#news flash: im not a fucking infant

[teruthecreator]

you literally think psychotic ppl are like fucking children quit speaking on shit that you literally admit to not experiencing

the whole reason i made that post is bc my girlfriend struggles with psychosis and i wanted to make sure she wasnt triggered. and also a fuck ton of people have been saying in the tags of that post that they have psychosis and had a really hard time with that stream too. understand that everyone is different and its not that hard to be a decent human being and tag a post, EVEN IF ur psychotic urself and didnt have trouble viewing the stream

#ignorance cloud on #i worded the post in that way bc i didnt wanna fucking like. scream at people to tag something. i just wanted to throw out a reminder that #hey!!! even if this thing didnt bother u it might bother other people so!! consider!!! #i dont think psychotic people are children i think theyre normal human beings that deserve respect. #like. im sorry if it came off infantalizing in any way but this isnt the way to bring it up to someone #i was just trying to make people aware bc news fucking flash: people STILL are flooding the deltarune tag w posts w the stream #and NOT tagging it at all. and i just personally think that creates an unsafe environment. #u dont kno everyones experiences and sure i dont either. but i will at least do my best to be nice and respectful to those around me

[hansolmates]

a hero’s journey (m)

summary; jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story pairing; jungkook x editor!reader (f) genre/warnings; best friend’s boyfriend au, slice of life, angst with a happy ending because im weak, pining pINING, everyone’s kind of a mess in their own sweet special way, alcohol use, mentions of ze weed, toxic relationships, mean friends, sex—slight dom!kook, food play, fingering, squirting, heavy use of the petname “pretty girl” bc im weak, strength kink, manhandling (oop!) w.c; 22.2k a/n; woof! my first fic for @goldenclosetnetwork​ 23 | jungkook’s birthday project! this goes out to all the closet romantics *ahem me cough* who doesn’t love pining between a cutie koo? a huge thank u for vivi @eerieedits​ for making this bbbBEAUTIFUL fic banner!  

prompt used: “I should’ve known.”

if you like this fic pls consider giving a like n’share🥺💜🥺💜

It’s so easy to ignore the world. 

Maybe it’s a young-adult thing, but it gets difficult fitting into the 9-to-5 and playing to satisfy bosses that don’t entirely understand your work ethic. Maybe it’s out of complacency, or fear. But you prefer to let the world flow around you and when you’re needed, you’ll act. You’ve reached that point in your life where you enjoy the little things, satisfied by an extra hour of overtime tacked onto your paycheck, a new fabric softener, or finding the perfectly squishy yoga mat. 

You’ve finally started feeling comfortable in your shoes, uncaring as to whether you’re single or drowning in college debt, happy to live a relatively stable life. You’re grateful. There’s nothing more than you need than your happiness, and the love of your friends and family. 

Namely, your best friend from college. Jisoo always joked about how you two “won the lottery” as dorm rooms in freshman year were determined by lottery. Pulling numbers 883 and 884, you and Jisoo snagged a corner spot of the dormitory, leaving you two utterly cramped but utterly close as the years went by. Six years later and it’s still the case, the two of you have grown into talented working ladies. While you may not be able to spend time with each other the same way you did in school, you still care for each other. 

So when Jisoo shows up teary with a rumpled dress shirt and her hair waterfalling out of this morning’s bun, you break out the good alcohol and season three of Jane the Virgin for her. 

After the liquid is warm in your cheeks and you’ve fawned enough over Micheal and Rafael’s love triangle, you let Jisoo ramble. 

Jisoo has downed a whole bottle of soju on her own, while you’ve decided to have a tasteful glass of wine. You’d rather be tired wine drunk than wasted on soju. 

“Jungkook and I had a fight,” she warbles, stuffing a handful of popcorn in her mouth, “it was totally stupid.” 

Your eyes flash, picturing Jisoo and Jungkook in quarrel. They’re the epitome of an Instagram-worthy couple, beautiful and deathly charming to a fault. They show nothing but kindness and sweetness to you whenever you third-wheel, not a lick of anger between them when you’re all together.

So a fight is something surprising. Jisoo and Jungkook, J-squared are a power couple. Saying their names next to each other just emits a sort of energy you can only akin to famous small screen couples like Troy and Gabriella or Cory and Topanga. Jisoo’s Instagram is belly full with sweet selfies of them together, the doe-eyed man always looking completely sweet and gentle to the woman in his arms.

You never piqued Jungkook as the type of guy who would pick a “stupid fight.” And you know Jungkook pretty well. 

Maybe a little too well. 

“He surprised me during my lunch break and he caught me talking to Doyoung and he thought I was flirting,” Jisoo is practically eating her sweater, her head falling between her flannel pyjama sleeves. 

“Doyoung, as in your ex Doyoung?” you raise a brow. 

She groans, glaring at you in earnest. “Not you, too! I told him it was ridiculous to get jealous, and then I told him how jealous I get when he’s around girls and I don’t need to tell him that,” she rolls her eyes, twisting her feet petulantly in her fuzzy socks, “but then you know what he says back?” 

You wince, swirling your wine glass, “That you’re crazy?” 

“That I’m crazy, exactly! How did you—” her bloodshot eyes zero in on you, where you’ve tucked yourself in the corner of the couch. You swirl the ruby liquid in your cup, watching the feet web around the cheap crystal, “you think I’m crazy too, don’t you?” 

You swallow your sigh, taking your time to finish your liquid in languid sips. Uneasy, you wish you could just sink through the couch in order to avoid this conversation. Jisoo’s heart is generally in the right direction, but in terms of emotions she has the kind of sensitivity that you prefer to ignore rather than tread. Jungkook is also equally emotional, but in a different way. He wears his heart on his sleeve, preferring to keep things straight as opposed to bottling it up like Jisoo. 

However the theoretic bottle has reached it’s brim and Jisoo’s tipping, fast. 

“I need to tell you something,” Jisoo is swerving, crawling like an infant on wobbly limbs to reach your corner of the couch. You almost stop her, tell her you can continue this conversation in the morning, it’s what you normally do when she drinks into a stupor. But tears are swimming in her glassy caramel eyes and she’s grappling onto your blanket, resting her head in her lap. 

Her glossy russet strands curtain her head, so you don’t see the expression on her face when she says her next words: 

“Jungkook told me he liked you senior year, and I told him you weren’t interested so I’d have a chance.” 

Wow. So that explains everything.

The memories that you’ve tried so hard to brush away, the feelings you’ve tried so hard and continue to try to suppress, are laid out in front of you on a rusted platter. You could laugh, you could fling the rest of the Pinot Grigio down your throat like fresh water on a hot day and call it a night. 

But instead you choke back your tears, and push her off because you’re hurt.  

Deep down you know you would’ve been less upset if she told you the week after Jisoo and Jungkook called it official. If you knew from the beginning, it would’ve been easier on your heart. But it's been over two years since the past, thinking you’ve been needlessly, stupidly, delusional in thinking that you could’ve possibly had a chance with Jungkook.

Because it could’ve been you. And the reason why Jisoo and Jungkook fought today? Now you know it’s because deep down, they know they’re each other’s second choice. 

You can’t even recall a time where Jungkook and Jisoo were together alone before they suddenly started dating, remembering how it used to be you and Jungkook before Jisoo found him one day in your shared apartment, utterly smitten. And now you know you weren’t delusional, because the feelings and the signals you two were exchanging in senior year was real. 

But it doesn’t stop the fact that over two years have passed. Two years of a serious relationship between Jisoo and Jungkook, and two years of you secretly loving him from an arm’s length. 

“You hate me,” Jisoo removes herself from you, voice trembling. The quick, dark part of your mind wants you to snap back of course I hate you. You’ve trusted Jisoo with your life all these years, she was the reason you got through college so gracefully, why you enjoyed the past seven years of your life. 

But the sentiment is stained, and all you can do is deliver a tired smile and stand up. “I don’t hate you,” you say, “I’m just, really overwhelmed. I can’t lie and say that I’m not hurt,” your fingers clutch the fake crystal in your grasp, and for once you’re thankful you’re not strong enough to break it, “but you two love each other now and there’s no point in dwelling in the ‘what-ifs’.” 

Now that you think about it, when was the last time Jisoo treated you like a best friend? You stare at your wine glass, thinking that the only time comfort is provided in this apartment is when Jisoo is upset, never when you’re upset. 

Jisoo bobs her head senselessly, agreeing to every word. It’s pathetic, seeing her on her knees and her eyes glimmering with the hope that you’d forgive her straightaway. She must feel awful. That’s good.  

You sigh, needing to be the bigger person. “You need to call Jungkook and tell him he has nothing to worry about though, after all, you two have history now. As much, if not more than Doyoung.” 

“Right,” she replies, biting her lip. It suddenly feels like you're talking to a wall, carrying a conversation that's long ended.

“As for us,” you have half a mind to slam your glass on the counter, but instead you give it a heavy hand, letting slowly thump to the coffee table, “I don’t think I want to see you two, for a while.” 

“Understandable.” 

“And I don’t want to help you move out anymore,” I just want you gone.  

“Right,” she whispers. The both of you will be completed with your lease in two months, and Jisoo and Jungkook have decided to move into Jungkook’s apartment. As for you, you haven’t decided as to whether you want to go through the whole process of moving out or looking for a new roommate. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so so fucking sorry. I just was insecure as fuck in college and Jungkook was the first person I met in a long time that helped me feel more… like me.”

You want to say that she's right, she’s selfish. Her excuses aren’t palpable anymore. It’s too late. But if you were in Jisoo’s shoes, you’d think this apology is mere crumbs in comparison to your friendship. Why isn't she trying harder? Maybe because she doesn't know any better. After all, you never told her what you felt for him has morphed into love. 

You don’t even have to ask as to whether she’ll tell Jungkook this or not, you now know honesty is not her style. 

Jisoo doesn’t get a goodnight and a drunken kiss on the forehead like she usually does whenever you two have your late night talks. Instead, she seals herself to her own demise as you slam the door to your bedroom, effectively shutting each other out. 

Work is a bitch the following morning. You’re like molasses, rolling out of bed despite the whole world and its mother telling you to go back to sleep. 

Your feet are killing you as you make your walk to work, deciding to wear a pair of red-backed heels so you can stomp your way through your day. 

Your Wusband (Work-Husband) Kim Namjoon matches you step-for-step, eyes glued to his phone as he catches you on the sidewalk. “Woman on a mission,” he comments absentmindedly, eyes glued to his phone as he follows the click of your shoes to your favorite cafe. 

You spare a glance to your right hand-man, eyeing him appreciatively at his dedication to your morning routine. He’s your favorite co-worker, one who keeps you on time to your meetings and keeps you sane when you want to pull your hair out and dig out a coffin in your little cubicle. Namjoon’s long legs always seem to catch up with you during your workweek, whether it’s to get coffee in the morning or to talk shit about the latest gossip in the breakroom. 

The bell of the glass door tinkles in your ears as you enter the café, relatively busy for the morning rush. While you wait in line, Namjoon ticks off your activity list for today. 

“Meeting with Victoria is cancelled this morning,” you groan in relief, your supervisor Victoria always scares the shit out of you even when she’s not doing anything, “and just the usual proofing and whatever we have to do on the third floor today—can I get a large iced Americano with a pump of caramel? Thanks,” Namjoon moves aside so you can throw your order in as well, “and after work could you stop by Vernon’s? He took a sick day today and he has most of the manuscripts for the next issue.” 

“Done and done,” you swipe your card in the dip, tucking your card away in your zippered pouch. “So like, do Americanos taste any good? Like it’s literally watered down espresso how do you pay to drink watered down tar—” 

Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter. Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter swirling stray sugar crystals with his thumb and putting them in his napkin. What an impeccable display of Virgo energy, absentmindedly cleaning things he has no business doing. You scoff to yourself, recalling this morning that Jisoo got off the phone this morning with a stupid smile on her face. From the mirror image that Jungkook is excluding while he’s smiling on his cellphone like a smitten teenager, it seems like they’ve made up. 

Nevertheless the hurt from last night is still fresh in your bones, and you force yourself to look away despite the fact that your morning pick-me-ups are almost done and are sitting tauntingly next to Jungkook’s elbow. Does he really need to learn against the counter like he owns it? Hair slightly damp from the shower, your heart beats a little faster at the fresh image.His biceps are straining against his charcoal lycra long sleeve, which is slightly damp from his morning run. Snap out of it! You are a mature, working woman who does not swoon in the view of bulgy muscles, especially when the man who owns those muscles is taken. Suddenly there’s a call of your name, and two cups and a paper bag are put in front of Jungkook. 

He blinks, and you immediately pale when you see his eyes flit over your name surrounded by your favorite coral pink beverage. You feel struck as his head perks up at the name and he narrowly makes eye-contact—

“The fuck you’re doing,” Namjoon gripes, shoving your guava iced tea and croissant in your chest, “standing there like a moron as if we don’t got shit to do today.” 

“Sorry,” you mumble, pulling at the brown paper bag to tug a piece of croissant between your teeth. The warmth, buttery pastry melts in your tastebuds. Ah, bread. Nothing like a little bit of carb to make you feel better. 

You’re suddenly thankful for Namjoon’s gargantuan torso from effectively blocking you from Jungkook, hauling you out of the coffee shop like a petulant toddler. He doesn’t even give you a chance to catch another secret look at the object of your affections, making sure you’re back in your work game before you enter the building. Even if he doesn’t know it, Kim Namjoon’s always got your back. 

Or in today’s case, breathing down your back. 

Without your third editor and a hard deadline coming up by the end of the week, you and Namjoon are working in tandem throughout your 9-5 to complete drafts for Big Hit Publishings Arts & Media section. Both of you take turns to bring snacks and feed each other, feeling like reading zombies and slaves to your desk as you remind each other to breathe throughout the whole ordeal. 

In complete honesty you don’t totally mind. Namjoon is a great partner-in-crime, and you both love what you do and do a damn good job at it. You call it “Buzzfeed but with Benefits.” 

And at least for today, you could quell the feelings in your chest from last night and this morning. Sure, you’ve always been okay with the pining you’ve had for Jungkook. The feeling comes and goes whenever it pleases, and since yesterday you’ve been okay with just admiring from afar and being their third wheel. 

However, now the feelings are acutely comparable to a third-degree burn with the help of Jisoo playing with fire. 

With a quiet exhale, you concede in your gaming chair (because it’s just so damn comfy to keep in the office.) You’re an adult and not a petty child, and you will not let this piece of information derail you from your calm, stable lifestyle. 

But honestly? Fuck Jisoo. 

“Let’s go, buckaroo,” Namjoon logs off for you, the cinnamon-y smell of his shampoo effectively waking up your senses, “it’s already 5:30. And you said you’d stop by Vern’s to get his drafts.” 

“Right,” you blurt, mindlessly putting away your papers and snack wrappers in your bag. You can’t believe the whole day’s gone already. 

“Maybe you don’t even have to go to his apartment. Just text him or whatever.” 

“Sounds good, thanks Joonie.” 

“And y/n?” Namjoon gives you a look that causes you to force a terse smile, one you give one too many times to higher-ups at work. It isn’t to insult Namjoon by any means, but you guys are partners, the kind that tell way too much but hide just enough to remain close from afar. “Take it easy, will you?” 

“I will,” you concede, stretching your arms, “I’m def overdue for a massage.” 

“You don’t look sick,” you scoff, taking in the casual look your co-editor boasts as he leans casually against the doorway. 

Hansol Vernon Chwe is the epitome of fluffy, decked out in large electric blue sweats and his russet brown hair curling softly above his porcelain skin. Not only is he your co-editor, but also a friend from college. Not to the extent that you were with Jisoo and Jungkook, but you operated in the same publishing club and managed to get partnering internships that made you the co-workers you are today. You see a little bit of that collegiate youth in Vernon right now, as he looks well-rested and fresh faced despite the fact he probably didn’t apply moisturizer or drink enough water today.

“But you kinda do,” he tilts his head, noting the heels that adorn your feet, “you’re wearing your sexy shoes today, that means something’s going on.” 

“Gee, ever the ladies’ man,” you scoff, getting under his arm to invite yourself inside, “all I want is the completed interviews so we can pick out the best parts and draft them. Then I’ll be on my merry way.” 

“Oh c’mon, we’ve been talking nothing but work this whole damn month. What happened to college when we’d talk hours about House Hunters, the safeness of library sex, that little furry thing in Lincoln Hall’s urinal? That was prime conversation.” 

“Vern, I’m just here for the drafts,” you sit at his tiny kitchen table, glaring at his open laptop.  

“You could’ve just emailed me,” he teases, twisting around his chair so he can rest his arms against the back. “But since you’re here, that means you probably wanna spill some tea but you’re too upset to admit it.” 

“If I talk will you stop talking like that?” 

“Yes. Give me the juicy details. Need some juicy juice.” 

“Nevermind, get out of my apartment.” 

“Uh, this is my apartment.” 

“My point still stands,” you make another face at his outfit, “you look like the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.”  

Vernon purses his lips, scooting his chair closer to yours. He’s unfazed by your insult, far used to your defenses being higher up than Fort Knox. He looks up at you with his pretty lashes and deceivingly sweet caramel eyes, leaning his head along the backrest. “C’mon, tell me what’s bothering you,” he says in a gentle tone, coaxing you open. 

He always knew how to do it for you, a little bit of sweet talking and that clear open gaze always reduced you to shreds in university. For him, it always took a good meal and some sci-fi movies to get him to talk. That must be why you’ve stayed friends for so long, you two knew how to connect. 

Finally you crack, kicking off your shoes and hoping the sharp end doesn’t land on his cat. You hear Luna meow in protest but she’s got great reflexes. Unbuttoning the first three buttons of your stuffy blazer, you air out your cleavage, not caring about Vernon’s gaze. He’s seen worse. 

“Remember Jeon Jungkook? Majored in graphic design.”

“Ah, yeah. The guy who like, lived at the gym and the dining hall? Haven’t seen him in a minute,” his eyes seem to glaze over the glory days, reminiscing in the simultaneous safetynet and stressor that made up your early twenties, “didn’t you guys hit it off real well? Like I remember you ditched like—three sci-fi nights to study with him. Who even studies at 1AM?” 

“Yeah, we did,” and you can’t help but frown at as you remember the 7-Eleven runs, the utter warmth you felt when he would wipe a stray rice grain off your cheek, and how happy you felt to laugh so much with him it hurt, “but uh. Jisoo got drunk last night, because they had a fight. And she sort of admitted to me that she sabotaged our relationship and told Jungkook I wasn’t interested in him so they could start dating. Two years later and here we are.” 

A pause. And then, “Want a beer?” 

Vernon doesn’t even wait for a response when he gets up, bare feet slapping against the tile as he prepares some drinks and snacks for you. 

“That’s pretty fucked up,” he practically sing-songs among the cacophony of popcorn pop-pop-popping in the microwave. The aroma of buttery kernels is all but a relief, reminding you of movie matinees, “and like, she knew you liked him! It was totally obvious, even if you didn’t spell it out for her.” 

“Yeah,” you practically gushed to Jisoo those past two months, every waking moment with heart-eyes over the talented graphic designer Jeon Jungkook. 

“I can’t believe Jisoo would keep that a secret from you for so long. Like, can you even trust her anymore?” 

“Don’t know, was she even my bestfriend or was I just a good roommate to her?” you ask. Vernon is holding two beers in one hand and a bag of popcorn by the tips of his fingers in the other, careful to not burn himself. Opening the beer for you, you thank him and take a long swig.

“Well, good thing you’re still not in love with him or whatever. That would really suck. Unless—”

The look on your face says it all. You’re practically snotting into your bottle, your face tucked into your chin as you fight hard to stop the tears you’ve been suppressing for the last two years. “Don’t give me your pity,” you garble, turning away from the sad look Vernon gives you as he wraps his arms around you. 

The tears are soft and gentle, flowing freely onto the cotton of Vernon’s arms as you let it out. 

“‘M’not,” he concedes, rubbing his chin into your neck. He really is a lot like Luna, just like his  cat ready to give you affection. “Let’s just, get some take-out and watch Hamilton or something.” 

He lets you wear his matching sweat suit, lime green, as you order Thai food and rap along to Hamilton’s sick beats. Vernon does a better job keeping the flow, but you’re having a good time being his hype man as he parades around the living room like it’s 1776. 

You go home that night around ten o’clock, feeling noticeably lighter and more relaxed. Be that it may you are still wearing the sweatpants and heels ensemble, you feel comforted. 

The apartment is quiet when you walk in, not a single light turned on. You get a slice of the city lights bleeding in from the organza curtains, which allow you to kick off your heels and hobble to where you think the kitchen counter is. 

Today is Jisoo’s day to cook dinner. You can tell she decided to cook today from the faint smell of Japanese curry and a small unwashed plate in the sink. Whenever it was someone’s turn, they usually left an extra bowl or serving in it for the other roommate when they got home. Unsurprisingly, you find no such thing on the counter or in the fridge. 

You’re not upset, but rather decided. If Jisoo is going to let your friendship fade off with no intention of redeeming herself, then you should give her the same amount of energy back. You realize now the apology she gave last night wasn’t for you, but empty words to make her feel better and mend whatever toxicity she’s created in her own relationships. People like Namjoon and Vernon reminded you that you didn’t need to try and earn other people’s friendships. 

It’s disappointing, but the feeling is all but too familiar. 

If you could describe Jisoo as anything, it would be the color pink. Blushing, beautiful, beguiling pink. The way she flushes when Jungkook does an uncalled for grandiose gesture of romance, or when she wears a hot magenta number when she’s hosting a fashion show. Jisoo is the personification of La vie en rose, unbothered and unabashed.  

But now all you see when you think of Jisoo? Nothing but red. 

With that, you go in your room and untack the polaroid of you and Jisoo at the carnival last month, putting it away in your junk drawer to be forgotten. 

“You’re running away.” 

“Am not.” 

“Are too,” that interjection comes from Vernon’s roommate, Jung Hoseok. He’s been watching you two bicker over work for the past hour while he plays GTA5, failing to get a good hard carry because you and Vernon are too busy discussing whatever finishing touches you need on your final draft. 

“No one asked for your opinion, Jung,” you throw over your shoulder. 

“I’m just saying,” Hoseok flicks his wrist and nabs a tank, “you never wanna go home, you eat all our food, and I found your pyjamas in my laundry basket.” 

“You said your basket was the blue one,” you hiss under your breath. 

“The navy blue one,” Vernon chirps unhelpfully, “not the electric blue one.” 

Hoseok hits “save” on his campaign, disconnecting from his PS4 and stretching his lean limbs. “I mean, we could use a third roommate,” Hoseok jokes, getting up from the couch and grabbing a handful of M&Ms from your bowl, “you do make a bomb mac n’cheese.” 

“Appreciated,” you relent when Hoseok presses a kiss to your cheek and tells Vernon he’ll be back late working, leaving you and Vernon alone in their shared apartment. When Hoseok is gone, you stare at the door, tilting your head, “y’know,” you remark, “Hoseok’s a cool guy, why did I never hang out with him in college?” 

“Because he was stoned the majority of senior year and you just didn’t vibe with that crowd.” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“But, you’re trying to change the subject,” Vernon carefully untacks your hands from your keyboard, knowing that you two have already been done with this month's issue and you’re now just mindlessly re-reading emails. “You’ve been here since Thursday, and now it’s Saturday. And as much as Hoseok and I like having you around so you can wake me up before we go to work, it’d be nice to throw me a bone and let me in on what you’re thinking right now.” 

You frown, noting Vernon’s large hand covering your laptop closed. He isn’t going to remove his hand anytime soon unless you talk. “Jungkook’s helping Jisoo pack up her half of the apartment this weekend and I don’t want to be there,” you say, short and simple. 

“You miss her?” 

“Yeah,” you admit honestly. You hate this version of yourself, unable to even look at Jisoo nowadays despite the fact you’re under the same roof for the remainder of the month. It’s hard to believe that the roommate from six years ago finally got under your skin, cancelling out all the years of friendship because of one silly relationship, “sad she doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.” 

“Did you talk about it?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you reply despondently, “if she cared at all she would’ve to apologize again by now.”

Vernon figures, and his neutral expression doesn’t change as he leads you to the couch, brushing away Hoseok’s things so you two can get comfy. You busy yourself with the remote, exiting the PS4 homepage to scroll Netflix. 

“And are you trying to get over him?” 

“I mean, yeah,” you have been, but it’s a little hard when you’ve been contentedly pining. It was easy to keep your feelings bottled up because you originally thought Jisoo and Jungkook were meant to be for each other for the past two years. Now you're still pining but ruefully bitter at Jisoo.

“It’s not fair, y’know. She broke girl code, bros before hoes. Or is it chicks before dicks?” Vernon shakes his head at his lame attempt to get you to smile, which works anyway because Vernon’s silly and his sense of humor always gets you a little loose. “It’s your house too, you shouldn’t feel like you don’t belong there.” 

“Well I was supposed to help her move out this weekend, and I’d prefer it if Jungkook didn’t know what was going on.” 

“What?” your friend furrows his thick brows together, tucking his hands under his knees as he leans into your stubborn expression. “You’re gonna let Jungkook go on with his life not knowing that his relationship is based on a lie. That’s not cool. Even if you’re into him, he’s still your friend.” 

Damn, when did Vernon get so good at giving advice? Truth is Vernon’s always been good at dishing advice, you’ve just been privy to what you wanted to reveal to him. The first year or so being together outside of college was always about work, saving each other’s asses to ensure you two got that promotion and aim higher and higher. Now that goal is out of the way, and what better way to reconnect over some shoddy romance straight out of a Degrassi special? 

“I know,” you hug your knees tight to your chest, “when I’m ready, okay?” 

“Okay,” he agrees, because he’s not a pusher, “do you know the best way to get over someone?” 

“What?” 

“The best way to get over someone, is to get under someone," he emphasizes that point with his hands, sliding one under the other with a wiggle of his thick brows.

You slap him on the shoulder, “Vern, you disgust me.” 

“But it works!” 

“I’m not going on Tinder to find a fuckbuddy.” 

“You don’t have to look on Tinder or Tumble.” 

“Bumble.” 

“Whatever,” and his eyes flicker to his lap, where his pale fingertips turn red as he grips the edge of a throw pillow. "If you really don't wanna find someone, I can help." 

Is Vernon offering himself up? He is offering to fuck your brains out in the hope that you could inevitably fuck out your interest in Jungkook? Your eyes flicker over to Vernon's form on the couch, who's tucked in the couch just as you are. 

It’s true that you find Vernon attractive, and to some extent he definitely finds you attractive as well otherwise he wouldn’t have suggested the idea. It’s just that in college you never viewed him in that kind of light, probably because you were always so caught up in Jungkook. But tonight you can’t seem to ignore the eagerness hidden in Vernon’s carmine gaze, and how shiny and touchable his chocolate locks look under the setting sun. 

“I don’t want our friendship to change,” you reply slowly, furrowing your brows. “I appreciate it, but I don’t know. It sounds like a temporary fix.” 

“Can’t knock it if you don’t try it,” and out of curiosity, you don’t shy away when Vernon leans over to you, squeezing himself between the couch so he can tuck you in his arms. “I want to help you, but only if you want to.” 

Maybe it’s the frustration you feel with Jisoo, Jungkook’s ignorance, or the fact that you haven’t felt physical pleasure in such a long time, but you soften into Vernon’s hold. He’s relaxed, nothing betraying him as he waits patiently for your answer. You’ve always admired how much he kept up his “cool as a cucumber” demeanor. He isn’t the type of guy to let life pass him by, but he’s the kind of person who walks along life, embracing the ups and downs like old friends. He’s the ocean waves that crest along the shore, pushing and pulling along without a care in the world. 

He’s the textbook opposite of Jeon Jungkook, which is why you give Vernon the okay to lean in and press his lips against yours. 

His kisses are soft, and he takes great care in making sure you’re comfortable with this new step in your relationship. It almost feels as if you’re cutting corners, and you can’t help but feel a little guilty that you revel in the way Vernon’s hands trail under your too-large t-shirt. 

The pleasure you’ve ached for is there, bubbling low in the pit of your belly. It’s hard to get you out of your mind however, because this man isn’t the one you love. His kisses hold no power, only brief reprieve. Your heart doesn’t palpitate and your palms don’t sweat, you’re just languid. 

You’re greedy and selfish, but you remind yourself that it’s okay to allow yourself of these freedoms, even for a little bit. As Vernon finds your sweet spot that has you rolling your hips against his, you find that temporary fix isn’t a bad start at all. 

When you trudge back to your apartment that night after much reluctance, your face is still flushed and you think you smell a little too much like Vernon’s cologne. But the fact that still stands is that you're satiated, and you feel a tiny percent closer to moving on. 

The television is glowing with a terrible reality TV show, angry brides upset over cake layers or whatever. Jungkook and Jisoo have fallen asleep on the couch, surrounded by half-empty boxes. Jungkook has his arm lazily over Jisoo, her petite body fitting perfectly between his chest and the crook of his neck. 

You scoff when you spy Jisoo's bedazzled manicure digging into Jungkook's bicep, as if someone's going to take him away if she doesn't hold tight.

With stiff muscles you spare one look at Jungkook, ignoring the pang in your chest as you weave between boxes to turn the TV off. Barely an iota of your feelings have dissipated since your previous tryst with Vernon not an hour ago. Looking at Jungkook brings it all back, unfortunately. You suppose the feelings will pass with time. The soft hum of the television ceases, and you’re bathed in a room that feels dark and empty, despite the apparent life in the room. 

There’s some bleary talk coming from the couch as you walk to your bedroom, and if Jungkook is sleepily mumbling your name in question, you pretend you don’t hear. 

“So, where’s y/n? I thought she was going to help us pack.” 

It’s an innocent enough question, as Jungkook scans the corner of the living room hallway that leads to the bedrooms. You haven’t come out yet. He knows that you love sleeping in on the weekends, but he hopes the smell of fresh food will coax you to the table. His pan is sizzling in protest, telling Jungkook to quit talking and flip the hashbrowns. He's fried up three, in the hopes you’d be up for some crispy potatoes. He knows how much you love potatoes, especially at 2AM when you’re craving fries and a McFlurry combo. 

Instead Jisoo mutters, “You toasted too much bread, you know I don’t eat bread like this,” she’s pulling slice by slice out of the toaster, until there’s a stack of six golden toasts in the middle of the kitchen table. 

A little part of him wishes to quell the precursor to the argument there. It would be so easy for Jungkook to say, “the extras are for me” because he’s trying to gain weight, and that would be that. 

Instead he continues with his unanswered question and replies honestly, “I made extra toast for y/n, babe. She was supposed to help us pack but I haven’t seen her all weekend.” But he’s pretty sure you came home last night, unless that was his imagination. 

Jisoo pulls a carafé of apple juice out of the fridge, pouring the amber liquid into two glass cups. “Ah, she said she had some last minute things to do for work. Y’know, Big Hit always wants a big hit.” 

He chuckles, tilting his head as Jisoo gives him a small smile from the kitchen table. Jisoo is always good at cheesy jokes. “She must love her job, huh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Her articles are really good, too,” the air smells like butter and Italian seasoning, as he places one hash brown on Jisoo’s plate, and two on his. He knows you edit in the Arts & Media section, and loves how you make it a point to include video games and modern graphics when it’s deemed appropriate. “She did a piece on the evolution of RPG and I thought her commentary was really spot-on.” 

He brings breakfast over to the table, while Jisoo places two slices of toast on his plate, one buttered and one with strawberry preserves. Breakfast is a quiet, but peaceful affair. Jungkook takes note of how Jisoo takes extra long to complete her meal, her fork creating ribbons in her little blob of magenta jam. He allows himself to complete his first hashbrown and a slice of toast before asking the difficult question. 

“Are you and y/n okay?” and he also takes note when Jisoo’s ministrations on her jelly stop, as she looks up at him with her big brown eyes. 

“We’re fine,” she insists, “just normal roommate issues, I promise.” 

“Maybe I should text y/n,” Jungkook says, pulling out his phone. “Lemme help you fix this, wouldn’t want you and her in a bad place when you’re about to move out.” 

“Baby, why are you so concerned about y/n?” Jisoo croons while his thumb hovers over your contact, his screen showing a two-year old selfie you two took during a study session early on in your friendship. He can’t remember the last time you two took a picture together out of spite, one without Jisoo. Jisoo’s hand pulls him away from his phone, rubbing small circles between his palm. 

He wants to ask, why aren’t you? But he sees the terseness in Jisoo’s smile, as her eyes fix between the interlocked fingers. He has a feeling he’s hovering somewhere he isn’t allowed to be in. Maybe it really is roommate stuff and it’s none of his business, but he feels a little insulted being left out because you and Jungkook are just as much best friends as you were in college. 

Or are you? 

This question plagues him throughout the day, and when Jungkook packs enough boxes for the weekend and says he needs to go home, Jisoo for once doesn’t argue. Normally Jisoo would cling to him like a koala, murmur simultaneously adorable and dirty things in his ear and lead him to her bedroom to coop up for hours on end. But Jisoo says she’s tired and needs some alone time, which is also fine. 

He doesn’t feel like going home, and instead heads straight to the gym. A couple pumps wouldn’t hurt, and it would clear his head. It’s nearly five in the evening when his body is thrumming with the afterglow of his post-workout, and he decides to take a little cool down in the mall and treat himself to a smoothie. 

It must be kismet when he sees you coming out of the bookstore, looking a little winded but no less professional in your beige blazer set and rose gold iPad. Whenever he hung around your apartment with Jisoo and you’d come home from work, he’d make it a point to acknowledge your plethora of multicolored skirt-suits. He never needs to be professional in his place of work, and admires how much effort you put in. 

“Hey!” he jogs up to you, and he catches the way your shoulders jump at his voice. “We missed you today.”

Your smile curls into something dry, and you twist your spine like rusty hinges to face him. In turn, his smile dims a little, wondering if he’s doing something wrong. Maybe you’re tired? He catches the line of sweat that glistens your baby hairs, and how your hair is done up but has fallen a few centimeters with some pieces falling out. 

“Jungkook,” you exhale, “lifting boxes wasn’t enough of a workout?” 

“You know me,” he replies stiffly, hiking his backpack higher upon his shoulder. Why does this conversation feel so awkward? “So, finishing up work? Sucks you have to work on a Sunday.” 

“Ah, it wasn’t so bad,” you face relaxes a little as you explain your work, “it was children’s day at the bookstore and they were watching Disney movies. I’m writing a piece on how I believe Ratatouille is Pixar’s magnum opus. Interviewed some kids, I wanted an expert opinion.”  

“Ratatouille is the superior film,” he declares with a firm nod, “after all, anyone can cook.” He revels in the small smile he manages to retrieve from you, immediately understanding the inside joke. If he came out of the gym five minutes earlier, he probably would’ve been able to catch you in the bookstore. What a shame, he would’ve loved to see you play around with the kids. 

At the mention of food, the mall manages to silence itself enough for him to catch the grumbling coming from your stomach. He laughs when your cheeks heat. 

“I was on my way to get some smoothies,” he jabs a thumb in the direction of the food court, “wanna catch up and get a bite?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, I have a lot of work to edit,” disappointment pangs in his chest at your easy rejection, but he ignores it, “I kinda wanna save some money too, still not sure if I’m staying in the apartment after Jisoo moves.” 

He doesn’t know what compels him to take your shoulders and wheel you in the direction of the food court, much to your protest and whines. “C’mon, explain to me why Ratatouille is the magnum opus—I need to defend why The Incredibles is superior. I’ll treat you to dinner.” 

“What? I can pay for my own food—” 

“And I can’t treat my best friend to a nice meal once in a while?” 

That has you stopping in your tracks, and Jungkook nearly barrels his chest into your head if not for the grippy soles of his Adidas Ultraboosts. He can’t see your face, but his hands note how your muscles cord tightly between the cotton of your blazer. 

He doesn’t understand why you’re so tense. Was it because he called you his best friend? Well, you are? At one point he felt that way, early on in college. The position just stuck with you. And when Jisoo told him you weren’t interested, he was perfectly fine with the platonic relationship. It was nice to have someone to talk media and video games to, someone not as chaotic as Jimin and someone not as deterred as Yoongi. 

Although, maybe as of late he hasn’t been so much of a friend. It’s no one’s fault, he’s been caught up with work and Jisoo’s move, he hasn’t said so much as a “hey how are you” when you’re around. He can’t blame you. 

Suddenly his mind blanks, the mall fading away as he focuses on how small you look as your eyes dart between the parking lot and the food court. Jisoo and Jungkook have been so caught up on each other lately, that he fears you’re starting to separate yourself.

“Um, this place is good,” you tug him by the elbow and lead him to a fast food joint. 

When he picks up both your orders and comes over to your saved table, you’re talking animatedly on the phone. You’re laughing, looking at Jungkook as if he’s the one intruding and you’re muttering a hushed “sorry” as you continue the tail end of the conversation. 

“Yes, Joonie. Go with section two, I know my shit. I’m your Work Wife for a reason, Umji in PR could never compare,” you’re giggling like you’re five years younger, and Jungkook feels stuck in a timelapse. 

He watches you go, throwing around names and terms that he’s so lost on but so desperate to understand. He knows nothing about your life other than the one that’s tied with Jisoo, which is a damn shame. Since when did he inevitably downgrade you from “best friend” to “his girlfriend’s roommate?” 

“I’m sorry,” you turn your phone over and push it to the side, giving Jungkook a smile as well, albeit weaker, “let’s dig in!” 

To his relief the dinner goes as good as it should be. You have your tray practically overflowing at the seams, all on Jungkook’s dime. It has his heart swelling with pride, he hasn’t seen you eat in a long time. There’s fries spilling out from the corners, and two sandwiches because you couldn’t decide between a chicken sandwich and a burger. 

Food gets you amicable, and he doesn’t mind when he does most of the talking. You’re engrossed in his talk, lettuce hanging out of your mouth as you’re rapt with attention as he recalls a story that happened at work recently with Mingyu. You ask questions in all the right places and he sucks up all your attention like a happy pill, and it feels nice to be able to lead a conversation for once. 

“Jeez, I’m getting the burger sweats,” you giggle to yourself, and his smile brightens at your positive change in attitude. Food always helps. 

When you remove your thick high-collar blazer, that’s when he sees it. 

“Seeing someone?” he asks, eyes flickering curiously towards the violet bruises that bloom across your neck. 

“What–oh,” you have the audacity to look embarrassed, hands clutching your neck like a shield, “no, just a hookup.” 

A messy hookup, too. Unless you had a thing for showing off marks, which doesn’t seem to be the case. “Didn’t peg you for someone who hooks up,” he says more to himself than you, but you catch him on his impulse jab. 

Your eyes narrow and your defenses go up, “I’m trying to get over someone,” you snip back, busying your hands by crushing up your greasy sandwich wrappers. 

“Am I allowed to state my opinion?” 

“Since you asked so politely, no.” 

He sighs, “I just don’t think that’s the best way to get over someone,” heck, Jungkook doesn’t even know who exactly you’re trying to get over. He just knows that you’re far too smart and independent to let yourself resort to such matters. 

“It isn’t, but it’s really the best option as of now,” you reply curtly. 

And his gaze saddens as he sees you fold your blazer over your arm, indicating that your time is up. Jungkook is aware the comment he made is out of line, and it weakens him knowing that you don’t even want to pick a fight with him. He can’t even find it in himself to apologize properly. 

He doesn’t know if he’s more sad that you’re pining over someone unattainable or upset at himself for not knowing you’ve been harboring feelings for someone. If you really think hooking up is your only option, you must be really hung about whoever you’re into as of late. 

“If it’s worth anything,” Jungkook adds, wanting to leave on a high note, “fuck that guy. He clearly doesn’t deserve you.” 

A small, secret smile plays on your lips, “Yeah, I like to believe that.” 

“I’m anxious,” Namjoon’s mantra makes the whole energy in the room wobbly, paired with the fact the two of you are squished between cardboard boxes as Jungkook aimlessly moves things around like a Tetris screen. 

The only time you feel remotely comfortable basking in your home is when Jisoo is gone. Oh-so conveniently is the Big Hit building undergoing maintenance today, so you and Namjoon have decided to work from home in your apartment. Although you thought by now that Jisoo’s boxes would be long gone and tucked away in Jungkook’s place, instead you’re living in an episode of Ed, Edd and Eddy and the cardboard is practically wall-to-wall. You also thought by now that Jungkook would have no reason to show up unannounced anymore, but apparently that’s not the case. 

“I have, anxiety,” Namjoon adjusts his glasses for the nth time this afternoon, brain not fixed enough to focus on the screen of his chrome MacBook, “anxiety, anxiety. I can’t right now. I need my weighted blanket and a pillow.” 

“Namjoon, I can get both of those for you if we just send in this last spread,” you coo gently, as if placating a baby. You make brief eye contact with Jungkook from the other side of the room, his lips quirking in amusement as he stacks a box of clothes by the kitchen. 

“Do you feel my palms? My palms, they’re like a fucking fountain you need to feel them—” your Wusband approaches you like a zombie, leaning over you and tripping over his criss-crossed legs before he topples over you. 

“Blegh, get off of me you sweat giant!” you cry with a good-natured laugh, although the grip of Namjoon’s palms under your shoulders are damp and slimy, “Joon, I can’t get you your blanket if you’re crushing my boobs.” 

Namjoon finally relents, untacking himself to rest his chin on your glass coffee table. “Fine.” 

“Look over the last column and I’ll bring your blanket, okay?” 

Pushing yourself off the ground, you shuffle your way out of the living room through the maze of boxes and into the hallway. It feels like your apartment is less of an apartment and more of a storage space when you’re trapped in-between two lines of boxes, and Jungkook effectively blocking you from entering your room. He was just in the living room but now he’s come from the linen closet, standing between the entrance of your room. 

“Sorry,” he pops his head out from a smaller box, one filled with designer costume jewelry. 

“It’s fine,” you chirp, barely making eye contact as you shuffle over the boxes. 

Your toe drags over the lid of one of the open boxes in an attempt to move diagonally. You nearly crash your face into the hardwood if not for Jungkook’s arm stretching out to catch you. In seconds he manages to catch all your weight in one hand, pulling you to him with your hip pressed against his. Your breath traps itself in your neck. Your subconscious fears that if you speak now, you’ll babble about how attractive it is that he’s able to catch you as easily as grabbing a light sheet of paper. 

“Careful,” his voice rumbles in his throat as he regards you with a wan smile. 

Your “thanks” is barely uttered as you slip into your room, heaving your weighted blanket and a pillow in your arms to let Namjoon borrow. 

The burgundy quilted fabric is hunched over your shoulder, draped around your body so it’s easier for you to carry on your back. You try to eradicate the memory of Jungkook’s arms, lean and strong as he held you to him moments before.

Ugh, you thought messing around with Vernon would stop your silly pining. It seems that it’ll take more than a couple rounds to satiate your curiosity. For such a kind guy, Jungkook seems like a wolf in sheep’s clothing when it comes to the bedroom. 

You can imagine him being so kind in the beginning, coaxing you to wan and bend to his every wish and command. And then when you keen a little too hard at the attention, you bet a switch would flip and he’d grab you—

The blanket flops around your back, and you’re sorely reminded that you’re thirsting over a taken man, yet again.  

Jungkook makes it extremely difficult for him to be hateable. It’s by nature that he’s just so damn likeable. Heck, he’s pretty much packed seventy percent of the things Jisoo should be packing right now. 

Making sure not to trip again, on your feelings and your blanket, you successfully reach a tired Namjoon. You tuck your koala-shaped pillow under your co-editor’s arms, and drape the heavy blanket over him like a cape. He’s giving you a thumbs up and a toothless smile, the previous meltdown overcome as he focuses on finishing the last of today’s work. He’s slipped on some noise-cancelling earphones, presumably filled with generic coffee-house music or rain playlists. 

Wordlessly you go to your nook to prepare some tea. It’s getting late and a warm cup would distract you from the impending deadline. Despite the fact that you and Namjoon are 99% of the way done, his previous freak-out has you on live-wire and you could use a little caffeine. 

Placing three mugs on the counter you call, “Jungkook, tea?” 

“Yes please,” you stiffen when you feel Jungkook magically appear right behind you, his head peering over your shoulder, “with milk and honey.” 

Deciding to give Jungkook the beehive-shaped mug because it’s very on-brand for him, you begin to steep the leaves in your kettle while he spoons the honey. 

“So,” his words are slow as the drip of honey, the amber goo taking its time to descend into his mug as it falls from the dipper. “Is that the guy you’re trying to get over?” 

Jungkook lifts his brows towards Namjoon, who is softcore jamming to his white noise playlist. It’s cute as to how curious Jungkook is about Namjoon. While you try to keep your work life separate, there really isn’t much backstory to your personal life to warrant that kind of divide. 

“Namjoon,” you state aloud, watching Namjoon sing badly to himself, “why, are you gonna beat him up for me?” 

“I can take him,” you can practically hear Jungkook’s chest pop out. 

With a roll of your eyes, you reach to kill the heat off the tea kettle, “No need. He isn’t the guy I’m trying to get over.” 

“Oh, he’s your fuck buddy then?” 

“Shit!” being caught off guard, you grab at the handle of your kettle without a pot holder, burning your fingertips. In seconds Jungkook’s larger hand encases your own, pulling you over to the sink to soak your fingers in cool running water.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jungkook is chanting like a sinner at church, searching for any sign of pain in your visage, “I shouldn’t have asked while you’re working with a hot stove.” 

You suppress a sigh, relaxing your fingers as Jungkook soothes the burn with his gentle hold, “Shouldn’t have asked in the first place,” you mumble. 

“I know,” he replies, “guess I’m just feeling a little left out. We don’t talk like we used to. I guess I’m getting a little too nosy for my own good, aren’t I?” 

You don’t understand what’s going on with his incessant babbling as of late, but you chalk it up to work stress and Jisoo’s move. Having no answers to his honest reply, you gently untack your red palm from his grip, assuring him that you’re fine. 

Namjoon steps into your kitchenette, being surprisingly careful as he takes your potholder to pour himself a cup of tea. If the tea is oversteeped and bitter he doesn’t say anything, only leans against the counter as he regards you two with slow sips. “You alright?” 

“M’fine,” you reply stubbornly, avoiding Jungkook’s worried stare. 

Namjoon holds out his hand, “Hand.” 

“No—”

“Hand.” 

His deep voice coerces you, and you immediately slap the back of your palm onto Namjoon’s. Your partner brushes his golden hands over the tiny blister that’s forming over your fingertips. “Can’t have my Work Wife outta commission.” 

“Your Work Wife is fine,” you gripe back. 

Your co-worker’s eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s for a brief second, Jungkook regarding him in curiosity as he stares at your connected palms. “I have some aloe in my bag for sunburns,” Namjoon offers helpfully, ignoring the weird glances, “I’ll give it to you in a bit. Also, I’ve overcome my sudden bout of stress and I’m ready to email our progress to Victoria. We’re done for the day.” 

“Awesome, thanks Joonie,” you exhale, relaxing against the sink, “wanna go eat somewhere?” 

“There’s a niche place in Itaewon if you wanna check it out?” Namjoon offers.

Jungkook interjects, “Jisoo ordered pizza if you guys wanna share with us?” 

“Pizza also sounds good—” 

“We don’t wanna interrupt your alone time,” you gracefully cut in, stepping in front of Namjoon despite the fact that he’s easily towering over you. 

Jungkook snorts, “I’ll have enough alone time with her when she moves in, don’t worry. Besides, I ordered three pies because I wanted to try three different flavor combos. I need two additional judges.” 

“Thanks Jungkook but,” you stifle a cry when Namjoon jabs you in the back with his thumb. It’s pressing, digging into the small of your back as if he’s trying to telepathically tell you that you’re being rude, “but… I don’t know if I can eat three slices! Namjoon on the other hand, can probably eat enough to fairly judge.” 

“Great,” Jungkook’s smile is blinding, causing your grin to stiffen as he looks for his phone to shoot Jisoo a quick text that they’re having dinner for four. 

Once Jungkook’s out of earshot, Namjoon tugs you by the sleeve, “The hell was that?” he hisses in your ear, “you look like you’re about to shit and piss your pants at the same time.” 

“I just don’t feel comfortable eating with them,” you cross your arms in defiance. You think back to just a week ago where you and Jisoo reluctantly attempted to eat breakfast together one morning. You provided minimal small talk while Jisoo clinged to her phone, replying to you in non-committal clipped tones. 

“Do I want to know?”

“No.” 

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” you retort, “you got me into this mess, you’re gonna stay with me ‘till the end.”

“I don’t know what you want from me, woman,” Namjoon throws his arms out exasperatedly, oolong tea nearly sloshing onto his hand, “just suck it up or I revoke your bragging rights to that snag you got on our spread next Monday.” 

“Not my fault you couldn’t get Kim Taeyeon on the spread,” you smirk. 

“Well I didn’t so happen to stalk the Sephora she frequents for the past two weeks—” 

“I didn’t stalk her I just so happened to need a new Fenty Gloss Bomb every other day—”

“I’m home, Jungkookie!” 

Your face contorts, your playful energy melting to the hardwood as your previous banter with Namjoon evaporates into thin air. Work bags in one hand and three boxes of pizza balancing in the other, Jisoo kicks off her heels somewhere across the door and places the pizza on the dining table. 

Jungkook immediately appears by her side, and you look away and Jisoo plants a heavy kiss on his lips. She cracks open one eye as she notices you and Namjoon hanging by the kitchenette, “Oh,” she mumbles at her audience, “you’re here?” 

Yes, you bimbo. I’m here in my own apartment. 

“I guess you didn’t read my text that they’ll be joining us for dinner,” Jungkook cuts in good-naturedly, “we have way too much pizza anyway. Have a seat, guys.” 

Jungkook navigates the kitchen as easily as your own, and you slump in your chair while Namjoon exchanges pleasantries with Jisoo. She looks impeccable, hair in a tight chignon and a tight navy dress as she converses with your co-editor. 

“I’m starving,” Jungkook announces, making sure to place a slice on Jisoo’s plate. He shuffles through the other boxes, making brief eye contact with you when he decides to put a slice on yours as well, “you like these toppings, right?” 

You regard the greasy, hearty piece of cheese and bread with a curt nod. You feel Jisoo’s eyes laser on your skin, “Yeah, thanks Kook.” 

Namjoon, Jisoo and Jungkook mostly stir up the conversation, you opting to eat as slow as possible to avoid any conversation. It’s easy to blend back and let them take over, as Jisoo loves to talk about her fashion firm and Namjoon is a great listener. 

Jungkook and Namjoon make it a point to direct the conversation to you from time to time, and you let the ball leave your court as soon as it lands. You prefer to keep your responses short and simple, especially when Jisoo is so eager to talk about the new silk drapes she’s installing for Jungkook’s windows.

Your phone buzzes in your lap, and you discreetly look under the table to read the incoming text message. 

vernie bernie: would u like to do the devil’s dance tonight

vernie bernie: or a tickle to my pickle? 

vernie bernie: beatin ya bean? 

You: ohmyGOD 

vernie bernie: or y’know, u could just come ovr and chill. Hobi made some bomb tres leches

You: call. Ill come after dinner

“Are you okay, y/n?” your head bounces up to meet Jungkook’s gaze, “you’ve barely eaten and you haven’t talked much.” 

“Oh you know, she’s just stressed about the upcoming spread,” Namjoon steps in for you, and you send him a discrete, but grateful smile. He’s always impeccable at reading the room, “she’s just nervous about her interview with Kim Taeyeon, but I think you did her interview justice.” 

“No way, the singer Kim Taeyeon?” Jungkook gushes, regarding you with stars in his eyes, “your interviews are always so great, y/n. You ask really good questions. Like that one spread about  Lee Yonghwa’s art gallery? Really cool.” 

You notice the way Jisoo presses her lips together, a thin line as if she’s trying to seal away words that she’ll regret saying. She’s jealous, and you can’t help the blush of pride that fills your veins as you raise a secret brow at her. 

“Right, you got nothing to worry about,” Namjoon squeezes your shoulder encouragingly, as if you’d get his double-meaning. 

“Thanks,” you reply, pushing your plate away and standing up, “I’m actually gonna go head to Vernon’s for a bit, though. He wants to double check his work before we email Victoria.” 

It’s a bald-faced lie, Namjoon sent the files to Victoria right before dinner, but he isn’t going to argue. 

“Okay,” Namjoon thanks Jungkook and Jisoo for the meal, stacking his plate atop yours, “I’ll walk out with you.” 

“It’s only been twenty minutes, though,” you see the slight panic in Jungkook’s gaze as he watches you quickly clean up for you and Namjoon. You can’t quite pin why he’s so concerned, after all he has been acting strange as of late. 

“Yeah, I’m full,” you reply curtly, licking your lips and avoiding his gaze. You already know what he wants to say, that he’s been in your apartment all day and all he’s seen you eat is stale chips and tea, “but we can do this again.” But hopefully not. 

“If you’re coming home late again,” it’s the first time Jisoo has spoken to you directly. You tilt your head to her slowly, watching the plastic smile carefully carved onto her expression. You see the contrived care and concern between her brows, “please try to be quieter next time, the last time you came home late you woke Jungkookie up.” 

Snapping your gaze to Jungkook you plaster on a thick smile, “Sorry Jungkook—” 

“What? No, it’s fine!” he furrows his brows in confusion, finally able to detect the strange tension between the two housemates, “I barely heard you—” 

“Maybe I’ll just stay the night at Vernon’s,” your eyes trail over to the pajama set you immediately switched into when you got home today, “wouldn’t want to disturb you two.” 

“Good,” Jisoo’s tone is saccharine and clipped as she tacks on a, “have fun.” 

It’s laudable, how much Jisoo wants to make a fool out of you but you won’t have it. You revel in the perplexed expression as Jungkook’s gaze darts back and forth between the two of you, wanting to butt in but unsure of how to approach it. Not giving him the time to, you bid the couple a goodnight and make a fast getaway. Heck, you don’t even take your work stuff with you. 

Once you’re out the door, Namjoon wordlessly gives you a hug. You sigh gratefully into his embrace. 

The next time Jungkook sees you, he reads the room before anything. You and Jisoo’s apartment is scarily empty, almost clinical. He’s tried texting you a few times after his failed-not-failed attempt at catching up at the mall and his awkward conversation concerning Namjoon, but you always reply back with vague replies and an unpromised promise of meeting up sometime soon. 

It dulls him to think that you’ve given up on him as a friend. But can you blame him? He needs to keep an appropriate distance for Jisoo, after all, she doesn’t like it when he gets too close to other women unless it’s strictly professional. Usually Jisoo’s jealousy inevitably works itself out and Jungkook doesn’t pose any problems because he has very few girl friends, but for some reason your friendship with him specifically gets Jisoo stiff in the face. Is it because you and Jisoo are so close? Possibly. 

But it doesn’t mean you can’t join the same Valorant server with him at 2AM and accidentally bomb each other, or argue over the magnum opus of each film company. Is that not enough? 

Jisoo’s working overtime, and Jungkook suggested last night that he move the boxes to the front of the door for easy pick-up when the moving truck arrives. Jisoo promises to buy Thai food in return, and with a kiss emoji she leaves him to audit fabric budgets. 

As he glides down to Jisoo’s room he notes that the pictures along the wall have disappeared, and there’s double the amount of boxes in the hallway. It seems that you’re moving out too. To where, he doesn’t know but he hopes it isn’t too far. 

He chides Jisoo remotely when he sees that her room is completely intact, and he makes moves to pack up her things. 

That’s when he finds his letter. Not a love letter to Jisoo, but a love letter to you. Deep in the recesses of Jisoo’s junk drawer, is a faded lavender envelope with a pressed cream colored baby’s breath taped up in plastic. The glue is yellow and old, clearly served its purpose due to the fact that the letter is already opened and the contents rumpled. 

Hey Pretty Girl–

He immediately stuffs the letter back in its holder, stricken at his messy handwriting from two years ago. It feels like he found a time capsule, another version of Jungkook confessing to you. He used to call you Pretty Girl, not enough for you to catch on to his feelings, but enough for you to understand that he did find you attractive. It was early on in your friendship. 

When you first asked him to be study partners for some silly class that had nothing to do with each other’s majors, he gaped like a guppy and pointed to himself. That day he went to class in last night’s clothes and a nest of fluffy strands. “Me?” he felt like absolute trash, and you were probably desperate due to the fact you two were the only seniors in this class, “but you’re a pretty girl… and I’m pretty dumb when it comes to this subject.” 

But instead you scoffed and pulled him from his slumped figure, dragging him to the library, with a wink and a “you’re pretty, too.” Those words have burned in his brain since then, as he wasn’t used to getting such off-handed compliments, especially from intelligent girls that wanted more than one night. 

For whatever reason you continued seeing his dumb self, even after the semester ended and together registered for one more class for spring. 

Whenever you’d go out for ice cream you wouldn’t hesitate to stuff your face and add for extra Oreos and fries, you’d assure Jungkook you’re not normally this much of a slob. 

Jungkook would just smile and offer you a napkin and say, “You’re still a pretty girl.” 

He fell for you gracefully. There was no regret, no walk of shame, no cliché late night party where you or him could’ve instigated it into the physical. It was all by feel. 

However the two of you took your time with your relationship, languidly enjoying the hushed conversations in the library at 2AM, the late night McFlurry runs, the integration of each other’s friends like it was natural. Ergo the lavender love letter. It was a gentle declaration, one he felt pretty confident in. 

So color him stupid when you passed him in class with a happy wave, Jungkook dumbfounded at how well you handled his confession. You weren’t oblivious, you just never read it. 

But now he knows the declaration was for whatever reason, lost in transit. “I should’ve known,” he whispers in the air, the letter crumpling in his grip. Composing himself, he pinches his brows.  

There’s an electronic buzz and a sharp slam of the front door. Judging by the time, you’re home. 

You flop onto your mattress, folding an arm over your head to stop the sun from seeping to your eyes. Vernon’s exhausted you, and you barely got away before he could have any say in it. You need a little space, and some time to think. 

Just as you close the door to your bedroom, it swings open. 

You gape as Jungkook thrusts himself into your bedroom like a deer with horns, looking pale. You follow his gaze, darkened eyes that linger a little too long on your neck again, and you narrow your eyes at him to avert. He looks a little red in the cheeks despite his pallidness, looking like he just got out of bed with messy wavy locks and his signature sweats. Is Jungkook packing for Jisoo again? 

Acutely aware that you smell like sweat and sex, you clutch the blankets closer to your body. “Uh, rude.” 

He looks uncharastically frantic, waving a letter in his hand, “Did you ever read this?” 

“Read what?” you ask, hands reaching out for the envelope. 

“My confession letter,” he blurts, having no shame now that all the gears are running through his head. “I wrote you a letter asking you out, because you said you wanted to collect notes like in Letters to Juliet. But I just found it in Jisoo’s drawer, why would it be there?” 

And all the pent up frustration that never seemed to escape under Vernon’s sheets, the feelings that never seem to subside, all bubble back to the surface. Now that Jungkook knows, there’s no hiding. 

You’re in shock, hands reaching for the letter despite the burn that seeps through your fingertips. Jungkook’s shoulders slump when you do indeed look like it’s your first time seeing this, as if a missing puzzle piece in your timeline has finally been revealed.

“I, I didn’t think you’d write me a letter,” you take the lavender envelope, clutching the letter by your chest like it’s something precious, “that’s so sweet,” you say to yourself.  

It dawns on him, “Wait, you knew about this? I knew something weird was going on.” 

“Only recently,” you frown. 

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” he nearly shouts, causing you to flinch, “no wonder why you were being so weird all this time. How could you let me live the rest of my life knowing this? That my relationship is built on a lie? ” 

“I don’t know,” you suddenly feel very small in your mattress as Jungkook rounds up on you, pulling your desk chair closer to your bed, “because you love Jisoo, of course.” 

“Well obviously that’s not possible,” and while yes a two-year realtionship ending like this is going to hit him hard tonight, he’s focused on you and the fact that you failed to tell him, “somehow I’d find out. Why wait for me to find out on my own?” 

“Because I wanted to protect you!” 

“Protect me,” he scoffs, crossing his arms and sneering at you. It causes you to tense up, feeling the telltale signs of tears bubbling to the surface, “you don’t even want to be friends anymore, y/n. I’ve tried to catch up to you so many times, but you keep leaving me hanging. I know I’ve been a pretty bad friend and I get it if you just feel awkward that I liked you, then that’s a shitty reason.” 

“Have you ever considered that it’s too late to tell you?” you shoot back, sitting up straight, “yes, I admit I should’ve told you earlier and I’m sorry, but it was a lot for me to process to y’know? Jisoo and I haven’t talked properly in weeks!” 

“Oh, so you’ve stopped trying to be friends with Jisoo too, huh? Just like you’re trying to stop being friends with me.” 

“No,” you pinch your brows, “she stopped being friends with me! She doesn’t care about me because she has you,” conflict burns in Jungkook’s gaze, and you only serve to fuel the fire, “she’s tried so hard to not involve me in your relationship.” 

“Just tell me why you’ve really kept this secret instead of saying you want to protect me like a baby—” 

“It’s because I’m in love with you, idiot!” 

You blink and back up against the wall of your bedroom, as if you can’t believe that the words came out of your mouth. 

It’s quiet again. The sour look evaporates from Jungkook’s face as he watches you suppress your sobs on your mattress. The room seems devoid, sucked out of its color as you’ve cleaned up most of your things, the only thing left being some plain grey sheets and a pillow. 

Jungkook’s mind is absolutely reeling, playing back memories from a different point of view. 

“When Jisoo told me she sabotaged our relationship so she could date you, I was so upset and didn’t know what to think,” you manage to place the lavender note on your wooden desk, making sure no tears could mar it. “And I thought I could move on and eventually stay friends with the both of you, but the next day Jisoo put all her attention on you and completely ignored me or any attempt to salvage our friendship. She only told me to forgive herself,” you’re hugging yourself, wrapping the blankets around you like a weak embrace, “so I thought if I cut myself out of the picture and forced myself to move on like I should’ve, everything would’ve been okay.” 

“So, you would’ve rather kept all this pain to yourself?” 

“Yeah,” you give him a teary smile, “because I wanted you to be happy.” 

And with an equally sad smile he murmurs, “But I’m not happy.” 

 Your face falls, and you really look at Jungkook. He’s exhausted as well, slumped in his chair. Has he been trying to grapple along the threads of his relationships, while you’ve been trying to loosen them? 

“What a waste of two years,” he slumps in your chair, letting the pieces click into place, “a relationship built on fake love. I was really trying, y’know. I thought I was going crazy.” 

The three of you have unknowingly been playing a futile game of Cat’s Cradle, a game that no one wins. 

Jungkook looks wistfully out the window, noting the pleasant day that fails to present itself in your tiny room. It feels simultaneously satisfying and bitter when it falls into place, your thoughts finally fitting together for the first time in months. “We could’ve loved each other. For real,” he says, and you silently agree. 

You’re still crying, shaking like a leaf in autumn. Jungkook’s arms hover awkwardly over yours, his warmth palpable despite the fact that he hasn’t touched you yet. With a timid smile you allow consent, and you melt like putty in his arms. 

“Kookie, ‘m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you murmur into his shoulder, not caring if it hurts when you press your chin into his skin. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” 

It’s been so long to have him close like this, the friend you’ve always wanted but never needed. Since college you’ve always imagined a life without him doing just fine, but that doesn’t mean you want to live without him, roommate’s boyfriend or not. 

“I’m sorry too,�� he sighs back, “this sucks right now, but we’ll be alright.” 

The two of you sit in your room until it turns dark and the sky muddles into shades of twilight and egg yolk orange. There’s lulls in the conversation, the two of you filling in the gaps and making sense of the mumbo-jumbo that’s been going on in your consciousness up until this point. Your insantities turn sane, and by the time Jisoo’s making her way back inside with the smell of pad thai, Jungkook is ready. With a squeeze to each other and a press of your lips because you don’t know what to say, you tuck yourself in and pretend to fall asleep. 

“Messy, messy, messy,” Vernon sing-songs, knocking his heels against the wall. 

The both of you are sitting upside-down, butts attached to the wall connecting to his mattress and your feet hanging in the air. Your mint floral organza socks pad against his Pink Floyd poster, while his yellow tube socks are heeling against some old Polaroids from college. There’s no prospect of sex today, not when shit just hit the fan. 

Today you and Vernon are just two old friends and very close co-workers. 

“Tell me about it,” you bemoan, frowning at the beige wall, “this whole week’s just been a whole mess. It’s like, warm tuna salad.”

“Gross,” Vernon grimaces at the apt comparison, “so what happens now?” 

You sit up on your elbows, looking down at Vernon’s peaceful expression, “What do you mean?” 

“Like, are you gonna get together with him?”

You snort, flopping back down on his bed. The blankets fluff around you and you inhale the pine scented sheets. “After all that? No.” 

“But you still love him?” 

It must sound dumb to still love him after all this time. You wouldn’t be surprised if Vernon thought you’re silly to still hold a place in your heart for someone who has fifteen million things on their plate now. After all the physicality and the space Vernon gave you in his home, your feelings haven’t wavered. 

Your companion doesn’t bother waiting for your answer, hearing your answer somewhere in the air as he gets up and throws on his denim jacket. Rolling over your stomach you ask, “Where are you going?” 

“Some friends down in printing want to meet up for drinks,” Vernon messes up his hair, making the waves part in that little coiff that makes his jawline look sharp. “I heard Yerin really wanted me to come, so.” 

You can’t help the little middle school coo that comes from your lips, causing Vernon to giggle and throw a pillow at you. “Yerin’s cute!” you declare, remembering the petite girl in overalls who’s all about pops of yellow and violet, “you're into her?” 

“Nah,” Vernon holds up two hats in his hands, gesturing for you to pick one. “Just figured it was a push in the right direction.” 

Crawling out of his bed you stumble in your oversized t-shirt, tucking a finger under your chin as you decide between the emerald bucket hat and the red Ralph Lauren baseball cap. You pull out both hats from his hands and set it down on his vanity, opting to smooth out the flyaways and ringing your fingers through his soft curls. “And what direction would my free-flowing friend be going today?” you ask aloud, “you look better with your hair out,” you declare firmly, “makes you look like a fluffy CEO.” 

He laughs at your silly comparison, and he gently moves your hand away from his hair when you linger a little too close to him. His gaze is solemn as he regards you with a gentle smile, “Keep your distance, I’m tryna get over someone,” he says simply, and your arm falls limp at your sides. 

Your heart thuds in a different direction, your mouth parting but no words coming to the surface. When was the last time you asked about Vernon’s needs, wondered if he was doing alright, making sure you two were on the same page—

“You’re spiraling,” he reads you like a playbook, smoothing down your hair to press a kiss to the crown. Suddenly you feel guilty for not having sparks in your belly, shaming your conscience for not even considering his sacrifices in your self-absorption these past few weeks. “Like I said, I wanted to help you. Stop looking like a kicked puppy, it’s okay to be selfish.” 

With transparent tears the two of you pack up and head to your next destination. Hands ghosting between each other you make your way to the exit of Vernon’s apartment, him to meet up with his friends while you have to unpack your new apartment. With a hug you tell each other you’ll see them on Monday, and as easy as that you go your separate ways.

Hey Pretty Girl—

I kinda wanted to tell you this in person but I know how much you liked Mamma Mia and all those other movies that have grand gestures in writing so I thought hey, might as well shoot my shot on paper. 

Not gonna tell you all the details, because you deserve to hear it in-person. But mayhaps this letter has something to do with how much I like studying with you, watching movies with you, doing absolutely nothing with you and all of that in-between. 

There’s a gift card to our spot attached. Meet me at McDonalds @12 tonight, so I know it’s real 😎

Hopefully yours, Jungkook

P.S. if you haven’t noticed already, I sprayed a little cologne and stole Taehyung’s fancy paper from Muji. That’s how serious I am about you. 

“Joon, we live in a bonsai garden. We’re like giants in a forest.” 

“Can you—can you stop spitting at them? Let them breathe, dammit.” 

“Not my fault they’re so tiny! I literally have to zoom 200% just to get a good look at ‘em.” 

The two of you are huddled in what used to be Namjoon’s balcony, now a sunroom for his succulents and bonsais. Your heart feels pink and swollen with affection as you regard Namjoon with interest, absorbing every bit of information you can as he teaches you how to care for his plants. After all, you’re co-parenting now. 

Having your Wusband co-sign as your roommate for the next year is probably the best decision you have made this year. Everyday is like a breath of fresh air. With Seokjin gone for the year to tour his restaurant franchises, his room is yours for the taking. The two of you are easy going roommates, filling the apartment with color and vigour whether it be in the form of baking sweets or watching Netflix documentaries. 

The only drama you ever have is when you two are having a meltdown over the same work-related issue, as if you two somehow share the same brain cell. It’s significantly less stressful, no need for unnecessary anger when  you have someone as mediating as Namjoon.

After today’s plant lesson, you two go back to the living room to finish up your work for the evening. Another perk of living together is that you can go home at normal work times and continue where you left off with the comfort of your couch and eating a whole pizza pie with no shame. 

Namjoon’s phone pings with a new email from corporate. “We got the new concept for next month’s spread,” he gestures to you with a grandiose wave of his arm, “drumroll please.” 

He pulls up the newsletter from corporate with a flick of his thumb. Your company put out every month’s concept out in an Evite, like every month was a themed party. A stressful, month long work party. In seconds, the page loaded and you’re met with next month’s title bathed in electronic glitter. 

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth

The two of you say silent, absorbing the concept like a cookie to milk. It’s a personal spread this month, a real treat for the team to show off their normal non-professional life. A spread that reveals the masters behind the ink and text. Last year’s personal spread was about the staff’s vacation destinations, but this year’s is much more intimate. You can imagine all the ideas that will be thrown around on Monday’s meeting: pinning down shared ideas like Throwback Thursdays, late night munchie runs, drunk stories, and all the crazy college nostalgia that you’ve been trying to avoid as of late. 

But now it’s presented to you in a gold chalice, and while you’re sick of the past you think it’s about time to face it. You’re excited to tackle the dark monster you’ve suppressed since Jungkook and Jisoo’s breakup. 

“Did I ever tell you I was president of my university’s Mock Trial?” 

“No, I always thought you’d be president of the Comparative Literature Club or whatever. But Mock Trial is equally as nerdy.” 

“I’ll have you know Mock Trial got me tons of action,” he winked, “made me very convincing.” 

“Gross,” you sneer, “so that’s what your spread will be about? How the co-editor of the Arts & Entertainment section managed to bag with his skills from Mock Trial?” 

“Nah, I went on a penniless journey with Jin during spring break. Six days around Malta.” 

“That does sound so you,” you sigh, fingers slipping between the cracked screen as you mull over the overly happy Evite, “sounds like a cool story.” 

“I know that look,” Namjoon quips, snatching his phone under his nose, “don’t overthink your spread just yet, it’s still the weekend. Now to more important things, what do you want from Taco Bell?”

And because you can’t refuse the combined efforts of nachos and Namjoon’s dimples, you relent for the night and tack the unmade idea to the next workday. 

Unfortunately the next workday is just as disheartening. Today’s work meeting is the antithesis of icing on the cake. While your college life isn’t anything remarkable, you didn’t think it was a painfully dull time. With every passing moment and every excited co-worker throwing memories back and forth like ping pong balls, the more you felt inferior by competing with their amazing memories. 

“Who can even afford Aruba at twenty-one,” you mutter under your breath, stalking back to your cubicle. 

Filling up a whole spread is daunting to you, the thought of Victoria popping her head in your cubicle to ask what you’ve got for the day is practically eating you from the inside out. Maybe your college life was in actuality, super boring? You have no crazy drug trips to tell, any vacations that gave you a life-changing perspective, or an epic love story. 

“What’cha got there, partner?” 

The third musketeer of your editing team’s caramel eyes peer into your cubicle, causing you to jump in your chair. Vernon wheels around, chair and all to push you into your already cramped space. His gold button up gleams in the sunlight, effectively blinding you. 

“If by something you mean nothing, then yeah I got nothing,” you frown, spinning around your chair. “What are you writing about?” 

A fond smile melts onto your friend’s face, and you can’t help returning a smile that mirrors his own. You two have fallen back into a good place, as far as you know. He’s still easy, simple, sweet Vernon. When you dropped some boxes off in coloring, you heard that Vernon and Yerin have recently started seeing each other. 

“Thought of the idea as soon as the Evite came out. It’s more of a photo spread, but I’m gonna write about my study abroad in NYU,” Vernon ticks a pencil on his forehead, “a self-identity piece talking about how I felt like, not-white around my family n’stuff. And then felt not-Asian at the same time, s’complicated but I think I can make it work.” 

“Deep,” you pat his shoulder caringly, knowing that Big Hit is a good outlet for these kinds of subjects, “alright City Slicker, since you’re so full of ideas then tell me what to write about.” 

Vernon sits up straight, regarding you with narrowed eyes, “Aren’t you gonna write about your little love triangle with Jisoo and Jungkook?” and it seems like he’s already storyboarded the idea in his head, gesturing to the air as if he’s writing down a timeline, “I can see the headline now: How to Steal a Heart,” he’s grinning, nodding fervently as you cross your arms in distaste. 

“Vern, are you suggesting that I exploit Jisoo and Jungkook’s personal lives?” while the journalism business didn’t pride itself on sincerity, it did feel wrong to drag in your personal life to that extent. 

“Babe, you don’t understand. You have the perfect slice of life story. Everyone’s writing about expensive vacations and that one time they got cross-faded and ended up in Busan,” he squeezes your hand, “but your story, it’s relatable. It’s romantic. It’s angsty. It has closure. No one’s gonna be able to relate to an impulse spending on daddy’s money to Aruba. But first loves? Unrequited romance and all that ish? Everyone can speak to that. And you’re a beautiful writer, they’ll eat up that story like honey.” 

“I don’t know, it still doesn’t feel right.” 

“Change up the names, twist the story,” he offers easily, knowing you’d put up a fight, “besides, it’s not like you’re planning on talking to Jisoo or Jungkook ever again,” you open your mouth to retort, but Vernon’s phone beeps to the Star Wars theme song and he’s flying out of his chair. “Shoot, gotta go help Joon upstairs. Just think about it, okay? Good luck!” and he’s kicking his chair out with a brown loafer, leaving you with breathing room in your cubicle. 

Five seconds later Vernon is jogging back, pointing a finger at you, “And if you do choose to write it, you have to add that Jisoo copped your McDonalds gift card. Like, who does that shit? Couldn’t she have just given it to you and say it was from her and not Jungkook? Seriously fucked up.” 

For the next ten or so minutes you mull. Out of all the memorable college events you’ve participated in, the largest one by far is your (now defunct and debatable) friendship with Jisoo, and your (un)requited love for Jungkook. Reluctantly, you must admit Vernon has a sharp idea, busting in like a hero and offering you the most writable piece on a silver platter. 

It doesn’t feel morally right just to start writing, because ultimately you can’t feel comfortable until you get the consent of Jungkook. While you don’t want to touch Jisoo with a ten-meter pole, you do want to start talking to Jungkook again now that the waters have calmed.

Your life has moved gracefully up until this point, and you’d like to start being friends with him again. Decision made, you pull out your phone and make an important call.

“Hey Yoongi,” you say nervously. Min Yoongi is Kim Namjoon’s equivalent, Jungkook’s Wusband and former upperclassmen in college. 

Said man hums noncommittally on the other line, “Whaddya want, it’s been awhile.” 

You stifle a giggle at his apathetic attitude, knowing he’s someone who wastes no time in getting straight to the point. “I just wanna make sure Jungkook’s address is still the same? I know it’s been a couple months, but I need to send him something and I wanna make sure it gets to him ASAP because—”

“Because last time something was sent, your crazy roommate intervened and Jungkook ended up in a two-year half-toxic relationship? Yeah, let’s make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“Yoongi,” you say slowly, “where are you?” 

“Working in the studio,” he tuts, “Jungkook says hi, by the way.” 

Typical, cat’s out of the bag. With a roll of our eyes you reply, “Thanks for outing me, Yoongi. Talk to you later.” 

“And y/n? Jungkook says he’s waiting.” 

With a stupid smile slapped onto your face, you hang up the phone and pull out your stationary kit from under your desk. You pluck out a vermillion red envelope, a color so bold and begging to be seen, you know it can’t possibly get lost in transit. Feeling a little bit like a high schooler as you pull out a glitter jelly pen, you get to writing. 

Hey Pretty Boy...

Jungkook and Jisoo are no longer together, evidently. 

Their social media runs in different directions, with Jisoo sporting absolute elegance in her work at her family-owned boutique. Her posts are full of shiny outfits and soulless gazes, betraying any pinch of emotion she may have felt over these past few months. Her profile is wiped of any personal posts, all traces of you and Jungkook evaporated from her page. You must admit that she looks good, like a real fashion mogul, but only at the surface level. 

Conversely, Jungkook is thriving. It’s evident. Normally he isn’t the type of guy to post so frequently, his habits being often sporadic and limited to sweaty gym stories. But whenever you scroll, it’s pictures of him smiling. Big bunny teeth broken into a genuine, full-bellied laugh. Cute selfies of him and his co-workers. You notice two familiar co-workers in those posts, Irene and Seulgi, two beautiful women Jisoo always felt intimidated by whenever she ranted to you. You conclude positively that Jungkook doesn’t feel tethered and can hang out with all the friends he wants, female and male alike. Jungkook looks free, and you’re happy for him. 

It’s another Instagram-worthy moment tonight at McDonalds, where you and Jungkook proposed to meet each other at 12AM. 

This time, the letter makes it to its desired destination. You make sure of that because this time you hand-deliver it, slipping under his apartment door knowing he lives alone and no one would be able to access it except him. 

You’re parked in an obscure corner, but you can see that Jungkook is currently having a great time with his co-workers for an after work meal. Yoongi is unbothered on his phone, while Jimin and Seulgi are taking turns throwing fries into each other’s mouth. Jungkook is squished between them, scrunching his nose cutely as he tries not to get in the fray of their fry-war. 

Your phone pings, and you laugh at what pops up on the screen.

Yoongi: come inside, u loser. 

You: can’t ur friend group makes me nervous stop being so dang cute

You: dw i’ll wait, it’s only 11:50

Instead of replying, Yoongi puts his phone down and resumes eating. In turn you pick a playlist, deciding that “summer time high mix✨✨✨” is a theme you need to subscribe to for the rest of the weekend. 

Busying yourself by sending some texts to Namjoon and checking some emails, you relax in your seat as you let your brain turn to sludge for the weekend. You’re tired, eyes glazing over as you watch Yoongi elbow Jungkook harshly, forcing him to look out the foggy window. 

Jungkook’s eyes light up like it’s Christmas Eve, but instead of Christmas lights it's your car’s lowlights. The graphic designer  pays no mind to his friends as they wish him goodbye and goodluck, throwing on his jacket with a wave. 

The night air whizzes by, Jungkook’s floppy black strands bouncing with each step as he bounds to your car. He throws your door open, bringing in the cold air as he regards you as easily as an old friend would. 

“Hi,” he chirps, placing his tattooed palms by the air vent, “c’mon, let’s order.” 

“You know, you could’ve ordered inside and brought it in here.” 

“Yeah but then it would take longer to get to you,” the cheeky grin that Jungkook throws at you is unmistakable, “c’mon, get out the car and let’s switch.” 

“Huh?” 

“You look tired, you didn’t come back from the office again, did you?” 

“I did tonight,” you say, “I just really wanted to get the soft copy of the article done and—” 

“Out, out!” Jungkook clicks your seatbelt off and he’s coming out of the passenger side, opening your car and pulling you out by the hand, “c’mon, I’ll drive.” 

You shake your head, hiding your smile in your hand as you let Jungkook do what he wants. Normally you’d be insulted that anyone suggests they should drive your car but Jungkook would always drive you around, saying he loved long rides. Above all, if you could trust anyone to drive your car, Jungkook is at the top of the list. 

Buckling in, you bite the inside of your cheek as Jungkook easily pulls out of the parking spot one-handed. His jacket is pulled up to his elbows, exposing his veins as he expertly whirls the wheel in the direction of the drive-thru. Since college he’s always looked very attractive driving.  

Doesn’t mean you have to act like you’re still in college. You tamp those feelings down, knowing that your article probably has you feeling stuck in time. 

“—coming along?” 

“Wha?” 

“I said, how’s the spread coming along?” 

“It’s pretty much done, I think. I’ll send you the hard copy when it’s ready,” you tap your fingers against the dashboard, “but are you sure you’re okay with me writing it? I know I’m using a pseudonym and everything for you two but I still feel weird—” 

“It’s fine, I think it’s a good thing,” and you still squirm in your seat when he flashes you a genuine smile, “I mean, it kinda is a funny story and I think it’s good for both of us. Like closure, y’know? Moving on and—hi, can I get two Oreo McFlurrys and a large fry? Thanks!” he pulls out his wallet to scan the total on the e-reader.  “I mean, didn’t it feel good writing it?”

“Yeah,” you replied honestly, relaxing in your seat, “like, college was fun and all, but when Jisoo kinda ruined all that… after awhile I didn’t think it was ruined after all, y’know? I still made amazing friends and ended up where I wanted to be. I want to show the readers that shit happens, and that’s okay. And if things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.” 

The summer playlist hums in the background as Jungkook pulls up to the pick-up window. He thanks the worker and hands you the tray, and you make quick work to put the fries in the first cup holder for optimal sharing. He doesn’t park at McDonalds, but instead smoothly pulls out of the restaurant into the direction of his apartment. It isn’t a particularly long drive, but you figure it would be easier for Jungkook to go home first if you’re already parked at his complex. 

“What do you mean by that?” Jungkook parks in the driveway of his apartment, taking his McFlurry from your hands. 

“Mean by what?” 

“If things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.” 

“Well, we’re here now, right?” 

Jungkook pops his spoon in, swallowing vanilla and a silly smile through his coral pink lips, “We’re here now,” he repeats. 

The night air is cool and your conversation is warm. You promise Jungkook that you’ll send him the final copy of your spread as soon as it’s done, and you two eagerly deviate away from the past and focus on the present. 

You can’t help the eagerness that flows between you, as if you’ve never spent time apart like this and it’s only now that you’re reuniting. It must be absence that makes the heart grow fonder, because you swell with affection and you find Jungkook’s presence sweeter than any kind of ice cream. 

Are you dating now? Maybe. You and Jungkook are going on dates, everything without the title. McFlurry runs, marathons of HGTV’s Design on a Dime, having lunch at each other’s respective buildings with the Wusbands. Whether these dates are exclusive or not is unknown, but you figure the question will present yourself one way or another. 

You’re in a good place right now, potential relationship or not. After all, your priorities are simultaneously positive and in order: family, work, friends, and any potential romantic trysts are at the very bottom. You could kiss the cover of this month’s issue (and trust, you have kissed your own copy multiple times) if it is not for the fact that this specific issue is for Jungkook. 

So, romantic trysts and friends have a tendency to flip-flop on your priority list, but only because it’s Jungkook. 

Unsurprisingly, there’s no guilt knowing that you’re dating your former best friend's ex-boyfriend. 

After a much deserved early work day, Namjoon and the crew arrange a hearty happy-hour filled with good food and enough relaxation to last the weekend. With your combined successes, your team felt like they made the best issue yet. At the heart of it, The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth became a reckoning of each other’s young life. Despite the love and the growth that occurred from your college years up until this point, you’re glad to close that chapter and move forward. 

You did not tell Jungkook when the issue would come out, so you think it’ll be a fun surprise for him when he sees it magically show up at his apartment. Bending down you move to slip the issue under his door, one hand pushing it under while one hand braces against the frame to steady your balance. 

Just as the shiny cover glides under the door it swings open, and you fall flat on Jungkook’s feet. 

Being the little shit he is, he simply giggles at the blunder, looking at you with excited eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he says. 

“Creepy as hell, Jeon,” you mutter under your breath, brushing the dirt off your aqua pencil skirt. Looking at him from your spot on the floor and his large height, you grimace. “You look like a middle-aged serial killer looking outside your peephole.” 

“Now, we know that’s not true.” he finally offers his hand, easily pulling you up to your feet. You follow him into his kitchen, where he’s cutting up fresh fruit. He throws your issue on the counter, gentle enough so it doesn’t slide off the granite. He gestures to himself with both hands, “me, a dashingly handsome late twenty-something in Nike sweats who can bench-press two of you? Totally not a middle-aged serial killer.” 

“It’s in the eyes,” you chastise, “you look crazy.” 

“Maybe I’m just crazy excited to see you,” he says with a cheeky grin. 

You try your best not to choke on your spit at the cheeseball comment, throwing a blackberry in your mouth. Savoring the burst of tart flavor that fills your mouth, you wait for Jungkook to plate the fruit before meeting him on the couch. He’s holding a prettily arranged plate of berries, bananas, and mango with a huge dollop of whipped cream in the middle. In his other hand is Big Hit’s magazine. 

Throwing your blazer on the couch’s arm you don’t hesitate to cuddle up next to him, eagerly waiting for him to read your spread. 

The cover gazes back at the two of you like a reflection. The entirety of the staff is posed on the cover, made to look like a class photo. Some of you are holding balloons in your respective school colors, many of you grouping up with whoever happened to go to college together. You and Vernon are wearing matching university sweaters with silly grins on your faces. In the middle of the issue is the editor-in-chief, Victoria Song holding a placard that reads: Class of Youth. 

Jungkook spares you a glance from the corner of his eye, your head naturally tucked into his shoulder. With an exaggerated sigh, he fiddles through the glossy pages, “Hmm, which one should I read first?” 

“Of course you’ll read mine first,” you pout. 

“Ah, Namjoon’s looks really fun. Or Vernon’s? New York looks pretty cool,” he flips to a random page, “wait, Yerin’s spread is a Korean cookbook! I definitely want to make some tuna rice...”  

“Jungkook,” you whine, “read mine.” 

“I don’t know,” he taps his finger on his lip, “I mean, I pretty much know your spread because I’m already in it. It would be kind of redundant to read it.” 

“Kook, you’re being mean,” you glower, rubbing your cheek against his soft sweater. He’s just so damn comfy. 

“I’m kidding,” he tugs at your cheek, “where’s the table of contents, first page?”

“I’m on page eighty-three.” 

You speed up the process like an impatient child, leaning over to brush the pages to the desired spread. You even dog-earred it, a habit that drives Jungkook crazy as he immediately fiddles to iron out the crease. 

“Are you gonna read it to me too, mom?” he teases. 

“Okay fine! I’ll be quiet, but don’t take too long.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Eyes fluttering, you let Jungkook take his time to absorb your piece. A roommate by any other (rude) name: the lost letter. A cheesy, gimmicky title that Victoria insisted upon that you had no choice but relent to. The rest of the spread thankfully has a very authentic edge to it, your story laced with photos of you and Jungkook, your internship with Vernon, and most importantly, a scan of the lavender letter that got left in the past. 

Jungkook’s not silent through his read-through, either. He laughs at all the right parts, fueling your ego as his smile grows at your favorite lines. While he doesn’t directly engage in conversation, his positive energy is enough for you to make you feel like you’ve done your job right. It’s one thing to write about unknown celebrities and unnamed artists, but for people like Jungkook, the validation is personal. 

“It’s beautiful,” Jungkook says when he’s read it thrice through, running his thumb over a picture of you. “Really organic. Really, real.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he chuckles, having run out of adverbs. “It’s funny, too. I liked your little internal monologue. I wish I knew how you felt back then.” 

“I wish you did, too.” 

You’re quietly munching on a strawberry, looking over a polaroid Jungkook took. It was  sometime in the beginning of senior year, where you’ve fallen asleep on his mattress, drool drying on your mouth. Normally you’d be opposed to having such unflattering, grainy pictures amongst your writing, but it encapsulates the youth you’ve tried so hard to chase away. 

“How do you feel?” Jungkook says, switching out the magazine for the plate of fruit, placing it on his side. 

“Feel great, actually,” you muse, smiling to yourself. By no means are you a hero writing some grand gesture in an entertainment magazine, but you feel like you’ve saved yourself. You’ve savored your youth in four thousand words, cutting out the poison and keeping the moment as sweet as it can be. 

“I’m proud of you,” he reaches to ruffle your hair, and you don’t even get mad when it tousles out of your pinned style. 

Reveling in the attention, you simply close your eyes and feed yourself a handful of blueberries. 

“Love that I make money, but I definitely miss college from time to time,” Jungkook stretches, jostling you out of your comfortable position. “Like I remember Taehyung and I would take turns bringing backpacks to the dining hall so we could stuff fruit in it for later.”

“Yeah, but as much as I loved college I wouldn’t go back,” you nod to yourself, “I’m happy where I am now.” 

“What about when we stayed up for midnight breakfast? The dining hall was filled to the brim with food. Remember when I tried to eat a whole stack of pancakes?” 

“Jungkook…” 

“Or when our classes got cancelled and we went to Lotte World? You ate way too much funnel cake and I had to carry you to the car!” 

“Jungkook—” 

“And that one time we snuck out to the music hall’s rooftop?” words gush out of Jungkook’s mouth like a waterfall, unable to relent, “that’s when I realized I liked you. I liked you so much, I tried to tell you that night but choked—”

“Jungkook!” and he immediately zips up, frowning. You straighten up, on your knees as you reach over to run your hands through his onyx tresses, moving the styled strands to the back of his pierced ears, “Jungkook,” you repeat softly, “I’ve heard all these stories, I was there for most of them. As much as I love the past… can we talk about something else?” you give him a small, tentative smile to show him you’re not mad, but a little uncomfortable at his reminiscing. 

He leans into your touch, pressing your palm against the soft swell of his warm cheek. “Okay,” he agrees, resting one hand on your thigh. 

You’re roped in his gaze, and you have to force yourself to breathe when Jungkook moves closer to you. He hooks a leg behind his back, and another across his lap. A cool breeze kisses your inner thighs when your skirt exposes your cotton underwear. You should be embarrassed but instead you’re fixated, unable to understand what he’s trying to accomplish. 

“Then I’m gonna talk about the future,” Jungkook traps you between the couch, his thumb running hot circles to where your skirt has hiked up. It exposes a slip of the thigh that Jungkook has seen a million times. He’s seen you walking around your apartment in a large shirt, ridden up to your boyshorts. It’s different now, you feel exposed and tingly, thrumming with excitement. “I like you, obviously anticipated news and old news. I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to go on dates with you, re-watch Avatar, grumble when I force you to come to the gym with me,” he bumps noses with you when you scrunch yours, “I wanna be with you. Heck, I’ve even cleared space in my spare room so you’d have closet space for all your fancy designer suits if you ever need it.”

“You cleared space?” you manage to choke out. Visions of a shared apartment roll through your brain. Cooking meals together, having two toothbrushes side by side, and waking up to his face. 

“Of course I did. Do you know how financially attractive you are?” he says lightheartedly, “you’re a sexy working woman and it’s crazy to imagine you’d want to settle for me and my little apartment. But I have to try now because if I don’t, it’ll be too late.” 

“That’s not true,” you retort, “you’re not someone I’d settle for. I want you, and no one else.” 

He chuckles, running a thumb over your cheek. “Then what are we waiting for? Your key’s hiding under the mat.” 

“Jungkook…” on the tip of your tongue lays the words you’re going too fast but it doesn’t make its way to the air. 

“But do you really think it’s too fast?” he reads your face clearly, “these feelings never went anywhere. They were locked away, sure. And I loved her,” he can’t even say the name, not when you’re warm and flush against him, “but I loved our friendship more.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you breathe, letting the cogs in your brain roll until sparks develop. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he concedes, “I just wanted to let you know. Could’ve done the letter thing all over again and let the past repeat itself. I know Namjoon wouldn’t hide a love letter for two years, but if I left another damn letter he’d definitely make a copy and tease me about it.” 

You snort, pressing your forehead to his. You’re practically buried in the couch now, tingly and vibrating with happiness. “And I’m not going to leave you hanging. I do want to say something,” and he looks at you expectantly, licking the leftover berry juice on his lips, nearly making you miss your train of thought, “I like you too,” you say, the other L-word is also applicable, but you feel like that phrase is reserved for another time, “I want to show you off on work vacations, bring you along as my date and show them you’re my muse,” you confess, “I wanna play video games with you ‘till 2AM, and eat ice cream in the comfort of our apartment instead of our cars because we’re too stubborn to admit we don’t wanna go home without each other.” 

Jungkook absolutely preens at the affection, sending you a heart melting smile that has your stomach doing backflips.

“Jungkook, I want to fall in love with you again.” 

Your squeal of surprise is swallowed by Jungkook’s lips, tasting of mangoes and berries as strong hands cup your backside, easily lifting you onto his lap. You plop under his strong thighs, feeling them flex against yours. The both of you are pouring in this kiss, raining with promises and hopes for a future with each other. His taste is concentrated, and you can feel the devotion practically injected in his embrace. 

When he pulls away his lips are cherry-red and shiny, looking up at you through clear coffee eyes. “This isn’t a dream, right?” he looks at you up and down, unable to decipher fact from fiction, “because I distinctly remember two wet dreams that involve you looking like this.” 

Looking down, you heat at the disarray you’re in. Hair wild and parted in different wavelengths, tired of the day’s efforts. Your slightly sheer dress-shirt is rumpled, the lace collar opened with two popped buttons revealing your cleavage, and your skirt is stretched so tight that it’s ruched all the way up your thighs. Sprawled across Jungkook’s lap, you’re dangerously close to something long and hard. 

Emboldened, you clutch at Jungkook’s collar, pulling him closer. 

“Show me what happens in your dream,” you whisper into his ear, barely brushing your clothed core against his crotch, “maybe we can make it come true tonight.” 

You can’t see his face, but you feel something dark and sensual overtake him. The grip on your ass tightens, a delicious pain that has you pressing your breasts against him and nipping on his ear, your tongue darting sensually through the cold silver hoops that dart through his skin. 

Within seconds, he rips you away from his neck and demands, “Open.” 

Dazed, you barely get a centimeter of your mouth open when Jungkook presses something cold and sugary against your lips. Whipped cream. You manage to take a small bite of the tart strawberry that he holds by the viridian stem, rolling the flavor between your mouth as Jungkook paints the leftover whipped cream over your lips. Once he’s satisfied he then creates a white trail that leads to your cleavage. 

Better than any dream, his eyes drink you in like the last glass of water in a desert. Your lips are swollen and parted like a baby kitten, covered in the creamy confection. “So pretty,” he exhales, his hot tongue licking from your cleavage to your lips, swallowing the flavor of you and strawberry juice, “such a pretty girl you are, and all mine.” 

“Yours,” you submit easily, rolling your hips against his. 

At that moment you think you’re meant to fall in love this way. You can’t imagine the shy, fumbly Jungkook and your equally confused self waltzing around a relationship when you barely had your lives together. The two of you still had growing to do. The wait is certainly worth it, because as you feel his arms tighten around you, you’re sure this love will stay strong.

It’s difficult for you to find a rhythm at first, what with Jungkook’s strength and need to be satiated, both of you are sloppy but the friction is nothing less than delicious. Your finger reaches over to swipe at the leftover cream on the plate, and you press your finger to Jungkook’s mouth, and he immediately complies. A dollop of sweet cream leaks out of his lips and your panties dampen further when you feel his tongue lick you clean, imagaining how good it would feel if it was your pussy he was licking. 

Your mouth waters at the feeling of his dick lining up against your core, as sticky as the strawberry juice that clings to your bodies. 

“C-can I make a confession? I—oh, Jungkook…” your mind is all fuzzed up when he snaps his hips against yours, causing you to shamelessly bounce on his length. 

“Yeah?” 

“I… I like it when you use all your strength like that,” his hips slow as your words sink in, but you don’t mind as it gives you time to make a long drag along the entirety of his member. “Everytime you pull me up when I trip, or you come back from a workout, I like it when you carry me around like I weigh nothing.” 

“Do—do you think about it a lot?” he grunts, and you stifle a moan when he does a slow, hard drag against your wet folds. “Tell the truth.” 

“It’s, it’s embarrassing,” you whimper, unable to think straight with the amount of stimuli you’re receiving.  

“Please, baby.” 

“Yes mm—oh! I do,” you try to get the words out as quickly as you can. He stops moving, and you groan in frustration so you just lay it all out on the table. “I, I love it when you hold me in your strong arms. And, ah, uh w-henever you come back from the gym you just look so sexy fresh from the shower. Sometimes I think about how you’re too damn nice for your own good but I bet you’d be so rough in bed.” 

“Really?” and then he’s shoving you onto the couch, air brushing against your bare thighs as your back hits the beige throw pillows. He’s hovering, dark eyes starting from the tip of your toes to your damp lips. “You like it when I manhandle you? Throw you around like a little doll?” 

“All that strength, and for what?” you try to keep your snappy remarks in check, but it’s hard when he’s pressing his straining dick against your thigh, weeping and needy. 

“You’re not gonna be joking about my strength anytime soon, baby,” emblazoned, he easily throws your leg over his shoulder, pushing your panties to the side to let your wetness leak out and onto his fingers, “are you gonna complain or be a good girl?” 

“Yes, I’m ah—” you wince when he inserts a finger, “I’ll be good for you,” 

“My good girl,” he revels in the way you melt under his touch, your previous sarcasm quickly dissolving into a puddle. You always had an inkling that Jungkook would be a sneaky fox in bed, all that muscle hidden behind a kind smile and a penchant for tea with milk and honey. 

Jungkook slips in another finger, stretching you and preparing you for what’s to come. He’s scissoring you at a sensible pace that has you squirming and wanting more. To prevent you from shimmying off the couch he holds you down with his free hand, and you love the way he practically feeds you to the couch, hands dancing over your neck as he shoves you further into the furniture. 

“You look so gorgeous,” he says, causing you to moan and keen at his attention, “you’re such a strong, gorgeous woman. Having you sprawled out like this, ready to do whatever I want to you is so fucking hot.” 

“I’m—I’m only weak for you Jungkook,” you say honestly, tears pricking when he dips another finger. The stretch burns deliciously, and your folds eagerly swallow him up until you’re filled to the brim. Your fingers or toys cannot compare to flesh, and you sigh in relief when you see his inked fingers pick up the pace once more. 

“You’re damn right,” Jungkook husks, and with a grain of love he murmurs in your ear, “I’m only weak for you, too.” 

And that’s when he snaps, thumb rolling against your bud as he slams his other fingers against you, going at a brutal pace. You cry out, not caring whether his neighbors hear as he pulls you back and forth through pleasure and pain. 

“T-too much, Kookie,” you mewl, your hand warbling to find his, “I, ah, ‘m gonna cum!” 

“That’s the plan,” he only goes faster, stretching your band further and further before your desired high is reached. His hand trails up to force your chin straight, looking up at him, “let go for me, baby. Wanna feel your pussy clench around my fingers.” 

In seconds, you gush. It has you in a slight panic, drunk on endorphins as you try to lift your head up but Jungkook’s hand is firmly pressing you on your shoulder as he fingers you efficiently through your high, the wet squelching sounds only increasing with your cries. His lap is drenched in your arousal, along with his chin and lips glistening with your essence. 

He finally releases you when you’re practically shaking, his hands sticky and creamy. You moan when he shamelessly licks them within your view, making sure to wrap his tongue around his ink-stained digits. 

“I,” your mouth is dry when you feel the dampness that hits your bottom, “I’ve never, I don’t remember ever—” 

Your babbles are lost between your throat and Jungkook’s tongue, shoved deep into your mouth. Tasting your arousal has you practically vibrating in your place, as you two rut against each other like hungry bunnies. 

“God, you’re amazing,” he says between pecks, kissing away your face of any tears you may have pricked, “Amazing, adorable, absolutely beautifulIadoreyousoso—” 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you press your hips up, wiggling for more attention, “please fuck me, Jungkook.” 

You can’t help the witchy, satisfied smile when Jungkook’s eyes darken to a thick coal, “Anything for you,” he murmurs, swinging your legs between his arms as he lifts you like a feather. 

On his lap again, you soon accept that the way you two mesh like puzzle pieces is one of your favorite positions as it gives you both equal space to ravish each other. 

Just when your hand trails to the waistband of his boxer briefs and you’re rolling your thumb over its collected moisture, the moment is shattered when the doorbell rings. You jump in his arms, unprepared for your moment to be interrupted. 

He groans into the crown of your hair, and you soften in his relaxed hold, “I ordered us pizza,” he nearly forgot. 

Perking your head up to look at him you regard him innocently, as if you didn’t release a waterfall on his sweats two seconds ago. “You got us pizza?” 

“I knew you’d be coming over tonight,” he’s pouting into your neck, regretting ever having called the pizza guy if he knew this would happen, “Victoria posted the publish date on Twitter. I just didn’t think,” he gestures vaguely to the mess on his pants, “this would happen.”  

“Damn, and here I thought I was being sneaky,” you chuckle, flicking his ear playfully. 

He gives you an uncharacteristically subby whine, shamelessly upset he has to let you go so fast after he’s given you your first of many highs. Before he weakens further under your beauty, he unceremoniously shoves you off. “Sorry, pretty girl,” you melt at the easy way his pet name rolls off his lips, “can you wait in my room for a bit so I can pay the delivery guy? I don’t want them to see you like this.” 

“But I want to eat pizza,” you declare stubbornly, standing up to button your blouse and pull down your skirt. 

Before you could fasten one button or pull down one centimeter, his hand darts out to snatch your wrist away from your body. It doesn’t hurt much, but it causes your body to heat in more places than one. He’s sexy like this, demanding your attention. “No,” he rumbles definitively, “my room. Now.” 

“Why?” you throw your hands in the air, yelping when he slaps your ass. He makes sure to make it sting, cupping you fully. 

“Because,” he says firmly, “you don’t get to eat until I eat,” you whimper when his hand reaches to cup your sex, panties wet and cold without his warmth as he pushes you in the direction of his bedroom. 

Oh, you can’t wait for both of you to eat tonight. 

some time later.

“Ohmygod the view is beautiful!” Krystal, who works in advertisement, squeals. “No filter needed!” 

“Alright alright, make room Princess,” Namjoon teases. With a bump to Krystal’s tiny hips Namjoon shoves you two across the pavilion, putting his arm around you once he finds the perfect angle, “Umji, can you get a pic of me and my Work Wife? I want this on the Big Hit Instagram!” 

You hold your straw sunhat down from the salty wind, smiling beautifully as Umji takes multiple pictures of you and Namjoon from her Nikon. Another successful year under your notch, ending with a successful work retreat. 

“Namjoon, can I take a picture with my actual wife now?” 

“We’re not married, Jungkook,” you chastise, patting the chest of Namjoon’s floral printed Hawaiian shirt so he can switch. Instantly, Jungkook slides up next to you like a picture perfect stock model piece, and you wrap your arms around his trim waist, “we’re not even engaged.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he pouts, looking over the pavilion and adjusting the both of you so there’s a good amount of you and the resort in the background. The sun may be scathingly hot, but it looks beautiful perched over the crystal clear waters. “Namjoon, you got it easy,” Jungkook says when he hands him your phone, “every angle is our good angle, so you can’t mess it up.” 

Being the honest man he is, Namjoon knows better and doesn’t say anything to that. Instead he shoots down whatever pineapple-flavored concoction is offered to him on a silver platter, and starts shooting. 

“Is this swimsuit new?” Jungkook murmurs into your ear between shots, flicking your little red number by the strap connecting the back, “because I didn’t see this in the luggage.” 

You smile big, pearly whites as Namjoon demands to pop out your butt and work it, pressing your body closer to Jungkook’s. “Tiny enough so I could hide it in my purse,” you reply proudly, voice low for only each other’s ears, “why, surprised?” 

“Definitely not prepared,” his fingers dig deliciously in your bare flesh, “would Victoria fire you if she catches us doing it in the cabana?” 

Amused that your boyfriend now shares your combined awe and fear of your boss, you twist his nipple lightly. He yelps, and from Namjoon’s guaff he’s definitely got that on camera. “We didn’t come to Boracay to fuck in the cabana.” 

“Then the hotel room?” 

Namjoon hands you back your phone when he considers his job done, letting you and Jungkook have some alone time. You wave your phone in his face, trying to get him to focus on the task at hand. You wanted to post some cute pictures of you and your boyfriend, one to impress the family back home and the Big Hit interns back in Seoul who are absolutely pining for your position. 

“Jungkook, they have the water ski thing where you can flip in the water mid air! Doesn’t that sound fun? Or we can go scuba diving, have Filipino food, or get massages. LIterally, we’re on Big Hit’s dime, and the first thing you want to do is go back to the room?” 

“Yes,” he pouts petulantly, leaning into the hollow of your ear and whispering, “got a chub on.” 

Discreetly so, your hands brush against his navy trunks and you note yes, he’s half hard. “No!” you shake your head definitively, pushing him out of your arms. You’re not letting sex get in the way of your hard-earned vacation, you’re on company dime and you intend to milk every peso of it. “Namjoon, take him away!” 

You blow him a kiss and follow another group who’s decided to go eat, watching your boyfriend get dragged away by Namjoon’s long arms. Krystal, who’s been mildly watching the whole ordeal in-between taking selfies, looks at you in awe, “You got it good, bosslady,” she says, and you happily link arms with her in the direction of the restaurants. 

You and Jungkook definitely have it good. You don’t see him until dinnertime, looking utterly relaxed as he sips on a mango-muddled concoction. He must’ve gotten a couples massage with Namjoon, cute. Splitting up was definitely a good idea, by the time your meal arrives the two of you are practically leaning against each other, telling each other what events you need to do tomorrow and events you think will be fun to do together. 

“Joon,” Jungkook is throwing an arm over your Wusband’s shoulder, mildly tipsy. The image is adorable, as Jungkook long ago previously confessed that he felt a little jealous of Namjoon’s work relationship with you before you were dating. Now, it feels like they’re best friends and you’re third-wheeling. “What do you think about having halo-halo tomorrow? It’s like bingsu but with a bunch of other good stuffs. There’s red bean, mango, ube, ice cream…” 

Just as Jungkook begins his tirade of dessert ingredients, you pull up your phone to check on your social media. You smile back at your profile, seeing your latest Instagram post at the very top of the feed. Not to flex, but the two of you look pretty smokin’ since you’ve been keeping up with Jungkook’s insistence to join him at the gym. Jungkook and you are leaning against the pristine veranda, overlooking the clear blue water and a cloudless sky. The smiles you two sport are genuine and utterly in love. 

You scroll down the comments, most of them filled with sweet messages but one of them has you doing a double take. 

@sooyaaa__: 😒😒😒 knew something was goin on behind my back… good riddance

The smell of Jungkook’s detergent overtakes your nostrils, and you turn to him. He’s stopped talking, now immersed in whatever’s going on in your phone. 

“The nerve of her,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, disgusted at her latest comment. “As if anyone would believe her.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, “I feel bad for her, though. She’s probably lonely.” 

“Her loss, she put this upon herself. Not us.” 

You pout, “I know, but she was my friend at one point.” 

He frowns, putting an arm behind your backrest. It would be easy for him to say yeah, and she was my girlfriend and one-up you, leaving it at that. But now he knows better, and that friendship is a much better value than an ill-fated relationship. “Sorry baby,” it’s not his fault, but he sees your disappointment in putting out hope for an old friend. He gives you a little smooch on your temple, “do you miss her?” 

“The old her, yeah,” you sigh, clicking on her profile, “but now? I can do without her negativity.” 

“Okay,” he takes your phone from your hand, “have you ever blocked a person before?”

“No.”

“Well, today’s the day,” he says it so coolly, you barely have time to think when he clicks the ‘block’ button on Jisoo’s profile, then clicking off his phone to put in his pocket. “No more phone for today,” he proceeds to take your plate that was recently served, taking the time to cut your large vegetables into smaller portions. “Like you said, we shouldn’t waste your vacation time.” 

Your heart swells with butterflies for Jeon Jungkook, who’s meticulously cutting your food and telling you to relax and stop dwelling on the past. He’s right, if Jisoo’s not going to stick around for the future and continue to cause negativity in your life, why not keep the positives in the past while it lasted? 

“You know I love you, right?” 

He ceases cutting, and looks at you to pop a sweet potato in his mouth. “Love me enough to do it in the cabana?” 

He’s still on that? “Jungkook,” you warn, pretending to get up, “forget I said anything. I’m gonna go karaoke with Umji.” 

“Kiddingggg,” he whines, pulling you back down with an outstretched hand, “you know I love you too.” 

“You’re terrible.” 

“Only this way because I’d know you’d totally be into cabana sex if we were vacationing by ourselves.” 

“Yes, but you’re still terrible,” you giggle when Jungkook steals a kiss, just as easy as he’s stolen your heart.  

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #gcn23 #goldenclosetnet #btsghostie #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts fic #bts smut #a big weight is off my shoulders

[draconic-ichor]

What is Junipers reaction to meeting Ethan? I’m genuinely curious :)

We will actually see a lot of Ethan later in the fic!

But if you want to see the moment Juniper and Ethan meet I do have some later stuff written out :3

Major spoilers for In the Steel Steeds Heart fic, so proceed at your own risk! Is you want to be surprised later don’t click lol:

Another sealed door stood before him, it looked more fortified then the others.

Heisenberg’s voice buzzed overhead, “You better turn the fuck around Winters, if you know what’s good for you.”

Ethan shrugged away the threat, growing tired of the constant banter over the speakers.

He shot the red glowing locks, smirking as the locks hissed open. This room was surprisingly well lit, as he cautiously walked in.

His eyes fell on a mass in the corner…

It was a woman, huddled down in the corner, clutching a bundle to her chest.

Ethan faltered for a moment, almost going forward to offer comfort, until he caught the unnatural green of the woman’s eyes and the gurgling sound of an infant from the bundle.

The sound shot through him like a bullet, he stepped closer.

The woman tried to back into the corner more, baring sharp teeth. This made him more reckless and angry, thinking she had what he’d been looking for this whole time.

“Stay back!” She hissed, fear and anger flashing in her eyes.

“Give me the baby.” Ethan’s voice wavered, low and threatening.

“Get back!” Juniper yelled, the bundle starting to whimper louder, “Iv eaten men bigger then you!”

Seeing only a monster before him Ethan pulled his gun, shoving it into her face. All the color drained from Juniper, her eyes full of terror and desperation.

“Give me the baby!” Ethan demanded.

There was a tight moment between them, Juniper tried to speak, “I-it’s…not..not yours.”

“I said give me the baby!” Ethan pressed, wearing thin after everything he’d been through.

Eyes wet, Juniper offered him the bundle with trembling hands, eyes never leaving the barrel of the gun.

Ethan took the bundle from Junipers arms, causing the baby to cry harder.

Ethan kept the gun pointed at Junipers forehead as he bounced a bundle a bit in an effort to calm the child within. Feeling the weight of a baby in his arms made his throat hurt, the feeling reaching up and stinging his eyes.

Juniper’s anger faltered, seeing how broken the man before her was.

Ethan took his eyes from her, finally glancing down at the baby in his arm. He choked…it wasn’t Rose.

No this baby had dark black curls, and familiar pale eyes. His gun hand dropped, shaking a bit as he cradled the child closer to him. Kolt’s cheeks were red as he started to cry, unused to new faces of any sort.

Juniper slowly stood, caution in every movement.

“I’m…im sorry.” Ethan admitted, offering her back her baby,

Relief washed over her like a strong tide as she thankfully took Kolt back into her arms. She took the boy to her chest, humming softly to sooth him.

Seeing this Ethan felt the hostility drain from him. After the baby was calmed, he asked, “Did he steal you too?”

Juniper scoffed, “Too? I’m his wife.”

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #re8 oc #heisenberg x oc #in the steel steeds heart #heisenberg #resident evil #re8 ethan winters #spoilers #answered asks

[gwoongi]

wordless pt.1

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: hitman (john wick?) au, sugar daddy au, fluff, pining, angst rating: mature words: 4.1k warnings: mentions of blood and violence, unconventional relationship, angsty themes, smoking mention a/n: this is jeongguk as john wick because i’m trash and i cant finish one story at a time. these prompts r from here btw :) im gonna do all 50 but im too lazy rn so here’s the first 10 :D

Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears them again.

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Now, it definitely was not a stretch to assume that everything in Jeongguk’s life was indeed unconventional. People didn’t need to understand that what Jeongguk did for work was something that, by the law, was considered unprofessional and inhumane, and so when asked, Jeongguk sufficed for “boss of a company”, and questions weren’t asked. If they were, Jeongguk came up with a slightly more conventional lie, to make up for the reality that was Jeongguk working on the clock, killing nobodies for a bit of cash.

Taehyung, his right-hand man, had expressed how unconventional Jeongguk seemed to be over a dinner in Venice, a little restaurant tucked away unconventionally in a street that did not belong to America. Jeongguk spoke four languages comfortably, and had parents retiring in the Canary Islands. Jeongguk donated money to women’s charities and mental health services, and helped bribe his cousins into Ivy Leagues when racism prevented them from entry. Jeongguk was a Joe-Exotic in the making and owned a rescue black panther named Elio, and had houses across the globe for use when working. And, Jeongguk was dipping his toes into playing house with a sugar baby who was only five years younger than him, of whom he had met in a stakeout which involved the hit being on your brother’s head. Unconventionally, you led him to his target, and afterwards, dined with him in a Thai restaurant.

Things in Jeongguk’s life were far from ordinary, but perhaps it was the denial of mundane comforts that kept Jeongguk going. If he went back to normality, to working a shitty customer service job like when he was seventeen, dumping trash into overflowing piles behind the off-license he worked at, things wouldn’t be the same. Jeongguk would feel alien, like he didn’t belong. At least here, amongst the pain and the bullets and the years worth of trauma packed in his wrinkles (which, yes, if he looks hard enough, he can see some cursing his twenty five year old skin), Jeongguk felt like he sort of belonged. In an unconventional way.

Having met Jeongguk during his line of work, there were difficulties in being Jeongguk’s sugar baby. For one, he always felt guilty for having murdered your brother, even though you heavily supported the hit. Your brother was a jerk, a bully with money, someone who had wronged your entire family, turned off your younger sister’s life support when there was a chance of her survival. Asshole, he deserved it. Secondly, Jeongguk was impractical and irrational and often acted selfishly, meaning he was often out of the country on work, only available in whispers for a few hours and then he was gone, compensating with a few sums of cash.

He tried his best. Jeongguk, despite technicalities including his work and his past and his occasional mean streak, genuinely cared about other people. When he could, he made the effort, otherwise not attempting to make promises to you that he could not keep. Jeongguk knows that he got really lucky when he found you. You didn’t ask questions. Nobody was better for him.

However, Jeongguk was selfish, and broken, and in refusal of fixing what was wrong with him. When it was of convenience, Jeongguk drew comparisons to the last girlfriend he tried to entertain. One who wronged him, and died when he tried to repair everything she had destroyed. Jeongguk carries that with him like the tattoos on his skin, a permanent memory, and something that often disturbs what could be and should be between the both of you.

Jeongguk is worthy of love, and capable of loving. On days where Jeongguk is free to lounge without the guilt of not working, you find it is so easy to love him. But, it can’t be that way. You couldn’t just tell him that. Telling him that you loved him would be inappropriately unconventional. Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears it again.

(1) Holding their hands when they are shaking.

Jeongguk is in his living room, his right leg bouncing like a spring as he cradles an infant glass of whiskey. His eyes are glazed, yet wide, staring at the Seoul city draped in darkness and neon, and without even looking inside, you know that his brain is spinning, thoughts chaotic and loud.

“Hey,” you call out to him, and his eyes stutter to the left to catch you in the doorway, “I heard you get up. What’s wrong?”

Jeongguk shakes his head gently. “Nothing, baby, go back to bed. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Jeongguk often makes comments without expectancies. You stand in the doorway that connects the living room to the long hall that stems into bedrooms and bathrooms, and watch him for a moment. His whole body vibrates like a speaker, his hands trembling as the glass drains and he reaches for a second, or a third, or maybe a tenth. You want to sigh, without being patronising, but you know that any sign of sympathy is mistaken for that whenever Jeongguk is around to make the judgement.

He looks back to the skyline and frowns, his attention panning from the window to his phone that buzzes blue, but he ignores. Stepping across the cool wooden floorboards, you approach him sleepily and take a seat next to him on the sofa. Neither of you move, but he recognises you’ve moved. He bristles slightly, like it was unexpected.

“You can take your time,” you suggest to him, and his hands ache in his lap as he sets the glass down on the coffee table with a careless thud. He scoffs, devoid of emotion, and dips his head so his chin is near his collarbones. In his lap, those hands shake. “Maybe don’t drink so much tonight.”

“I’m clearing my head,” he insists weakly. Those hands still shake.

Brows creased with a pinch, you swallow the unease and reach for his hands. Jeongguk doesn’t say anything as you do so, enveloping his hands in yours, and so suddenly the shaking ceases. Like trying to block the shakes from reaching his wrists, your hands keep his safe.

“I know,” you understand honestly, because you do know what he’s going through. “How about tea, or something? To calm down, calm down the mess that’s up in there.”

Your chin is on his shoulder, and he smiles softly. “Are you calling me messy?”

“Nah, I’m calling your brain messy,” you reply. “It’s a cruel fucking brain.”

“Hate my brain.”

“Today, we hate it.”

Jeongguk’s head turns slightly so that he can see you, and in his lap, his thumbs brush across your skin.

“Thank you,” Jeongguk says quietly, attempting a smile that doesn’t quite convince. It doesn’t necessarily have to, not tonight anyway. His phone continues to flash like a light show, Taehyung’s name in bold. “Fuck. I’ll take the call, and then I’ll come back to bed, okay?”

You nod, “Mm, okay. Want me to make a drink?”

“I don’t need it,” Jeongguk concludes. “Not today.”

(2) Tucking the sheets around them when they stir during the night.

Sometimes Jeongguk wakes up in the night due to nightmares, but tonight, it’s different.

Beside him, you stir uncomfortably and kick his leg for the fourth time. He huffs and looks over, trying to figure out if you’re awake and indignant, or lost in the dream. He settles on the latter when you strain out the name of your brother and his heart swoops with a dull ache.

“You’re just dreaming, baby, come on,” Jeongguk mutters quietly into your ear, holding you in place to calm the thrashing. “He’s not here anymore, I’m here. Y/N.”

It subsides after a few minutes, making it the longest you’ve gone on record. He looks into your sleepy, upset eyes as you break awake and brushes the hair out of your face. He tries to smile for you, and maybe you can’t see in the dark.

“I’ll get you some water,” Jeongguk suggests gently. “Hm? Sweet thing. It’s just a dream.” He says this into your hair in a hug, leaving a kiss on your temple as he breaks. “You’re fine.”

“I’m fine,” you breathe uneasily, and he separates to get a glass of water and returns to find you sleeping again. What relief Jeongguk might have is exhaled as he sets the glass on the bedside table, stroking your hair until he moves away with the sudden realisation that this is not a normal exchange.

Before Jeongguk decides to leave again, he makes sure the bed is made and that you are safe; he tucks the duvet in tightly and presses a kiss to your forehead before grabbing his coat by the front door and leaving your apartment, one tucked in the city so far that Jeongguk finds it a hassle to visit.

(3) Travelling long distances just to see them.

For three days now, you have been in Colmar, and Jeongguk is beginning to feel lonely. It had been his idea to send you away, when the heat on his long, long fued with a rival colleague threatened your safety. In return, you got a new apartment that Taehyung had found closer to Jeongguk’s own when your address got leaked, and Colmar could be considered a vacation if you pretended for long enough.

With tensions cool and the coast somewhat clear, Jeongguk picks the skin around his fingernails as a distraction before deciding that enough was enough. He missed you, and missed how you were always around for him when he needed you most. This is what drives him to jumping on a plane in his company’s name, and flying to France.

A small boat passes underneath the bridge you are standing on, and your hands dig into the barrier as you arch to smile at the tourists beneath. One catches a glimpse of your denim skirt and cherry print blouse in the sunshine and extends his hat with a wave, and you wave back. France is nothing like Seoul, and is indeed warm and fruitful and unique. The sun is hot, the sky is clear, and the streets are filled with an atmospheric buzz of friendliness, the smell of coffee and some food you don’t know yet entrapping your senses.

“Madame, je peux vous prendre en photo?”

Hearing the voice, you turn your body left and prepare to face the tourist, but instead you are welcomed with the sight of Jeongguk dressed in black, sunglasses sliding down his nose with a smile. He does hold a camera in his hands, although teasingly.

“Oui,” you quip, posing cutely and Jeongguk takes a photograph anyway, to humour the moment, to print when he gets back to Seoul. You join his laughter as he peers at the photograph and he walks without looking up towards you.

“When did you get here?” you ask him, a round of laughter from the little boat making you turn to stare at them with a giggle.

“Bout an hour ago,” Jeongguk replies, and he shuts off the camera and puts it in his coat pocket. It’s only a small camera, probably cost him a crumb to buy from a vintage store. He meets your eyes with a comfortable smile and rounds in, pressing your lower back against the bridge barrier and circling your arms around you. Carefully, then, he kisses you, tasting the suncream on your skin as his lips wander from yours to the skin around your face.

“Miss me?”

“Terribly,” Jeongguk responds. “I am so bored when you’re not around. You always have something to do, always have something to say.”

You hum in response. “I’m glad I’m of some entertainment for you.”

“Oh, for sure,” agrees Jeongguk. “I don’t think I’ve used my brain so often when I’m away from work as much as I do when I’m with you. Did you know that you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met?”

“Wow,” you exclaim with a smile. “Hire me.”

“Ha!” he remarks, kissing you again and taking your hand in his. He moves, back in the way you came. “Over my dead body.”

(4) Making their favorite meal when they are having a hard day.

“You.”

“Not now, Y/N, I’m working,” Jeongguk replies non committedly. He fists his hair.

“Not up for discussion right now,” you huff, and he has the nerve to glare at you which only makes you uncomfortably angry. “You haven’t eaten in fourty eight hours, and I’m not about to be held responsible for your death when you die of hunger, so get your ass in the kitchen before I dump this food over your stupid head.”

He challenges you. “You’re brave talking to somebody who could destroy your life like that.”

“Do it, I literally have nothing to lose,” you answer. “Please eat something. I made it with love and care.”

Jeongguk relents, sighing at his paperwork but nonetheless moving away from his home office and following you like a child towards the direction of the kitchen. He feels bad, you know he feels bad, and he circles his arms around your body as you walk, stumbling into the space of the kitchen and smelling the familiar aroma of pork rice stew. Alas, he sees the bowl steaming in his spot at the table and his eyes follow you as you hum and set start to washing the dishes.

“Y/N-”

“No words, just eating,” you instruct. “Bone apple tit.”

He grins, then, and takes a seat. “You know that’s not the phrase, right?”

“Tell that to Twitter,” you sigh.

(5) Giving them a kiss before going to work and they are still in bed.

Jeongguk prefers to see you when he doesn’t have work the next day, because leaving when you’re asleep is an asshole move in any dictionary. So, when one of his men phones him at four in the morning and relays the horror that someone’s died on his property, Jeongguk has to fight the demons that almost convince him to hand the job over to somebody who gives a fuck about the intruder stuck on his barbed fence.

He gets up, anyway.

Next to him, in the bed that belongs to you because this is your new apartment, Jeongguk stares down at you and feels a tug in his stomach. Guilt, it follows him everywhere like a ghost.

Before he leaves, he likes to give you a little kiss for the morning, so the tingling sensation reminds you that despite being an asshole and leaving without properly saying goodbye, he still gives several shits about you, and will be back when he can be.

(6) Tucking your head into their neck during a hug.

Jeongguk wants to hang Taehyung for making him remember the reasons why you had to move across the city to a new apartment.

It had, of course, been Jeongguk’s fault, and when the notification came from an exhausted worker in his line of work that the alarm system in your apartment had been triggered for an intruder, Jeongguk remembers all he saw was red.

The front door was forced open, a body indent in the wood and the front porch ransacked and littered with shards of glass and bullets. Inside was no prettier, with mess scattered everywhere and photos smashed on the floors. The carpets were stained with red that Jeongguk prayed was just wine, the glass coffee table in two pieces and a knife covered in red on the floor. Jeongguk and his men, along with the few police officers Jeongguk could actually trust in this god-forsaken hellhole, noticed that the blood belonged to one of the intruders who lay dead on the stairs.

Nobody knows how Jeongguk got through the apartment so fast, and why, without any hesitation, he murdered the remaining intruders without suggesting questioning and torture. That was his go-to when it rarely concerned you. He wanted those stupid enough to even try and go after you to really fucking regret it as he picked off fingernails and made them suffer for hours or days. This time he just killed, and moved onwards, calling your name like a mantra.

Jeongguk could have cried when you emerged, petrified, from inside one of the closets. Upon seeing you, Jeongguk collapsed his gun on the floor and stepped towards you protectively, pulling you in tightly for a hug. Sobbing into his neck, you hugged him tighter, feeling finally safe when his hand held the back of your head, like you were a precious thing that was of value.

You were of the highest value to Jeongguk.

“Fuck you,” Jeongguk barks suddenly, and Taehyung shrugs and exits the office. All he had asked was if he loved you.

(7) Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise.

There might be the assumption that Jeongguk comes home with more bruises than you do. Which is true, technically, and there’s no hesitation from your end in nursing them to a comfortable recovery.

On rare occasion, Jeongguk comes home and finds you exhibiting a new purple blob on your skin. Like today. 

Jeongguk hasn’t seen you in two days, and when he lets himself into your apartment with the key he has glued to him at all times, he follows the silence and light to the bathroom. You sit on the edge of your bathtub, gently rubbing cream on your knee in little circles.

“What happened here?” he asks quickly, and you continue rubbing with your tongue poking out between your lips.

“You’ll laugh, don’t ask,” you mutter.

“Hey, I won’t laugh,” Jeongguk says. He rests his weight against the doorframe, “You open the front door the wrong way again?”

Ha! You laugh humourlessly. “Worse!” You look up at him sadly, “I tripped in the parking lot carrying my groceries. It’s on camera and everything, I want to die.”

Jeongguk pokes the inside of his mouth to resist laughing. “Well, fuck. That’s your leg ruined.”

“I know,” you pout. “Good thing you’re my sugar daddy- wanna pay for cosmetic leg surgery?”

“I like your bruised up legs,” says Jeongguk.

“Me too, but not these ones.”

“Bruh, that’s enough cream on your skin,” Jeongguk exclaims, moving forward to snatch the cream from your hands. “More is not better. Come on, you’re okay.”

“It hurts.”

“Boohoo,” he sighs. You don’t move. “Ugh, whatever. Come’re.”

Jeongguk drops the cream tube onto the sink but it clatters into the bowl. He’ll move it later if he remembers to, and he pretends it’s hard to pick you up off the bathtub and carries you swiftly out of the bathroom and into the living room. Things have barely moved since he last came to visit; the swarms of paper still invade your coffee table and your laptop is on sleep mode by a half-empty coffee cup filled with hot chocolate, because he knows your standing on coffee. Everything is a lot messier now that you’ve decided you want to go back to school, but at least Jeongguk knows it keeps you busy when he’s away.

“Oh,” he says suddenly, as you’re sat down with one leg up around him still. He pokes at a spot on your leg and you squirm, “there’s another one.”

You peer to look, “Oh, yeah, that one’s you.”

“Oh.” He pauses, “Pretty, though.”

You huff like a little baby and he dares you with raised eyebrows. That keeps you silent and Jeongguk moves his body at an angle to the right, sweeping to kiss the bruise better, the bruise that he made a few nights ago with tender love and care.

“All better,” he assures.

“It feels better already.”

“Mm. Magic.”

(8) Buying them something unrequested because it made you think of them.

“So, I was at a school fayre today.”

“Really?” Jeongguk sits with his laptop on his legs, and your legs are tangled around his body like some sort of jungle maze. He rarely works on his bed, not unless the work is sudden and he can’t help it. You’ve just come in, dived on the bed and claimed his waist as something to squeeze your legs around.

“Yep. Like, one of those little craft things where students sell their shit and make money from it. You know, supporting local artists! It’s really cute, if I was good at something I’d have participated.”

Jeongguk thinks of things you’re good at, and there’s a lot. “Aw. There’s always next year.”

“Yeah,” you reason. “Anyway- point is, is that I got you something.”

Jeongguk stills for a second, glancing over his right shoulder to see you, “Me?”

“Yep. You.”

“What did you get?” he asks, and then he’s back to checking blueprints.

You untangle your legs and slide off the bed, retreating to your bag slung across the room by the bedroom door. From here, you take out a small little pin-badge and when you’re sat next to Jeongguk again, you fiddle with it until it catches his attention.

“What’s this?” asks Jeongguk.

“It’s a badge of honour,” you claim, and you slip it into his palms. He fingers the front when he examines it, reading the little words of “Number One Dad” and he stares up at you. “Like it?”

“It’s for me?” he asks again.

“Yeah. You can wear it and like, I don’t know, think of me,” you shrug.

Jeongguk thinks for a moment. Even though it’s stupid, and cliche and a little bit embarrassing, he still thinks it’s funny and thoughtful.

“Want me to wear it to work?” he asks you.

“Oh, absolutely,” you encourage. “I’ll get Taehyung an uncle badge if he gets pissy.”

“Hey, you’re mine and he’s not allowed a relationship to you, no matter what definition,” Jeongguk pouts. “He wants a sugar niece, well...he’ll have to look somewhere else.”

You gape. “Wow. Who thought you had it in you to be so possessive.”

“Please, with a pussy like that of course I’m possessive,” he teases. He’s joking.

“My power,” you sigh anyway, and jump off the bed claiming that you’re hungry. Jeongguk looks at the badge again and pops it in his breast pocket before he loses it and regrets it.

(9) Participating in their hobby even if it doesn’t personally interest you.

Jeongguk’s bored out of his brain.

He has no idea how you can be so fascinated by this stupid game where you’re essentially in debt, but he still sits and watches you tour him around this weird island that is inhabited by ducks and an ugly gorilla villager dressed in pink. And to think that he had a part to play in all of this, because his bank account definitely helped pay for this Nintendo Switch and game.

“Do you like my beach?” you ask him. It’s literally just sand and one coconut tree, and a few shells by the water. Oh, there’s a beach chair on there too, but it makes little difference. “I’m poor, I can’t afford furniture yet.”

“Can’t you just make it?”

“I can, but I’m sick of making axes to collect wood,” you explain with a grudge against the fact that tools now break in this Animal Crossing game. Jeongguk hums like he’s invested, and he tries to be, because he cares about you too much to unintentionally hurt your feelings by displaying his crippling disinterest.

“Oh. Makes sense.”

“Can I show you my hybrid flower garden?”

He sighs. “Yeah, you wanted to show me all of your island, right?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Once you’ve had a tour, I can make you a profile and you can play too. You can live next door to me!”

“Why can’t we share a house?” Jeongguk presses.

“Because I don’t think it works like that, babe,” you confess. “Anyway. Here’s my garden.”

(10) Sitting in comfortable silence while eating a meal.

He’s tired. You’re tired.

The radio plays quietly updating Seoul on the fires that spread across the city today, and Jeongguk smells like smoke and salt. He keeps his head down as he eats his meal, something he brought home with him to make up for the fact that he’s been absent for almost a week now. You have so many things to say and he has so many things he needs to say to make up for everything, but nothing is said tonight.

You know he’s having a hard time, because Jeongguk’s been smoking again. He smoked on the balcony earlier, and once again in the bedroom. There are now ashtrays around your own apartment, and you don’t even smoke. Jeongguk takes a drink of bourbon and swallows it dry.

You look up at him from across the table, not wanting to press the issue when you know it’ll end in an argument, and then sex to make up for it. You’re both too tired to fuck today, too tired to speak. Just being in each other's company is enough for tonight. The only words he says are goodnight and something you don’t catch as you’re drifting off to sleep. Jeongguk’s awake all night, the fires burn until early hours, and the smoke smell is still there in the morning even when he isn’t.

#im sick of myself and my brain making new fics instead of finishing current ones #oh well #jungkook scenario #bts scenario #jeongguk scenario #jungkook x reader #bts #bangtan #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jeongguk x reader #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jjk #bts mafia au #sugar daddy au #wordless

[drilstuck-2]

Drilstuck-2′s Greatest Hits

Drilstuck-2 is turning 2 years old today! Instead of a new Drilstuck edit, in celebration of completing a second year of quality shitposts, we’re going to look back at our most popular posts of all time. We’ll be counting down the 10 images with the most notes in just a moment, but first, some honorable mentions:

Honorable Mention 1: “getting really into the idea of sleeping on all fours like a dog until my spine becomes super fucked up”, 203 notes

Honorable Mention 2: “every time you vermin talk shit of me, i flip my chair backwards at 900mph and bust through sevreal pane glass windows. Not so cool now huh.”, 208 notes

Honorable Mention 3: “Welcome to the citadel of eternal knowledge. Behold, this crystal contains the sum of all human knowledge -- Except Rap and Country”, 216 notes

And now, the top 10!

10: “‘auuahuhuh’ some nerd who wears glasses probably right now”, 233 notes 

9: “watching another childrens tv show where they accidentally made the school bully the best character by far”, 245 notes

8: “the blue thumbtacks on this map indicate high concentrations of high 月(luna) energy, the red ones are all the panera breads ive been banned from”, 284 notes

7: “listen son, if someone calls you a horses ass, you look him in the eye and tell him ‘horses asses are actually incredibly strong, and clean’”, 294 notes

6: “the password is ‘dragons’ go go go”, 297 notes

5: “if you’re ever wondering if im some other guy, the answer is yes, im him, unless it’s bad to be him, then im not him, im a different person”, 310 notes

4: “#Zodiacfacts if yourre a #taurus! get a life”, 324 notes

3: “baffled as to why the powers that be would insist that me, my Hotwif,e & paramour Hubby can not enlist in the marines together as a Squadron”, 349 notes

2: “i fucking love logging in and out of things at incredible speed”, 528 notes

And finally, our number one post, with a whopping 798 notes; the first Drilstuck edit I ever made, back when I was a mere image submitter before I was a mod:

“my followeres, who all hate me, and wish to kick my ass, are nobodys, and they lack the combat training to injure me, because theyre infants”

(If you’re wondering why the image is such low quality compared to the rest, it’s because it went through JPEG conversion twice; once when I screenshotted the original image [these days, I save the GIFs directly to my computer, unless the image is from a Flash; then I use the snip tool, which now saves as a PNG], and again when I saved the resulting edit as a JPEG.)

I hope you enjoyed this retrospective on our most popular posts. Normal Drilstuck edits will resume tomorrow.

#drilstuck #modtalk #vriska serket #dirk strider #rose lalonde #terezi pyrope #jade harley #john egbert #auto-responder #tavros nitram #the signless #the psiioniic #the disciple #karkat vantas #equius zahhak

[dbzebra]

☕️ OH YKNOW WHAT AT THAT NOTE? Talk about that dbs broly movie cuz yknow. That’s a hot topic of the ages that folk feel particularly really strongly about

ooooh ive been waiting for this one. We watched this together on discord so you know my general feelings but Im happy i got this ask lol.

putting this under read more cause it gets long 

The new movie that everyone seems to love and adore.... that I dont. It was a pretty middle of the ground, meh overrated af movie. Not bad, just nothing special. I enjoyed watching it sure, but not something I have an inkling to return to anytime soon if ever. It was just ‘there’ for me. 

First, I’ll say the good stuff. The visuals looked really pretty. Nobody was THAT out of character of the existing cast (save for the ending), which i feel weird to have to even mention it as a positive, but nothing really stood out to me as a defining moment for the little cast we had besides Goku’s “youre not a bad guy, i can tell” or w/e. SUPER SAIYAN 1 IS STILL GOAT. It looked soooo good in this movie i wish we couldve kept it the whole time instead of Blue. But i will say, Blue looked much better in this movie than the series. The darker-blue with the lighter blue eyes was a nice change from instead of the ugly bluish-green the series did. Also the aura looked better. Backgrounds like the ice area and even Planet Vegeta were amazing. Action was great too. little Bulla was cute. The OST i liked (the chanting really grew on me) and Blizzard is a banger i love that song. Oh and the aritisic license they took for the fusion scene with the reds and blues spiraling together was great

Anyway thats all the positives I have lmaoo

This film includes Minus and I already went in depth on why I hate Minus with a passion and why it’s the worst thing to come out of modern Dragon so yeah moving on. But the fact that they devoted screentime to Gokus backstory which ultimately served no purpose to the story of the film and couldve been used more valuably elsewhere. 

I said the action was good, and it was, but it almost too good. At times it was so fast to tell that was going on and really lessened the impact for me. Like when they went into the other dimension or whatever, Gogeta went blue and Broly went LSSJ (idc if the name is different name, itll always be legendary SSJ to me lmao) so ast it was a blink and you miss it moment. like what? those moments shouldve been given even a little bit of focus. 

Next the cast. Goku and Vegeta. AGAIN. snorefest. no Gohan, Piccolo is just there to show them the fusion, Goten and Trunks are still kids and look like babies (and Pilaf gang is with them which is another can of worms), no Android 17, who the series established as one of the top 4 fighters on Earth. 

Do we get any of that? Nope. Just the two Blue and Bluer fucking again and again I. dont. care. anymore. Their dynamic is so boring and played out id rather watch paint dry. It was fun in Buu Saga, hell it was even fun in GT, but DBS constantly forcing this dynamic and Vegeta as the second Main Character needs to fucking STOOOP. Toei and Toriyama has no idea how to further Vegeta’s character because theyre stuck in this infinite loop. 

Vegeta doesnt want to help Goku, he mentions Bulma and/or Trunks, Vegeta blushes, and then he decides to help. THAT HAPPENED LIKE SIX TIMES IN DBS ALONE. It happened in Buu saga as well, but it organically worked cause it was the first time but Bulma and Trunks were ALREADY DEAD/ABSORBED. The look on his face wasnt blushy or pouting for a gag, dude was legit shocked. I rag on Vegeta but he had some legit great moments in the early arcs and later parts of Buu Saga. Anyway im off track. They repeat that same exact character moment OVER AND OVER. cant tell you how many times we had “my Bulma, my bulla, my Trunks, my cabba” in the Tournament of Power alone, and this movie is no different.

DO SOMETHING ELSE FFS

Then we have Broly. ohhhhhh boooy Broly. if you can even call this version of him Broly. His backstory is kinda the same as original movie 8/Broly LSSJ, but its more tragic becuase according to most fans, if youre background is a sobstory, that equals better character. NO. sure it could, but that trope was so worn out so long ago I hate it. “waaa his life was bad, hes not a bad guy” bruh i dont care thats not Broly. just make an OC if you wanna do that. but nope. gotta use the marketing! (More on that later)

People like to criticize Z Broly as “he hates Goku cause he cried” or “all he says is Kakarot” which both are false. On the first point, Broly is a psychopath. He was stabbed as an infant and left to die along with Paragus cause he was too powerful. Then that same day Planet Vegeta explodes practically on top of them. The rest of his life hes basically either being controlled or on a rampage. So that one moment of peace is “ruined” by Goku in a sense cause he subconsciously associates that with Goku. On the second point, Broly was already mentally unstable and then nearly dying, getting caught in the explosion of a SECOND PLANET and then being frozen for seven years will fuck anyone up in the head. Z Broly in the original movie was sadistic af and he had a lot of memorable moments and lines that werent just screaming Kakarot, that Second Coming made him infamous for. 

New Broly is legit a man-baby. People talk about old Broly having no personality and this new version having a deep character, but I dont see it. He acts like a child when hes with Cheelai and Lemo and then once the fighting starts he doesnt say a single word but yell. SOUND FAMILIAR?? But he gets a pass because the canon police says so right??? fuck off. New Broly is boring. Im tired of trying to make the Saiyans into ThEyRe noT aLl BaD sEe The SaIyAns ArE AcTuAlLy GoOd!!!11111 ugh i hate it. keep Broly a psycho and keep Bardock a prick. even that guy that went with Buzz Lightyear I mean Paragus was a sweet guy who couldnt fight because of course he was. At least they kept Paragus being a prick when he killed him. Tho his death was lame. 

Cheelai’s overrated af. Shes just green bulma lmao. and the fact that they included the “big soft-spoken man gets mad and saves girl from drunk lowkey-rapey pervert” trope just had me roll my eyes like dude stop. Lemo was fine? Nothing against him but didnt do much for me either.

FUCK. FREEZA. i went over this one before too so ill be quick with this as well. I hate hate hate the fact that they brought him back not once but twice in DBS, but even worse that they left him alive to do whatever tf he wants including going back to mass murdering people and expanding his army again. Goku and Vegeta just LET HIM LIVE. Why tf did they go all out and attack Broly, but not Freeza? when one of them was fighting Broly th other easily could have taken out freeza but nope we need a token villain like Joker or Skeletor cause unoriginality. Even at the end, Gogeta does a full power blast to wipe Broly tf out, but when Freeza tries to kill Cheelai and Lemo (two innocent people, feelings on them aside) Gogeta basically just shakes his finger like nuh-uh! dont do that! and then he flies off. Just let this mfer die already im sick of seeing his ass. FUCK I HATE IT SO MUCH GFGFFGFGFGF

Lastly this movie is legitimately Dragon Ball Fanservice The Movie. 

Gogeta vs Broly, which the games have been doing since fucking 2003, is the main point of this film. Theres no originality whatsoever. Minus is discount Father of Goku special, and then its a mashup of Broly LSSJ and Fusion Reborn (both of which are superior movies imo). This creatively banrkupt shell of a franchise cant think of anything new, so they legit remake an old movie, through in fusions because that sells like hotcakes, and make the animation pretty because thats all that matters.

Imo, this movie, like 99% of Super, is all flash and flair but no substance at all. At least this movie looked nice. unlike the show. 

ok thats all i got lmao

#this got really long lol #longer than i intended #but thought of more stuff as i went #asks #cozymochi

[clown-bait]

Monster Family (Monster Roommate AU) CH9

HIATUS OVER! Im back! I had to take some time off in the fall because holy hell life got crazy! But Im back and Im determined to finish this and get the story through IT ch2 idk how long that will take me but now that Im financially stable I finallly have time to write!

CH 9 Hospital

When you're on a diet the last place you want to go to is an ice cream shop where temptation surrounds you in every corner. For Pennywise staring at a room full of screaming crying infants was like standing in an ice cream shop with a growling stomach and the world's biggest sweet tooth. 

They were so helpless and plump he could just pluck one up and swallow it whole. No one would even notice! They're all just right there! The Adam's apple of his human form bobbed up and down as he gulped and pressed a hand to the window. 

"First time dad?" A man was speaking to him he sounded disgustingly confident and joyful.

"Yes." He answered distantly.

"Aw congrats son! My wife just popped out number 3 right there! Cute little tyke, those legs look like a future football star's legs I'm tellin ya! Nice and plump gonna be a strong runner!"

Robert Grey wiped his lips with his sleeve as he stared at the squirming drumsticks. 

"So newbie which one of the little rascals here is yours? Wait don't tell me, the one with the fish eyes HA!"

Robert held back a snarl. "My offspring have not arrived yet." He said almost ominously 

"Ah hell don't be nervous pal! You'll be fine!"

"I do not get nervous." Robert did growl this time. He wanted to leave not only because this human stunk of pork rinds and grass cuttings but more so that he was stressed being in this place. There was a lot of fear in these halls possibly some of his own. His mate's seizing body was still fresh in his mind and the blood from her head was still under some of his fingernails. She will definitely kill him when she wakes up.

"Mister um Grey? Your wife is…..well she's stable will you please come with me?" A nurse called to him. Finally an excuse to leave. 

"Go get em champ!" He heard the human male call out to him. The eldritch decided that none of his offspring will be participating in this game of footballs just to avoid ever encountering this loud individual again. 

"We don't know how to tell you this sir but your wife is….well she has no pulse... Medically speaking she should be dead.." Robert stood unamused at the door of a hospital room he really did not want to be in. "I'm aware of that." He growled at the confused nurse. He should probably make her not see the fact that leech was a card-carrying member of the living dead but to be honest he wasn't focusing too much on what people saw and did not see. Most of his attention was on the strange male who insisted they came here instead of home. He didn't like the smell of him and did not like that his mind was unreadable. All he knew about him was that he knew his mate and had more than just a guitar in that case he carried. 

When the man found them it was Robert Grey's face he wore while he stood in the middle of the road. The creature frantically licked his seizing mate whos swollen stomach flashed frantically with muffled light. No matter what he did, he couldn't get it to stop and his silver desperate eyes reflected back in the approaching headlights. The following conversation was a blur,  the man apparently had met them the night before on that wonderfully brilliant bender he went on. Something about getting his mate to the hospital something about a friend who worked there….

"Sir? Are you all alright? " The nurse asked and brought the eldritch out of his thoughts. He let out a very inhuman snarl and pushed past the woman "sir! We need to discuss this more there's the matter of an ultrasound and-" Pennywise slammed the door behind him. He glanced up at the scene before him; another nurse fussed over the unconscious vampire smearing ointment on her stomach as she lay as still as a fresh corpse. He did not like the way they touched her nor the smell of the bandages on her head.

"Oh you must be the father? We're about to take a look at the baby." She said cheerfully. Pennywise's scowl did not change. 

The instrument pressed into his brood and a fang twitched over his lip. How dare this filth touch his mate and his eggs. He moved to protect but stopped when little lights began to dimly glow beneath the surface of Leech's pale skin. The nurse was mumbling something about seeing babies then she froze jaw going slack at the sight of the monitor. The infant deadlights within his vampire all shined through the screen, paralyzing their victim while rotating hypnotically just like their parent lights. The eldritch finally softened his gaze at the sight of his offspring. Pride stole his breath away from him and his scowl slowly warmed into a smile. Not even born and already making kills. He understood it all now, pride in something other than himself. Was he crying? Can he cry? Pennywise was lost in pondering these new emotions not even registering that his mate had come to and had bitten into the brain scrambled nurse. Leech hissed as she sucked the life out of the woman reflecting soulless eyes at the dumbstruck cosmic horror who was still completely mesmerized by all the strange new parental feelings it was trying to process. He didn't move till the empty body fell to the floor snapping back to reality at the sound of the heavy thud. Leech returned to a reclined position resting her palm on her churning stomach feeling the happy buzzing beneath her skin coughing and wheezing as if the blood she just consumed was her first breath of life.

A tissue dragged over her lips and one of her eyes slowly opened to watch Robert hover over her. "You're in trouble." She muttered.

"When am I not." He smirked and licked the tissue before swiping blood from her cheek particularly hard. 

"You didn't even propose you dick!" Leech growled and gingerly sat up. 

"Was tired of being bothered." Her mate tossed the tissue aside and instead switched to running his thumb over her cool lips. He licked his fingers clean with a satisfied groan. 

"That's not really the point of getting married Pen." Leech replied quietly and the mood changed fast. Robert's hands pulled away from her and a coldness filled the air. The eldritch stepped back towards the door and Leech could see the hurt on his features even if he hid it.

"..........You do not want this?" was he sad? Oh great drama queen is upset. 

"Hey I'm having your fucking babies egg head!" She blurted out trying to get out of the bed but struggled from her size. Her mate was already getting ready to walk out. "Pen don't fucking jump to conclusions. I don't want this in the way you did it! That's what has me upset!" She felt fear in her throat followed by the pain of her own children feeding off her. Tears spilled from her eyes as ichor bubbled from her mouth. "I want it to fucking mean something to you, like it does for me!" She gurgled weakly spilling black goo from her lips to the floor. Her mate did finally stop trying to leave much to her relief. She coughed and gripped the bed tightly. "I didn't even get a bachelorette party…." She could feel herself panting and she shifted back to a reclining position. "Hey, I still love you, you big drama queen. Don't ever doubt that. Can we just discuss this post offspring? I got a lot on my plate right now."  After an uncomfortable silence he turned to her with wild golden eyes. "They look like me." Was all he said. 

"They eat like you too." Leech sighed wiping her own blood from her lips. Robert's lip twitched upward as Leech shut her eyes in relief "I hate saying this but-"

"You need my help."

"You're the one who did this to me anyway." The vampire groaned and shut her eyes. "I feel so gross and bloated." She felt a hand reach under her knees and another slither around her back lifting her with ease. "Who's being the drama queen now?" He finally grinned 

"Fuck you." 

"You've already done that darling." Robert smirked with pride kissing her bandaged head. Leech traced the nail of her thumb over his cheekbone and her eldritch leaned into the touch.

"Just mouth stuff then." She smiled and kissed his soft wet lips.  

"What the hell are you doing?! Put her back idiot!" The pair froze at the shout as two men burst into the room. Pennywise's eye cracked open and rolled to the side, eyeing them both with venom. "Oh christ, they killed Bridget." The doctor groaned. Herbert West lifted the dead woman's wrist and dropped it "I suppose I can use the body for research. This will be such a mess to clean, you people are nightmares to work with I hope you know that." 

"I thought you said you didn't work with the living doc." Leech grumbled as her mate eased her back down and stood guard in front of her bedside.

"Your buddy here called in a favor."

"The guy from the bar?"

"Call me Duke darlin, Duke Rivers! Found the two of you in the middle of the road, gave you a lift." 

"I don't remember anything after passing out." Leech grumbled gingerly touching her head. 

"Shoulda seen that old bug of yours! What a worried wreck! Didn't I tell ya he'd come around?" The older man laughed then placed his coat on his shoulder. "I'll bet letting the doc take it from here, consider it my one good deed of the day. Come see my show sometime kid." 

"I- yeah, I think I will thanks." The man studied her as Robert shot a venom-filled glare in his direction then nodded at them as he slipped out. Leech barely had time to think before being roughly grabbed by the chin.

"You seem to be healing slow your um..species.. is known for regenerating yes?" West turned her head and pulled back her dressings.

"You think I'm sick?" Leech sat up taking her mate's hand.

"Do keep in mind I specialize in humans this is completely uncharted territory for me." 

"Well I'm human-shaped….most of the time…"

"I'll need you to go over weaknesses and allergies of both you and your...significant other. Something could have weakened you or the babies." 

"I have none!" Robert butted in with pride. 

"Yeah yeah lucky you." Leech grumbled. 

"And I believe I told you to wait till sunset but ohhhh no someone just haaad to go swimming."

"Oh shut up you were just as into it as I was."

"So you've been weakened by sunbathing despite knowing you're allergic to sunlight. And here I thought legendary monsters would be intelligent." The doctor sighed and turned the vampires head who hissed in annoyance. "Figures you are more vulnerable in your condition. By the rate your head injury is healing it'll take days instead of hours till you're on your feet. Hope the tan was worth it."

"Your bedside manner needs work doc." Leech muttered as he roughly redressed her wound 

"I work with the dead not the living"

"It shows." Robert nearly hissed not liking the way this other touched his mate so carelessly.

Leech rolled her eyes at him "So I don't know about you boys but i need another drink. Hook a girl up doc? Got any A negative? That shits rare!" 

"I would like a baby." The cosmic horror said cooly

"You already have babies Pe-.......wait…..no. oh no you are not eating a baby!"

"Peachy they are literally right there!" The eldritch's fangs split his face as he glared out the small window. His company looked mortified "Just one, one small soft and squealing."

"You are not eating a fucking baby!" Leech growled.

"I deserve one!" The disguised clown snarled glaring at his mate with vermilion eyes and a broken human face. 

"You already got my ass virginity today!" Leech snarled back rolling her eyes at the dramatic display.

"Things I did not need to hear at 5 am….. look I'm not stealing you rare blood types and infants for a grotesque gourmet feast. I will supply you with what you will need and then ask you people to get out of my hospital." The doctor grumbled and began to fuss with the corpse on the floor. 

 "Fine then Pen take me home, I'd rather rot in my own bed anyway." 

"I told you a couple days rest. You will live, are all of you this dramatic?"

"Only the pretty ones doc!" The vampire flashed a parting grin as they left the doctor to clean their mess. He was grumbling something about never working with the undead again. 

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

"You should be resting." Her monster’s voice hissed from under her bed. Leech shot a disinterested glance to the floor then back to her window. She felt a puff of hot moist air uncontrollably close to her face then heard a maw of teeth open "YoU sHOulD bE REsTinG." The eldritch gurgled.

"You realize the scary faces are gonna keep me awake right?" Leech cooly said and heard a set of jaws snap shut with enough force to break bones in two. 

"Things other than scary faces are keeping you up. I smell it on you." Her clown’s voice warbled out and Leech subconsciously moved for him to join her. 

"You ever look at someone you've never met and just feel like you know them?"

"No. But I am amused by this continue." The massive horror smiled through his words as he bullishly snuggled his way into his mate’s bed.

"I think I know the guy who helped us. I don't know why though." 

"Hmm too much stressing for you Mrs. Wise. But I will help put your mind at ease when you feel better. Promise promise." Leech felt soft nuzzles against her head as her mate ran his cheekbones over her skull like a cat. 

"I thought we agreed not to talk about that." Leech grumbled and turned to face her apparent "husband". "And its Grey. I like Grey on the end of my name."

"Someone's thought of this before!" Pennywise's smile widened. "Daydreaming about your clown my dear?"

"Don't embarrass me." Leech grunted and buried her face in his ruff. If she was alive, her face would be hot. "I'm not considering this official until we have a real ceremony and I get a ring. Call me old fashioned but your girl has standards."

"Hmm as you wish then Mrs. Grey!" He chuckled darkly smirking at her darkened cheeks and wide-eyed expression. 

"You fucking jackass." She muttered as her clown cackled grabbing her tight and tickling her skin. So much for bed rest.

#pennywise #pennywise fanfiction #pennywise x oc #it fanfiction #monster roommate au

[domesticangel]

Black cat, coffin, enchanted, potion and vampire?

im gonna warn y'all now but i really got to rambling for some reason SO.....

black cat: favorite urban legend?

I'm biased bc of where i grew up but probably the black sisters!!! (as in like, the actual real women, virginia wardlaw, caroline martin, and mary snead. not the ones from fuckin harry potter ajfhjhfjds). the town i was born and raised in is actually where everything to do with them went down and for most of my life ive lived within walking distance of the place they allegedly haunt; we all call it the old middle school to differentiate it from the new one built not far from it but it stands on the grounds of the academy the black sisters taught at in the early 1900s. i drove past it almost every day this summer bc its only a little ways down the road from my moms house!! basically everyone who grew up there heard bunches of stories about them and apparently a lot of people have experienced tons of paranormal shit in the old school that they attribute to the black sisters haunting the place. i would figure a lot of its embellished bc while what they did was real (they basically murdered a bunch of people for insurance money) the urban legend part of it is all the stuff that people speculated that they did. a popular belief in town is that they murdered and sacrificed infants and kept their skulls hidden away in the ground the old middle school is on now and other satanic shit, but idk about all that. one of them is still buried in a cemetery in town but iirc the marker was removed bc people were vandalizing it but someone told me at one point it said something creepy like “she's not dead.” anyway even though it freaked me out as a kid hearing all the different stories about them over the years always fascinated me lol

coffin: have you ever had a paranormal experience?

well. its not terribly interesting but whenever i get asked this the only thing that comes to mind was something that happened when i was maybe 10 or 11 that may very well have not been paranormal at all, but... that was when we lived out in the boonies so we always had a couple indoor/outdoor cats for mousing. one had recently died bc my mom accidentally ran her over in the driveway, she was a black cat that my brother had named shadow (he was really good at names; one of our cats, who had whiskers, as she was a cat, was named whiskers. one had stripes like a tiger. his name was tiger. we got a long haired cat after that. fluffy, she was christened. etc.). at this point we had already gotten another cat to replace her (the aforementioned fluffy) bc tiger and whiskers were kind of older and lazy and not very good at their only job. so anyway I'm in my parents bedroom on their bed watching tv and to the left of their bed was their bathroom. i suddenly hear a thumping sound coming from the bathroom and i look over to see that the bathroom door is cracked open maybe like 3-5 inches, and theres some kind of like....small black mass jumping up at the door from the inside of the bathroom, and i remember immediately thinking that it looked how a cat does when its jumping up to catch or smack at something, and initially I'm like whatever, its probably one of our cats. but then i remember shadow is dead, i don't know where fluffy is, and tiger and whiskers were outdoor only cats. and fluffy was a tortoiseshell, so while she was on the darker side she wasn't black, and whatever i saw was BLACK black, like, solid black. in my memory at least. so i go bolting out of the room to tell my mom i saw something, and ofc she just thinks i was imagining things bc i was just a kid and she's a hardcore skeptic, etc. and it was when i ran out into the main part of the house that i saw fluffy sitting outside on the porch meowing at the sliding glass door, so i can only assume at the time that it wasn't her that i saw. nowadays I'm sure theres a million ways to explain it away but like i say i still remember it very vividly to this day so. who's to say!

other than that theres been a time or two where ive taken photos of old buildings that came out with those weird orb things, but idk if I'm entirely convinced that it wasn't just dust on the lens, bugs that flash picked up, etc. ive never really been sure if i believe in paranormal stuff one way or the other bc it seems equal parts hard to prove and hard to disprove so? idk. but i avoid it just in case fkghdsjighdj

enchanted: what fictional character scares you most?

this may seem kinda weird but did y'all ever read those scary stories to tell in the dark books? the fucking illustrations in those books freak me out to THIS DAY, at 22 goddamn years old i still refuse to look at them dfghdjfg anyway there was ONE story in there that always really scared me. you bet your ass I'm not gonna look up which one it was for fear of having to see the pictures but any time i get that weird feeling on the back of my neck like somethings following me up the stairs or out of a dark room its the thing in that story that i still picture. oh shit i think maybe the story was actually called the thing!!!!! or something like that??? but yeah. That Guy

potion: favorite horror movie?

hmmmm i don't watch a lot anymore tbh in middle school me and my friends’ favorite thing to do during sleepovers was rent scary movies from blockbuster and watch them at night but a lot of them kinda sucked even though they were fun to watch at the time gfshldljghdij i guess in terms of like. being well made and interesting and genuinely scaring me....the new it movie maybe? it did its job so well that i literally never wanna see it again so thats about as best i can rate them lmao

vampire: are you afraid of death?

well. i kinda like living. so. i reckon! I'm not sure what happens after and I'm pretty sure the not knowing is why most people fear it, so there you have it!

#apparently i am feeling talkative tonight #txt

[ruiyuki]

Apparently Bakugou’s parents work in the fashion industry and Horikoshi really likes to draw the cast in suits and dresses,,,, SO MAY I PRESENT TO YOU: “HOW CLASS 1-A GOT ROPED INTO MODELLING FOR THE BAKUPARENTS” HEADCANONS

I mean I think its universally accepted that Bakugou models for his parent’s clothes by now right?

Bakugou never mentions that fact but Deku knew from meeting his mom a couple times during childhood and overhearing stuff like: “KATSUKI DONT YOU DARE RUIN THOSE SHOES YOURE MODELLING TODAY” “FIIINEEE”

Anyway imagine one day Bakugou’s mom visits the dorms bc idk Bakugou forgot to bring back his new stock of hot sauce when he went home for the weekend and she took the liberty to deliver it or something.

She shows up at the dorm doors unexpectedly and is greeted by the girls.

“Hi Im looking for my idiot son. Is he in right now?” “5 ft 7, blond and always screaming?” “Thats the one.”

He’s not in. He went out with the Bakusquad to the gym.

Momo offers Bakumom tea while they wait in the lounge and the girls engage in pleasant conversation with her.

Hagakure and Mina are surprised that Bakugou’s mom is so pretty. Jirou and Tsuyu are amazed at the uncanny resemblance between mother and son. They all compliment her to no end.

Bakumom instantly falls in love with the girls bc oh my who knew Katsuki had such wonderful and adorable classmates??

Her fashion senses tingle when she talks to Momo bc Momo is honestly just gorgeous and would be a perfect model for their evening line???

Midway through conversation Bakumom isnt able to contain her excitment any longer so she pulls out her phone to facetime her husband.

“Masaru Im at UA meeting Katsuki’s classmates and LOOK! *turns camera to Momo* WOULDNT SHE BE PERFECT TO MODEL THE CURRENT PROJECT?!”(The girls: EHHHHhhhhhhh??????)

Bakudad is used to stuff like this since she’s usually the one picking out the models. And while he agrees with her, he tries to convince her it’s not a good idea to have a UA student model for them.

That is, until Bakumom turns the camera to Ochako and he’s like “STOP RIGHT THERE”

Ochako has,,, the cutest round face,,,,, that is just what he wanted for the design he’s been working on for the last 5 years??? omg theres no way he’ll let this opportunity pass

“PLEASE MODEL FOR ME”

Coincidentally, Deku, Todoroki and Iida walk in just then and the girls are still in confusion. After asking whats going on, Deku casually explains that Bakugou’s parents are fashion designers. #“Oohhhhhh” moment.

Meanwhile, Bakumomーin all her excitmentーeyes Todoroki bc she remembers him from fighting her son at the sports festival and now she gets a chance to take a good look at him. In her genuine professional opinion, she thinks he does have a pretty handsome face and oh he would definitely look good in evening wear too.

Again coincidentally timed, the Bakusquad returns along with All Might (who was idk on his way there to just check-in or something).

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE OLD HAG?” “IS THAT HOW YOU TALK TO ME IN FRONT OF YOUR CLASSMATES KATSUKI?”

After catching everyone up to speed (along with a few “wow what the hell Bakugou your mom is so cool/pretty why did you turn out like this lol”), Bakumom asks All Might if she could bring the kids into the studio bc she!! is!! having!! a!! field!! day!! Not only is there Momo, Ochako, and Todoroki but Kirishima?? Kaminari?? They would be perfect for their street style collection!! Shouji and Ojirou?? Perfect for their mutant quirks tailored line!!

All Might has no clue what to say. The kids seem excited and want to see what a fashion studio looks like. And I mean, UA has always been unconventional but is this even allowed?? Better clear it with Nedzu.

They clear it with Nedzu. It was a lengthy discussion bc theyre still students, there shouldnt be so much publicity esp still with that traitor and villians still around, etc etc. But Nedzu finally agrees on the condition that whatever modelling the kids do has got to promote the school too, and they get the final say on adverts.

CUE FIELD TRIP TO BAKUGOU FASHION STUDIOS

Aizawa and All Might chaperone the class to Bakugou’s parents’ studio.

Bakugou, ofc, didnt want to go bc he knows its gonna be fucking embarrassing, but his mom dragged him anyway.

The first thing they see when they enter is just a wall full of... Bakugou??

Its various photos of him modelling all of Bakudad’s designs since he was an infant.

“OH MY GOD IS THAT BAKUGOU??” “Who wouldve guessed you would be a model… then again, it makes sense now” “YOU WERE SO CUTE” “YEAH MAN WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS NOW LOL” “SHUT UP YOU FUCKING DIMWIT”

Apparently that wall is Bakudad’s personal collection of photos that were never published so no one ever knew.

Anyway, the whole class gets a tour of the studio, a little explanation of how fashion design works, yadda yadda yadda...

And then they get to the photo shooting set.

Aaand thats where Bakumom has her fun.

She fits them all in her aforementioned clothing lines. Various seasonal collections, mutant quirks tailored wear, evening wear, you name it. Everyone (yes, including All Might and Aizawa who couldnt escape Bakumom’s grasp) does at least half a dozen clothing changes that day as the tailoring team magically makes every item of fabric fit.

Bakumom goes into “director-mode” setting everyone up for shots, giving directions to how to pose, expression they should be making, etc etc. There is a lot of... screaming... as expected of Bakugou’s mother.

There are shots of the whole class (mostly of evening wear from the anniversary spreads), shots of just a few of them (street style!! ch91 colour spread; grunge aesthetic!! drama cd cover), single shots, and shots of pairs.

Bakudad specifically requested photos of Ochako and Katsuki together... Bakumom seemed to really like Todoroki with Momo.. (Mineta whines about this jealously and Bakumom says something about them being “aesthetically pleasing”)

“Man how did you do this all your life Bakugou? Its tiring” “You literally just stand there. I’d rather be training”

tbh no one in Class 1-A really remembers how many photos of them were taken that day.... there were too many camera flashes to blind them.

> prev hcs here

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #katsuki bakugou #midoriya izuku #uraraka ochako #todoroki shouto #momo yaoyorozu #bakugou mitsuki #bakugou masaru #kirishima eijirou #kaminari denki #class 1-a #headcanons #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #too lazy to tag everything else #this got too long #but not long enough to split in two #so i put a read more #do you see my ships seeping through #lmao maybe a bit

[autobotclique]

TFP characters as dril tweets

Optimus Prime: i regret being tasked the emotional burden of maintaining the final bastion of morality and Nice manners in this endless ocean of human SHIT

Ratchet: the wise man bowed his head solemnly and spoke: “theres actually zero difference between good & bad things. you imbecile. you fucking moron”

Bumblebee: 1st grade: Mastered. 2nd Grade: MAstered. 3rd Grade: Mastered. 4th Grade: Heres when they start trying to trick you 5th Grade:This ones hard

Arcee: strongest blade in the world, howeve,r it is so fragile as to shatter when handled by any force other than the delicate touch of a lesbian

Bulkhead: i fear my tropical fish no longer respect me after i accidetnally stumbled backwards & smushed my ass hole right up against their $3000 tank

Wheeljack: IF THE ZOO BANS ME FOR HOLLERING AT THE ANIMALS I WILL FACE GOD AND WALK BACKWARDS INTO HELL

Cliffjumper: priest plugs my coffin in at the end of the funeral. “MILLERTIME” lights up in neon on the side, desecrating my corpse & sending me to hell

Smokescreen: the doctor reveals my blood pressure is 420 over 69. I hoot and holler out of the building while a bunch of losers try to tell me that im dying

Ultra Magnus: Blocked. Blocked. Blocked. You are all blocked. None of you are free of sin

Jack: yes trolls. unlike you, i have a brain. its called a " JOB "

Raf: downloading shit loads of counterfeit papa john coupons through unsecure wifi net works

Miko: DAD: i just heard on t he news that teens are taking the "Kick My Ass" challenge. please dont do this ME: you have no power over me, old man

Jane Darby: startling how im the only person on this site with an actual human soul. you would think the other guys on here have one, but no

Fowler: i enjoy a bit of "Humour" every now and then, but people seriously need to stop tying me to a chair and injecting me with unknown substances

Megatron: my followeres, who all hate me, and wish to kick my ass, are nobodys, and they lack the combat training to injure me, because theyre infant

Stascream: I just looked up the stats and the number of meaningful relationships ive formed is less than the number of public restrooms ive Screamed in

Soundwave: im the guy who airbrushes the nipples out of pro wrestling ads. i make $85k a year. but i have a secret *removs shades to reveal nipple eyes

Knockout: I put years of hard work into getting my torture degree at torture college & now everyones like “oh tortures bad” , “its ineffective” fuck off

Breakdown: my grave is just a huge tv displaying videos of me doing parkour in hell and it makes all the other graves look like shit

Arachnid: i will tell you this right now: I'm from hell. Im highly fucked up. Ive been known to say rude things and watch the carnage unfold brutally

Shockwave: i have absolutely zero interest in friendship, i have absolutely zero interest in jokes, i am simply here to collect data and earn respect.

Predaking: please bring your rats to the new castle flea market so I may bless/heal them. ill be sitting in a lawn chair wearing a stolen priest outfit

Dreadwing: (the trolls watch in astonishment as the milk shake they threw at me flawlessly bounces off of my head wwith minimal pain and mess involved)

Unicron: *all horrors begotten by the desire of man flash before eyes* woha! this is awkward *the cries of millions suffering echo* Damn That's Weird

#tfp #dril #maccadam #optimus prime #megatron #starscream #bumblebee #ratchet #arcee #bulkhead #wheeljack #smokescreen #ultra magnus #jack darby #miko nakadai #rafael esquivel #agent fowler #soundwave #shockwave #knockout #breakdown #arachnid #predaking #dreadwing #unicron #jane darby #look i talk #i have.....no idea why i made htis #im so tired #long post

[outpostzeta]

Segment from: Battle of Midnight - Starfleet Academy

Commander T'Sala

By the time they were passing the ENG lecture hall, Mrs Lisa Whitley had had -enough-. "Michael Murphy Whitley you are going to get on that shuttle and come -home-. You can NOT die out here in this gawd blessed MESS!! So help me if I have to---- LOOK OUT!" There was an odd sound and a flash of light, this exploded into a din that entirely took over Whit's senses. He felt hands on his back push him foward before he ate pavement and any light at all went black for a moment. When he came too there is only a hand poking out of the rubble behind him with a ring he's known since he was in infant on her left finger.

LTJG Michael Whitley

Groaning quietly as he raises a hand to his head, Whit would blink a couple times, trying to get those damn black spots to fuck off. Somewhat righting himself, Whit would look around, blinking more as the sudden shift screws his vision over more. His eyes would narrow in on the hand and, by extension, the ring. Frozen for an instant, the engineer would suddenly jump up, running over and digging futilely at the pile of concrete and metal. "Nononono mom mom mom MOM!!!" A few minutes later, Whitley would still be there, digging with bloody hands through the seemingly insurmountable wall of rock.

Commander T'Sala

When he finally gets the last part of concrete off her, it pulls a wicked metal chunk out of her chest and balances precariously aside. Mom spazums and reaches up to him, blood pouring from her mouth and chest. "W--hit?" her eyes are fulls of tears. Around them things are abuzz as others are pulled from the rubble by the emergancy teams calling for them to move since the rest of the building was about to go.

LTJG Michael Whitley

"M-mom! C'mon, get up, we've..." He'd stop then, analyzing the wound in her chest. "Shit, puncture, wider than an inch... Through..." The man would sit there mumbling to himself, trying desperately to remember the brief amount of medical training he got. He'd try to wave over an emergency team, but they'd all be too distracted by the other casualties in the area.

Commander T'Sala

They were yelling at people to clear the area now and dust was shifting from the shaky building overhead. Lisa pulls her wedding band and engagement ring off and presses it into his hand, closing it around them before placing a hand gently on the side of his face. "L-live." she says with a stream of blood from her lips and her hand falls away... as the light fades from her eyes, forever locked on his face. Letting that be the last thing she sees before passing on.(

LTJG Michael Whitley

Whit would sit there for a long moment, shock written plainly across his face as he stares between the rings and the face of his mother. "M-mom? Mom... No... Please..." Whit would crawl forward a bit, cradling his mother's body. Uncaring of blood or dirt, the cadet would remain there, either unaware or uncaring of the evac crews in the area.

Commander T'Sala

Lisa was still pinned by the legs under something unbelievably large. Her body doesn't even move much. But the shift does loosen the piece he had somehow moved a moment ago. It starts to lean towards him. "Whit!" A voice cuts through the din and catches the shifting piece. It is one normally calm and cool, but sometimes chiding. "Whit... we -have- to move. The building is about to fall." T'Sala kneels down and grabs his face. "Whit. Stand up or her death will be in vein if you are killed too."

LTJG Michael Whitley

Blank eyes would stare back at the instructor, uncomprehending. "Professor... My mom. She needs help." The man would seem either unable to process, or flat out refusing to admit that his mother was, in fact, dead in his arms.

Commander T'Sala

T'Sala checks up as more pieces of the building start to fall, they had 90 seconds at best. Still, for his sanity she checks the pulse. "She is gone, Whit. We -need- to -more-." she urges, pulling his arm in one last warning to move on is own.

LTJG Michael Whitley

"I... But... My mom...." The man would look down at her again, checking her pulse for his own sake. "Mom..." Then the man's eyes would glaze over, and he'd slump forward, unconscious.

Commander T'Sala (Laura)

Whit feels himself caught before everything goes dark. --- Hours later --- He had overhead things in his fitful sleep of the next couple of hours. “You! Commander! You’ve coordinated defense through coms before, correct?” he said, pointing at T’Sala’s nose. “You you can handle several coms and instructions at once and keep the straight?” “Yes, Sir.” She nodded as he thrust an earpiece at her. “Go into my office and be my eyes and ears from the Acadmey to Command and Spacedock. I will tell you how to respond if necessary. I will be here coordinating the grounds and everything else. Just keep us all in contact.”

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

Whitley was set down in the office on one of the benches. A little girl crawled into his lap and hugged him. "He has blood on him. He is sad...."

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

<C> "This is Jupiter station they're warping in some kind of massive infrastructure.” Even from the blurry image, it had a very distinctive appearance.

“Admiral… we may have a situation.” she reported calmly. “You should see this with your own eyes.”

“Commander?” Kyle asked in such a tone that it caused her to turn, seeing every pair of eyes on either her or the screen. “Commander… please, be honest with us. Is that a planet killer?”

T’Sala paused for only a moment before just offering a single nod and a single phrase. “Most likely.”

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

What eventually woke him was not the din.... but as a dead quiet started to fall over the Acadmey and the sun started peeking up over the bay, cutting through the mist. He was indeed in an office with a little girl sleeping next to him. T'Sala moved over beside him and just... sat. As he stirred she looks over.

LTJG Michael Whitley

Letting out another low groan as he opens his eyes, shutting them immediately after because of the light, Whit would fumble his way back to consciousness. Actually opening his eyes and getting a proper look at his surroundings, Whit would fix his gaze on T'Sala. "Professor? Wha... What happened?" Whit would then freeze still as his memories start flooding back. "The call... The hallway... My mom... MY MOM!" Whit would snap his gaze back to the commander. "Professor, my mom, she... What happened?"

Commander T'Sala

"I am not a Pro--" T'Sala stops short as he powers on and catches herself being pedantic and the worst time. She turns to face him on the bench and just reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder. In the silent gaze and the blood on his uniform it is apparent that he recalled everything correctly. His pockets feel odd from the wedding rings against his thigh.

LTJG Michael Whitley

Letting out something that sounded like a strangled cough, Whit would close his eyes for a long moment, hand reaching into his pocket for the rings. Running a thumb over them, Whit would remain silent for a minute or two. "My family doesn't know, do they?"

Commander T'Sala

T'Sala stands and grabs a cloth and some water for him to clean the blood off and sits back down. "No, the battle only just finished. Coms are still emergency only."

LTJG Michael Whitley

"Right, communication lockdown... Standard protocol for large scale. Non-essential systems default to low-power settings, if not full deactivation on a case by case basis." Whit would continue mumbling about standards and protocol for a moment, before looking up again. "When's the lockdown supposed to end?"

Commander T'Sala

"We lost a 10th of our fleet. It will be a long while, Whit." T'Sala answers gently.

LTJG Michael Whitley

"Right... Allocation of force and all that..." Whit would trail off, obviously searching for something, anything else to focus on.

Commander T'Sala

T'Sala is quiet for a long moment and looks around before eyes falling on his state. "We need to get you cleaned up and changed." She stands before gently ordering. "Unzip your jacket."

LTJG Michael Whitley

Complying without a word, Whit would remove his jacket, throwing it across a chair. Taking care to follow regulation, the cadet would unclip his comm-badge from his jacket, placing it on his undershirt instead.

Commander T'Sala

T'Sala gestures for him to look at the painting on the wall. "Im going to clean the cuts on your face. I'm worried about you going into shock; can you name me some of the Starfleet Oaths that we take?" she asks, starting with cleaning gauze to get the blood off of his face, which is her main concern.

LTJG Michael Whitley

Almost mechanically, Whit would start reciting off the keypoints of the Federation oath of enlistment. "To uphold the ideals and, by extension, follow the laws of the Federation. To seek out new life. To keep to the principle of non-interference. To uphold the truth, whether it be personal, scientific, or historical."

Commander T'Sala

She works quickly, remembering how blood all over her after own loss would effect her for years to come. She silently hoped she could get it off him before it was forever imprinted in his mind. She starts on his hands, trying to work around the rings and on the sly clean them as much as possible. Again, she hurries to get it all off him him. Halfway through she realizes that a good portion of the blood is his own.

"Whit. Im going to set these -right- beside you, but I need to fix your hands. Look at me. You mention the oath of truth." Her eyes meet his a moment before going back to his hands, gently moving the rings aside and working on his hands. "Me, not your hands." she chides if his eyes wander. "Starfleet Medical need help with triage. I need your help but you need to be honest with yourself. I either need you to watch Lami here, or you can work with me in the center. But the center will be bloody and be gruesome, but it is work and will keep your mind busy. Where do you think is best for you right now? Calm or in the busy but bloody?"

LTJG Michael Whitley

Summoning up some degree of his usual attitude, the cadet would flash a half-hearted grin, "C'mon, professor. I'm trying to be an engineer, yeah? Don't we work best after shit's hit the fan? I'll go wherever you need me."

Commander T'Sala

"I need you in A or B. Where will be best for you. Personal Truth." she says, finishing up with his hands.

LTJG Michael Whitley

"I'll go to the center. I'd rather be helping people than being useless..." I'd glance around, eyes settling on the passed out kid. "So uh, professor... Who's the kid?"

Commander T'Sala

"I am till not a professor, I do not have my doctorates yet." she says. "She's the child of the Tactical department head. I've been staying with them. There are a lot of misplaced children right now. Helping watch them is far from useless."

LTJG Michael Whitley

"Still. I'd rather be actively saving lives than playing glorified babysitter, if it's all the same to you, professor." The ghost of a grin would widen a bit as he says the title.

Commander T'Sala

T'Sala nods, scrutinizing him. "Very well." And with that... they make their way to starfleet medical where hours pass until sunset. Artist: HunnBunn

#STO #STO RP #Battle of Midnight #outpost zeta #Vulcan #Starfleet Acadmey #Cadet

[reatrea]

Segment from: Battle of Midnight - Starfleet Academy

Commander T'Sala

By the time they were passing the ENG lecture hall, Mrs Lisa Whitley had had -enough-. "Michael Murphy Whitley you are going to get on that shuttle and come -home-. You can NOT die out here in this gawd blessed MESS!! So help me if I have to---- LOOK OUT!" There was an odd sound and a flash of light, this exploded into a din that entirely took over Whit's senses. He felt hands on his back push him foward before he ate pavement and any light at all went black for a moment. When he came too there is only a hand poking out of the rubble behind him with a ring he's known since he was in infant on her left finger.

LTJG Michael Whitley

Groaning quietly as he raises a hand to his head, Whit would blink a couple times, trying to get those damn black spots to fuck off. Somewhat righting himself, Whit would look around, blinking more as the sudden shift screws his vision over more. His eyes would narrow in on the hand and, by extension, the ring. Frozen for an instant, the engineer would suddenly jump up, running over and digging futilely at the pile of concrete and metal. "Nononono mom mom mom MOM!!!" A few minutes later, Whitley would still be there, digging with bloody hands through the seemingly insurmountable wall of rock.

Commander T'Sala

When he finally gets the last part of concrete off her, it pulls a wicked metal chunk out of her chest and balances precariously aside. Mom spazums and reaches up to him, blood pouring from her mouth and chest. "W--hit?" her eyes are fulls of tears. Around them things are abuzz as others are pulled from the rubble by the emergancy teams calling for them to move since the rest of the building was about to go.

LTJG Michael Whitley

"M-mom! C'mon, get up, we've..." He'd stop then, analyzing the wound in her chest. "Shit, puncture, wider than an inch... Through..." The man would sit there mumbling to himself, trying desperately to remember the brief amount of medical training he got. He'd try to wave over an emergency team, but they'd all be too distracted by the other casualties in the area.

Commander T'Sala

They were yelling at people to clear the area now and dust was shifting from the shaky building overhead. Lisa pulls her wedding band and engagement ring off and presses it into his hand, closing it around them before placing a hand gently on the side of his face. "L-live." she says with a stream of blood from her lips and her hand falls away... as the light fades from her eyes, forever locked on his face. Letting that be the last thing she sees before passing on.(

LTJG Michael Whitley

Whit would sit there for a long moment, shock written plainly across his face as he stares between the rings and the face of his mother. "M-mom? Mom... No... Please..." Whit would crawl forward a bit, cradling his mother's body. Uncaring of blood or dirt, the cadet would remain there, either unaware or uncaring of the evac crews in the area.

Commander T'Sala

Lisa was still pinned by the legs under something unbelievably large. Her body doesn't even move much. But the shift does loosen the piece he had somehow moved a moment ago. It starts to lean towards him. "Whit!" A voice cuts through the din and catches the shifting piece. It is one normally calm and cool, but sometimes chiding. "Whit... we -have- to move. The building is about to fall." T'Sala kneels down and grabs his face. "Whit. Stand up or her death will be in vein if you are killed too."

LTJG Michael Whitley

Blank eyes would stare back at the instructor, uncomprehending. "Professor... My mom. She needs help." The man would seem either unable to process, or flat out refusing to admit that his mother was, in fact, dead in his arms.

Commander T'Sala

T'Sala checks up as more pieces of the building start to fall, they had 90 seconds at best. Still, for his sanity she checks the pulse. "She is gone, Whit. We -need- to -more-." she urges, pulling his arm in one last warning to move on is own.

LTJG Michael Whitley

"I... But... My mom...." The man would look down at her again, checking her pulse for his own sake. "Mom..." Then the man's eyes would glaze over, and he'd slump forward, unconscious.

Commander T'Sala (Laura)

Whit feels himself caught before everything goes dark. --- Hours later --- He had overhead things in his fitful sleep of the next couple of hours. “You! Commander! You’ve coordinated defense through coms before, correct?” he said, pointing at T’Sala’s nose. “You you can handle several coms and instructions at once and keep the straight?” “Yes, Sir.” She nodded as he thrust an earpiece at her. “Go into my office and be my eyes and ears from the Acadmey to Command and Spacedock. I will tell you how to respond if necessary. I will be here coordinating the grounds and everything else. Just keep us all in contact.”

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

Whitley was set down in the office on one of the benches. A little girl crawled into his lap and hugged him. "He has blood on him. He is sad...."

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

<C> "This is Jupiter station they're warping in some kind of massive infrastructure.” Even from the blurry image, it had a very distinctive appearance.

“Admiral… we may have a situation.” she reported calmly. “You should see this with your own eyes.”

“Commander?” Kyle asked in such a tone that it caused her to turn, seeing every pair of eyes on either her or the screen. “Commander… please, be honest with us. Is that a planet killer?”

T’Sala paused for only a moment before just offering a single nod and a single phrase. “Most likely.”

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

What eventually woke him was not the din.... but as a dead quiet started to fall over the Acadmey and the sun started peeking up over the bay, cutting through the mist. He was indeed in an office with a little girl sleeping next to him. T'Sala moved over beside him and just... sat. As he stirred she looks over.

LTJG Michael Whitley

Letting out another low groan as he opens his eyes, shutting them immediately after because of the light, Whit would fumble his way back to consciousness. Actually opening his eyes and getting a proper look at his surroundings, Whit would fix his gaze on T'Sala. "Professor? Wha... What happened?" Whit would then freeze still as his memories start flooding back. "The call... The hallway... My mom... MY MOM!" Whit would snap his gaze back to the commander. "Professor, my mom, she... What happened?"

Commander T'Sala

"I am not a Pro--" T'Sala stops short as he powers on and catches herself being pedantic and the worst time. She turns to face him on the bench and just reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder. In the silent gaze and the blood on his uniform it is apparent that he recalled everything correctly. His pockets feel odd from the wedding rings against his thigh.

LTJG Michael Whitley

Letting out something that sounded like a strangled cough, Whit would close his eyes for a long moment, hand reaching into his pocket for the rings. Running a thumb over them, Whit would remain silent for a minute or two. "My family doesn't know, do they?"

Commander T'Sala

T'Sala stands and grabs a cloth and some water for him to clean the blood off and sits back down. "No, the battle only just finished. Coms are still emergency only."

LTJG Michael Whitley

"Right, communication lockdown... Standard protocol for large scale. Non-essential systems default to low-power settings, if not full deactivation on a case by case basis." Whit would continue mumbling about standards and protocol for a moment, before looking up again. "When's the lockdown supposed to end?"

Commander T'Sala

"We lost a 10th of our fleet. It will be a long while, Whit." T'Sala answers gently.

LTJG Michael Whitley

"Right... Allocation of force and all that..." Whit would trail off, obviously searching for something, anything else to focus on.

Commander T'Sala

T'Sala is quiet for a long moment and looks around before eyes falling on his state. "We need to get you cleaned up and changed." She stands before gently ordering. "Unzip your jacket."

LTJG Michael Whitley

Complying without a word, Whit would remove his jacket, throwing it across a chair. Taking care to follow regulation, the cadet would unclip his comm-badge from his jacket, placing it on his undershirt instead.

Commander T'Sala

T'Sala gestures for him to look at the painting on the wall. "Im going to clean the cuts on your face. I'm worried about you going into shock; can you name me some of the Starfleet Oaths that we take?" she asks, starting with cleaning gauze to get the blood off of his face, which is her main concern.

LTJG Michael Whitley

Almost mechanically, Whit would start reciting off the keypoints of the Federation oath of enlistment. "To uphold the ideals and, by extension, follow the laws of the Federation. To seek out new life. To keep to the principle of non-interference. To uphold the truth, whether it be personal, scientific, or historical."

Commander T'Sala

She works quickly, remembering how blood all over her after own loss would effect her for years to come. She silently hoped she could get it off him before it was forever imprinted in his mind. She starts on his hands, trying to work around the rings and on the sly clean them as much as possible. Again, she hurries to get it all off him him. Halfway through she realizes that a good portion of the blood is his own.

"Whit. Im going to set these -right- beside you, but I need to fix your hands. Look at me. You mention the oath of truth." Her eyes meet his a moment before going back to his hands, gently moving the rings aside and working on his hands. "Me, not your hands." she chides if his eyes wander. "Starfleet Medical need help with triage. I need your help but you need to be honest with yourself. I either need you to watch Lami here, or you can work with me in the center. But the center will be bloody and be gruesome, but it is work and will keep your mind busy. Where do you think is best for you right now? Calm or in the busy but bloody?"

LTJG Michael Whitley

Summoning up some degree of his usual attitude, the cadet would flash a half-hearted grin, "C'mon, professor. I'm trying to be an engineer, yeah? Don't we work best after shit's hit the fan? I'll go wherever you need me."

Commander T'Sala

"I need you in A or B. Where will be best for you. Personal Truth." she says, finishing up with his hands.

LTJG Michael Whitley

"I'll go to the center. I'd rather be helping people than being useless..." I'd glance around, eyes settling on the passed out kid. "So uh, professor... Who's the kid?"

Commander T'Sala

"I am till not a professor, I do not have my doctorates yet." she says. "She's the child of the Tactical department head. I've been staying with them. There are a lot of misplaced children right now. Helping watch them is far from useless."

LTJG Michael Whitley

"Still. I'd rather be actively saving lives than playing glorified babysitter, if it's all the same to you, professor." The ghost of a grin would widen a bit as he says the title.

Commander T'Sala

T'Sala nods, scrutinizing him. "Very well." And with that... they make their way to starfleet medical where hours pass until sunset. Artist: HunnBunn

#Battle of Midnight Star Trek Online STO RP outpost Zeta