you to speak if you weren’t ready. He knew you’d tell them whenever you were.

You took a steadying breath and spilled everything that had happened before your eyes started to blur again.

"Rhysie, I had the most horrible day ever. My friends completely cut me off for no good reason. They all made secret plans to catch up, and I saw them in front of me, laughing and huddled together. I so so badly wanted to go up to them, but when I got closer, I overheard them say that they weren't going to include me in their plans. They also whispered that I was a burden to you, and that a low-born nobody like me was only useful when getting invited to balls and parties – that our friendship was just a charade for their own amusement. They'd pretended to be my friends, but in reality, I was nothing more than a pawn in their game of social climbing. So, it turns out they were never truly friends; they were just using me for access to the stupid parties they craved. I feel so foolish,Rhys. They always chattered about parties and festivals, but I thought they enjoyed my company. “

He kissed your temple and let you silently cry on his shoulder again. He masked any anger he had, because it wasn’t about his revenge now, it was about comforting you.

“Oh, my sweet darling, I’m so sorry you had to go through that. You deserve real friends who appreciate you for who you are, not just for the parties you can provide. You’re such a kind and wonderful person, and this experience with those vermins doesn’t define your worth at all. We’ll get through this together, my love. I promise you’ll find new, genuine friends who will value you for the amazing person you are, and who will see your kind heart and genuine soul. Remember that I’m always here for you, and I love you so much, okay? If you want to, we can banish them.”

You give him a tired smile and let out a sigh of comfort at the feel of love he sends through the bond. He gives you a sweet, loving kiss as he carries you to bed, tucking you to lay with one arm on his chest as you tucked your face in the crook of his neck. He had an arm protectively slung around your waist, keeping you as close as possible.

” Thanks Rhysie, m’so happy to have you forever. I love you s’much. But that’s not necessary, I have something better in mind. “

“ Of course darling, I love you too, can’t wait to hear about this diabolical plan my baby has planned. “

You let out a genuine laugh, and he gives you a last kiss before he pulls you closer. He runs his hands through your hair, as he always does whenever you’re upset, lulling you to a comforting sleep.

- - -

The night was beautiful, millions of starts decorated the dark sky, and the music filled the air. You and Rhysand were hosting an exquisite starfall party in your home. It was a celebration that enhanced the beauty of Velaris. A perfect night for some payback.

As the guests were flown up to The House of Wind, elegant guests in shimmering attire began to mingle with eachother. Among them was all of your friends and family from other courts, like Helion, Kallias and Vivienne, Thesan, Tarquin and so many more joined to celebrate.

Suddenly, at the edge of the entrance, your oblivious friends huddled together ready to dance the night away. Their faces masked with false smiles and ill intentions. They attempted to join the festivities, whispering and snickering, oblivious to the icy glares they received from your inner circle who knew of their betrayal.

However, the sentries, loyal to Rhysand, stood firm. As your friends approached, the guards blocked their path, not allowing them a step further.

"Sorry, but you can't enter," Declan, one of the sentries declared, his voice carrying authority.

Your friends exchanged bewildered glances, their arrogance suddenly shattered by reality. They had always been invites to the High Lords party, what the hell was going on?

"What do you mean?" one of them demanded, her voice tinged with false innocence. "We were invited."

The sentry raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. " We have specific orders to not let you in. In fact if you don’t move, I’ll throw all of you in a holding cell for the night. Move along. ”

Seeing the High Lord's sentinel not wavering their stance, the mean friends grew flustered. They attempted to argue, to demand, to manipulate. But Velaris, under the rule of Rhysand, had no place for those who betrayed and used others for personal gain. Especially not his perfect mate. No, they weren’t ever going to hurt you again.

” I think there has been a mistake. Do you know how we are? We’re friends with the Lady of night, and we’re always invited. So let us speak to Y/N she’ll know who we are. ”

Tired of seeing their pathetic attempts, you drag Rhysand over to them to resolve the situation. But before you can say anything, Rhysand speaks up as he looks at them with disgust and wrath.

"Your actions towards my mate and your Lady are disgraceful. It's clear you've treated her with cruelty and deceit. You've shown a complete lack of respect and compassion. In my city, I value loyalty and kindness, qualities you so clearly lack. Know that I won't tolerate any more harm coming her way, because if any of harrass my mate again, I’ll see to it that it’s the last thing you do.

You’ve been asked to leave once, and you won’t be asked again. This is a night of celebration and unity, not a place for your pathetic attempt at deception. Your presence here is unwelcome, and I will not tolerate any disruption. It’s in your best interest to leave now, before Declan makes good on his word. ”

You look to him with a small smile and say into his mind,

” Thank you honey, I don’t know if I would’ve had the strenght to say all that. I love you so much. ”

” I love you too, but don’t thank me darling, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. ”

Defeated and stunned your now former friends were left with no choice but to retreat, their faces flushed with embarrassment and anger as they slinked away from the entrance, watched by the crowd.

Observing the whole scene you both couldn't help but smile as he tightened his hold on you. He had protected his mate and ensured that the party remained a celebration of true friendships, leaving no room for something other than that.

#rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #acotar

[watermelonlovershigh]

can we have a scenario with Harry where the R is on her period and throwing up and harrys just trying his best to comfort her 😫🥺🥺

AN: i hope i did your request justice. luckily i've never had to experience throwing up from my period so i don't know how it's exactly like. so i just hope its kinda sorta accurate in how i describe the cramps making reader feel and get sick. also whoever requested this, please let me know what you think. feedback is really important for us writers.

This story contains: fluff, period leaking (kinda), being sick (puking) due to period cramps, comfort

{ boyfriendrry - soft!harry - think of fine line harry era - harry is not famous in this story }

word count- 2,173

While staying the night at your boyfriend Harry's house, you get your period and then end up getting sick due to painful period cramps.

You've known Harry for about two years. For most of those two years you were just friends. But about a month ago you finally confessed your harboring feelings for each other and now you're officially a thing. A couple. Dating more or less.

Yes you both were scared that if something happened with your relationship that your friendship would be over, but you just had to have a little bit of faith. Faith that no matter what happened your friendship comes first and foremost.

Now because this relationship is fairly new, Harry hasn't seen you at your most vulnerable states yet. Most vulnerable states as in when you're crying or sick or even the ups and downs you go through with your period. Well besides sex because you're both impatient, horny people. Because when you two were just friends, you were mainly friends within a friend group. Meaning you weren't like the closest friends ever.

Though over time you became closer as just friends and that's how you both realized you had feelings for each other. Still, Harry had yet to see you at your low points. But tonight that all changes.

Tonight, you were planning to spend the night at Harry's house. You've spent most nights at his house since becoming girlfriend and boyfriend if you're being honest. You just love the comfort Harry and his home brings to you.

Now unlike most nights that you stay over, you told Harry beforehand that you weren't in the mood for sex. You're not sure why but you had this pit feeling in your stomach that was secretly warning you of what's to come and that made you not want sex tonight.

You even told him if he'd rather you not come over because you didn't want sex to just tell you. But Harry just laughed through the phone and said that was ridiculous. That of course he still wants you to stay over. He doesn't just want to see you because of the sex. He loves you more than that.

The night started off well. Harry had ordered some chinese take-out and you both ate the delicious food while watching a romcom on his sofa. Eventually after you finished eating, you ended up cuddling into one another on the couch with a big fluffy blanket over top of you. That is until you felt the all too familiar feeling of your period starting. "Fuck," you hissed out.

"What?" Harry questioned quickly from his position as the big spoon behind you.

Going to stand up, you replied, "Um, think I started my period." At this point you knew there wasn't any way to hide the fact your period just started because you were staying the night at his house for fucks sake.

Harry had a frown on his face and goes to let you know, "Oh, well that's alright. I have some pad and tampons under my bathroom sink. Keep'um there for things like this." God, you're about ready to marry this man on the spot. His thoughtfulness is killing you.

You nodded your head and said shyly, "Okay, thank you. I'll be right back." You rushed off to the bathroom before you leaked too much in your panties and finally made it in time to collect the products you needed. Harry even bought the good brands too. Bless his heart.

After inserting a tampon and using a pad for extra protection, you were good to go. Except you realized just how tired you were now. It was nearly eleven at night anyways. So when you made it back down the stairs to Harry's living room where he had paused the movie to wait on you, you asked nervously, "Can, um, we just go to bed? I'm kinda tired now."

Without any thought, Harry stood up from the sofa and said, "Yeah, of course. Is everythin' alright with your period though. Need anythin' else?" If he doesn't stop being so nice you will be getting married tomorrow.

You shook your head, "No, I mean, yes I'm okay. Caught it right in time so I didn't leak through my clothes, thankfully. And my cramps usually start a few hours after I start. So I'm not in any pain right now. Just sleepy."

Harry turned the tv off and grabbed your hand to hold while walking up the stairs with you. "Good, but let me know if that changes. Don't be afraid to wake me up, okay. I won't mind." he commented.

A few moments later you were cuddled up in bed and ready to sleep. Your periods always made you extremely tired. Physically and mentally. Then not even five minutes into your cozy cuddles, you were asleep.

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As your eyes glance over at Harry's alarm clock you can see the time now is four am. You were sleeping peacefully until you started getting your first wave of period cramps. To hopefully will them away, you take some deep breaths and lay in a fetal position to try and fall back asleep. But you quickly realize that's not going to happen.

Now if you were at your house, you'd go take some medicine to help with your period cramps but beings that you're at your boyfriend's house, you didn't want to risk waking him up. Though he told you he wanted you to wake him if you needed anything, you just couldn't find it in you to do that.

I mean you're not necessarily embarrassed you got your period at Harry's house because he is a grown, mature man that knows women get periods. But it's more so about you being in such a vulnerable position in front of him for the first time. To your luck though, the period and the cramps were not even the worst of your worries right now. It's the creeping nausea that's blooming in your stomach.

You don't always get sick on your periods but you do more often than most you'd say. Like every three period cycles. And it's mostly from the cramps getting so bad that they make you feel and get sick. Oh how you wish on anything that this months period wouldn't be one of the months you get sick on your period. Especially not on a night you're staying at Harry's house.

As you continue to lay in bed beside a sleeping Harry, your cramps get worse and your nausea also gets worse. To the point you know you must get out of bed if you don't want to be sick all over his bed and floor. So you scramble to remove yourself from Harry's duvet and scurry over to his bathroom that's to the right of his room. But due to the room being pitch black, you accidently knock something off the night stand on your side of the bed which in turn wakes Harry up.

At this point you don't care that you've knocked something over nor do you care if it woke Harry up. All that you care about is not being sick on the floor. When you make it inside the bathroom, you flip the light switch on and run over to the toilet. Luckily you have a moment to prepare yourself for what's to come so you reach back to collect your messy hair out of your face and kneel down on the cold, hard floor.

Back in the bedroom, Harry is sat up very confused as to what's going on. The only thing he can assume is that you felt yourself starting to leak and ran to go change your products out. But when he hears your first dry heave, he knows that's not the case. He jumps out of bed and rushes to the bathroom so he can help you in any way he can.

"Hey, hey," Harry coos while finally reaching your kneeled body, "shhh, it's alright. Let it out, y/n. Your tummy will feel so much better." And just like that, after multiple harsh dry heaves, you begin to actually throw up. Which isn't pleasant and especially not pleasant when you ate chinese food for dinner.

Harry replaces your hand with his so he's now the one holding your hair back. You're in so much pain that you barely register he's in the bathroom with you. All you know is that your uterus feels like it's being kicked and punched repeatedly and you're so nauseous because of that.

You throw up for what feels like minutes until you finally catch a break. With his free hand, Harry collects some toilet paper and dabs it around your mouth and nose. Then he tosses it in the toilet and reaches up to flush the nasty contents. You whisper out an embarrassed, "Thank you."

"No need to thank me, love. Hate seein' you like this. Is it your period that's making you sick? Or the chinese? Because if it's the chinese food then I should be a little worried since we ate the same thing." Harry replies.

"No um, forgot to mention but um, sometimes on my periods my cramps get so bad that it makes me get sick. Sorry you're having to see me like this. I know I probably look and smell gross. You can go back to bed if you want."

Biting back, Harry responds, "Hey, y/n, it's totally fine. I understand periods are painful for women. And if it makes you sick then that's alright. But I will do everythin' in my power to help you not feel sick anymore. And I am not leavin' you in here by yourself. I don't care that you're sick in front of me. We are in a relationship so it was gonna happen eventually anyways, right? Now do you still feel like you're going to throw up?"

You answer hoarsely, "Kinda, but if i had some medicine I think that would stop it. It's just my cramps hurt so bad I can barely move."

"Alright," Harry softly speaks, "stay here and let me get you some medicine." He stands up on cracking knees and searches through his medicine cabinet a few feet away. "Okay, here is some zofran for your nausea and here is some pain pills for your period cramps. Let me grab you a cup of water."

After filling a paper cup full of water and collecting the medicine, Harry comes back over to you and kneels down on the hard bathroom floor beside your body. He hands them to you and with shaky hands you take the cup of water and swallow down the pills. Then he grabs the now empty cup back from you and tosses it into the trash can beside the toilet.

Being patient with you, Harry doesn't suggest going back to bed until you feel ready enough to do so. He just sits beside you and gently grazes his fingers up and down your back. Once the zofran has kicked in, you don't feel sick anymore. You just feel achy and slightly gross.

Breaking the silence, you ask, "Can I take a shower and then go back to sleep? I feel all gross but also so tired again."

"Of course you can, baby. Let me get you a towel and an extra pair of clothes from your bag, okay." Harry gets up to do just that and you stand up realizing you need to use the toilet as well. But you'll wait until he returns with your stuff.

When Harry does return with your stuff, he gives your forehead a kiss and says, "Take your time, y/n. I'll be in bed waiting on you. Call for me if you need anythin''." And with that, he leaves and you're finally left alone to use the bathroom and shower.

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When you re-enter Harry's bedroom after your shower, you expect to see him fast asleep again. But no, he's propped up in bed watching Friends on the television that hangs on the wall in front of his bed. He turns his head towards you with a sleepy smile on his face. "How was your shower? All good?"

You nod and answer while climbing back into bed beside him. "Mhm, it was good. And um, thank you for taking care of me tonight. Really appreciate it."

"Awe, baby," Harry coos, turning the tv off and helping you move closer to him, "no need to thank me. It kills me to know you sometimes have to deal with your periods side effects alone. I love taking care of you." With your head now on his chest, he tilts his head down to peck your forehead with a kiss and questions, "Is your tummy feelin' better now? Not nauseous anymore?"

Tiredly, you shake your head no against his chest and whisper, "Just slight cramping but nothing like it was before. The medicine is working. Love you."

Knowing you're not in excruciating pain anymore, sleep starts to take over Harry's body too again. But not before he can mutter out an, "I love you, too."

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

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