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#that’s fine as well but i’ve spent two years growing this mess out
redminibike1 · 2 years
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fine one day
short little fill for @codywankissbingo! some pure post-war fix-it fluff that hits my fills for good morning kiss & kiss on the lips! ficlet and bingo card under the cut :D
also posted on ao3 here!
When Obi-Wan finally made it back to the Temple, the sun was just beginning to rise.
Soft pink light shone through the tall windows in the main hall, and he stopped for a moment simply to bask in it, leaning against the pane and closing his eyes, feeling the gentle warmth on his face like a cradling palm. 
“Master Kenobi,” a voice greeted. “You’re up early.”
Obi-Wan smiled, turning to Luminara and bowing his head in greeting. “Master Unduli,” he said. “I think it might be more fitting to say that I am up exceptionally late. I just returned home from my mission in the Mid-Rim, actually.”
Luminara’s eyebrows flicked quickly upwards. “You must be tired, then. I hope it went well?”
“Quite well, thank you. And yes, I will admit I am relieved to be home.”
With a smile, Luminara said, “Especially with all the new things that home holds.”
“Indeed,” Obi-Wan chuckled, thinking of the thousands of clones filling all those empty quarters, walking around the Room of a Thousand Fountains with expressions of pure wonder. “I’d nearly forgotten the joy of seeing the place so full. I’ve missed the chatter.”
“Except, perhaps, right now.” Luminara nudged their shoulders together. “I’ll let you get some rest.”
“Thank you, Luminara,” Obi-Wan said, bowing again. “May the Force be with you.”
“May the Force be with you.”
Rest truly did sound like a dream just then, and so Obi-Wan carried on, listening to the gentle hum of the water circulators for the aquatic levels and the distant chatter of the Jedi in the training rooms as he walked.
He took the stairs two at a time, strolling down the hall with growing eagerness, near desperate for a sonic and then for his bed.
The door to his quarters slid open, and Obi-Wan stepped in, placing his bag down and tugging off his boots. Then, the haste faded away, drifting from him as he breathed in, out, absorbed the sight before him.
It was blissfully quiet in the room, the low noise of the traffic passing just beyond muffled by the Temple’s thick stone walls. The sunlight peeking out from the balcony doors lay soft across the tiled floor, over the scattered rugs, creeping up the couch like moss on an old building. It tangled glowing with the mess of curls peeking out over the armrest.
Fondness bloomed in his chest, aching as he stepped closer to where Cody lay sprawled across the sofa, book flat on his chest and mouth open as he snored.
It was far too tempting to resist the urge, and so Obi-Wan gently combed his fingers through Cody’s hair, pushing it back from his temple down behind his ears, projecting calm and safety as best he could as Cody blinked slowly awake.
He squinted in the light, eyes darting to gather his surrounding before focusing on Obi-Wan. Raising an arm to shade his face, and Obi-Wan could trace each second as recognition settled. “Hello,” Cody rasped, smile growing slow and bright, a sun in itself. “You’re back.”
“I’m back,” Obi-Wan echoed. “And you look comfortable.”
Cody stretched, languid, groaning as his eyes fell closed again. Obi-Wan’s gaze stuttered over the stretch of his throat, the way his shirt rode up just a little, and he swallowed. Scrubbing a hand over his cheek, Cody raised an eyebrow when he caught his staring, and wriggled to sit up. “Came to water the plants after morning class,” he said. “Sat down to read for a few minutes. It’s very warm here.”
“This couch is a prime napping location, didn’t you know?” Worn with years of use, the tan cushions were nearly absurdly soft, and Cody was definitely not the first to have fallen asleep in the cradle of it. Qui-Gon especially had spent many a night there, citing that there was no need to endure the last few steps to his bedroom when he was perfectly content where he was. Obi-Wan thought, briefly, that Qui-Gon would have been very fond of Cody, had they gotten the chance to meet.
“I can see why,” Cody said with a laugh. “But how was your mission?”
“Very good,” Obi-Wan said. “Missed you.”
Cody grinned, dark brown eyes melting in the sunlight. “Yet you haven’t even kissed me hello.”
Obi-Wan could barely speak for the love in him, for the peace rolling through every inch of his skin, for the urge to crawl on top of Cody and sink into him and kiss him and kiss him and never leave. But instead he managed to say, “A vast oversight on my part,” voice practically a croak, before leaning down—hand braced against the back of the couch—and fitting his mouth neatly against Cody’s, tasting of Obi-Wan’s tea blend, slightly stale from his nap, so much like coming home. “Good morning,” he whispered, into the part of his lips.
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apoetinthestarrs · 1 year
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5 years
 Now I remember
Standing on that balcony
Looking across the flat open land 
Mountain peaks right behind
Drunk off of fresh love
And then I feel a hand
It’s you
Standing right behind me
Catching your breath and
Having a stretch before you think about retiring
For the night
I was star struck
The air in my lungs too quick to leave
With everyone else's compliments
Being thrown left and right 
And I'm left there to freeze
Frozen with fear
Fear that you might not want to ever talk to a girl like me
Fear that you might be like all the rest
With  mask worn tight but as soon as the prey moves in
You drop it
But with the little courage I had drank earlier
I thought to myself 
Girl you are far from prey. You got this
With my mouth wide 
I draw in a breath really fast
And turn to you
And I swallowed my pride
I move my pieces in the game of chess
Hoping you move yours next
And after that night
When I invited the loud crowd over to mine
You were the one that stood out
And I knew it couldn't be anything else 
But love
Flash forward in time
But only just a little bit
The best of us is being brought out by each other
The the candle of love is still lit
Actually id say it’s  growing
A fire started
A fire the brought warmth and security
Kissing at red lights and waking up next to you
It seemed that I have known you for centuries
Now I remember
How shaken my voice was
When I told you that i loved you
My heart was racing the butterflies in my stomach
And I felt like I was going purple and blue
I had to breathe
But you were patient
So patient the walls came down
And I had no desire to rebuild it
I left it crumbled
And you smiled at me
Washing away all the rubble
Only leaving…well…
Me
We go on our own
Together for only a short period of time
But driving though foreign lands
With nothing familiar but each other
I thought
Holy shit. I am so lucky to call this man mine
New places and new beginnings
In a strange new city
Not knowing anyone or anything who infests this state
We made it work and that brings us to our date
Our date at the olive garden
Eating cheap pasta
And badly seasoned salad
Both only 19 playing pretend like we were actual adults
Singing a grown folk ballad
Now I remember
That first year landmark
We drove 10 hours south to the trees that touched the sun
To the ancient forest with roots so deep
That nothing could tear it apart
That's how I feel about us
Strong and rooted
Our minds both being blown into oblivion
6ft wide trunks lining the pathways
With what seemed like 100 pounds of weight in our bags
Onto the river bed we make our way
To bed
Under the bright stars
The water cruising next to us
Singing us a lullaby as we lay in each others arms 
And talking about an unknown future we could have
One just for the two of us
Now we really jump
Jump to the present
Here in this moment I can feel the butterflies I first felt
The ones that race with my hearts in times of uncertainty
That I calm down and have to reset for the next lap
1,754 days
43,830 hours
That's how long I've been calling you mine
The number of days and hours spent together
Glowing and growing
But that really isn't a long time
It’s pretty short
5 years will fly on by
When you are so engulfed with love and light
Engulfed in such a powerful and strong relationship
You find it hard to believe at times
But it feels so right
Now I remember
All of the tiny things
The small jokes and little hiccups
The days and nights we spent laughing and crying
Loving and hurting
I'm having to catch my breath again and look up
Up at you
And I feel fine
Safe is another word i could put here
Same with 
Snug
Shielded
Unharmed
Comfortable
Tended
Validated
I could list a millions words and probably talk your ear off
But out of all of this mess and all of this shitty poetry
There is only one thing I want you to hear
I love you
And cheers to 5 years.
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autoneurotic · 3 years
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noooo my husband is talking ab shaving his head and it’s like if you do it....i won’t be able to control myself i will just shave mine too
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ahundredtimesover · 3 years
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Hold Me Close | JJK
Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader, ex Namjoon x Reader (ft. brother Jimin)
Genre/Tags: brother’s best friends au; (dash of) angst, fluff (sort of), smut
Warnings: foul language, feelings of insecurity, minor accident caused by inebriation, getting drunk, sexual content (oral, unprotected sex but be safe please!), JK has a hip tattoo and at some point has grey hair (18+)
Word count: 22k
Summary:  When Jimin hits a crisis, he enlists the help of his older sister - you - and his best friend, Jungkook, to put the pieces back again. That proves to be difficult when 1) Jimin’s a brat and a certified pain in the ass, and 2) Jungkook has grown and suddenly, you can’t keep your eyes off him.
A/N: I wanted to write something fun for a change and saw @ladyartemesia‘s brother’s best friend list and thought it would be a nice trope to explore because if there would be an ideal bratty younger brother, it would be Jimin. This was sooo much fun to write but also reminded me again of why I love my baby sister more than anyone in this world. Hope you all enjoy! 
##
Three - the number of missed calls you probably now have just in the last 5 minutes, the vibrations piercing through your pocket and onto your thigh. It might be important, but so is keeping your attention on the department Director to your right, who is complimenting the man to your left, over a proposal that you spent weeks working on. 
You force a smile because in front of your entire department isn’t really the time and place to refute and complain. It doesn’t help that Chul accepts the credit because anything to get ahead, right? 
Just another reason why you dislike this job. Perhaps your boss telling you that you’re too emotional or too soft to be in this industry has gotten to you, but then again, there’s not a bone in you that’s ambitious and competition-craved, unlike your parents. But you try, at least. It’s the least you can do for something that’s expected of their eldest child.
The Director flips a page and turns to you. “Glad you could contribute to this, Ms. Park.” 
He did assign it to you but you suppose your name just flew off his head, but you remind him anyway. 
“Thank you for the opportunity to work on it, Mr. Yoon. I’m truly learning a lot,” you fake a smile and wish for this to end.
Soon enough it does and you bow towards the managers present, one of them giving you the compliment you needed to hear, and excuse yourself before another call comes in. 
Best brother ever, the screen announces, and you curse yourself for still not changing his contact name and for having an easy-enough password to guess. 
“I swear to god, Jimin, this better be an emergency,” you cuss to the person on the other end, already boiling at the thought of him possibly calling to ask how to fix a broken toilet or what kind of oil he’s supposed to buy for frying because he’d done both too many times for you to count.
“___!” The sound of a relieved huff is what greets you, the voice familiar.
“Jungkook?”
“Yeah, hi,” he says. “Uh, we’re at the hospital.”
Your eyes widen and you scold yourself for missing the calls, but then again, you wouldn’t have known because Jimin’s wolf cries precede this moment of an actual emergency. 
“What? Why! Is my brother okay?” You cry out, hands already working on collecting your files and feet rushing towards your desk to pack up.
“Yeah,” Jungkook affirms. “He’s fine. He just—“
“I AM NOT FINE!” You hear your brother shriek in the background, sound a little soft due to distance but you don’t miss the farcical tone of his statement.
“Dude, it’s just a sprained ankle. You’ll live,” Jungkook tells him calmly, away from the phone.
You sigh in relief because Jungkook is definitely the person to believe in times like this.
“From 1 to Jimin, how dramatic is he?” You ask.
“Jimin. Times two.”
“Damn, okay. That actually seems worse than the injury itself huh?” 
Jungkook laughs in agreement. 
“I’m just packing. I’ll go to you guys right after.”
“Alright. General Hospital, emergency room. Just follow the tone of the weeping man-child.”
“I feel so empty. What am I gonna do with my life now!” You hear in the background.
You laugh at your brother’s antics because you’ve heard that exact line not long ago after his building owner told him again that he can’t have a pet in the apartment. But who knows with Jimin this time around?
“Got it. See you in a bit,” you say, then head out to hail a cab.
**
You arrive in the emergency room and follow the sound of the weeping man-child and true enough, you see your baby brother lying on the bed with his right leg nestled on pillows, ice taped on the swollen ankle.
You rush to his side and assess if there’s any other part that’s being treated. “What the hell happened to you?” You worriedly ask. “Is this because of work? God, Jimin. I told you that company overworks you! You don’t even get enough rest.”
Behind you, you could hear muffled laughter, and paired with your brother’s sheepish smile, you could already tell he got it over something silly. He’s avoiding your gaze, causing your worry to turn to frustration. 
You cross your arms and you give him a stern look. “Park Jimin, look at me and tell me what happened.”
He plays with the hem of the blanket draped over him and with a sickly sweet smile, the one he uses on you to get himself out of trouble, he says, “I may have drank and perhaps had my foot stuck in a gutter and I may also have moved about when Jungkook told me to stay still and well…” Arms laid out before him as if in presentation, “here I am!” 
He’s beaming, as if it’s something to be proud of. You know it’s his tactic but still, your brother’s ability to go from one reaction to another astounds you.
You turn to Jungkook for confirmation and he nods at the accuracy and absurdity of the situation, causing a worried feeling in the pit of your stomach because how the hell are you going to explain this to your parents? 
“You forgot the part about you screaming that you hate men and you don’t want to love anymore,” Jungkook adds. It’s classic Jimin that it actually makes you laugh. 
You, as his older sister and Jungkook, as his best friend of 15 years, should be used to this already but your brother is plucked from a classic romcom as the hot mess character and that carries with it amusement and predictability.
You're about to ask for an elaboration to put more context in the scene that’s playing in your head of a crying Jimin flailing his arms and a bemused but laughing Jungkook trying to shut him up, when the doctor comes in. 
She checks the clipboard then on Jimin. 
“Thankfully, there’s nothing broken,” she says, jotting down on a pad. She starts instructing how to properly wrap the ankle, prompting Jungkook to stand next to you and Jimin to nip at his fingernails because the brat won’t even pay attention to how to care for his own injured foot. 
After handing you the prescription, the doctor tells Jimin, “We’ll just wrap you up with a cast and give you the crutches then you can head home.”
“So I’m not staying?” He asks.
“No need,” the doctor clarifies. “It’s just sprained but it will take several weeks to properly heal and it will be sore for a while,” she states, then calls a nurse and instructs him to prepare the supplies. 
“You said you’re a dance instructor? The injury was aggravated by previous mild sprains so I require complete rest. You absolutely cannot move. Just stay in bed and follow the instructions I’ve written down.”
You and Jungkook release a sigh of relief, thankful that it’s nothing serious, the concern over what prompted his outburst temporarily at the back of your mind, until Jimin speaks up.
“But, something else feels broken.”
“What is it?” The doctor asks, suddenly worried and checks the board for anything she might’ve missed.
“My heart.”
“Yah!” You smack Jimin’s arm in embarrassment, which he returns with a smack on yours, a common sight for you both and Jungkook who’s bared witness to the violence you and your brother inflicted upon each other growing up.
The doctor rolls her eyes. “She’ll come back,” she says, then heads towards the door.
Jimin scrunches his nose in annoyance. “She’s a he, by the way!” He shouts, causing the others present to turn to him, as if such a situation is scandalous. 
“Do… you have a boyfriend I don’t know about?” You nervously ask. 
While your 3-year gap sibling relationship is rooted in violence that’s caused bruises, buckets of tears, timeouts, and your parents almost giving up on making you two get along at many points of your lives, you and Jimin have somehow grown up and have found the right balance of telling each other important things while also staying out of each other’s business. 
The “growing up” only happened midway through his college life, when he realized that even with his best friend next to him, you were still his lifeline in the big city of Seoul and the only other reminder of home. 
Because even with him knowing what it takes to make it in the competitive entertainment industry as a choreographer, in his heart, he’s still the younger child who’s used to being taken care of. That meant regularly demanding your presence in his dorm when he was still studying and then crashing your place when he’d started working. For food, mostly. The ranting about things just came naturally after.
“It’s Tae,” he shyly reveals, meeting your eyes for the first time and suddenly, he’s your little brother again, the one whose snacks you used to prepare or whose wounds you used to treat when your parents weren’t home or were too tired from work.
“Your roommate?”
“Yeah. He left today because he got this photography gig where he gets to travel the world.”
“I didn’t know you had a thing,” you say.
“We didn’t,” he huffs out in frustration. “I didn’t know I liked him until he said he booked a one-way ticket and didn’t know when he'd be coming back. And he was so excited and I was really happy for him but also felt like it was too late. Like should I have said anything? What if he felt the same way? Would he have stayed?” He sighs, looking sullen this time.
“He may have, or he would still be taking the trip. Regardless, no one should be giving up on dreams for anybody, Chim. That’s not how it’s supposed to work,” you say, not meaning to sound as if you’re reprimanding him, but the look he gives is enough to tell you that he understands. He’s heard variations of that same sentiment before, anyway. 
Jungkook feels the tension in the air and breaks it by stating that he’ll be driving everybody home.
“I’ll be staying with my sister,” Jimin announces, his annoying smile now back, and he knows you can’t say no; by obligation or by choice, you won’t tell.
“There goes my weekend,” you gripe. 
“I won’t be a nuisance, I promise,” he says then crosses his heart, like it actually means anything.
“You’re a nuisance even when you’re not injured, what more now?”
“I’m not that bad,” he defends.
“Oh, but you are.” You turn to Jungkook. “You know, I actually tried to push him back in our mom’s vagina but even her uterus didn’t want him anymore.”
“Ouch okay, I will pretend I didn’t hear that,” and you all laugh as Jimin is transferred to the wheel chair and pushed by the nurse, signaling Jungkook to go ahead and retrieve his car.
**
You arrive at your apartment with a Jimin-clad Jungkook in tow, the worry of not having cleaned up quickly dissipating because this is your brother, and he shouldn’t complain. 
Jungkook assists Jimin in the bathroom while you set up your bed by piling up pillows for his foot. 
“I don’t have clean sheets for the sofa bed in the other room,” you say, “and it’s not cleaned up, as I didn’t expect to house an injured child this weekend. Just sleep on my bed first.”
Jungkook guides Jimin to your bed and helps him settle in, with your brother looking all smug with the treatment he’s getting because he knows you don’t give up your bed that easily.
“What about you?” Jungkook asks, seemingly more worried about your inconvenience than the actual cause of it.
“I’m fine with the couch. Wouldn’t wanna sleep here with him and accidentally hit his foot. He might murder me or something.”
“Thanks, Sis. I’m very comfortable here. I think I’ll be sleeping well tonight,” Jimin states, then yawns, drowsiness kicking in from the medication.
You roll your eyes and close the door. You lead Jungkook to your kitchen and offer him a drink.  
“I’m sorry for him, Kook. Did he drag you out of work?” You ask. 
“Just had to call the tattoo parlor and reschedule my Friday appointments,” he says, downing the glass of water. “He was pretty emotional over the phone and wanted to drink at 4PM and well, you know the rest.”
“Ugh, such a pain in the ass,” you mutter, massaging your temples. “But was he serious about the whole Tae thing?”
“Seemed like it. I think it just took an abrupt change for him to realize what he felt,” he explains. “But you know him - falls fast, moves on faster. He’ll be okay. You’re here,” he continues, flashing you his bunny smile, the one that used to cause you to pinch his puffy cheeks out of cuteness. 
But that’s when he was a lanky 10-year old with his awkward front bangs. The man in front of you now sports long dark locks and a sharp jawline, tattooed arms and probably a built figure, if the way he carried your brother as if he’s a feather is any indication of his strength. His bambi eyes, usually scrunched large nose, and child-like smile are the only things that remain from that memory of him. 
“You know I can’t stand my brother for long periods of time, Kook,” you pout, earning you an amused laugh.
“He actually already invited me over the weekend, asked me to bring my PS4 so we could play.”
“That bitch has to rest, what is he talking about?” 
“Same thing I told him. I’ll just make up some reason that my player caught fire or that I dropped it while running or something.”
You give him a straight face. “The hell would he buy that? You can just not bring it.”
“I’m just gonna match his drama,” Jungkook shrugs, earning him your laugh, which for him is all tones of sweet and soothing. 
A smile forms on his face at the thought of making you laugh like this, something he secretly enjoys. This particular sound would most likely be etched in his mind, among the several others that he caused. 
There was that time when you caught him doing chubby bunny as a consequence and seeing him stuffed with marshmallows made you secretly giggle because 15-year old you didn’t want to indulge in their silly antics; Jungkook heard it though. 
There was that other time during Jimin’s 14th birthday at an arcade, Jungkook went over the basketball game’s railing to get the highest score and you alternated between scolding him and laughing your butt off. He snuck the tickets he won in your pile though so you would have enough to get the Tinkerbell tea set because he knew your obsession with fairies.
When you visited home for their high school graduation, you all cooked dinner and he overdid the glazed sweet potatoes, causing them to get stuck on the plate. You tried to hold your laugh but gave up once he started dancing; he was so embarrassed but that’s when he knew he’d willingly make a fool of himself to hear you laugh like that. 
And 3 years ago, your large group of friends went on a ski trip. He was attempting to run up the slope but kept sliding, and even from a distance, he could pick out which laughter was yours; it was probably the only remedy to an otherwise heartbreaking weekend, considering that you were there with your then-boyfriend, Namjoon. 
Reminiscing those causes his heart to feel like floating, like always, then the words “nobody dates my sister” pulls that heart down to crash into reality, like always, too, the reality being that you’re his best friend’s older sibling. 
You’ve been off-limits since Jimin threatened Jungkook and their other friends about cutting off their dicks if anybody tried to date you when they were 16, but you were probably off-limits even before that. Jungkook mentally shakes his head. 
He doesn’t like being told what to do but then again, Jimin is his best friend, the tiny feisty 10-year old who fought off the bullies who tried to take Jungkook’s snacks. It had been them against the world since then, and so far, the only person he thinks who’d ever come between them is you.
Jungkook is pulled out of his thoughts at your call of his name, prompting you to repeat what you just said.
“I said, thanks again for being there for my brother like, ever since. If it was just me I would’ve disowned him a long time ago.”
Jungkook giggles, already used to the drama that is your sibling relationship. He’d witnessed too many wrestling matches, scream fests, and pulled pranks in the last 15 years. While you’ve both gone past those, your complaints about each other is something you haven’t really outgrown yet. 
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t disown him,” Jungkook chuckles, the words ‘he’s the only link I have to you’ quickly dissipating in his mind. 
“You know he just craves your attention and riling you up is the way he does it, younger sibling and all. I would’ve done that if my brother wasn’t 7 years older. Jimin tends to be immature around you but he’s the best person I know. I wouldn’t have survived anything if it weren’t for him.”
This brings a smile to your face, their origin story warming your heart more than you care to admit. Your brother is fierce and a fighter, you’d give him that.
“Well, he’s just as lucky to have you, Kook.”
It’s the tenderness in your voice that makes him feel like he’d just won a prize, and he wishes you don’t notice the flush of his cheeks. If you do, you don’t mention it, because not long after, you say that you’ll wash up, signaling him that it’s time to go. 
Jungkook drives home that night feeling like his pre-adolescent self, the giddy feeling of when you first pinched his cheeks the same one he feels right now. It’s when he first developed his crush on you - you’d been arguing with Jimin and said you wished he was as behaved and as adorable as Jungkook, prompting your brother to point out Jungkook’s large nose, which you responded with by saying it adds to his charm. 
Petty fights, like always, but it’s when you told him to not listen to what other people say if they’re out to put him down did Jungkook realize that you and Jimin were cut from the same cloth. 
Soon after, every little moment with you, every glimpse of your life outside of being his best friend’s sister became more and more enthralling to him. The fact that you were getting prettier each year just served to solidify his affection for you. And also made it difficult to hide his hard-on every time you’d show up for breakfast in your cloth shorts when he’d sleep over your parents’ house, or when he’d see you in your pretty outfits in the bars you all frequented once he was in Seoul for college. 
He’d let himself think of you during the times he wasn’t in a relationship, and he’d slowly let go of the bit of hope he’d have every time you were in one, partly because your relationships were usually long-term, compared to his, and also because your ex-boyfriends were nothing like him, which is safe to say that he wasn’t your type. 
Maybe it was the age, the level of maturity, maybe it was the sense of security, maybe he’s just not the kind of guy who could give you what you want, although honestly he doesn’t know exactly what that is. 
But if Namjoon - your intelligent, upstanding, businessman ex-boyfriend who was also really handsome and kind - and your subsequent heartbreak are anything to go by, then Jungkook is clearly reaching for the stars with you. Not that you’re out of his league, but he’s more like in the outskirts, just lying in the edges, the border between what’s possible and what isn’t, but definitely far from the center of action. Even tonight, the most time you’d spent together in years that wasn’t in a party, was because Jimin had been hurt. 
If anything, though, his long standing admiration for you hadn’t really gone away. And he doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
**
The weekend with Jimin staying with you wasn’t that unbearable, primarily because he was rendered immobile on your bed and was usually sleepy. You were thankful that Jungkook dropped by to keep your brother company while you caught up on errands and chores. 
With another work week coming filled with meetings and events, you had Jimin stay with Jungkook first. He insisted it wasn’t a bother; his work as a freelance artist and a part-time tattooist gives him control of his time.
It’s the weekend after the incident when you hear a knock on the door, not expecting to see Jimin with his casted ankle and crunches; behind him are 3 large luggages and a few boxes. 
You’re just about to process the sight before you when he says, “I got sacked from the company when I said I couldn’t get back to work next week. And I can’t afford to pay rent anymore, even if I get a roommate and I…” he turns to you, almost shameful, “I have nowhere else to go.”
You sigh because really, your relationship with your brother is hinged on fights you don’t really mean, pettiness that drives you crazy, and an unconditional love that you both deny but undeniably share. So you open the door wider and laugh at his “you’re the best sister in the world” claim and your usual response of “you only have one.”
Jungkook arrives with the last box and you help bring in all the stuff that seems never-ending, making you wonder how these fit in his car and how he managed to bring everything, including your brother.
“Park Jimin, you have so much stuff! You might as well have hired a mover,” you cry out.
“Oh I did,” Jimin answers, pointing to Jungkook.
You cock an eyebrow because obviously, movers get paid. 
“I told him you said you’re gonna make us dinner.”
“Except I didn’t,” you scrunch your eyebrows and turn to Jungkook, amused at his sudden change of expression, bambi eyes widening at his innocence. 
“I swear, he seemed so convincing,” Jungkook claims, hands held up as if in surrender. He bites his lips and looks at the ground. “I can just go, really. I’ll just force him to treat me to lunch when he’s healed and I can wrestle him if he doesn’t.”
“Don’t be silly, Kook. Stay for dinner,” you crack a smile. You walk to your kitchen and take out the pork belly to thaw. “I won’t make you steak though. That’s reserved for my wine nights when I want to bask in my singleness,” you call out. 
“Also,” you turn to Jimin, “you don’t deserve my steak.”
Your brother laughs, knowing that it’s your way to mask the kindness you’re showing. 
Later that night, with dinner out of the way and your spare bedroom set up for Jimin to stay, you guide him to the sofa bed and make sure his foot is elevated, bell just within his reach that you instructed him to ring when he needs you. 
“Thanks, ___. You—”
“Are the best sister in the world, I know,” you cut him off.
“I was gonna say you should get some rest and to not worry about me. I’ll be fine,” he smiles.
You nod and head out the room, the worried look on your face not going unnoticed by Jungkook, who’d just finished wiping the dishes.
“Everything okay, ___?” 
You heave out a sigh.
“What the fuck am I gonna do with him, Kook?” You ask, the reality of your injured and now unemployed brother dawning on you. “What am I gonna tell my parents?” 
Oddly enough, it’s when you and Jimin were finally adults did your parents think to check up on you both. Perhaps living under the same roof didn’t warrant that, but with both children now living independently hundreds of miles away from them, they’ve ensured to call every week. Your conversations mostly revolve around Jimin, though, the words “take care of your brother” not having an expiration date, apparently. 
You know the weight of the words - it’s not just because you’re older but because by your parents’ standards, you’re also the more stable and financially secure one by nature of your 9-5 corporate job in a fancy building that requires you to wear corporate attires, in contrast to Jimin’s late-nights in a dance studio busting moves in sweats. 
Your parents are partial to your kind of work, given that they’ve spent more than half their lives in the same field and always wished you’d both do the same, even if you promised yourself you wouldn’t give in to the world that took so much of your parents’ time from you. 
Much as you want to believe you’re just doing your job as the older child by entering the industry, you were too much of a people-pleaser who just wanted to make her parents proud. 
Jimin, on the other hand, was smart enough to only apply to the performing arts programs of prestigious universities in Seoul and was good enough to actually land a scholarship in the same school as you; your parents were backed in a corner and couldn’t do anything. 
You’d never tell Jimin but you always admired him for that; it takes a lot to stand up to your parents without actually standing up to them. You’re just glad that between the both of you, someone was brave enough to go for what they genuinely wanted.
“Tell them the truth?” Jungkook shrugs. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”
“You act like you don’t know what my parents are like.”
True, Jungkook thinks, but he also knows things have improved on their end. “Well, if anything, they’re more receptive now. They would congratulate Jimin on the choreographies they’d see those idol groups dance. They ask him about work, too.”
You smile at the thought, something your brother never mentioned, but you can imagine how happy that might’ve made him. Jimin, as you’ve found out, is a sweetheart to his friends - affectionate in all ways and very expressive - something he isn’t to you and your parents. The same can be said about you, and you soften at the thought that you and Jimin really aren’t that much different from each other. 
Jungkook picks up on the thoughts going through your head. “He probably didn’t tell you because you know him, he’d go all soft if he does, and Jimin has this persona when it comes to you. And it isn’t the soft one.”
“Goes both ways, I guess.”
“It’s not the end of the world, and he doesn’t seem to think so. He’s going to be fine.”
**
Jimin, in all sense of the word, is not fine. It took a few days until he cracked. He went from being an obedient patient who followed the doctor’s order of staying in bed, to one who constantly walked around and complained that he had nothing to do. 
Going on dating apps makes him sad, looking at job openings makes him sad, not being able to move and dance makes him sad. And your heart breaks for him, knowing what it’s like to lose your sense of direction and motivation at the loss of something or someone important. You allow him to let out his frustrations, though, listen to him when he rants, feed him his favorite food, and call Jungkook over with his PS4 that isn’t actually broken.
In fact, calling Jungkook has been your go-to, especially when you’re running out of things to say to comfort Jimin. Most times it’s really just so they could play PS4 together, prompting Jungkook to leave it at your place so Jimin could stay preoccupied and not feel too down when the job lists come up empty. He tires easily though, and it’s after he’s been tucked in bed that you usually settle for a cup of tea in the kitchen, Jungkook now the one listening to you talk.
It usually starts with the topic of Jimin, followed by some memory from your childhood that you and Jungkook get hysterical over, followed by a story about your work, and then a story about his. His stories are more interesting though. He shows you the paintings and digital pieces he makes for clients, and tells you amusing bits about his tattooing gig like amusing patterns and memorable customers. 
Hearing all this sends warmth through you because of how much he’s grown. While you’re only 3 years older, you met Jungkook when he was a shy 10 year-old, a complete opposite to you and Jimin’s naturally sociable selves. He went from smiling sheepishly to joking around and giving you high-fives in the 5 years before you went to Seoul to study.
Of course he’s grown when he followed your brother to the same university, having seen him with different girls, going to the same parties because your friends had taken a liking to him, and attending his art exhibitions. He went from greeting you under his breath to calling out to you at a bar while he’s surrounded by his peers. 
This was the kid who used to follow your brother around - even joined the dance club in high school - and would dunk his head in water if you asked him to, but now he’s forged his own path, doing what he loves, and enjoying every bit of his time that he controls. 
Personally, you’re also just happy that he can be available for your brother and for you, too, seeing that the nights you used to spend forcing yourself to sleep are now spent in good conversation with him. 
He’s also gotten way more attractive in the past few years, something you’ve only noticed now. Perhaps it has much to do with the physical closeness when you talk - your kitchen bar isn’t that long, anyway - where you’re able to pay more attention to his defined jawline, his dark eyes that anybody could get lost in, the curve of his nose, and the perfectly-placed beauty marks on his face. Come to think of it, maybe Jungkook has always been handsome, but you stop your thoughts before they go anywhere restricted.
It’s one Saturday night when you arrive home, after having drinks with your friends, to a very drunk Jimin and a tipsy Jungkook, gorging on fried chicken. Just thinking of cleaning up is already giving you a headache, which is aggravated by your brother’s drunk singing of classic yet cringey sad love songs. 
“Yah! Look at the mess you’ve made,” you smack Jimin’s arm, pointing to the chicken crumbs on the floor. “And alcohol, seriously? You can barely walk properly and now you’re drinking?”
“I’m injured, unemployed, homeless, and heartbroken. Leave me alone,” is all he says, then proceeds to belt out an insanely high note that pierces your ears and which causes Jungkook to laugh, used to this already and may have been enduring this the past hour or so. 
“He’s been like this for the past 4 hours,” Jungkook says. 
“And you let him?”
At the final high note, Jimin passes out on the couch, body limp over the empty space to his left.
“He wanted to drink his frustrations away, thought it might help,” Jungkook responds.
You sigh in annoyance but think he’s right, too. Jimin was out drinking his frustrations the night he got injured but at least now he’s doing it in the safety of your home. 
“I guess,” you shrug. “Can you take him to his room before he severs his neck?”
Jungkook laughs but follows. He carries Jimin over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and you pretend to not look hot and bothered at how easily he could carry your dead-weight brother. 
You follow to the room shortly and place an aspirin and orange juice on the side table, knowing it’s Jimin’s hangover drink. You remove the strands of hair that have stuck to his forehead and tuck him under the covers. 
Jungkook looks at you fondly; for someone who always claims you should’ve disowned her brother, you sure have a very affectionate way of showing it.
You step out of the room and take in Jungkook’s tipsy state, red cheeks and glassy eyes giving him away. 
“You should stay,” you tell him. “You drank and I doubt you’d sober up anytime soon, but try anyway.”
He nervously accepts but not for the reasons you think. He’s nervous because aside from those sleepovers at your house when you were younger, this is the first time he’s sleeping under the same roof as you, and that makes him giddy but anxious at the same time. He hopes you don’t catch him mid-dream saying your name; that would be too awkward to explain.
He goes back to the living room post-shower, a blanket and large pillow on the couch and you, tucked in the corner with a glass of juice. 
“Did you want to sleep already? I can go to my room if you are.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m not that sleepy yet, you can stay.” 
He refuses your offer of a drink. Unsure of the appropriate distance from you now that there’s space to go around, he settles on the other end of the couch. You smile at him as he sinks on the corner and he smiles back as you take baby sips from the glass. You both settle in comfortable silence, appreciating the quiet as a reprieve from the mind-numbing noise from earlier. 
You take a big gulp and he couldn’t hold the chuckle at your wide eyes hidden behind the glass. 
“So I’m guessing your hangover drink is apple juice?” He asks, not missing the similarity with your brother.
“Yeah. Jimin hates it so I’m sure he’ll never take it. He used to finish all the orange juice at home and I was mad because I wanted orange juice, too,” you say with a pout. Jungkook’s heart skips a beat at how adorable you look and goes for an ah, that’s why face because he remembers you fighting Jimin over it before.
“So you just switched to apple juice?”
“Yeah, pretty much. It’s really good. I thought he’d switch too just to annoy me but he said he really doesn’t like it.”
“Look at you two, being all civilized for once,” Jungkook teases. You throw a pillow at him and laugh at his comment, but you don’t disagree.
“Yah! We’ve always been civilized, okay?” 
“Now that is a lie. May I remind you of the time you two wrestled in front of me over a piece of pop tart. How you tackled him to the ground and he pulled your hair and the innocent treat was crushed in the process.”
“Hey, I was 15 and I called dibs on the strawberry!”
“Or that time you both wanted to watch different movies and had me choose and I felt like I was signing a death sentence either way? But it didn’t matter because you still got into a pillow fight?”
“His choices were always so boring!”
“Or that time when…”  You throw him another pillow. 
“Yeah, yeah. I get it. We weren’t always civilized,” you give up, laughing so hard with him at the memories. “You witnessed the worst parts of us, huh?”
“I didn’t really have a choice, did I?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow. 
“Well, you were the only one who stayed. The rest of your friends would run out once Jimin and I started going at it.” 
He laughs at this because if only you knew why he always stayed. He actually liked that you’d let him referee you two, he felt wanted. 
“Hmm, it takes a lot to handle the Park siblings, I don’t blame them.”
“Wow, Jeon Jungkook. Calling out your elder. Where is this bravery coming from?” You tease.
“I drank, remember?”
“Not much though.”
He shrugs. He doesn’t know, too, but he likes seeing you look flustered. “Enough liquid courage, I guess.”
You deem his answer satisfactory but it does make you recall all those petty fights growing up. 
“Sorry you had to witness all that,” you say, giving him a shy smile. “Our personalities were always just clashing and it was harder not to fight each other.”
“I think you two are just so similar, that’s why.” 
You look at Jungkook, eyes wide at the statement you’d only ever thought to yourself. 
“He thinks the world of you, you know?” He continues, sensing your now serious demeanor. “He used to tell the mean older kids that you’re his sister and you’ll fight them if they hurt him because he just knows you’d protect him no matter what.” 
You laugh and roll your eyes but Jungkook knows you agree.
“For schoolwork, he would always write about you as his role model or the person he looks up to.” Jungkook doesn’t miss how your eyes soften at this. “He never found out that I knew but I’ve read parts, how he wanted to be strong and kind like you, to be independent and smart and hardworking like you.”
Maybe it’s the remnants of alcohol, or this apple juice is just fucking delicious but you’re getting emotional.
“And honestly, I don’t think that’s changed. He’ll always look up to you, whether he’ll say it or not.”
And there goes the water works, causing panic in Jungkook and he immediately goes to you. Noticing your non-movement, he uses the edges of his hoodie to wipe the tears that have begun flowing from your eyes. He stills for a moment but seeing how you haven’t pushed him away, he continues. 
You look up at him with watery eyes and quivering lips. Somehow you should be embarrassed but something about Jungkook having seen the worst of you and being nothing but a huge help these past few weeks, you feel safe. No judgment whatsoever, just an air of understanding and care.
“Why are you telling me this?” You ask, and Jungkook feels weak at how you look. He didn’t mean to make you sad but all he wants to do now is hug you until you feel better.
“Because you’ve been so worried and so hard on yourself, as if it’s only your burden to carry.”
You try to object but he cuts you. “Jimin’s an adult. He’s crying and drinking and sulking but that’s normal. He’ll be fine and get himself together. I know that. Even he knows that. You know why? Because it’s what he’s seen you do.” Jungkook wipes another stray tear.
“Whether it’s a breakup or a work thing, he’s seen you take hits but never back down, never let anybody walk all over you, never let them take away the best parts of you. He’s struggled before, too, but he always got back up.”
“He’s good and strong that way,” you reply softly.
“Like I said, he has a good role model,” he smiles, nudging your shoulder. 
It’s meant to be playful but it’s comforting for you, and you’re leaning on his shoulder before you know it, ignoring the way he briefly stills at your action. 
“You’re a good person, Kook. We’re lucky to have you.”
You’re so close to him and he can feel the heat radiate from you. It’s too quiet that he’s afraid you’d hear the thrumming of his heart, from your words and the affection behind your still head on his shoulder. The situation calls for it, he thinks, so he lays his hand on your back and rubs circles on it.
He’ll chalk it up to liquid courage again if you ask, but you don’t. Instead you snuggle closer, chasing his warmth. He swears he could pass out with just this, but he tortures himself more by holding you even closer and he swears, even with his thick hoodie, he could feel your smile.
**
Over a month since the gutter incident - as you like to call it - you, Jimin, and Jungkook have found a pattern of cohabitation, and yes, that includes Jungkook, seeing as how he’s become a staple in your household and your life. 
At some point, Jimin had sulked less and would spend his time watching dance videos to remind himself of the feeling, even if it was just virtual. He’d even expanded his choice of employment by checking job openings as a fitness instructor and a ballet teacher for children. 
He’d also done his regular foot exercise once the pain became bearable. Still unemployed and heartbroken though, he’s been shameless in making your place his own home, with most of his belongings now removed from their boxes, and inviting Jungkook over any time, any day. Not that you minded though, since he’s been nothing but a literal angel.
Living in a studio on his own, Jungkook usually has ramen or street food as dinner, which is why Jimin used to invite him over his shared apartment with Taehyung so that Jungkook could at least have home cooked meals every once in a while. 
It’s why he’s often over your place on weeknights he doesn’t have a shift at the tattoo parlor. That and because Jimin still wants him over to play video games. Jungkook brings food over or pays for delivery though, and you welcome the initiative. 
On weekends, you’re all busy doing your own thing in the living room together, which carries over to movie nights. The young ones pass up on their friends’ invites to a party while you, well, your friends would rather spend their weeknights with their partners instead. So your night of basking in your singleness now means doing so with your brat of a brother and his dependable best friend.
It’s a Saturday afternoon when you get home from doing errands and you find both men in your living room, with Jimin reading a book on some dancer’s biography and Jungkook busy on his laptop. Your brother’s face pops on the screen and you decide it’s not a personal matter so you plop next to Jungkook on the floor and softly rest your chin on his shoulder, something you’ve maybe done once or twice before.
“What you up to?” You ask, an impressed look on your face at the snippets of Jimin dancing, some of which you’ve never seen before. 
“I’m working on his application video,” he says, pointing to your brother. “Since he’s not able to dance when he tries for jobs, he thinks sending them a video to show his skills will help.”
“Oh, like a visual CV of some sort?”
“Yes!” Jimin states. “Want them to know what they’re missing out on, and that’s a lot.”
You roll your eyes but mentally agree; your brother is the most talented person you know. 
“Kookie’s been kind enough to work on it for me although he’s been on it for hours,” he continues, a playful smile on his face.
“Give him a break, Chim. He’s done so much for you already,” you say, getting your own laptop and setting it up on the table.
“Nah, it’s the least I can do. He’s helped me so much, ___.”
“He fought off your bullies 15 years ago…” You cock an eyebrow.
Jungkook chuckles. “Yes. And more. Helped me with school work, my confidence, my social skills…”
“Gave him tips to woo girls because he was too shy to ask them on dates,” Jimin adds.
“Hmm,” you mumble. “What you gotta be shy for? Just flash them your smile or show them your toned arms, they’ll probably jump on you right there,” you say nonchalantly, unaware of the way Jungkook’s heart stills at your comment.
“He doesn’t want them to jump on him, ___. He wants them to actually like him, or love, whatever. He’s a romantic, you know,” Jimin teases. “Would travel to the ends of the earth or fight to the death for the woman he loves, whoever she is,” he says matter-of-factly, unaware of the way Jungkook’s breath hitches because if Jimin only knew.
“Aww, Kook. That’s cute,” is all you say, smile genuine though, he wishes he could see it everyday. But cute, really? That’s it?
He chooses not to dwell on it and instead asks you what you’re up to, to which you respond that it’s a presentation you have to work on. You’re frustrated at your lack of design eye and it looks so bare; you want it to look professional but still eye-catching.
“Maybe I can help!” Jungkook states.
But of course, you think. You’ve been accommodating an actual graphic designer in your home, surely it’s fair that he help you out, right?
“Yes please, Kook. I need to blow these people away with my smarts and my non-existent creativity,” you laugh. 
Jungkook sets aside his laptop, adoringly quick to prioritize helping you, and works on your presentation. He knows just the right color and font combo, even helping out on which details to include, what visuals to add, and how to make it exactly how you want. 
You’re amused at how easily he works on it. He's meticulous, working on the size of the texts and the angles of the patterns. Jimin chides him for his perfectionism but unbeknownst to both of you, Jungkook’s laser focus is a means of distraction with how physically close you’ve been to him the past hour, eyes flicking from him to the screen.
He wants this to last but also can’t wait for it to be over because of how nervous he is, especially with your constant praises for something really basic, but which he finds so charming all the same. 
Pretty soon he finishes and returns your laptop to you and retrieves his, quick to get back to work and focus on something else, which still proves futile once you remove your sweater to reveal a camisole underneath, and tie your hair on a high bun, thus exposing more of your shoulders and neck. 
He shakes off the tingles he feels, pretends to be completely unbothered by his attraction towards you that seems to intensify day-by-day. He looks forward to seeing you, and when he doesn’t, he yearns to. He’d been used to admiring you from afar but these past weeks showed that he has all the reasons to admire you even up close. 
You’re just as brilliant, feisty, and funny; sassy too like Jimin but in a captivating way, yet so kind-hearted just the same. 
The three of you settle in a comfortable silence, each busy with your own task at hand. With your knees touching Jungkook’s, your questions on any additions you make on the presentation, and him asking for your approval on the video (which he seeks, oddly enough from you and not from Jimin), your eventual quick agreement on dinner and your teamwork in preparing it, it all feels so familiar, like it’s home.
**
The next evening, you find yourself sandwiched between Jungkook to your right and Jimin to your left, who moved from his center seat to lie down, with half of his tiny body settled comfortably on top of you and Jungkook. Your brother insisted on watching “How to Be Single” tonight, like a slap to all your faces.
It’s during one of the scenes with the protagonist’s ex when Jimin randomly asks, “___, do you regret breaking up with Namjoon?”
It may seem like a question out of left field, but with everything that’s happened, Jimin has been quite reflective lately, particularly about love. He’s had his fair share of partners but unlike you, is more a feeler than a thinker; gets out of relationships as fast as he gets into them; takes it one day at a time whereas you always have to consider the future. 
You don’t need to ponder on the question; you’ve gone through this multiple times with your best friends but never really with your brother. 
“Sometimes. But there was too much on the line and it was unfair to both of us if we carried on.” You sigh, recalling the moment you both decided it wouldn’t work. “It was something we had to do but doesn’t mean it hurt any less.”
Jimin hums, thinking back to the days he’d barge in your apartment and ask for leftovers when really, he just wanted to be near you so you had someone to cry to, just in case. That was over 2 years ago and it took you a year to finally say that you were over the relationship. He used to note your choice of words - “I’m over us,” never “I’m over him.” 
Next to you, Jungkook is picking on his nails, unsure if he should be part of the conversation. He’d heard about the break up since you had common friends. It was quite the shock, knowing how you and Namjoon were. 
You pick up this nervous habit, aware that he might not know what really happened. It wasn’t a secret but there was more to the story. 
“We just wanted different things,” you say then turning to both of them, “so you two better make sure you’re on the same page with the person you date, talk about what lies ahead, what you want, what you’re willing to compromise and what you aren’t.”
“That’s good advice, yeah Kookie?” Jimin says. 
“Why you focusing on me?” Jungkook asks. 
“You’re the one focused on the dating, not the settling. You avoid those conversations.”
“You don’t want to settle?” You ask, now curious. You’ve seen him with girlfriends but thinking back now, his relationships never really lasted.
“It’s not that,” he glares at Jimin. “I’m more of a live-in-the-moment kind of guy. Thinking about the future is great, I mean, any mature individual does that, it’s just…” 
He heaves out a sigh, hoping he’s not shooting himself in the foot with his statement. “What good is the future if you don’t take care of what you have right now? Isn’t the present more important because it’s what’s assured? The future is literally dependent on that, so the now is what I want to focus on.” 
He rests his head on the couch, nervous of your reaction. He knows you’re a planner, needs to see things far ahead to know what to do. 
There’s no one way to go about life, he acknowledges that. He just doesn’t want you to think he’s not a serious guy. With his developing feelings for you, not seeing him as a potential partner is literally the worst thing that could happen.
Jimin continues with the movie he paused but in your mind, all you could think about was what Jungkook said. If you and Namjoon hadn’t obsessed about the future, would things have been different? Would you still be together? 
The sinking feeling comes at the realization that maybe they still wouldn’t. What if your ‘present’ with him then wasn’t good enough in the first place? That the “could be” was more exciting than the “what is”? Suddenly there’s clarity, you just don’t know if it’s the good kind. 
Still, it doesn’t keep you from sinking further down the couch until you’re leaning on Jungkook’s shoulder. And like the few times that you have, there’s a comforting feeling in the act. 
“You must’ve made your ex-girlfriends really happy, huh Kook?” You ask, head shuffling near his upper arm. “Focusing on the present and the moments and all that.” 
You wish it was something you did, but Namjoon was just like you. 
“I guess you could say that,” he answers shyly. 
“But that was just it though, right Kook?” Jimin says. “Made them happy but not enough to fall in love.”
This prompts you to look at him, wide eyes full of questions. “How come?”
He turns to you and if he tried enough, Jimin right behind you would blur and there’s just you, overhead light illuminating the best parts of your face which is, well, everything. You’re absolutely breathtaking. 
And at your question - how come he never fell in love - comes his own realization. For all of his talk of living in the moment, tucked in the corner of his mind is the thought of the future he’s only ever dreamed about, the one that he’s always wanted, well, with you. 
“I - I actually don’t know.”
**
Adopting your brother, and by extension Jungkook, isn’t as bad as you expected. Sure, Jimin is still a diva and annoys you just because he wants to, but he makes you laugh more, compliments your cooking more, and encourages you to go out and have fun. Most times you do, but if you’re being honest, you’ve been enjoying time spent with him and Jungkook more.
Your movie and PS4 nights are chaotic and only egos are harmed. You and Jungkook help Jimin with job hunting, monitor his practice dancing, and watch dance videos with him. Two months since the gutter incident, you’ve gone to the park, the beach, and the river, perfected making choco-walnut cookies, and built fairy houses. 
Your days are more tiring yet satisfying, as if your apartment actually feels like a sanctuary, save for Jimin’s provocation leading to your bickering, but even that has become a welcome addition in your daily life as well.
Jungkook though is altogether a different story. You two have gone grocery shopping together more than once, had spent some mornings on a run, and some weeknights he even picks you up from work then you both grab some of Jimin’s favorite food for dinner. Those are on top of the many nights you’ve spent drinking whatever in the living room, bidding him goodnight either out the door or on your couch. You’re not exactly sure what to make of the giddiness but you shut down whatever unusual feeling there is before they start to mean anything more.
**
It started with a missed deadline, then an oversight of a risk, then your workmate Chul getting the last laugh. Sometimes, no matter how good you think things are going, all it takes is an extremely bad week, made up of extremely bad moments, to make you doubt yourself. You think some more, then you end up doubting everything else.
Am I good enough for this job? Can I really make a career here? Is this what I really want? Is this going to make me happy? Why the fuck am I still single? It’s the sudden feeling of uncertainty that overwhelms you, makes you second-guess, and suddenly you’re not as stable and secure as you thought you were. 
It’s this feeling that you carry over the day after at your friend Jin’s and his wife’s baby shower. Between their growing family, Yoongi’s hit-making record label, Hoseok’s renewed contract as a travel show host, Yuri’s PhD, and Na-eun’s engagement to her college boyfriend, you feel so… lost. Like you’re just getting by, just letting time pass until there’s something big and meaningful to look forward to again, whatever that is. 
Of course your friends would never make you feel any less; that’s really on you, which is probably worse.
The party is on full swing; gifts have been given and time has come for full-on socializing where you all get to talk about how great your individual lives are. Except for you. And maybe Eun-ha on the corner who doesn’t seem to be happy being here, but that’s not your problem. 
Somewhere near the bar is Jungkook, beer in hand and clearly enjoying himself. He’s a staple in events like this and he fits right in with everyone else - self-assured, content, in control, and may be on his way to a date, seeing as how that pretty girl hasn’t left his side all afternoon. Not that you were monitoring, though. 
For once, you’re actually hoping Jimin was here so you can whine together, but the group he used to choreograph for invited him to their concert, so there’s that. 
You’re on your third glass of champagne when you head inside Jin’s enormous house, away from the laughter and obvious put-together lives of your friends, when you see him, the man who was once your embodiment of stability, of a “good and secure life,” as your parents had said. 
He sees you, flashes his dimple-bearing smile, and walks towards you, looking extremely good in a white polo and denim jacket, brown hair slicked back. 
“___!” He greets, his arms immediately engulfing you in a tight hug, providing you the physical warmth that you haven’t felt in a while. You sigh into him, your head on his firm chest, his now sturdier frame but a reminder of the time that's passed.
You linger, prompting him to gently stroke your back like he used to after a long day at work. 
“You needed this, huh?” He observes, voice low and comforting. 
You release yourself from his hold and look up at him, his sweet smile a contrast to his commanding presence. 
“Unfortunately,” you sigh.
“Boss still not giving you due credit? Colleagues still not making it any easier? Stress still at an all-time high?” He asks, and it’s either he still reads you so well or your problems - or you - haven’t changed one bit. 
“You’re just not your usual energetic self,” he continues. “I mean, I haven’t seen your genuine smile since you arrived.”
He’s been watching you? Somehow that sends heat to your cheeks and quickens your heartbeat. 
“Just tired, is all. Plus, Jimin’s been living at home after a little accident,” you finally respond.
His face makes this charming worried expression. “House already a makeshift wrestling ring?” He laughs.
“You’d be surprised at how little damage there is in my apartment. Safe to say we’ve grown up,” you say, wide smile finally adorning your face, which he returns. You haven’t felt this light the whole week. 
“It’s nice to see you again, Joonie.”
**
You and Namjoon find a spot in the large living room, with the 2-seater couch being the only one available, the physical closeness making it difficult not to be mesmerized by his gorgeous face. His laugh is still the same, the feel of his hand under yours is still the same; the attention he gives, his thoughtful and wise words, and ability to make you feel cared for haven’t changed. 
You’re smiling more, eyes sparkling for sure, and you can’t help the way your body reacts the way it does - knees chasing his, hand tucking your hair behind your ear, voice going a key higher.
He’s still the same confident and self-assured man that you fell in love with, that you once saw a life with. It’s almost intoxicating, the way he speaks, sees the world, sees himself. You could easily fall into this again, into the ideal, the safe and secure, the expected, the could be. You think of the reasons why it didn’t work out, of what you chose when you decided to call it quits. His phone rings. He excuses himself but you still hear him. And you’re reminded why.
“I’m sure the gown looks beautiful, love. I’ll leave the party soon and meet you and our parents at the wedding planners’ office. See you in a bit.”
Your heart should be breaking but it’s just your pride that does. 
“I’m sorry, it was my uh—“ he says, unsure.
“Your fiancé,” you smile, as if reminding him.
“Yeah it’s… it’s pretty recent and we uh… we’re planning to have it in 3 months,” he explains, eyes turning sullen, lips curling into an apologetic smile.
“Congratulations, Namjoon. I’m so glad you’re happy,” you say, hoping he picks up the sincerity in your voice. 
He sits across from you again, hand on top of yours, his smile hopeful, and for the first time, you see him struggle with what to say. So you don’t give him a chance to.
“What are you still doing here?” You playfully nudge him. “You have somewhere else to be.”
“You’ll be okay?” 
“Of course. Don’t worry about me.”
He lingers this time. Maybe in another life you would’ve worked out, you would’ve loved each other better, you would’ve fought for each other. But not in this. 
He leans forward and places a soft kiss on your forehead and you shut your eyes, absorbing all the words he wishes he could say. I’m sorry. I will always care about you. I hope you find your happiness, too. 
Your eyes follow him as he walks out the door, out to the woman who could definitely give him what you couldn’t. From across the room, a pair of eyes follows your movement too, the way it has since you entered the party four hours ago. 
**
Whatever worry you initially had about getting drunk at your friend’s baby shower is out the window. You don’t mind anymore, not with your 5th glass of champagne and your 3 shots of vodka because of course, it’s Jin. You laugh along with your friends although you’re too dazed to process what they’re saying. 
Your jaw is sore from laughing over things you don’t understand so you decide to head inside, maybe call it a night and take the drinking back to your place; at least you’d be in your pjs and not in a tight dress and heels.
You’re pulling open a door that just won’t budge and you exert what little energy you have, causing you to trip on yourself only to be held steady by strong hands on your waist.
“That’s a sliding door, ___,” the familiar voice says, tone low but still teasing. 
You turn around and meet chocolate eyes looking down at you and you stare back even in your embarrassment.
“I… I think I’m drunk,” you stutter. 
You’re met with laughter. “No shit, ___. Think I didn’t notice that?”
“I…” You say, looking down at the hands still holding onto you. 
He quickly removes them, worry painting his face and you wave him off before he could apologize.
“Let’s go to a bar, Jungkook.”
**
You reasoned your decreased alcohol tolerance to your friends, which they didn’t buy but waved you off without much fanfare. They probably sensed you were out of it for a while. Or probably saw the exchange with Namjoon, who knows. 
But you’re now at a bar eating chicken wings and fries like you’re about to run out of food, the guy next to you chuckling and reminding you to breathe every once in a while. 
You finish your meal quickly and pout when you realize he’s barely touched his food. 
“You’re not eating,” you state the obvious.
“Sorry, too entertained,” he laughs, the child-like sound now so familiar, you’d recognize it anywhere.
He’s just smiling at you and you feel so small under his gaze. He saw you talking with Namjoon, taking shots, and almost tripping earlier. He’s probably wondering who this person is; definitely not the one who’s been semi-housing him the past few months.
You bury your face in your hands. “I’m so embarrassed,” you cry out.
“Hey now,” he says, hands gently removing yours from your face. He stops the one tear before it falls off.
“God, how many times have I cried in front of you, Kook? This is humiliating.”
“No one’s counting though,” he states. “It’s your drinks I’m counting and I’m thinking maybe you’ve had enough.”
You nod and he orders a can of soda and a glass of water. With light chatter and glasses clinking in the background, you two fall in comfortable silence. He’s quietly picking on his food, eyes roaming the bar while yours flit from him to the space between you, somehow wishing it isn’t as wide as it is right now. 
“I had a bad week,” you finally say. He nods.
“My friends are all accomplishing so many things, achieving their dreams and I’ve been stuck in the same company for 5 years.” 
He nods again.
“I’m a 28 year-old who got drunk at a baby shower and flirted with her ex only to find out he’s engaged.” 
Jungkook pretends not to be affected at the confirmation that you were indeed flirting with Namjoon but he nods just the same.
“And?” He asks.
“And? I’m in a bar with you, and I cried, and I’m acting like a baby because I had a terrible week and ended up doubting everything and now think I can’t get my life together. I mean, between my brother I can’t properly help, a job I can’t seem to stand out in no matter how hard I try…” You release a deep breath. “And a relationship I couldn’t keep because I wasn’t enough and I…”
“Hey, don’t say that,” he says angrily. “You’re none of those things.”
“I wasn’t sure if I wanted to have kids. And Namjoon always wanted to be a father,” you blurt, the words not stinging as they used to.
This stuns Jungkook. Jimin had always mentioned it was a mutual breakup but never said anything more. Jungkook didn’t think it was because of this. 
“I thought I wanted a family, too. It was so easy to fall into the idea of that kind of life with him because he was the perfect person to have it with. But then one day I just started doubting it,” you sigh, recalling how hard you used to be on yourself for suddenly wanting something different.
“Sometimes I think, what if I gave myself more time, what if eventually I’d be sure?” You take a long breath. “But the uncertainty was too much and it wasn’t fair to him,” you huff. There was no blame game; you both knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault.
“Quite the dealbreaker, huh?” Jungkook wonders.
“Yeah but looking back, the other issues were just bubbling under the surface. The future was so enticing and we talked about it all the time, it seemed much more important than well, us,” you explain. 
“It was Jimin who made me realize that I hung onto Namjoon for the relationship, the potential, what it meant. He was the epitome of stability and I was the same for him but at some point, even that wasn’t enough.”
“So, earlier. Why did you, uhm,” he starts, hoping it doesn’t come out wrong.
“Flirt with him?”
Jungkook nods.
“Being with him used to make me feel like I had it together, you know? Like I had it figured out because he did and it was silly but I don’t know, maybe I wanted to trick myself into thinking that by being close to him in any way, I had it together.”
“You don’t need to have it together all the time. You just need to have it together enough.” His whole body turns to you.
“You had one bad week, we all do. But it’s over now, isn’t it? Your friends doing well in their careers? So are you. You know what not to compromise on, what to stand up for, which battles to fight. I’ve heard enough of your stories to know that there are people at work who respect you, look up to you. The way your friends, your brother, and I look up to you.”
Your lips are quivering, forcing yourself not to cry again tonight. He just always knows what to say. “That’s really sweet, Jungkook.”
“Thanks, but I wasn’t trying to be sweet. I was just being honest. You’re a lot of good things to people, ___. Isn’t that what matters? Being a little off at work and drinking then flirting with an ex don’t make you any less of a person. Okay? You’re allowed to slip up every once in a while.”
You let this sink in.
“Look at you, Jeon Jungkook. When did you get this wise? It’s like I just blinked then you’re all of a sudden so grown up.” You tease to keep yourself from breaking down.
“Like I told you, much of what I know, I got from Jimin. And what he knows, he got from you. Maybe try listening to yourself, yeah?” He smirks.
You nod, smile creeping on your face the same way all the heat is rushing to your cheeks. You feel comfortable like this, being vulnerable and sad and doubtful but he’s holding you close without touching you, making you feel safe with just his presence. In the now noisy bar, your bodies angling towards each other, and with his tender smile, you feel a type of intimacy you’ve never felt before. It’s reassuring yet enticing at the same time. And this scares you.
You both stay for another hour until you decide it’s time to head home. Jungkook had taken a cab, too in anticipation of drinking so you both decided to walk back to your apartment, knowing the couple of blocks would be enough to sober you up.
The streets are still alive with the nightlife just starting but the noise starts to tone down once you reach your neighborhood. The long walk is soothing, as Jungkook leaves you to your thoughts, except for the times he has to steady you because, well, your vodka shots are still in your system and a walk isn’t enough to flush them down. Still, you’re calm, a feeling of acceptance overtaking you.
“Thanks for tonight, Jungkook. I hope I didn’t ruin any potential date or anything just because I couldn’t get the door open,” you laugh. 
He raises an eyebrow.
“That, uh, girl seemed really into you,” you stammer. 
He chuckles, hands in his pockets and cheeks flushed at the implication of your observation. 
“That wasn't much, we were just chatting.” He turns to you. “I could see your scrunched eyebrows from where I was and thought you needed help,” he shrugs.
You sigh. He was always helpful, ever since he was a kid. 
“You know, you were always the good guy. Jimin’s other friends were so rowdy and immature. Yugyeom was always sprawled on the couch with his feet up like he owned the place; Sejun was always finishing our ice cream, and Sunghoon was such a flirt.” 
Jungkook laughs, recalling the times you were scolding all of them for messing up the house and being so annoyingly noisy and eating your snacks.
“You were always the well-behaved and mature one. Like, you barely engaged in their pranks and stupid boy talk. You’d rather watch it all unfold until it was too much and you’d help me in the kitchen always. I remember your glazed potatoes. God, that was so hilarious.”
“That was embarrassing.”
“It was funny! And adorable. You were always so kind.”
“Thanks but uh, I wasn’t trying to be kind. Well, sort of. I wanted to impress you. And I—” He doesn’t know where this is coming from but it’s like word vomit, especially now that you’ve started to walk more slowly and are looking at him. 
“It was an opportunity to be near you. Kinda wanted a lot of that back then. Even now, actually.”
You gulp, unsure of what to feel or how to react. You thought you were imagining his lingering looks, or how his eyes shone a tad brighter and his smile was a bit wider when you were around. But he’s not saying what he’s saying, right?
“I, uh. Well, maybe you look up to me like an older—“
“Don’t say sister because I never saw you as one,” he interrupts you, frustration laced in his voice as if the word is venom. “Not when I was a teenager, not in the years after, and especially not now.”
You hesitantly turn to him, his nervous face a contrast to the offended tone of his voice just seconds ago. He nibbles on his lips, a mannerism you noticed when he was a teenager who always seemed shy around you and would only relax after you talked to him. 
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. I didn’t mean to sound angry. I just—“ 
“That was your angry tone?” You tease, your laugh affirming him that you’re not upset one bit, just… unsure. You’re flattered, definitely; he is a very attractive man. Still your brother’s best friend, though.
This eases him, but prompts him to test the waters.
“I’m a gentle boy, what can I say? Most times, at least,” he says, and you don’t miss the playful tone of this voice, his eyes peering down at you, making your breath hitch and your hands clammy.
You wrap yourself with your arms - really to wipe the sweat off because you’re feeling nervous - but Jungkook takes this differently, as anyone would, and immediately unzips his jacket and puts it on you.
You slow on your tracks and you feel even warmer. He follows your pace but urges you to speed up once he feels a droplet on his cheek. You’re glad you opted to wear low heels today, tiring your calves only a little but allowing you to walk fast enough until you’re on the steps of your apartment in time to miss the sudden downpour.
Well, Jungkook doesn’t because as he enters, a portion of his torso is wet, his black shirt sticking on his skin to tease you of his toned abs that you definitely will be thinking about tonight. Between that, his damp hair, and soaked veiny arm, you curse your mind for the images it’s currently making up. 
All he did was indirectly tell you he has a crush on you, right? Or did he? He doesn’t seem as bothered as you expected him to be if that was the case so maybe you misinterpreted? 
You can’t stand this wet version of him so you say you’ll get him a towel but are too flustered so you hit the wall as you turn towards the bathroom, eliciting a loud “ow!” 
“You okay?” He asks worriedly.
“Yeah, still drunk I guess,” you lie. He smirks and probably knows you’re lying. 
“I’ll take care of myself, don’t worry. Go wash up and get ready for bed.” 
“Are you ordering me around?” You ask, trying your best to reestablish yourself as the one in authority because you can’t take how this man is making you feel nervous and unsettled and not in control. 
“Do you want me to?” He simpers, flustering you even more. What is with him? 
You roll your eyes and trudge to your bathroom. You’re technically sober but with Jungkook’s looks, the sudden flirty tone of his voice, and his innuendos, you might as well be drunk again. 
You open the door and seconds later he’s by your bedroom, a glass of water in one hand and apple juice in the other. The bottle of aspirin is tucked under his arm by his rib and he asks you to get it and you think he's evil for testing you but you take it, acting unbothered. He follows you to your room and you don’t stop him. 
Glasses now on your bedside, you tuck yourself in. “Thank you, Jungkook.”
“For what?”
“For staying with me? Listening to me?” You test the waters, too. “For caring for me?” And his smugness disappears. Before you is a man, all strong and tough yet his smile is the tiniest, softest you’ve ever seen on him, and even from where you are, you could see the tips of his ears turn red. 
“I really appreciate everything,” you conclude, and you mean it.
He gathers himself before he looks you in the eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Anything you need, just tell me.” You nod. 
“Sleep well, ___.”
**
You don’t sleep well. In fact, even with the rain pouring outside, you feel so hot, you end up shedding your shorts. 
The closeness with Jungkook has been gradual and if anything, it’s been comfortable. You convince yourself what he has is probably just a little crush; convincing your heart to still is a different story. 
Jungkook, on the other hand, can’t stop smiling. He was testing the waters tonight, gauging how you would react to his flirtation and teasing. It was partly the alcohol but then you’d gone all shy and flustered; he thought it was worth a shot.
He was half expecting you to scold him like you used to do with Sunghoon, or berate him like those guys at work but you did neither. You don’t seem to hate him, even with his indirect confession to you, and that’s really better than what he’d hoped. 
**
You wake up dissatisfied with your sleep and take your hangover necessities; dealing with Jungkook last night did add to your inebriation. 
You head out to the kitchen to prepare some beef bone soup to help with the headache, hands trying to remove the sleep from your eyes. You move like you’re on autopilot like most post-night out mornings and then you hear someone gasp.
“Shit, woman. Learn your manners and put some clothes on,” Jimin shouts. 
It wouldn’t have been bothersome had Jungkook not been here but of course, he is. Next to your brother, eyes wide and definitely trying not to look at your bare legs. It dawns on you that you indeed removed your shorts because of that very man and your face contorts in shock and embarrassment.
“Fuck. Jimin! Grab me my shorts on my bed, please!!!” You cry out and stand behind the counter.
He’s too scandalized to complain so he rushes to your room and you feel so hot all over. You avoid Jungkook’s face at all costs, which apparently is what he’s also doing.
Jimin throws your shorts on your face. “Get yourself together, jeez,” he scowls.
“You’re the one invading my space, okay, both of you,” you bite back. 
Jimin’s making faces like he always does when you scold him and Jungkook sits next to him, chuckling. 
“I shouldn’t have welcomed you, you brats. I’m used to walking around my apartment in my underwear so this is a lifestyle change.”
“Oh god, shut it. Nobody wants to imagine you without clothes on,” he cringes.
For some reason, your eyes find Jungkook, who visibly gulps. You glare at both men, and Jimin responds with an evil smile.
You return to what you were meant to do and start getting ingredients. Jungkook starts to feel bad and approaches you, mumbles to Jimin that he’ll just help. 
Jungkook appears next to you. “Did you mean that?”
You sigh. “I didn’t. Of course you two are welcome here.”
“I was referring to the other one,” he says with a low voice.
Your eyes widen and you smack his arm. “What is wrong with you? Stop teasing,” you loud-whisper, but he doesn’t miss the way you try to hide your laugh.
“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he smirks, and you get flustered even more. 
You’re a 28-year old getting scandalized over playful comments by this ridiculously good-looking man and you feel so pathetic but you can’t deny that it’s exciting you. It’s been a while since you’ve had someone flirt with you and pay attention to you like this, make you all giddy and entranced as if you’re an adolescent getting her first love letter or being told by her crush that she’s pretty.
There’s playfulness there but affection, too. You see it in the way he stops the teasing and smiles to himself, then proceeds to help you cook, looks at you with fondness while you eat, then forces Jimin to clean up with him. 
This continues for the next few weeks. His lingering looks on you are more flirty now and he smirks when you look away and try to hide your flushed face. His tone of voice when Jimin is nearby is lower, as if he’s telling you a secret. 
He no longer stiffens when Jimin moves to the corner of the couch and kicks you closer to Jungkook so that your brother can make space for himself. In fact, it’s the opposite now, with Jungkook finding ways to be near you - when the three of you are on a grocery run, when you’re all on the couch for movie night, and especially when Jimin opts to sit on the floor - shuffling closer, knees grazing each other’s.
You’ve kept your head to yourself, fighting the urge to rest it on his shoulder and he definitely noticed this, so he’s started to edge you, in a way. The once lingering finger touches when he hands you something are no more, so are the “accidental” elbow brushes. 
He stands close to you just enough for you to feel the heat off him but not enough to feel him. His arm over your chair leaves his hand thisclose to your shoulder and you swear you can feel the sensation even then. 
You’d stopped smacking him after this one time he flexed his bicep and you started to imagine how good those arms must look.
You found out shortly after when he and Jimin convinced you to join them in the gym because Jungkook had a voucher to a free yoga class since a client of his is a teacher; safe to say she wasn’t happy when he popped in the studio to say you were taking his slot. Jungkook and Jimin did a workout, your brother now in a better condition.
After the session, they made you wait as they finished and Jungkook really had to remove his red jacket to reveal his stupidly gorgeous toned and tattooed arms in a black fit sleeveless top. He caught you ogling and the devil crossed his arms to fucking flex and smirk when the conversation he was having with one of the trainers didn’t even seem that amusing. 
Of course, his outfit just sent your mind into another dimension with the images of what could be underneath that black top and again, you find out one morning exactly how glorious it is. 
It’s one of those post-bar night mornings - you’ve allowed Jimin to enjoy the nightlife again as long as he had chaperones, which essentially were you and Jungkook. You’d woken up and stopped by the hallway at the sound of someone gasping and you look up from the hallway, slack jawed as you watch Jungkook pull his shirt off from the back of his neck with one hand, coffee-stained clothing lying on the counter.
His black sweatpants are hanging low on his hips and does he not have any boxers on?? His tiny waist spreads out to his muscular back, and when he turns, his sculpted chest almost blinds you; pecs just the right perk and torso so taut but not intimidating at all. It’s... beautiful. It looks so smooth and captivating; your eyes can’t help but trail down south and is that black ink that’s peeking underneath the waistband? You gulp at the thought of Jungkook having a hip tattoo because what the fuck? Is he trying to kill you? And his…
“Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” He asks, and you jerk from where you’re standing. 
Your eyes turn to the appropriate body part they should be focused on and he’s smiling like he’s an angel, as if he literally didn’t just try to murder you with his exquisite bare body. 
His smile is so sweet and you know he’s playing you because he totally caught you drooling at the sight of him. Your throat is dry and suddenly you can’t speak, which really isn’t surprising by now because he’s also taken away your ability to form coherent sentences. 
“I, uhm. I’ll get one of Jimin’s.” 
“I don’t fit in his clothes. Don’t you have large ones?”
He knows you do, and you nod, unclench the thighs you didn’t even realize had betrayed you, and retrieve one of your oversized Disney t-shirts and approach him. You stay at a safe distance because any closer you might fall into temptation and you throw him the shirt. 
He chuckles and turns to his side to slowly put it on because of course there’s a fucking dent down there that he wants to show off.
You turn and trip on your foot because god knows how dizzy you feel from the show he just put on.
“Careful,” he calls out and even with your back turned, you just know he’s smirking.
He beats you to the bathroom shortly after and he took his time. 
You decide to wait with your brother who’d been so ecstatic over an audition he landed for a fairly new and small entertainment company as a choreographer for a hip-hop group. 
They told him his contemporary dance background and versatility are just what they need and you soften at his joyful face; he says he feels like a new person again. You listen to him excitedly and give encouragement.
You perk at the sound of the bathroom door opening because you really need to clean the wetness down there and you trudge out of the room so you could finally shower, slightly upset at Jungkook’s clothed form. 
You groan. “Ugh that was so long,” you mindlessly say.
“Oh it is.” His smirk is back and you are pissed. You bang the door and pull your hair out of frustration. 
He doesn’t even need to touch you for you to be a whimpering mess. He knows it. And you’re in trouble.
**
Jungkook is busy for the next two weeks, having shared that he has a couple of on-site art installations outside of the city and a tattoo piece that will need more than one 5-hour shift. You tried not to seem affected when Jimin teased him since it was going to be on a woman’s breast this time. 
“This the same one who had her vagina tattooed? The one who asked you out after?” Jimin asked.
Your eyes were burning your phone screen because you absolutely cannot be affected. 
“Yeah,” Jungkook laughed. “That was fun.”
Jin calling you was your saving grace and you spent the next half hour in your room, talking to him over nursery room ideas because Hoseok couldn’t make up his mind over a neon green or a fuschia pink wall and Yoongi wanted dark grey because “babies can’t even identify colors,” which is true but Jin needed you as the one with a more palatable taste.
Jungkook had knocked to say goodbye, which is more than his usual yelling, and you noticed him linger before you heard the steps away from your door. 
**
It was day 5 when you realized why you’d been so grumpy and you hated the moment you did - you miss Jungkook. You’d gotten so used to seeing him every few days - picking you up from work, playing rock-paper-scissors to determine who’ll choose dinner, laughing at his high-pitched child-like laughter, talking to him about work and other things… you even miss his flirting and teasing. 
He’d been such a staple in your life the past months, and not just to referee between you and Jimin. Jungkook, with his listening ear, his heartwarming passion for his work, and ability to soothe and comfort you in the silence, just feels so stable. And not in the way you used to think. He’s so laid-back and just there, always dependable, like you’re sure whatever it is you’re feeling, he’ll know what to do and say. 
Jimin used to say that Jungkook was always the person he needed for anything and now you understand why. He emits a certain calmness, joy, and consistency, like whether you’re flying or drowning, he’s the pillar grounding you or keeping you afloat. 
You’re always tempted to send him a message but you two don’t text and it’d be weird to just start now, although it doesn’t help that he doesn’t text you, too. You shrug it off and convince yourself that it really might just be a silly crush, one he acts on when he’s around you but probably forgets when he isn’t. Or maybe he went out with that girl, who knows?
On the day that he arrives, he's set to drive Jimin to the audition and watch him, too, while you’re just happy to be able to do errands and clean the house on your own. 
The doorbell rings and Jimin, whom you’ve reminded to shower so he won’t be late, answers the door and you try not to look intrigued when you hear him rambling about how good Jungkook apparently looks because how else can he look better?
With ash-grey hair, that’s how. You couldn’t help it. You peeked and turned your head before he could turn to look at you.
You’re currently by the kitchen counter, tiptoeing to try to get the cereal box on the top shelf to check if you need to buy another or if it would suffice. Or if it’s even still edible. You’ll be off for a quick grocery run if only you can get this stupid box out.
Then a large hand is touching your lower back and the fresh scent of detergent fills your nose. You stiffen as an arm is raised to easily grab the cereal box you’ve spent the past 5 minutes trying to get and fuck do you miss his touch, his scent that you realize is just as comforting as his soft sweatshirts, and the way you feel a jolt of electricity even at the slightest brush of his body on yours.
He places the box on the counter. “You should’ve asked,” he says, voice low.
“I can do it,” you respond, gaining the courage to look at him and your lips betray you at how they part because he looks so good with his new hair. 
“I know. I just like it when you ask.” He tries to keep his eyes on you but they keep falling to your lips, the one he’d been imagining the feel and taste of. But your eyes lock on his, letting yourself be hypnotized. 
You feel his touch drift away from you and you stop him, as your hand finds his and keeps it on your waist, and it signals him to grip tighter and pull you closer. And you let him. You angle yourself so you’re standing chest to chest, you could almost feel his heart beat just as fast as yours.
“What else?” You indulge yourself because you just wanna know. You've missed him and you can’t reconcile the flirting with his recent silence.
Jungkook bites his lip, knowing it’s his signal to tell you how he feels.
“I like it when you say my name, when you listen to me talk and take me seriously. When you don’t make me feel bad about the things I do, the things I choose.”
His hand that isn’t on your waist glides through your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It settles on your cheek and you hope he doesn’t notice just how hot it is.
“I like it when you pout and when you smile with your eyes,” he continues. “And I like it when you need me because then I know I’m not the only one, because fuck do I need you,” he continues, both hands pulling you closer to him until his breath grazes your mouth. 
“Want you so much,” he mumbles, before he eliminates the distance and you feel his soft lips on yours, moving tenderly, carefully, as if the purpose is to seek validation that you feel the same way, to ask your acceptance of the overwhelming affection he has for you. 
Your lips move gently like his, languid yet electrifying and euphoric and you hold onto him for support, just so you won’t lose yourself even more than you already are.
This now feels surreal. You’re not thinking about anything else - not the before or the after - just the feel of him at this very moment and how it’s making you feel alive, carefree, unbound. And you wonder if all your other kisses had felt this good before. Or maybe just different. 
You and Jungkook keep your steady pace, focusing on the soothing feel of each other’s lips, of the sensation of something sensuous and tender.
The aggressive pull of the bathroom door jolts you awake from a dream it seems, and you’re ducking down and crouching on the floor behind the counter before your brother notices anything amiss. Jungkook’s surprised but holds his laugh at how scared you look, the first time he’d seen you be afraid of your brother.
“Kook, has my sister left for the grocery?” He calls out from his open room, probably dressing as he speaks.
Jungkook looks up to check on Jimin. “Yeah, she just left,” he answers after deciphering your hand gestures from underneath him.
“Ugh, I forgot to tell her to buy my cereal. I think the one on the top shelf isn’t edible anymore.”
Jungkook smirks, thanking the heavens that Jimin didn’t tell you, otherwise Jungkook wouldn’t have had the best kiss of his life. He felt you; you moved with him, you felt him. And he can’t be happier.
He has a chance with you. He really has a chance with you, and even at the risk of being caught, he’d do this with you over and over again.
“Let’s go,” Jimin calls out. “I’ll just text her.”
“I’m sure she knows,” Jungkook smirks then heads out, leaving you with a dazed feeling and a heart that won’t slow its beating. 
**
Your time alone with your thoughts only served to confuse you even more. It felt nice. He felt nice. You’d never really considered Jungkook as anything more than, well, your brother’s best friend, even if he’d been the one you preferred out of all of Jimin’s friends dating back to middle school. 
His well-behaved nature and boyish charms were always endearing to you and even when he grew up, his confidence and compassion just amazed you. But it was always from afar. You think it’s the same with him; his affection may just be a little infatuation borne out of his idea of you growing up. You’ve learned enough that the idea of a person, of a relationship, of a could be isn’t always enough.
Another thing you think about is that Jimin is very protective of his friendships. You know that more than anyone, when you dated Taemin in high school. 
You were both seniors and had gotten close because he was Jimin’s dance captain and mentor, someone whom your brother looked up to and admired. Your relationship ended during your first year of college, with both of you saying things you eventually regretted. Safe to say it was your first heartbreak, one that resulted to Jimin’s as well, as his friendship with your ex was also affected.
You and Jimin barely talked about it, seeing his own disappointment because of the resulting strained relationship with Taemin. You thought that the elder would at least maintain a friendship, but he didn’t. 
The most Jimin said about it was when he told you, eyes downcast but tone quite angry, to “keep off my friends and don’t date any of them, please.” You were home for a break and he stormed out of your room before you could apologize. You realized later on that his heartbreak was worse than yours; you told yourself you don’t want to be the cause of that pained look on his face ever again.
His friends are off-limits, he made it pretty clear. Taemin was a mentor but one Jimin eventually did without. But Jungkook is his best friend, his brother. They’ve looked out for each other for more than half of their lives; you can’t even imagine what would happen if you and Jungkook get together and then fight, or break up. 
You wouldn’t want Jimin to have to give up a friendship that means more to him than anything. Or more accurately, you wouldn’t want to lose Jimin over something that might not mean as much anyway. 
You stick to the latter thought, especially when both men arrive home and Jimin is beaming, his smile something you’d never admit actually makes your heart feel all sorts of fuzziness and pride. He’s so excited and you feel it, too, moreso because he informs you that he got the job.
“They really liked me! They said I can really mentor the group and their team is so creative and passionate…” Jimin goes on, narrating every single thing that happened right as he entered the studio. You’ve never seen him this elated, not even with his previous company that was at the top of their game. 
“And they said I don’t have to work right away! They’ll wait for my doctor’s clearance but I can go to work to observe and get to know them more.”
Your eyes moisten because not long ago, you saw the joy in your brother wither away, his passion deteriorate, and his plans go on a standstill. But now, it’s like he didn’t go through a slump or moments of weakness, like he didn’t go through a depressive mode when he thought he’d lost everything. He’s really a fighter, and you truly look up to him. 
“I wouldn’t have made it if it wasn’t for you two,” Jimin continues, pulling both of you in a three-way hug because of course your brother wouldn’t hug just you.
This prompts Jungkook to wrap his arm around you, hand gripping your waist while yours settles for mere pats on his lower back. He tries not to dwell on this minimal contact, or on the way you purposely avoid his gaze. He tries not to think too much when you actively lean towards your brother more during your dinner out, or how you jerk away when any of Jungkook’s body parts comes in close contact with yours.
He’s thinking maybe you’re not in the mood for his playful antics or maybe, he really pushed too far with the kiss from earlier, and it sends him in an internal panic mode because just as his hope of starting something more with you was blooming, it quickly gets shot down just like that. 
It’s when you pass up on games and drinks in your living room when you get back so you could just stay in your room did Jungkook think that he may really have blown his chance.
**
You try to be subtle in your avoidance of Jungkook but it’s harder than expected, especially since Jimin still invites him over. With the excitement of the new job now steadying, Jimin announces his checklist for getting through a crisis - healed foot, check; new job, check. That’s pretty much it, really. “But I still need you two,” he says.
Jungkook comes over and at the start, you notice how he still tries. He attempts to catch your gaze, goes near you, engages you in conversation, makes jokes, lingers before leaving… only to be met with eyes that don’t seek him, short answers, forced laughter, and cold goodbyes. And you absolutely hate it. 
He’s around yet you miss him even more than when he was away, but you can’t fall into the things that made you feel something for him in the first place. 
Living with Jimin made you appreciate him so much more, and you’re glad you get to be this close with him for the first time, and you don’t want to jeopardize that. 
Jungkook had much to do with the newfound attachment with your brother, yet it’s exactly why you’re hesitant to give Jungkook a chance. Their relationship is sacred, similar to how yours with Jimin is. What you and Jungkook have is a by-product of those, and it’s not the priority. Somehow you think all three can’t coexist; you can’t have it all, really.
Whenever Jungkook makes an effort, Jimin’s plea to keep off his friends rings in your head. You know, too, that Jimin gave his friends an ultimatum - date my sister or keep your dicks, something like that. It was funny when you heard of it, but it’s definitely not a laughing matter now. 
Those words were said years ago yet they still hang above your head. You wish Jungkook would just make it easier for you, but why is it that when he stopped trying did you feel your heart break, as if you’re losing something you never had in the first place?
**
It’s easy to reason you feel sick and tired; you’ve been spending later hours at work so spending more time in your room and asking the boys to make dinner instead seem reasonable. But tonight, Jimin isn’t having it.
“We’re celebrating, stay here,” he says, pulling you to the couch next to him. Jungkook is on his right, his once tendency to stiffen around you back again, and you sadden at the thought because he looks so uncomfortable.
“Celebrating what?” You ask, grabbing the beer being handed to you. 
“I’ve been working for 2 weeks and I haven’t reinjured my foot,” he says, his smile blinding you.
Normally you’d roll your eyes at his shallowness but you just agree and mindlessly sip the beer, eyes veering off in the distance.
“Is it a guy?” Jimin asks out of nowhere and you try not to choke. “You only ever get this sulky when it’s about a guy. Is it someone from work?” Jimin states with furrowed eyebrows. 
“Oh! Is it one of the managers who’s been trying to ask you out but he’s the ex of your close friend?” 
You try to remember when you told him that but it was definitely a months-ago issue. 
“Or did you have an epiphany and realized you actually like Yoongi? Or Hoseok? Or maybe Jin but he’s married?”
“What the hell, Jimin!” You say, smacking his arm. Your eyes flit to Jungkook who’s focused on the TV.
“The first one,” you lie to satisfy your brother. 
“It’s kind of a code, you know? He’s Yuri’s ex and she really loved him and I don’t want to ruin my friendship over something I’m not sure is worth it anyway.” And with that, you see Jungkook’s jaw clench. He knows about Yuri and the manager; they were merely a fling, so he knows you’re lying.
“How do you know it’s not worth it if you haven’t even tried?” Jimin asks, incredulous.
“I don’t know, it’s just… Yuri’s my friend and I don’t wanna mess up a friendship.”
“Seems like you don’t trust your friendship with Yuri enough, then,” Jimin states like it’s a fact. This hits your more than it should. Do you really not trust in your relationship with your own brother? Surely you have a basis to be hesitant, but if it only it were that simple.
Jimin picks up on your silence and asks again. “How are you and the guy like? Do you have moments with him?”
“Lots of them,” you say, your eyes finding Jungkook just on the other side of the couch and he’s never felt farther away. 
“And for the first time it’s like I get to savor them. Whether it’s something sweet that he does, or if we’re just together in silence, or when he’s being flirty,” and you don’t see it but Jungkook catches you smiling at the thought and god does he wish you’re lying about this one unless it’s about him. He wishes it is.
“Sounds like a keeper if he gets you to enjoy moments, don’t you think? For someone like you?” Jimin says, cocking an eyebrow.
“Like me?”
“You think too much, you know? You plan, you analyze, you manage risks… I mean, yeah sure they help I guess but this isn’t a job, ___. There’s no profit to be earned here, no losses,” he points out. 
“The only loss is you missing out on something good because you’re too focused on what could happen, and not what’s actually happening, right now.” He's told you a variation of this before, but somehow this hits differently, and more than it should.
“Did you teach that to Jungkook, too?” You ask, a smile creeping up and you digress because you need anything to stop you from walking to Jungkook and holding him close to you.
“No, he taught me that,” Jimin states. “I know it seems like I teach him a lot - well, all I really told him was to never let anybody dictate what he wants and deserves in life, and I stand by that, but to be clear,” Jimin turns to you, “I learn just as much from him. He’s his own self; nobody tells him what to do.”
It’s all meant to be assuring, comforting even, if only Jimin knew. And if only it were that simple. The tension is suffocating but your brother breathes easy. You love him more than you can ever say and his happiness has meant more to you than you ever imagined. You just wish your own didn’t come at a cost.
**
A few days later, Jungkook is back at your place and you had quite the reflective week and opted to stay in your room. 
Some days you just want to bask in your own thoughts; absorbing yourself in your own emotions helps in figuring out what to do, you’ve realized. You’re still a thinker and a planner - that’s probably never gonna change - but you’re starting to at least let yourself feel and enjoy the now, or something like it. You just wish the person you want to spend your now with hasn’t changed his mind.
It’s almost midnight when you decide to head out, your early dinner long digested and you feel hunger creeping in.
You exit your room and stop in your tracks at the sight of Jungkook in your kitchen, all alone. You definitely weren’t ready for this.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were still here,” and you regret it immediately, not wanting to sound disappointed.
He looks up, alarmed at your presence because he wasn’t expecting this, too.
“Jimin fell asleep on me but don’t worry, I was just about to leave,” he responds, eyes not meeting yours. 
“He’s also gonna be coming over my place now since he’s able. Don’t want you to feel like a prisoner in your own home,” he says, motioning to your room where you’ve been hiding recently. 
“Since you’re avoiding me and all,” he continues, and you don’t miss the hurt look on his face. 
You mentally give yourself a pep talk because you definitely want him to still come around and you’re definitely being stupid. 
“I… I wasn’t avoiding you,” you say, blocking his way by the couch as he’s about to reach for his jacket.
He stops in front of you, ensuring some distance. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, you were just not minding me and making sure you stayed as far away from me as possible.” He’s trying to sound bitter but you’re his weakness and he will always go soft on you because his tender eyes are definitely not a match to his bitter words.
“I just didn’t know what to do. You didn’t exactly say what you felt and—“
“I kissed you, ___,” he says, tone suppressing frustration.
“I told you I needed you, wanted you. And you kissed me back. The way you looked at me that day, the way you held me… it meant more, I could feel it. So I don’t know how you could just act like none of that happened, like it didn’t matter,” he continues.
“Jungkook… you’re my brother’s bestest friend. And he’s very protective of his friends, of you.” 
And it’s ironic, Jungkook thinks, how Jimin is the reason why you two had met, got close; how Jimin’s what got you together but is also who’s keeping you apart.
“He’s also the one who constantly reminds me to go for what I want, to never let anybody tell me what to do,” Jungkook says.
“Yeah but this is different. I don’t want anything to come in between you two, the same way I don’t want anything to come in between him and me.”
“So it’s okay for him to come in between us? You really think he’d be okay with that? That he’d keep the two people he loves the most from being together? From being happy?”
And you hate that he’s right.
“What Jimin is to us is out of our control,” he states. “But that shouldn’t be why we can’t try, right? Because god I’ve wanted you since I was 15 and and I’ve waited too long for this and I’d either fight for us or keep us a secret, I don’t care. Just don’t lie to me, please.”
By now he’s standing in front of you and he could pin you against the armrest if he wanted to but he’s keeping his hands to himself, fists clenched at the control he’s trying to maintain because of his intense feelings for you. He’d make you feel it all too, if you just let him.
You can move away if you wanted; there’s space for it. But you don’t. Jungkook bared everything to you, braving through just to be with you; the least you could do is be honest. So with your own strength, you look up at him. 
“You made me fall for the moments, Jungkook. You made me fall for you, and there were so many things to consider and I—“
Your rear hits the armrest, as you’d reflexively walked back as he started to move towards you, slowly eliminating the distance. His arms, sandwiching you, are propped on the couch to support his spread out frame, his face now level with yours. You’re burning with how he’s looking at you with so much hope and yearning.
“Go on,” he says, voice low, his eyes wandering all over your face and you feel your heat dampen with just his gaze. 
“I didn’t know what to do with what I’d started to feel for you because you were off-limits but that didn’t keep me from wanting you and—“
His lips graze the side of your neck and with your breath hitching, he proceeds. Open-mouth kisses trail your neck, with just enough wetness and just enough heat to leave you wanting more. You angle your neck for more access and he smirks at this. 
“And what?” He urges you, mouth focusing on the other side of your neck now, head nudging yours to adjust. 
“And I avoided you because—“ 
You grip the couch for support, as you unravel with his hot breath on your skin.
“That seemed easier than to keep at what we were doing knowing that—“ 
He licks a sensitive part by your ear and your strangled moan spurs him on. 
“I couldn’t have you the way I wanted to.” 
At this, he stops. 
He focuses his gaze on you again. Jungkook holds onto the tiniest shred of self-control he has left just so he can savor you like this, emotions unraveling and your body falling apart before him. 
“How exactly do you want me?”
You steady your breath and as much as you want to give in to your carnal desire and attack his lips, you want him to know how much this means to you. You’re still scared but being with Jungkook steadies you, makes it all feel worth it.
You’re crossing this line now, and you’ll stick with him whether you’ll both come clean or keep it a secret. He wants you enough right now; you’ll figure out what to do eventually. 
Your hand finds his face and fingers trace the scar on his cheek. You let yourself drown in his beautiful eyes, knowing on clear nights you could see galaxies like this. 
“I want you close, Jungkook. I want you to hold me, when I’m sad, happy, confused. I want to hold you that way, too. I want to savor every moment, let you know everyday what you mean to me.”
Your featherlight touches on his jaw send shivers all over his body and he hums at the sensation. You caress his lips before he could bite them again, palming him with your thumb and feeling its softness.
“I want you to fall apart under my touch, want to make you feel good, kiss you like it’s always the last time.”
Jungkook thinks he deserves a prize for how well he’s keeping himself together and not yet taking you on this couch like his dick is telling him to. But he needed to hear all that, needed to look in your eyes while you said them.
Then you smile at him, eyes filled with desire, and that’s all it takes for him to lose his resolve and plunge into you, your plush lips against his soft ones, melding together again like a literal dream. He straightens his stance so his hands can cup your face and he feels you smile in the kiss, relishing in the care and attention he’s giving.
It starts tenderly then quickly turns heated, his eager hands trailing down your arms and waist, and your own entangling his hair, pulling the strands as he nips your lips, prompting them to open. 
Your tongues explore each other’s mouths, his lingering taste of rootbeer somehow making him more addictive. You swallow each other’s sounds, both of you still having half a mind to tone down, knowing that only a wall separates your wanton moans and your sleeping brother.
His grip around you tightens and you pull him closer, your hands now around his neck, fingers thumbing his cheeks and you’re losing yourself to him, as the past few months of undeniable attraction and sexual tension climaxing at this moment where you finally give in to what you’ve been trying to suppress.
Jungkook, on the other hand, feels a sense of calm even with his hard dick and his thumping heart because he’s dreamed of this, dreamed of you, and you’re here wanting him, too. All the memories of watching you from afar, blushing at how beautiful you are, missing you when you were away, heart breaking at how happy you were with someone else, fly by him like a movie because he’s got his ending - you. 
He’s lived for moments most of his life and always knew to savor them, to bask in them because he doesn’t know when he’ll get to have those again. But nothing comes close to right now with you and he decides to make sure he’ll have you like this everyday. 
Both your actions continue, hands stationary but mouths eagerly moving against each other, stopping momentarily for air but smiling, laughing in the kiss.
You give in first, fingers slowly trailing down to graze at his chest and he shivers, curses mid-kiss and you giggle, and he’s on cloud 9 again, realizing he can hear the beautiful sound that is your laughter everyday. 
Suddenly it’s all thoughts of what’s ahead for both of you, imagining what that would be like - feeling, holding, touching each other. You’re both so lost in your little world, minds traveling from now to tomorrow and it’s exciting, so incredibly alluring to be savoring this moment but also thinking about the next. 
You’re light-headed now because kissing him is like a drug, soothing yet exhilarating at the same time and you’re aching to feel him. “Jungkook…” You whine. 
And then.
“HOLY SHIT,” you hear a gasp.
Your eyes burst open and you feel Jungkook stiffen before you try to push him away. You both stull, looking at each other, some distance now between you, and you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it is, the tension so thick that you’re afraid to move. 
You knew at one point you’re gonna have to tell Jimin but not now and definitely not in the middle of a fucking make-out session.
“Is this a hookup or are you both finally out of your asses and would actually like to properly date because god knows it’s about time?”
You and Jungkook slowly turn to the side, eyes wide at your brother who’s leaning by the wall, checking his nails as if he didn’t just give you a heart attack.
“WHAT?” You ask.
“Jungkook’s been into you since forever but never had the fucking guts to do anything.” Jimin sighs and rolls his eyes at the man. “You’re not exactly subtle with your staring.”
Jungkook can’t seem to wrap his head around what's happening because his mouth keeps moving but no sound comes out.
“Neither are you,” Jimin eyes you this time. “You forget I’m good with reading people. And also, I’m friends with Yuri. She doesn’t even remember that guy,” he laughs because of course they’re friends. You feel so stupid; you should’ve known he was trying to catch you in a lie when he asked if your sulking was because of a “guy.”
“So you’ve always known?” Jungkook finally finds his voice.
“About you, duh. She’s recent,” Jimin points to you. “It’s like, one moment you’re friendly then you’re flirty then it’s like you can’t stand each other. Get your shit together, people. I’m literally right here.”
God, you and Jungkook were definitely not subtle. And underestimated your brother, too.
“So you’re not mad?” You confirm.
“No.”
“But… you said you were gonna cut my dick off,” Jungkook stammers.
“And you told me to keep off your friends because of Taemin,” you add. “You stopped being friends because of me,” you remind him, voice almost a whisper.
Jimin takes a deep breath because now he has to come clean.
“We stopped being friends because of him. He hurt you, ___, and you didn’t deserve that,” he admits, avoiding your questioning gaze. “I heard you crying to Jin about what happened and I got angry and wanted you to stay away from my friends because they were all assholes.” He continues, jaw clenched at the memory. “Well, except for him,” he cocks his head towards Jungkook. 
“He was the only good guy. I never really minded if he went for you because... iknowhe’lltreatyouwellandyoudeservethat,” Jimin says.
And you’re not gonna lie, you feel like crying. Jimin’s been trying to protect you all this time. 
Jungkook, on the other hand, isn’t taking this all too well.
“You said you were gonna cut my dick off…” He says again, tone low and unbelieving.
“That didn’t stop you, did it?” Jimin counters, earning him a sigh of defeat because he has a point. 
“I just wanted it to happen naturally,” he explains. “I mean, I didn’t plan on getting heartbroken, injured, unemployed, then homeless all at once but it happened and you both helped me and that unintentionally brought you together and I…” 
He turns to you both. “I realized how good you are together. Not just in taking care of me but in taking care of each other, too.”
By this time, Jungkook has found his feet and is back to standing in front of you, his hand intertwining with yours. You let out a laugh because this whole time, Jimin wasn’t in the dark. But then again, he’s a smart ass too and would’ve figured it out.
And would also push it. “I actually got over Taehyung months ago so like, I’ve been okay for a while,” he shrugs.
And just like that, he gets on your nerves again because that’s how he’s been getting his way, by reminding you of his “broken heart that’s still hurting.” 
“You little bitch! Do you also have a new apartment now and you’re not telling me?!” You shriek, and Jungkook next to you is finally laughing. 
“Oh no,” Jimin responds. “I’m really still homeless.”
And he smiles his sickly sweet smile and you can’t help but mirror it. Your brother is really something, and you don’t know what you’d do without him.
Some seconds pass and you’re just all basking in this moment because for the first time in months, it really feels like things are looking out for all of you.
“So in that case,” Jungkook turns to you. “Would you like to go on a date with me?” Hopeful eyes staring at you, a weight off his shoulder now that he doesn’t need to hide anything from his best friend. He can just focus on falling in love with you and making you do the same. 
“Yes,” you excitedly reply, hand trailing down his chest again. “And in that case, would you like to continue this in my bedroom?”
Jungkook feels his dick twitch. “Fuck, yes.”
“Guess I’m gonna have to sleep on the couch now,” Jimin groans, but you don’t miss his playful tone. “You’re both welcome, idiots.”
**
You’re pushed to the wall right as the door closes and Jungkook’s lips meet yours immediately. It tastes much sweeter knowing there’s no need to hide, to be careful. It’s liberating and it’s making you feel more.
He kisses you harshly as his hands make quick work of your shirt, pulling them off then slowly kneeling down in tandem with his mouth sucking, licking, and kissing down to your breasts, then your torso, causing your chest to heave at the pleasure from just his mouth.
His hands aggressively pull down your bottoms and his tongue finds your clit before you can even process his action. He’s nibbling your bud and laving at your lips and pumping his fingers in you all at once, you don’t know where to focus. 
You feel the desperation and intensity with every move, the sensation overwhelming and eliciting lewd sounds from you. He alternates between moaning and cursing on your cunt and that just adds to the pleasure.
“Eager, aren’t we?” You ask with a smirk.
“You have no idea,” he responds, head buried between your thighs, one of which is currently resting on his shoulder. “Some of my wet dreams may have been because of you.”
“What the fuck Jungkook!”
“I was a growing boy with raging teen hormones!” He says in between breaths. But he doesn’t relent. Fingers curling in your hole, tongue swirling on your clit, and hand squeezing your ass, he’s determined to make you cum now, and with a hard suck, you do. 
You jerk away at the oversensitivity with his mouth still on you and you pull him up to give him a kiss, tasting yourself on him.
At the sight of you bare, eyes half-lidded and steadying breath, he stills.
“Is everything okay?” You ask.
“Yeah I just…” He starts, stepping back a bit, and his eyes roam your body, smile creeping up his face. “I never thought I’d get to have you like this. I always admired you from afar and you always felt so out of reach and I…”
“Jungkook,” you stop him. 
“I’m here with you right now, barely any distance. I’m not your best friend’s sister, okay?” Your hand reaches out to him and he takes it, let’s you pull him closer. “I’m the girl you like whom you’ll take out on a date after you fuck her senseless. Got it?”
“Y-yeah,” he stammers, a shy laugh escaping him. 
You kiss him softly. “No need to admire me from a distance anymore. You have me, right here.”
“Okay.”
And before he can attack you again, you lead him towards your bed. Your fingers pull the waistband of his sweats as you sit on the edge and look up at him, wide eyes eager for something.
“Shirt off,” you say, and he follows.
Your eyes meet your hands that are slowly ridding him of his remaining clothing and you swear you could come again at the sight of the tiger lily tattoo resting on his hip. It curves with his semi-defined v-line, the stem trailing downward, like some pathway to his throbbing dick that’s leaking with some pre-cum.
You take him in your hands and he bucks at the feel of your soft skin around his length that’s aching to be inside you. Your eyes stay on the tattoo; something about it is so hot and you kiss it, lips then exploring the expanse of his hip and up to the part of his torso that you can reach, feeling the ridges of his definitely smooth abs, now tensing at the sensation. 
All the while, your hand is stroking his member, up and down as you continue kissing and licking his pelvis and just like this, he already tastes so good. He grunts with your ministrations, head falling back at the intense pleasure. His hands fall to your hair as you take him in, tongue traversing his dick and your heat clenches at the salty taste of cum and the feel of his veins as his shaft twitches in your mouth.
At the vibration caused by your moan, he stops you, removes himself from you and then lays half your body down on the edge of the bed. 
“My turn,” he says smugly.
You’re about to protest but he swirls his tongue all over your cunt again, the pad of his thumb flicking your nub and you moan his name instead. You haven’t fully recovered from your first orgasm yet but he seems determined to give you another one. He’s eating you like a man starved, as if he plans to slurp you dry.
“More, Jungkook,” you breathe out, then he’s pumping his dick and thrusting into you, the stretch just a tad bit painful but so, so good. 
He quickly adjusts, spreads your legs open for his easy access and the view, and he growls at the supple flesh that's taking him so well. It’s so erotic, watching himself go in and out of you like this, then hearing your deliciously hypnotic moans louden as his hands start kneading your breasts like it’s some dough he’s molding to his liking, his fingers flicking the hardened nipples.
“You feel so fucking heavenly, ___,” he pants. “Fuck, fuck. Can’t believe you’re mine.”
“All yours, Kook,” you respond, delirious now because his movements are really sending you to another dimension. “Fuck me harder,” you beg, and he follows. 
He adjusts again, flushing your legs against you and the angle in which his dick hits your sweet spot causes your eyes to roll to the back of your head. 
You’re screaming expletives and it’s just urging him to go harder, deeper, faster, his sweat trickling down his temples and forming on his chest.
“Cum for me, baby. I need to feel you,” he huffs. 
He’s in a frenzied state and he’s losing himself in you, his mouth now parted and he joins your filthy wails, which are in tune with the sound of skin slapping on skin. 
You feel your body spasm and you call out his name before you give in, heart stopping for a moment and he feels the stream of your cum coat his dick that’s just savoring this a bit more.
But you clench and it’s all it takes, his own seed spurting in you and your back arches as he comes down from his high by languidly kissing your breasts, one hand around your lifted waist and the other, intertwining your hand. 
“Fuck, you feel so good. So much better than I imagined,” he utters, sounding so winded at the intensity of his orgasm.
He’s too tired to even move, body now resting on top of you, chest heaving and bated breaths escaping him. You massage his head and he moans even at that and you laugh but soften at the intimacy of it all.
He finally gets himself off you and you chuckle as he sneakily opens the door and tiptoes to the bathroom, careful not to be caught naked by your brother. He returns with a wet towel, wipes you, then lays next to you, his arm secured around your waist.
He’s smiling so fondly, lips now peppering kisses all over your face. “You’re stuck with me,” he states.
“Nowhere I'd rather be,” you reply, your own soft kiss now turning greedy again, and you think it’s gonna be a long night.
**
You wake up tired but you’re not complaining. It was quite the evening, after all, and you’re reminded by the fluff of grey hair adorning your chest. Jungkook likes to cuddle, you’ve learned, and he couldn’t sleep without a part of his body touching you. 
You release from his hold and head to the kitchen after washing up, not expecting your brother to already be eating his cereal.
“Oh my god, can you wear shorts?” He huffs. 
“Bitch, you’re in my apartment,” you bite back, laughing at the face he makes. 
Your front is to the counter when Jungkook approaches and unlike before, heads to you, arms wrapped around your waist from behind and places a kiss on your cheek. “Good morning.”
His voice is hoarse and you hold back a moan because it just brings you back to last night when after you came the second time, he fucked you softly for your third, then fucked you hard for your fourth, then softly again this morning for your (extended) fifth. God, this man will be the death of you. 
He nuzzles your neck and you giggle.
“Manners, you two. You’re like teenagers,” Jimin scowls.
“Well, I am living my teenage dream,” Jungkook announces. 
Jimin grimaces but softens at the look of his two favorite people looking so happy. “Okay, this is gonna take some getting used to.”
You and Jungkook playfully nod in agreement.
“Also,” he turns to Jungkook who’s now managed to tear away from you. “Are you gonna be here again tonight because you know, I kinda wanna sleep on a bed and all. Couch is great but like, no.”
“You better find your own place soon if you don’t want to keep sleeping there every night,” you reply smugly.
“Okay, now gross!” Jimin, dramatic as always, pretend-gags at the implication. “I’m gonna look for places. Jungkook, you’re still my best friend. We’re going apartment hunting tomorrow.”
“But…” You start.
“No. Nuh-uh. You had him last night and you’re going out on a date today. You need to share my best friend.”
And you all laugh at him throwing a tantrum. He and Jungkook start to bicker and you walk towards your room to grab shorts because it really is awkward when your brother is there. 
The doorbell rings as you’re about to walk back and you open the door, a surprised look on your face.
“Hi, is Jimin there?” The person asks.
**
You head back to the kitchen, your guest in tow and you call out to your brother.
“Chim, someone’s looking for you.”
Jimin looks up and almost falls off the chair.
“Taehyung?” He says, trying to mask the nervous tone of his voice. “I…”
“I have something to confess,” Taehyung cuts him off, eyes nervous but hopeful. “Can we, uhm, maybe talk somewhere else?” 
Jimin nods and quickly follows him out.
You walk back to Jungkook and he tugs you close, hands back to your waist. “What’s that about?” 
You bite back an excited squeal as you think back to what Taehyung told you at the door. 
“Let’s just say, you might not need to help Jimin look for an apartment anymore,” you respond. 
Jungkook smiles and pulls you in for a hug, reveling in this absolutely perfect moment. 
“You Park siblings drive me crazy, you know that? And you two make me so damn happy.”
##
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ganymedesclock · 2 years
Text
A random collection of Sonic headcanons since I’ve been stimulating that part of my brain lately:
Sonic is the absolute last person anyone who’s spent time around him expects to be a foodie considering he eats like absolute garbage and gets away with it because his metabolism will kill him if he doesn’t eat like five meals a day so odds are decent any time he’s not up and about he is probably either napping or snacking. In defiance of this, he actually has a surprisingly worldly palate, since he’s been just about everywhere and has a high natural curiosity about food; he’s tried and enjoyed a lot of stuff, including weird stuff. This is a guy who just knows offhand what haggis tastes like. This also gets to him sometimes because he’ll occasionally get a hankering for like, the authentic street food of a specific city in a country two continents over and he can’t just drop everything and go GET some because there’s an OCEAN in the way
Shadow’s body naturally produces and maintains a pretty potent charge of energy which he uses for his chaos attacks. His inhibitor rings basically work as heat vents to bleed off the majority of that power so he can’t build enough of a charge to fry himself just by not letting off a chaos blast every five minutes. This process is normally silent and extremely subtle- under high duress however they may hiss and release steam because his energy levels fluctuate with his mood and because of his PTSD and other problems his adrenaline levels can spike (and thus, spike his energy) when he’s actually not in a combat situation and has nothing to use all that for. This is not a problem at all as long as he checks his inhibitors in for regular maintenance / keeps the emergency coolant reserves in them topped off, but it tends to scare the crap out of people the first time it happens.
Silver has asthma. Silver does not know what asthma is. Really his health overall is not great but on account of growing up in an apocalypse he has an actually really concerning pain tolerance and has internalized some really bad attitudes about trucking through it so after several people take him aside for an intervention and explain certain important concepts like the use of a rescue inhaler he’s genuinely astonished to realize how many incidental parts of his life are actually serious medical conditions.
Amy is a hobbyist magician and really good at sleight of hand. This messes with at least half of the superpowered people in her life because they KNOW she’s not doing that with literal magic but how did she do that. She’s also great at figuring out those puzzles where you remove two tangled threads without untying them at either end.
Big’s largely hermetic existence does actually get boring sometimes although he’s loath to go into Station Square further than the regular shop he buys fishing tackle from or the open-air farmer’s market where he sells fish, and he’s actually quite well-read as a result, though the majority of his reading is nonfiction. As a result there are a large number of topics where, if incidentally prompted, he’ll be able to explain the minutiae of it in intense detail. These interest areas include:
fishing as a sport
laws about hunting and fishing
the ancient echidna civilization
the entire plot of an obscure period soap opera in a language Big doesn’t speak and the original novel it was based on
engines
woodcarving
almost any animal that can be found in the mystic ruin rainforest basin and surrounding area (he started with frogs and didn’t really stop) 
amphibians in general
the history of umbrellas
badniks (sometime after Final Egg was abandoned, Big started wandering around its perimeter and scavenging both for interesting bits to expand/repair his house and out of genuine curiosity)
Jet’s actually a pretty darn competent thief when he keeps his ego out of the way, something that continuously surprises the main targets of his competitive streak.
Charmy’s actually a really deep sleeper which works since he often gets tired on long stakeouts. This will semi-regularly result in either Vector or Espio carrying a sleeping Charmy around. Espio will go for a fairly dignified piggyback carry while Vector will go with whatever position is the most efficient without compromising Charmy’s health. At least once he’s walked around the majority of Westopolis with Charmy dangling halfway out of a normal shopping bag completely dead to the world.
Omega adamantly maintains that his exclusive purpose is to be an efficient engine of destruction but he actually really enjoys looking his best. After a while Rouge picks up on this and they have several discussions about custom paint jobs. Omega thinks it would be interesting to try blue but vetoes the idea because he’s fairly sure it would go straight to Sonic’s head.
Rouge is a regular gym rat, not just because she uses muscles for her work but she just doesn’t feel right without a proper workout. Afterwards she tends to soak it off, so it takes a while for people to realize that her idea of a spa day involves 30lb weights, which she’s just fine with.
Tails is actually scared of a lot of things besides lightning; he sleeps with a nightlight and has bouts of social anxiety. He tries not to let this on because he thinks it’s childish and stupid and he’s clearly so smart he should be acting like an adult already right- needless to say, his friends are a lot more supportive when he talks to them about this. Knuckles uses the master emerald to charge a shard of ordinary crystal to give Tails a battery-less unfailing flashlight for his birthday one year.
The absence of light pollution on most of Angel Island and its usual cruising altitude affords it a great view of the night sky, especially from the slopes of red mountain. Stargazing is one of Knuckles’ main pastimes, and he also uses this to track the Island’s position as it moves.
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tenswrld · 3 years
Text
old enough to understand
mark lee x reader, childhood friends to lovers, fluff
summary: now that you’re older, you seem to finally understand how mark makes you feel
a/n: came up with this at 2am while listening to my mark lee dedicated playlist and pluto projector came on and u already know that one part made me emotional also do u like my doodles i made on the photo ^^
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growing up, you were surrounded by the concept of love. you witnessed it with your parents, when you got your first pet, and even when you took your first bite into your favorite fruit.
when you first met mark lee at the age of 6, you didn’t think that the word love would apply to him. at least, not in the way that you knew it. 
“no! it’s mine, i don’t want to give you any!” the young boy yelled.
“you can just go get more! i just want some watermelon!” you screamed back.
“go get some yourself!”
angry, you stomped away towards the table of adults. “mrs. lee, mark won’t give me a piece of his watermelon.”
the older woman laughed softly before getting up and leading you to the table of fruit. “forgive him, watermelon is his favorite. i’ll be sure to make sure he shares next time, okay?”
while you ate your own fruit alone in the grass, mark came up to you scratching his neck awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. “i’m sorry for being rude...i just really like watermelon...”
you narrowed your eyes at him before bursting into a fit of giggles, offering your own watermelon out to him. “it’s okay, mark, i like watermelon too. i understand.” he took the piece that you held out to him and took a seat next to you.
when you first met mark, you didn’t think anything of him except for that he was the dorky boy next door who seemed to reserve the concept of love for his favorite fruit.
in middle school, you and mark seemed to clash heads more often than not, and you found it hard to stick around him. desperate to seem cool in front of the new friends that he made, mark steered away from you and teased you whenever he saw you in the halls. you almost despised him in your middle school years, but no matter how much teasing he did mark always waited for you outside of the school gates and walked you home safely. 
though he was still unsure of the role you had in his life, mark knew that he wanted to keep you around.
in high school, your parents fantasized about the idea of the two of you dating, but you and mark always recoiled at the thought. friend groups and social status set you and mark even further apart and before you knew it you became a messenger to girls who wanted mark to call their own. when you got your first boyfriend in sophomore year, mark tried to warn you that the guy was no good, but like always you never listened to him. when he broke your heart, you expected mark to scold you and tell you he told you so, but he provided you comfort in his arms instead.
though he didn’t love you then, mark vowed that he would never let your heart get broken again.
when it came time for you and mark to go off to college, you found yourself a lot more upset than you had initially thought you would be. you were excited to go off and find yourself elsewhere, but something about not having the silly, brown haired boy by your side 24/7 felt strange. granted, you two weren’t as close as your six year old self thought you would be, but you found that you and mark held a special type of bond that you feared you wouldn’t find anywhere else. 
you still hadn’t figured out your love for mark lee, but you knew that leaving him was one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do.
“just...promise to call often, okay?” you told him as you walked with him to his car, a box of his things in your arms.
mark’s lips curled up into a smug smile. “why? gonna miss me that much?” 
you rolled your eyes. “you’re making me regret saying that. you’ll be lucky if i don’t block you after this, idiot.”
mark laughed loudly and you found yourself smiling softly at the sound. you placed the box in his truck before you both turned to each other. “i’ll text you everyday and call when i can. don’t worry, you can’t get rid of me that easily. you’ll probably be hearing about my uncontrollable gas everyday so if that’s not what you’re looking for then...”
you laughed and shoved his shoulder, mumbling for him to shut up. “it’s gonna be weird without you, i think.”
mark shrugged. “yeah, well, we’ll see each other again. just think about it like that time where you got so mad at me for blowing up your house in minecraft that you ignored me for a week!”
mark expected you to laugh but became concerned when he saw your lip quivering and your eyes threatening to spill tears. “y/n? sorry, is that, like, a sensitive memory?”
when you suddenly wrapped your arms around his torso and mumbled a soft ‘i’ll miss you’ into his chest, mark cursed at himself for being the first one to fall in love.
___
“isn’t it like 4am for you? you should go to bed,” you scolded him half heartedly. you sat at your vanity on facetime with a sleepy mark as you did your nightly skincare routine.
mark groaned through the phone and shook his head. “but i wanna talk to you,” he whined groggily. “i miss you.”
your cheeks heat up and you smiled shyly. “i miss you too, mark.”
mark blinked slowly with a tired look, his hair all messed up and his face in need of a shave. he watched you silently as you rubbed your moisturizer into your skin, smiling at the sight. “...you’re really pretty you know that?”
you froze and chuckled nervously, keeping yourself busy with your moisturizer so you didn’t have to see the way mark was looking at you. “you’re talking nonsense again.”
he grumbled, “i’m not talking any nonsense. you’re so pretty, y/n, i miss seeing your face. i hate facetime and my shit wifi.”
“you’re rambling, marky, go to bed,” you ushered him, this time grabbing your phone to look at him.
he smiled fondly at you. “i like it when you call me marky.”
“okay, i’ll call you it more if you go to bed.” 
mark huffed and complied, bidding you one last goodbye. “fine. i miss you so much, y/n, call me tomorrow.”
“okay, i will.”
“promise?” mark asked softly, peeking open one eye to look at you.
“i promise, you big baby.”
“okay, goodnight. love you,” mark mumbled softly into his pillow, already half asleep.
your breath hitched in your throat at his words. you two hardly ever said that phrase to each other but you began to realize that nowadays mark seemed to say it quite often. before, you’d probably make a face in disgust at the cheesiness, but now it only made your stomach sick with butterflies.
“yeah, love you too, marky. sleep tight.” 
already fast asleep, mark stayed silent. your thumb hovered over the ‘end call’ button, but you waited a few more seconds just to look at how peaceful mark looked. you could see the sky turning from a dark black to a paler blue from his window, making you frown since the boy had stayed up so late. before you could look at him any longer, you ended the call and sat back in your chair.
loving mark lee had always seemed impossible to you, but now you realized that it was the one thing that you wanted to do for the rest of your life.
___
you spent a lot of time thinking about your feelings for mark while you were away and most of it was you being in denial. you thought that maybe it was just because you weren’t used to being so far away from him, but deep down you knew otherwise. your friends had tried setting you up on blind dates, yet no one seemed to fill in the gap that you felt you had in your heart.
after you finished your first year of college, your mother began to pester you about having a boyfriend for you to bring home for the holidays. yet no matter how many guys you thought about, your mind would always bring you back to mark.
it was now christmas time and your family and mark’s family were going to have a small get together, meaning that you and mark would get to spend time with each other in person again. you weren’t sure if you should tackle mark at the sight of him, but you figured he would do the same to you anyway.
“y/n, sweetheart! my gosh, it’s been so long! you’ve grown up so well,” mark’s mother cooed as she gave you a warm hug.
you chuckled and returned her hug, replying with, “thank you, mrs. lee. it’s nice to see you again.”
she playfully nudged your shoulder. “any boyfriend yet?”
you laughed awkwardly and shook your head, looking away. “oh, um, no...not yet.”
she beamed. “mark will be happy to hear that.” she said it so fast that you almost didn’t catch it. “he’s out back waiting for you. i told him i’d tell him when you got here, but it’ll be a nice surprise for him,” she winked.
you thanked her briefly before making your way to the backyard excitedly. you thought that you’d be more nervous facing the boy you loved but, frankly, all you wanted to do was finally tell him that you loved him.
when you opened the door mark immediately turned his head, expecting to see his mom, but his facial expression completely changed when he saw you. he ran up to you with the brightest smile on his face and engulfed you into his arms. you laughed joyously into his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you as close to his chest as humanly possible.
“you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting to do that,” he mumbled into your hair.
you smiled against his shoulder before pulling away to look at him. the two of you held eye contact for what felt like an eternity before mark finally returned his arms back to his side.
“even though we call everyday, it feels like i’m meeting you for the first time all over again,” mark said with a light laugh.
“i hope i lived up to your expectations, then,” you joked.
mark smiled fondly at you before brushing snow out of your hair. “definitely above expectations.”
you blushed at his comment but thanked the cold weather for hiding your rosy cheeks. before you could make more small talk, mark burst out into another sentence.
“y/n, i have to get this off of my chest before i explode,” he blurted.
your eyes widened and you nodded your head. “oh, um, okay, what is it?”
he gripped at his hair and turned around, beginning to whine. “oh my god, i’m gonna sound like the biggest idiot on earth. please don’t hate me after this.”
“...what did you do, mark?”
“i didn’t do anything! well...” he faced you again with a sigh and grabbed your hands taking you by surprise. “y/n, i’m in love with you. and i know you probably just see me as that stupid annoying boy your mom forced you to be friends with but i’ve loved you for over a year and it’s driving me crazy and i-”
“mark!” you interrupted him, placing a hand over his mouth. he looked at you with wide eyes while you smiled at him, practically glowing with happiness. you removed your hand from over his mouth and he sighed again.
“just reject me so i can go cry in my room.” mark shut his eyes and prepared himself for rejection but it never came.
“i love you too, mark.”
mark opened one at to stare at you suspiciously. “...really? like, seriously?”
you chuckled. “yes, really. for a few months now.”
“wait, you’re not pranking me or anything, right?” mark asked with a small laugh.
you glared at him. “mark...”
“i’m sorry, i’m just really surprised!” mark opened his mouth to say something but then gasped and dug into his back pocket to grab something.
when he pulled out a small piece of mistletoe you seemed to fall in love with the brunette boy all over again. he grabbed one of your hands and gently pulled you closer to him, using the other hand to hold the mistletoe over your guys’ heads. 
“i brought this just in case. i know that you’ve always fantasized about a moment like this so...” he said sheepishly. “kiss me?”
you laughed and brushed his hair out of his eyes before cupping his cheeks and placing a soft kiss on his lips. you felt him smile into the kiss, making you laugh and pull away.
“been waiting for that one too, huh?” you teased.
mark waved the mistletoe above the two of you and shook his head. “less talking and more kissing please...”
it took you over 10 years for you to realize that you loved mark lee but, if you had to, you would do it all over again in a heartbeat.
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iliveiloveiwrite · 3 years
Text
Family Ties // Benedict Bridgerton
Request: hey lovie!! i wanna start by saying i adore your writing for bridgerton and harry potter and i always find myself coming back to it,, if you’re up for it, would you mind writing a benedict imagine? i was thinking something sweet and domestic?? like maybe him and the reader have kids and they’re going to visit the rest of the family? take it however you want!! <3 - @ddaeng-danvers​
A/N: Thank you so much!! I truly hope you like this. This is the first thing I've written in close to a month now and I love how happy it is. There’s love, and family, and fluff. I am so happy with it. This features characters seen in the prequel books ‘The Rokesby’s’ - I finished reading book 2 today and I think I'm going to own all of Quinn’s books by the time we reach summer.
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader
Warnings: children, marriage, fluff, female reader, she/her pronouns, bridgertons being bridgertons, family fluff, love, romance, kissing, cute, mentions of pregnancy. SPOILERS FOR THE PREQUEL SERIES BUT I CANT BE SORRY, I LOVE GEORGE TOO MUCH.
Word count: 3.3k
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Giggles and gasps lighten the morning air as you take those first steps outside. The grass is still wet with morning dew and it dampens the hem of your dress, but you cannot bring yourself to care as the laughter of your children surrounds you.
“You can’t catch me!” Your daughter declares, laughing loudly as her steps quicken on the slick grass.
A quiet smile crosses your face as you watch the scene unfold in front of you.
Your daughter, Violet, continues to laugh wildly as Benedict grabs her from behind, lifting her onto his shoulders. She settles there quickly; having spent a lot of time on Benedict’s shoulders when her little legs wore themselves out from running and exploring.
“My love,” Benedict greets, smiling widely at you, “Did you sleep well?”
“I did until I realised I was alone.”
Benedict casts his eyes upwards, gesturing to the four year old currently busying herself with trying to tidy the permanently messy locks of her father. “Someone,” Benedict emphasises with another glance upwards, “Woke up too early and I didn’t want to wake you.”
Your body warms at the obvious love in Benedict’s voice – for you, for his daughter. Close to a decade being married and he has every capacity to reduce you to a lovestruck fool. It’s perfect, really.
Chuckling, you gaze lovingly at your daughter. “Did you wake your father up?”
She nods; not an ounce of apology on her small face as she continues to mess up Benedict’s hair. “I couldn’t sleep anymore,” she defends, “I’m excited to see Grandma Violet.”
“I’m sure she’s excited to see you too,” Benedict comments, reaching for his pocket watch to check the time. “We’ll have to be setting off soon. Are we all packed?”
You nod, meeting the loving eyes of your husband. “The footmen have everything covered. Where is John?”
Benedict gestures to the overgrowth behind him. “He joined us when Violet wouldn’t keep quiet. He shouldn’t be too far behind.”
“I’ll go in search. Get Violet ready for me?”
Benedict nods, smiling down at you before dropping the first kiss of many to your lips. You watch the pair leave; Violet chattering away about the birds singing in the trees before heading off in search for your eldest child.
“John Edmund Bridgerton,” you call out, voice loud in the quiet garden, “Where have you gotten to?”
“I’m over here,” John calls; his dark brown curls popping up between the rose bushes.
“Shall we head inside? We need to get ready to make the journey to London.”
John smiles, making his way to your side. “You look more like your father every day,” You comment absentmindedly, running a hand through your son’s hair.
John flushes at the compliment; his father was an exceptionally strong man as well as incredibly talented in whatever he pursues. “Thank you,” John replies, reaching for your hand to begin the walk back to your home.
---------
Bridgerton House had always grown violet hyacinths; they perfumed the air, making every inhale sweeter than the last. The door to the Bridgerton London home is opened before you get chance to place your feet on the ground after stepping down from the carriage.
Benedict steadies you as you straighten your skirts whilst trying to keep an eye on your children, making sure they hadn’t fallen out of the carriage. The laughter of your children floating on air has the tightness in your chest relaxing.
You take a moment to stand beside your husband, enjoying the feel of his hands on your waist. It had been so long since a moment alone had been found between the two of you; one of you running after Violet before she scared off another governess. Her stubbornness was to be admired, but it made it hard to teach her the basics in terms of literacy.
“Are you alright?” Benedict asks, noticing your hesitancy.
You smile widely at the love of your life. “I’m fine, my love. I just wanted to be close to you.”
Benedict’s face softens at your confession; he would be the first to admit that he found himself missing you even when he was sat next to you. There were no problems in your marriage but being so busy meant that there was little time for the two of you.
Benedict takes your hand; dropping a kiss to the back of it before turning it over and placing a lingering kiss to your wrist, over your pulse point. You gasp at the intimacy of it, your toes curling at the promise in his eyes.
“Mama!” Violet cries, taking your hand and dragging you through the house in the direction of the portrait gallery with all her might.
You chuckle, turning to Benedict with a helpless look on your face. He holds his hands up, letting you take the lead with your headstrong daughter. “I shall announce our arrival,” Benedict laughs, blue eyes focused on the way his daughter’s slippers slip and slide on the marble tiles of the entrance hall. “John,” He calls, “Would you like to join me?”
Imperceptibly, John takes a step in your direction. An incredibly smart but shy boy from birth, you sometimes worried over his place in the loud, boisterous family of the Bridgertons. “If it’s okay, I want to see where mother and Violet are going.”
“Of course,” Benedict smiles, ruffling John’s hair, knowing how he needed to get used to a new environment before feeling comfortable.
Benedict presses a kiss to your mouth and then to your cheek before taking the steps two at a time to hurry to the drawing room where he can greet his mother and siblings before answering their questions about your whereabouts.
Letting yourself be led through the ornate home of Violet Bridgerton, you can’t help but smile at the determinedness of your daughter. Her little feet stomping away on the marble tiles as she pulls you to the portrait gallery – her favourite place in the whole house bar her grandmother’s knee.
The gallery hasn’t had a new addition to its walls in years; the last painting being of Anthony and Kate on their fifth anniversary. Violet saw it as fitting that their London home had an up to date portrait of Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton. Anthony had argued, but one look from his mother had him falling silent – knowing a losing battle when he sees one.
Generations of Bridgertons line the walls; their famous blue eyes watching the latest generation walk the halls of their once home. John remains silent by your side as he meets the gaze of the men of which his name is descended; if he feels their pressure at such a young age, he doesn’t say.
One painting catches your eye. A young woman and her husband; his hand is resting on her shoulder as she remains seated. They both stare out of the painting; their eyes filled with the stories of generations passed but utterly silent on the matter.
“Who is this?” Violet asks, effectively distracted by the bright colours of the painting.
“That’s your Great Aunt Billie and her husband,” You comment absently, mind occupied with Billie Bridgerton’s eyes.
“Have we met her?” John asks, hand reaching for yours.
“You have, John. She and the Rokesby clan came to your christening. I doubt you remember, you were so young, my darling.”
John flushes at your use of his childhood pet name. Not even ten years old and he was already growing too old for such things, but you didn’t care – he would always be your darling, your first born, the very boy that made you a mother.
“Where are they now?”
“I suppose they are still at Crake House in Kent. We should have to pay them a visit the next time we visit your Uncle Anthony.”
“Can we?” Violet asks, her Bridgerton blue eyes wide with promise and excitement.
“If your father allows it, I see no problem with it.”
The children seem placated at that. With their hands in yours, you make your way to the drawing room where the rest of the family have gathered. Benedict spies you immediately despite being deep in conversation with Colin and Hyacinth; his body and soul finetuned to your presence – feeling uplifted when you’re beside him, feeling as if he was missing a vital part of himself in your absence.
“Grandma Violet!” Your youngest child cries, launching herself for the skirts of the Bridgerton matriarch. Her small arms barely make their way around the legs of the elderly woman who cannot contain her amused giggle at the exploits of her granddaughter. Instead, she gathers young Violet in her arms, placing her on her knee to get a better look at her.
“You have grown,” The matriarch murmurs, brushing back the dark brown hair of her granddaughter.
“John!” Anthony calls, drawing the attention of his nephew. Releasing your hand, John crosses the room to talk to his beloved uncle; the topic of conversation, you know not but they both look incredibly animated and devoted to the matter.
“Where were you?” A low voice sounds in your ears, making you jump. The voice turns amused as a low chortle escapes your husband’s mouth. “I’m sorry, my love,” he offers in apology as an arm wraps itself around your waist, tugging you closer to him.
“If you must know, we were in the portrait gallery.”
“What drew you there?”
“Your daughter,” You comment, tone amused.
Benedict moves to inquire further but is cut off but the gong signalling that dinner has been served. At once, the family moves as one – all ravenous and desperate to begin their meal.
“(Y/N)!” Colin calls out, catching up to you on the way to the dining room.
“Colin,” You greet fondly, “How is married life?”
“Wonderful,” Colin sighs, “Penelope is… Penelope is wonderful.”
You laugh, elbowing the third eldest Bridgerton. “Surely, you remember the early days of your marriage,” Colin states, “The honeymoon period.”
“It doesn’t leave you,” You reply, catching sight of the love of your life just ahead of you. His head is bent as he reaches for the hand of your daughter; her whole hand wrapped around one of his fingers. It sends your heart into a tizzy as you inhale sharply; the love you feel for Benedict Bridgerton could rival the love of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, of the sonnets written by William Shakespeare himself.
“No,” Colin comments, glancing between you and Benedict, “I don’t suppose it does.”
------------
Dinner with a large Bridgerton crowd was never a quiet feat; conversations flowed in every direction. Societal propriety non-existent as everyone spoke over each other; happy to have the company of their siblings, nieces and nephews, sons and daughters.
“Anthony,” You begin, reaching for your glass as you draw the attention of the head of the family, “When would you next be at Aubrey Hall?”
“Kate, the children, and I travel back in two days. Why?”
“We were in the portrait gallery earlier. Violet was rather taken with a portrait of Billie Bridgerton and her husband, George. If Benedict has no qualms, could we travel with you? I think Violet would like to meet them.”
Anthony beams; rather liking the idea of bringing the Rokesby’s back into their lives once more. “I must admit that I haven’t travelled to Crake House in a long time. What a terrible nephew I must seem.”
Violet frowns, picking at the food on her plate. “What a terrible sister-in-law, I must be. It must be close to a year, probably longer since I’ve seen Billie and George. Longer since I’ve seen Edward and Cecilia.”
“That does it,” Anthony declares, “We shall all travel to Aubrey Hall before dropping in on Crake House.”
Meeting Benedict’s eyes across the table you smile at the clear affection written on his face. “You have no objections do you, my love?”
He shakes his head. “Never, my love.”
Turning your attention to Anthony, you nod your affirmation. “Should we write in advance of leaving here?”
Anthony wipes his mouth with his napkin. “I’ll send a missive with the morning messenger; if I tip generously then there shouldn’t be an issue.”
“I’m sure they won’t mind,” Violet adds absently, “I just can’t believe I’ve left it this long. I’m so rarely in Kent and they never journey to London.”
Colin reaches to his right, placing his hand on top of his mother’s. “They will more than understand. Aunt Billie was father’s sister after all. I think even Aunt Billie finds it hard to return to Aubrey Hall.”
“Then it’s decided,” Benedict smiles, “We shall journey to Aubrey Hall and get settled there before descending on Crake House.”
“Do you think Gregory would like to join us?” You ask, thinking of your youngest brother-in-law.
“He’s in his final term at Oxford,” Colin replies, “He’s sitting all number of exams right now, I don’t think he’ll have the time.”
“A shame,” Anthony comments, thinking of his youngest brother and the stress he must be under, “But I’m sure he can complete the journey in the summer.”
“He always was Aunt Billie’s favourite,” Benedict states darkly. You raise your eyebrows at your husband in question. “Gregory struggled with the pronunciation of some plants when he was a child; Aunt Billie thought it was adorable,” He explains, sounding far off as if trapped in a memory of his youth.
Smiling widely at your husband’s tone, you coo, “I’m sure Violet will be her new favourite when we explain what inspired our visit.”
Dismissing all social expectations, Benedict rounds the table, reaching for your hand, pressing a long kiss to the back of it before stating loudly. “You, my love, are a genius.”
“It has been said before,” You laugh, watching your husband return to his seat with promises of the night alight in his eyes. His eyes remain bright as he gazes at you over the rim of his wine glass, no longer paying attention to the conversation pertaining to the history of the Bridgertons and Rokesbys. Instead, his gaze remains fixed on you as he thinks of all the good you have brought to his life – loving him, marrying him, bearing his children. His love for you is endless, and he’ll spend the rest of his life proving that to you.
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Crake House was just as grand as Aubrey Hall. The Rokesby’s gaining the favour of the monarch in the seventeenth century leading to an earldom and a rather large estate that bordered on the Bridgerton’s at Aubrey Hall. From then, the two families had been intertwined – as close as two families could get.
“It’s very big,” John comments quietly to Benedict as they leave the carriage.
“Don’t let that intimidate you, John,” Benedict says, “There’s nothing to be worried about.”
As Benedict finishes his sentence, the door to Crake House is pulled open by a strong hand. Deep blue skirts are the first thing you see, and you know that Billie Rokesby nee Bridgerton has arrived.
“Bridgertons!” A feminine voice cries, “I have Bridgertons on my doorstep once more!”
“Billie,” Violet sighs, a fond smile on her face as if the sound of her sister-in-law’s voice has transported her back to times long thought of as memories.
“Anthony Bridgerton,” Billie admonishes as she hurries down the stairs, her elderly frame not a hindrance to her speed whatsoever. “How long have you taken residence in Aubrey Hall? How long has it been since you came to see me?”
“Aunt Billie,” Anthony murmurs, “I don’t suppose you could ever forgive me.”
Billie Rokesby nee Bridgerton eyes her nephew; looking him up and down before taking his face in her strong hands. “Are you well, my boy?”
For a moment, tears shine in Anthony’s eyes as he is reminded of his departed father. He nods wordlessly; trying to get a grip on the feelings rushing through him at the love that emanates from Billie. “I’m well, Aunt Billie.”
Billie nods, stepping back, clearly happy at the information offered by Anthony. She casts her shrewd gaze over her brother’s family; happiness alight in her eyes as she takes sight of your daughter, hiding behind your skirts.
“Who do we have here?” She asks, stepping closer to Benedict and yourself.
“You met John when he was just a babe in arms, but Violet is our youngest,” Benedict introduces, an arm wrapped loosely around your waist.
“Violet?” Billie gasps, dipping at the waist, “Violet Bridgerton, it is an honour to meet you.”
Violet giggles from where she has her face hidden in your legs. You reach down, tapping her on the shoulder. “Come now, sweetheart. Let’s say hello.”
Violet peeks her face out of your skirts, her blue eyes meeting the kind, aged ones of Billie. Violet curtsies, remembering her manners despite her age. “I saw your painting at Grandma’s house.”
“Which one?” Billie asks gently, eyes flickering to the Bridgerton matriarch. “Please tell me it wasn’t the one that Edmund commissioned as an anniversary gift for George and myself.”
Violet Bridgerton covers her mouth to stem the laughter that threatens to bubble over. “The very same.”
Billie huffs, turning to you, “I was six months pregnant, and Edmund thought I would want nothing more than to sit for a whole day with nothing to keep me company.”
“I think you look wonderful,” Your daughter compliments, tripping up on her pronunciation of ‘wonderful’.
Billie’s eyes shine with happiness, “Thank you, my dear.”
“I think our guests might like some tea,” An exasperated but fond voice calls from the doorway. Billie’s face softens at the sound of it; she turns to her husband, finding him watching her with a loving smile on his face.
“They aren’t guests, George. They are my family, and by marriage, your family.”
“All the same, I’m sure they would like something to drink and to rest a little.”
Billie pouts, knowing a losing fight when she saw one. You take in the sight of the pair; their hair had greyed over time, their face becoming wrinkled but their love – it was so palpable, it could be felt in every aspect of their conversation and every expression they sent each other.
Billie and George manage to wrangle the whole Bridgerton clan into their drawing room with promises of food, tea and stories of their mother’s youth. Violet pales at such a promise but Billie’s hand on her arm steadies her.
Your children, John and Violet, join their many cousins on the carpet. They all sit cross legged, eyes intently focused on the elderly couple sitting on the pale green couch. Billie gestures animatedly as she begins one of her many adventurous stories. George leans further back into the cushions, happy to let his wife regale his extended family with the very story of how they had fallen in love. A story told many times, but a story he would never tire of hearing, especially not from his beloved wife’s lips.
You watch all of this from where you sit, perched on the window seat. You smile at the sight of Anthony, Colin and Hyacinth watching Billie with nothing short of wonder written on their faces as they are reminded of the aunt that had explained the way of the land before they had truly understood what it meant to be part of a family with such a large responsibility.
Benedict joins you on the window seat, crossing his legs at the ankles as his heart sings at the sound of his children’s laughter. Silently, he reaches over to take your hand in his. He rests your tangled hands on his thigh; needing you close for a reason he cannot seem to find the words to explain.
“I love you,” You whisper, needing him to hear the words that have begged to be released since you had rolled up to Crake House.
“I love you too,” Benedict responds, his hand tightening around yours.
*********
Bridgerton taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff @magicalxdaydream @darkestbeforethedawn16 @gryffindors-weasley​
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lysung · 3 years
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happy first times - bang chan
you and bang chan's daughter comes back home from school earlier than expected and started acting weird, as if she's hiding something.
A/N: hi hi! sorry for being so inactive, uni had me messed up the whole year :( anyways. it's been quite some time since i wrote and posted anything in here, and i haven't been practicing english often either, i'm not sure if i'm doing anything right in here but i hope it's understandable and enjoyable 😭 also, i'm not sure how things work where you live, but at the elementary school where i studied, if you weren't feeling well, felt lots of pain or anything like this, and no one were home to get you back home, someone specific would drop you home. i wrote this based on this vague memory. you can pretend this happens where you live too if it doesn't lol and a fun fact: i've been struggling trying to pay attention to stuff that i wondered if my mind was still working properly, and after watching a clip of chan talking about periods, i was more than sure it was working very well 🥴. took the chance to write this.
genre: fluff
cw: overflowing cuteness, bang chan being the best man ever you'll ba your eyes out because you still can't believe someone this precious exist.
reader's gender is neutral! your daughter can be biological or adopted if you want to, all up to you! feel comfortable <3
this wasn't proofread because it's literally 6am when i'm posting this and maybe i didn't sleep at all just to finish this, but i'll try to remember to do so later today! pls tell me if you find any mistake too <3
hope you guys enjoy it! requests are open ✨
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[09:50]
today is a sunny, fresh and bright day. bang chan, your husband, is taking some time off after his promotions were finally over. although you still had to go to work, today's the day when you're supposed to leave earlier. today just couldn't feel any better than this.
while waiting for you, chan was watching tv until he hears a noise coming from the front door. immediately he thought you would be home, but got confused as he saw your daughter coming in by herself.
- baby? what are you doing here this early? you're supposed to be at-
- iknow, i know. one of my teachers had to leave earlier today and she left me here, because you just wouldn't pick up your phone... — she cut him off with a sad and tired gaze, and chan instantly regretted leaving his phone so far from him earlier.
- ohhhh, i'm sorry so sorry my angeeel — he hugged her while carressing her hair, and she just responded with a quiet yet lovely "it's okay, dad" — but are you okay? what happened that you had to come back home this early?
- i just... don't feel good, my stomach aches way too much... but you don't have to worry, they just- they told me to take some medicine and rest for today — she explained, her voice crackling a bit, as if she was looking for the right words and was about to cry.
chan noticed her unusual behaviour and expressions. at first, he didn't intend to tell her about it or get mad, and just decided to pay extra attention for the rest of the day. as she distanced herself from him, he notices something else - the vivid red stain on her pants, on the inner side of her legs.
reality never hit him this hard. both of you were aware she was growing up, that's just how tome works, but once again, time felt like flying. as if watching her taking her first steps, saying her first words, making her first dawings and friends... everything felt like it hadn't been this long. every moment felt like a blessing. everything gives you two a specific feeling that probably no one will ever be able to put in perfect words.
chan felt his eyes tearing up as so many memories flashed one after another, finding himself at loss of words from the insane mix of feelings.
she turned to him to ask for something, just to find him with his head down, coverig his own face with one hand, sobbing quietly. the feeling of rgret instantly filled her up, as she was still confused and scared, fearing bad things to happen. she was so afraid and ashamed that she could barely tell or show it to anyone at school. but she calms down as she hears his words noticeably filled with love:
- my baby... i love you so much. but do you know what's happening to you now? — chan got closer to his precious daughter to hold her face with his hands and stare deeply into her eyes.
- ah, n-no... it's nothing bad, right? everything is gonna be fine, right? — she asked, fear still clear on her eyes and voice.
- no, it's nothing bad. you're just growing up and this is completely normal for you. i'll grab you a cup of warm water, sit down and i'll tell you everything i know about it. but relax, you're fine, baby. — he calmed her down while trying to control his proud smile, and ended with a kiss on her forehead before leaving, taking a little longer as expected to get a bag of warm water as well.
sat down next to each other, she drank her water calmly as she listened to her dad. she always knew how understanding chan can be, but this sudden situation made every kind of thought come to her head to the point nothing from the outside world would get in or make sense to her. yet, each and every word that came out of him would tranquilize her more and more. he felt like heaven to her, and she couldn't feel any more safer and happier with her precious dad.
while she showered and changed, chan left to buy meds and chocolate, hoping it would make her feel at least a little bit better. he spent the next few hours taking care of her as much as possible - making hot chocolate for her, listening to everything she wanted to say, watching her favorite series with her, massaging her wherever it hurted, trying his best to make her feel as comfortable as possible.
- honey, i'm home! — you announced happily after a long and exausting day. work felt endless and you couldn't wait to eat a little bit and sleep a little more. you were about to say something more, until you found the loves of your life sleeping next to each other on your sofabed, a movie playing on the tv, mugs on the tables next to them - a cute, calm smile on your sleeping daughter's face.
you went to the kitchen to grab water and noticed a paper on the table, which said "don't be scared, she's growing up faster than we thought and had her period at school today. she's fine! sorry for not telling you earlier. love you!"
you watched them sleep a little bit more. it was the best view you could have - your incredible and beautiful family. the moment also made you tear up a little bit, but it didn't take long for you to hold it and lay with them. it was unfortunate that you couldn't take care of your daughter as well, but there was nothing to worry or feel upset about. you knew both you and your daughter would be safe and sound if you have bang chan - the best friend, husband, dad and person.
you two couldn't love him any more than this.
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Text
Nobody Left Behind
Prompt: So I don't know if you're taking requests? But I just watched Lilo and Stitch for the first time since I got into TSS and I've adopted the headcanon that it is Remus's *favorite* movie (and he's memorized the script) and I love your writing and I'd love to see something angsty involving Remus feeling lonely/unloved by his brother, and maybe Lilo and Stitch is involved somehow. IDK, go wild. (and feel free to ignore this if you aren't taking requests) <3 - anon
it is Le Fluff™ hours my good bitches
Read on Ao3
Warnings: Remus has some abandonment issues, but it’s not too much
Pairings: it is platonic all the way down, babes
Word Count:  2935
Ohana means family.
 Family.
 FamILY.
 What a weird word.
Sometimes it’s the people you’re born with. Well, not ‘with,’ not necessarily, but the people you are born to. A mother, a father, a sister, a brother. Sometimes two mothers, sometimes two fathers, sometimes a different parent. Sometimes two sisters, sometimes two brothers, sometimes a different sibling. Sometimes a mess of assorted people that all share the same blood. A family.
 Remus wasn’t born.
 He was made though, crafted and shaped and born out of the swirling chaos of a child’s mind that didn’t understand the world well enough without other people to help. He remembers getting cobbled together from scraps of thoughts and feelings and morphing them into limbs, into features, into something that vaguely resembled the body of the child he was made to fit. Not the ‘fitting’ was ever his job.
 Just his brother’s.
 Is his brother his family?
 By all accounts he should be, right? A brother is one of those people that are traditionally part of the ‘family’ group, right, someone to laugh with, cry with, fight with, live with. But is Roman really his…brother?
 That’s what they decided to call themselves because nothing else worked. They weren’t really brothers, they were halves. But they weren’t really halves because there was never a whole to begin with.
 The King wasn’t a ‘whole,’ he was…well, he was the King. Half of a king is not a prince. Half of a king is not a duke.
 Half of a king is a mess of blood and bones and viscera dripping off of the end of a Morningstar in the middle of the night when only a destroyed facsimile makes the insanity bleed away just enough to breathe again.
 The closest thing to twins, is what they decided on eventually. They’re twins. One light, one dark. One that marches boldly into danger to confront the wickedness of the world, one that dwells in the shadows and cackles with the demons nipping at his heels. One that loves, one that isn’t loved.
 Sure, they had some things in common. They both loved to fight, hence the scars and the bruises and the wounds that would never, ever heal, the distrust that would never be fixed ever, because the urge to sink their teeth into each other’s necks and rip never went away. They both loved to make, Roman the peaceful lies he tells himself to make up for the gaping wounds Remus leaves as he carves his perfectly tailored destruction. They both love Disney.
 Roman’s made it part of his whole deal as the Prince, he loves Disney. He bursts into song every chance he gets, drags the others in until the Mindscape rings with joyful song and there’s nowhere left for any sadness or darkness. He takes his lessons from it, models himself using the traits of the characters he admires most. Cultivates his art of storytelling, perfect to a tee.
 Remus loves Disney too. Loves how easy it is to twist the lens to distort the image just enough to let the darker parts of the Imagination run wild. What is the real implication of never growing old, never understanding what it means to die? What kind of person curses a ten-year-old boy for being cautious about who he answers the door to? What could the story have been if the prince never comes to save the day?
 When they were smaller it was fine. When they were still getting used to the fact that they weren’t King anymore, they used to sit and watch so many Disney movies. Roman’s favorite was always changing, one week it was Beauty and the Beast, then it was Mulan, then it was Cinderella, it never stayed the same.
 Remus’s was always Lilo and Stitch.
 Roman never understood it, said it was boring, there wasn’t a prince, there wasn’t anything exciting. Remus said that aliens were plenty exciting, thank you very much.
 But they would always watch it. The King wasn’t there anymore, but the prince and the Duke were.
 …when they were smaller, there was one time where the prince wasn’t there at all.
 Remus remembers waking up one day and feeling like he was being Split all over again. The maggots in his bones reached their awful little mouths into his heart and pulled, yanking him all the way across the bed and to the door, howling and screaming for his twin.
 Only to be met with a blank wall.
 He remembers howling at the top of his lungs until Janus had rushed to his side, kneeling down next to him and telling him shh, be quiet, hush now, you’re alright, you’re not hurt. And when he couldn’t explain that he was hurt, half of him was missing, Remus needed to go find him, Janus’s mouth had hardened into a thin line and told him that there wasn’t anything to worry about.
 He remembers thinking that was a lie.
 But it wasn’t. It wasn’t a lie.
 Roman was fine.
 Roman was more than fine, because Roman had a family.
 Roman had Patton, who is the actual manifestation of sunshine and rainbows and loved so much it almost burns. The darkness that wrapped around Remus’s corner of the Imagination screeched and hissed at the very idea of being loved that much, even as part of him strained with all its might to get to it. But Patton would never set foot near this side of the Mindscape.
 Roman had Logan, who represents everything true about the Mindscape, about Thomas, about the world. The reality of things that would never let anything Remus created make it anywhere close to anything important because it was dangerous, it was hurtful, and it was wrong. Logan wouldn’t want anything to do with something so useless.
 And that was okay. Because Roman may have been gone but Remus wasn’t alone. Remus had Virgil, who lived with fear soaking every fiber of his being. Remus had Janus, who wrapped himself in darkness and obscurity and laughed.
 But then Virgil left. And now Roman had Virgil, who used Thomas’s anxieties to keep him safe, to help Roman and the others figure out what to do, how to take care of everybody, and how to make the darkness go away. And Virgil would never willingly sink himself back into the darkness when he’d spent so long clawing himself out of it.
 But that was okay, because Remus had Janus. Janus, who plotted and schemed and smirked at how easily the others were pulled along by his strings, luring them deeper and deeper as Remus readied his Morningstar for the trap to be sprung.
 But then they sprung the trap and everything went wrong.
 Roman didn’t want to fight. He just…he let Remus knock him out and didn’t show up again except to scoff and say he didn’t like him.
 And that was…wrong.
 Because Roman wasn’t supposed to like him but he was never only supposed to not like him. Roman was supposed to declare that he wasn’t welcome and try and slash him with his sword. Roman was supposed to try and banish him from the Mindscape and spit insults at him until he left, cackling all the while. Roman was supposed to hate him.
 But Roman didn’t hate him, he just…he just said he didn’t like him.
 But that was okay, because Janus could just come up with a better plan with him this time. They could do it properly, and Roman would hate him again and it would be back to normal.
 But then Janus left. And now Roman has Janus, who keeps his eyes where the prince’s aren’t, when he can’t see what’s happening or he can’t bear to look, to help Roman figure out what to do when what seems to be happening isn’t anything that the prince is used to dealing with. And Janus would never willingly step away from a place that finally accepted him.
 Roman has them now. Roman has people that chose him. Roman’s family chose him. He chose them. They chose each other.
 Remus’s grip on his Morningstar slackens and the thing falls to the ground with a heavy clunk. He moves numbly through his room until he can fall to his knees on his bed.
 He just came from the living room. They were all there. Roman was talking with Logan, ranting about some new show they were both watching. Janus was in the kitchen with Patton, making something for dinner that everyone—well, almost everyone—could eat. Virgil was on the back of the couch, reaching out for Roman’s shoulder every once in a while.
Remus had waited behind the couch. For someone to sit down, for someone to see him and shriek, or even maybe—just maybe—for someone to ask where he was.
 But no.
 Patton had come over and gently ruffled Virgil’s hair, saying that dinner was ready. Logan and Roman had moved into the kitchen, demanding Janus’s attention and pulling him into their conversation. Virgil had murmured a quiet thank you and Roman had asked him for what?
 “Y’know,” Virgil had said, “for…this.”
 “Of course,” Roman had laughed, the soft rustle of fabric as he probably pulled the emo in for a hug—what did those feel like?— “I should be thanking you?”
 “What for, kiddo?”
 “I dunno, it just…feels like it’s been forever since we’ve all sat down for dinner together.”
 Remus’s chest had started to hurt.
 “The whole family.”
 The whole family.
 Remus’s eyes well up with stubborn tears and he angrily swipes them away, baring his teeth at the memory and focusing intently on the things on the bed. Each hand-stitched, each carefully kept clean.
 His family.
 He reaches out with a shaking hand and tucks the blue frog plushie into the crook of his arm, crawling into the middle of the bed and balancing the purple spider on his shoulder. His hands keep shaking as he wraps the long yellow snake securely around his neck, clutching the head under his chin and nuzzling it protectively. The dark blue cat he holds in his other hand, careful not to tear its tie as he scrunches in on himself.
 Wait.
 Wait.
 Where is it?
 No, no, no, no—
 Remus growls, placing all of his family gently on the floor before all but tearing at his sheets. Where is it, where is it, where is it—his heartbeat starts to rise as his search grows more frantic, where is it, where is it—
 The slightest little puff of red hair and he howls, lunging for it and sweeping it into his lap. He pauses to make sure the lion’s crown didn’t fall off and sighs when he sees it still in place. He sets the lion between his legs and leans over, adjusting everyone back into place and scrunching himself into a ball again. He rubs his nose against the lion’s fur and nuzzles into the soft fabric.
 He’d never be able to forgive himself if he lost them.
 Because Ohana means family.
 Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.
——————————————————
There’s a knock on his door.
 Why is someone knocking on his door?
 They knock again.
 Remus looks up, carefully butting the spider out of the way with his head and sitting up. The snake hangs off his shoulder and he lets it, only missing its warmth once the knock sounds again.
 The frog and the cat watch him warily as he climbs out of bed, the lion clutched in his hand.
 The door squeaks slightly as he opens it.
 “So, I’ve got popcorn, I found the weird gummy snakes, and they had this chocolate-covered bacon which we have to try—Remus?”
 Roman?
 Roman stands there, his arms full of snacks and blankets, his head tilted. He glances behind Remus—probably to check something or other—and then back at him.
 “Remus? Are you okay?”
 “Why are you here?” Roman doesn’t like him.
 “It’s movie night, Re, of course, I’m here.” Roman chuckles nervously before taking in his tear-stained face. “Hey, Re, what’s going on? Are you okay? Can I come in?”
 Why is Roman here? Roman has his family, what is he doing here? With Remus?
 “Remus—“ oh, right, Roman’s talking to him—why is Roman talking to him?—in a soft voice now— “Remus, hey, look at me.”
 Remus blinks. Oh. Roman looks concerned now, he’s reaching for him.
 “Hey,” he murmurs as he ruffles Remus’s hair, “what’s going on? Have you been crying?”
 Remus nods dumbly.
 “I’m sorry, Re, can I help?”
 Help? Why does Roman want to help?
 Oh, he’s waiting for an answer.
 “…sure.”
 “Thank you,” Roman says softly, “can I come in?”
 Remus steps aside wordlessly and Roman walks in, pausing when he sees the rest of Remus’s family on the bed.
 “Did you make them?”
 Something dark twists in Remus’s chest as he sees Roman reach for the spider.
 “Don’t.”
Roman backs off, stepping back as Remus snatches up his family and cradles them in his lap, glaring at Roman and curling up on the bed.
 “I won’t, Re, I’m sorry,” Roman says, still speaking softly, “can I sit?”
 “…floor.”
 Roman sits on the floor, setting aside the blankets and snacks, looking up at him. He still looks concerned. Why? Roman doesn’t like him.
 “Why weren’t you at dinner,” he asks gently, “I was worried.”
 Worried? About him? Remus snorts.
 “You had your whole family there,” he spits, “why would you worry?”
 “But you weren’t there,” Roman says like that makes any difference, “so I was worried.”
 Remus shakes his head. Roman doesn’t get it. Roman doesn’t worry about him, he worries about other things. But if Roman wants to know why he wasn’t at dinner, he’ll tell him.
 “I was with my family.”
 Roman’s brow furrows as he glances around again. “…your family?”
 Remus huddles protectively around his family. “Yes. My family.”
 Roman’s eyes widen as he takes in Remus’s posture and how he reacted when Roman asked about them earlier.
 “…are they your family, Remus?”
 “Yes.” He holds them tighter. “I chose them. They won’t leave me. They won’t forget me. That’s what family means.”
 Something crosses Roman’s face and he lets out a wounded noise. Wait. Are they fighting?
 “Wait, Remus,” he murmurs, rising up to his knees, “did you—did you think we forgot you?”
 “You did forget me.”
 “I’m sorry, Remus, I would’ve come to look for you, but I thought—“ Roman shakes his head— “no, it doesn’t matter what I thought. I should’ve come got you, Re, I’m sorry, I—I didn’t mean to leave you behind.”
 Oh.
 “…you didn’t?”
 Roman shakes his head furiously. “No, Remus, I promise. I never meant to leave you.”
 “But everybody leaves me.”
 If possible, Roman’s eyes are now wider and he scrambles for the edge of the bed. “What do you mean, Remus, what do you mean everybody leaves you?”
 “You left. Virgil left. Janus left. Everybody left.” The lion’s mane brushes against his lips as he bows his head. “But not them. They won’t leave me.”
 “Oh, Remus—“
 Something big lunges at him and Remus whimpers, he doesn’t have his Morningstar, he doesn’t want to fight, he doesn’t—he doesn’t—
 What’s happening? He feels warm and he’s being squished and Roman is pressing himself against him and what—what—
 “What’re you doing?”
 “It’s a hug, Remus,” comes Roman’s voice, slightly muffled, from over his shoulder, “I’m hugging you.”
 Oh.
 Oh.
 “R-Ro?”
 “Yeah, Re, I’m here, I’m right here, I won’t forget you, I won’t leave you behind, you’re my brother, you’re my family, I choose you.” Roman’s grip tightens on him and Remus just about gasps. “I choose you and I want you and I like you.”
 Roman…Roman likes him?
 Roman chooses him?
 Roman won’t…leave?
 “No, Remus,” Roman promises as he cautiously asks, “I won’t leave. Not unless you want me to.”
 “No.”
 “Then I’m not going anywhere.”
 That’s it.
 Remus throws his arms around his twin and sobs, cries an entire ocean of tears into his brother’s shoulder because he’s here and he cares and he chose Remus. The darkness shudders as that small part of him surges forward, into Roman’s chest, finding a home in the prince’s heart and languishing in the warmth there.
 “I’m right here, Re,” Roman murmurs, stroking up and down his back, “right here, I’ve got you.”
 The snake drapes itself cautiously over Roman’s shoulder, the spider taking up watch on his knee. The cat and the frog stare at him, making sure he isn’t lying, that he won’t change his mind. The lion, sandwiched between them, feels the reassuring rumble from Roman’s chest and purrs.
 After a long, long time, Remus pulls back a little and scuffs a hand over his nose.
 “…did you say something about chocolate-covered bacon?”
 Roman’s smile lights up.
 “Let’s put on Lilo and Stitch and we’ll try it.”
 Ohana means family.
 Family means no one gets left behind.
 Or forgotten.
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heliads · 3 years
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The Issue of the Dance
You’re best friends with Draco Malfoy, that much is a given. When you’re asked to the Yule Ball by a Durmstrang student, however, Draco seems oddly irritated.
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You may be trying to do your homework, but that doesn’t mean you can’t feel your best friend’s gaze burning away at the back of your head. Draco Malfoy has been trying to get your attention for the better part of ten minutes now, but you’re not any more likely to give up and look over at him than you had before. This essay is due tomorrow, you have better things to do then respond to your friend.
Eventually, Draco resorts to more advanced measures, and seconds later, you feel a piece of crumpled paper hit your arm. You don’t spare it a second thought, merely turning over the page in the textbook in front of you. You can hear him sigh in irritation and smile to yourself. You can only mess with him for so long, so you pick it up, carefully uncrumpling the paper to see what is written inside.
It’s blank. Forgetting your forced silence, you turn around and give Draco a look. He’s sprawled in one of the mahogany and viridian silk armchairs sequestered around the fireplace, and he looks up triumphantly when he sees he’s finally made you glance away from your homework. You hold up the paper in one hand. “Really? You’re throwing parchment at me? I thought it could at least be something interesting, like a note.”
Draco grins. “I can give you a note, if that makes you feel better.” You roll your eyes. “It will not. I’m going back to my essay.” Draco leans forward, snapping your textbook shut with one hand. “No, we’re talking. I’m bored.” You reach for the textbook, which is being held out of your reach. “No, we’re not. I have things to be doing that don’t involve entertaining you. Go talk to Crabbe or Goyle.”
Draco sighs. “They wouldn’t know how to have a conversation unless I guided them through it by hand.” You do your best to hold back a laugh. “They’re your friends. You’re so mean.” Draco raises an eyebrow. “I’m not wrong. They’re idiots. That’s why you’re my closest friend, darling, because you actually have the ability to think.”
This time, you can’t stop your laugh. “Darling? That almost makes up for the fact that you think we’re friends solely because I don’t have the brain of a five year old.” Draco smirks shamelessly. “Do you have a problem with that?” You shrug. “I guess I do.” With that, you turn back to your essay at hand, grateful your turned back hides the smile on your face as you hear Draco groan in annoyance behind you.
“Fine, we’re not just friends because of that. Now can you stop ignoring me? It’s going to be a long night for both of us if you do.” You point your quill at him without turning around. “Fine. Will you please stop ignoring me?” Draco asks, and your smile grows. “Fine, I guess I will. Happy?” You turn around once more, and Draco matches your smile. “Very.”
There’s a sound of approaching footsteps behind you, and seconds later, your friend Blaise Zabini slumps down into an armchair next to the two of you. “Honestly, Malfoy, you’re making me sick. Can’t you two stop flirting and just go out with each other? You’re ruining my evening.” Draco gives Blaise a look riddled with disdain. “We are not dating, Blaise, we’re friends. Just that and nothing more.”
Blaise raises an eyebrow. “Then why do you bother her more than anyone else?” You flash him a grin. “Because we’re best friends. I’ve earned the title.” Blaise rolls his eyes. “You’re both terrible.” You shrug. “Is that why you’re also our friend? You’re the one who came over here.” Blaise points at you in agreement. “Exactly. I’m not here to bicker about Malfoy’s questionable habits, I’m here to talk about the Yule Ball. If we want to have a good showing we’ll have to form closer alliances with the Durmstrang students.”
You roll your eyes. “Honestly, Blaise, it’s just a dance. You’re making it sound like a council of war.” Draco glances over at you. “He’s not wrong. Having international ties could never hurt. This would be the best place to do it.” You groan, slumping down onto the table in front of you and burying your face in your arms. “Both of you?” Blaise folds his arms in front of his chest. “What, you don’t like the Durmstrang guys? They might seem a little intimidating, but they’re students like the rest of us.”
You shake your head. “Not from the way you’re talking about them. They might as well be businessmen.” Blaise waves this away with his hand. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Look, there’s a group just coming back from the library. You could talk to them, make some friends.” You sit up, a slight smile crossing your face. “I don’t need to. One of them has already asked me to the Yule Ball.” Blaise stares. “Which one?” You return his gaze, feeling an air of victory. “Henrik Rybar.”
Blaise leans back against the chair. “He’s one of the best in the class! How’d you manage that?” You give him an affronted look. “My natural charm, obviously. Do you still want to make conversation with them tomorrow?” Blaise rolls his eyes, but a grin flickers across his face when he glances over at Draco. “You alright there, Malfoy? You look a little distressed.”
Sure enough- Draco hasn’t said a word all this time, just stewing in something that looks almost like malice. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was jealous. “No, nothing’s the matter. Say, I think I left something in the dormitory. I’d best go get it.” He stands up hurriedly and leaves just as quickly. You and Blaise are left to sit alone, an expression of intrigue growing on Blaise’s face.
“Just friends, my arse.” You swat him with the edge of your parchment, but even this can’t seem to get you back into high spirits. You had assumed Draco would be impressed or at least not angry over the fact that Henrik was taking you to the dance- he’s of a prominent magical family, and Draco’s been trying to get the three of you into his good graces for a while. So why is it that he seems so unhappy now?
By the time the Yule Ball rolls around, you’re almost thinking that the dance is more trouble than it’s worth. Draco has been pretending that he wasn’t affected by this at all, that you’re still nothing more than friends, but you can see mute vexation simmering away behind his eyes. The Durmstrang students all sit at the Slytherin table with the rest of you, so it’s not like tensions are eased at all. When Henrik sits next to Draco, the platinum blond boy’s jaw seems to clench. When Henrik sits next to you, well, Draco seems about to punch the guy himself.
However, it’s not like he’s alone in feeling unhappy. Barely a day had gone by after you revealed that you were going to the dance with Henrik that Draco found himself a date- none other than Pansy Parkinson. You suppose you’re not surprised- Pansy has been eyeing Draco for practically her entire life. She’s a Slytherin just like you, so she shares your cunning, your drive to get what you want. Is it really that much of a shock that she would manage to get her hooks in Draco somehow?
You don’t know why you keep thinking of Draco asking Pansy to the ball like it’s somehow Pansy’s fault. Pansy couldn’t have made him ask her any more than another Slytherin girl short of drugging him with a love potion, and he isn’t exactly besotted enough for that. You know that Draco must have asked Pansy for a good reason, a legitimate reason, yet you keep thinking of it like this is Pansy’s decision, not Draco’s. Like if you just phrase it the right way, Draco won’t have feelings for her, like he didn’t ask her to the ball because they were more than friends. Friends is, of course, all that Draco and you will ever be. You would do well to remember it.
Finally, it is the night of the Yule Ball. To be honest, you find yourself a little relieved that it will all be soon over. Draco’s been stiff and wordless with you as of late, like he’s trying to hide something. It only started after Henrik asked you to the dance and Draco asked Pansy, and you have a sinking feeling that this sudden avoidance has something to do with it. If only the dance were over, you could finally go back to what you had before.
Even with all of this, you can’t deny that this night feels magical. You’ve spent days talking about it with your friends, planning out outfits and hair and makeup until you practically felt exhausted. Now, staring at yourself in the mirror, you can’t help but feel a glow rush to your cheeks. You look, to put it simply- 
“Amazing. You look gorgeous, Y/N.”
You smile up at Henrik. He looks nice too- like the other Durmstrang students, he’s donned a crimson dress coat with dark fur lining. You suppose it’s traditional for the Durmstrang students, but it does suit him. You yourself wear a gown of deepest indigo, with a skirt of swirling silk that swishes around your ankles until you feel like you could spin for hours and never stop. Even so, his compliment brings a smile to your face.
“You look wonderful yourself.” Henrik returns your smile. “You are too kind. Shall we go in?” He offers you an arm, leading you through the halls and into the stone atrium leading to the Great Hall. Pairs of students mill about, exchanging compliments on dress robes and hair styles whilst secretly checking out what everyone else has decided to wear or do. Yule Balls are out of the ordinary in a school that specializes in the peculiar, so of course everyone who’s anyone is talking about it.
After a few minutes of waiting, the doors open, and the pairs of students begin to file into the Great Hall, led by the Triwizard Champions and their partners. They, of course, are given the first dance, and then everyone else takes to the floor. You are pleasantly surprised to find that Henrik is an excellent dancer, but for every perfect turn and step, you realize you’re looking for someone else, someone with a shock of platinum hair who is not here dancing with you at all.
You don’t realize you’re searching for him until you see him. Draco is dancing with Pansy across the room, laughing formally at a joke she must have said. She’s dressed in emerald green- Slytherin colors, what a surprise. Draco has always felt shielded by his house pride, so of course she would know to dress in that color for him. They look practically perfect together. 
“He is your friend, no? Malfoy?” You jerk back to reality, realizing you must have been staring. “What? Yes, we’re in the same house.” Henrik nods. “He was looking for you earlier, I think. Before you came down.” You smile despite yourself. “I’ve known him for a while.” Henrik starts to open his mouth, presumably to ask you another question about Draco, but you find you don’t want to speak about him right now, so you hurriedly ask him a question about Durmstrang. Henrik’s eyes light up, and he begins to speak in earnest about his school. At last, something to distract him.
When you look back, Draco and Pansy are gone, swallowed up by the crowd. If you were smart, you would turn your attention back to your date, back to the boy who actually asked you out in the first place. Yet you keep looking for the one who didn’t, for the one who’d looked at you with something like betrayal in his eyes when he found out you would be going to the dance with someone else.
After a couple more songs, Henrik excuses himself to speak to a friend, and strides off across the Great Hall. Now that you’re alone, the noise and action of the room seems to echo off of the walls, the sound of the band playing and conversation reaching an ear-piercing din. You make your way through the crowd to reach the doors, slipping into the grateful quiet of the hall outside. You’ve barely taken a few steps, though, when you sense that you’re not alone.
“Y/N?”
You turn to see Draco, silhouetted against the bright lights still seeping out of the Great Hall. His eyes linger on you. “You look nice.” Somehow, these few words manage to outrank a hundred compliments from Henrik. “So do you.” You’re not just adding pleasantries this time- his black suit jacket is a crisp contrast to the white lines of his dress robes. Henrik’s robes almost look garish in comparison. 
You clear your throat. “What are you doing away from the ball? I thought you would be dancing.” Draco gives you a rueful smile. “I could say the same thing about you. Henrik’s a prestigious wizard, he would be a good partner.” Somehow, you get the feeling he’s not just talking about a dance. “He’s not exactly my type. I don’t know him well enough.” Draco smiles now, a real smile. He holds out his hand from where it had been pressed at his side, and you realize that he’s been holding a necklace in his hand. It has links of gold looped together to support a pendant in the middle, one shaped like a teardrop.
“I was going to give this to Pansy, but it doesn’t really match her dress. She went more along the lines of silver. Would you mind if I give it to you instead?” You shake your head quietly, unable to say anything lest you disturb the quiet peace that hangs over you. You turn around, and seconds later you feel the pendant settle against your throat, Draco’s hands inches away as he fastens the clasp behind you.
When you turn around, his eyes linger on the pendant for just a second longer. At last, he speaks, and he has the rushed energy as if he’s not entirely sure that he’s saying the words until he does. “I wanted it to be you, you know. I was going to ask you, and then he did. I didn’t know what to do.” You stare at him. “You-”
Draco cuts you off. “I know we always joked about just being friends, but I wouldn’t have minded if we were wrong this once.” You feel a laugh bubbling to your chest, incredulous and utterly happy. “You could have said that earlier, you dunce. All this time, we’ve been tossing the same lie back and forth. You could have asked me.” Draco grins, the same cocky, impossible, utterly lovesick grin you’ve seen before. “Guess I was waiting for the right moment.”
You raise an eyebrow. “And what exactly is the right moment?” You’re almost expecting it when he kisses you. It feels like closure, like you’ve been waiting for this for a while. It feels like home.
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Real or Fake? | Bucky Barnes x reader
Requested by @edencherries​ / Summary: Nat and Steve try to set you and Bucky up by sending the two of you to be a fake couple on an undercover mission at a fancy gala. Will you two still be pretending by the end of the night?
A/N: okay so I absolutely love how this one turned out. Yes, I used Hunger Games (if you’ve read them, you know) as an inspiration for the whole real or fake thing. Obviously it is fiction and a hair cut/growing a beard isn’t a good disguise for the Winter Soldier, but this is my story and I can write whatever I want. (You’ll understand this after you read it) 
@edencherries​ I hope you enjoy! Thank you for requesting!! xx 
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“and that’s why we are going to send the two of you in there.” Steve is standing at the end of the table with his arms crossed over his chest. 
“Come again, who are the two you are talking about?” You ask, looking around the table. You wanted to make sure you heard him correctly. 
“You two, y/l/n.” Nat motions to you and Bucky with her fingers, “It’s time for you to be the undercover couple instead of Steve and I.” 
“They’ve seen enough of Romanoff and Rogers to know who they are. It would blow the whole mission.” Tony explains. 
“Okay but won’t they recognize me as the Winter Soldier? It’s not like that is a secret anymore.” 
“Exactly.” You add, “So, it can’t be me and Barnes.” 
“I’m not against it being you and I.” Bucky says from across the table, “I just don’t want to put you in danger because someone makes me out as the Winter Soldier.” 
You can’t help but blush at Bucky’s protectiveness. I mean, if he doesn’t care about it being you and him, then you shouldn’t either. You relax in your chair to hear what Tony has to say. 
“Yes, well that’s why you’re going to have to cut your hair and grow this out.” He motions to his chin, “Just a little scruff. That’ll probably be just enough to hide the Winter Soldier look.” 
Bucky subconsciously runs his fingers through his long hair, “If you say so.” 
“You guys are going to really have to play the part.” Nat begins, “I mean, you two have to look like a married couple, in love. Not all embarrassed to touch or look a each other like you’re doing now.” 
“We get it, Nat.” You mutter. 
“Good.” She smiles, “Lets go get you your wardrobe picked out then. The GALA is in a week.” 
“Barnes would like this one.” Nat holds up a dress and you scrunch your nose up at it. 
“Why does it matter if Barnes likes it? Shouldn’t I be the one who likes it?” 
“because he’s going to be your husband.” Nat shrugs and browses through the remaining dresses. 
“Fake husband.” You correct before finding a dress that you adore. 
“Not enough cleavage.” 
you groan, “Nat! Come on. I don’t want my hoohas out in the open.” 
She sighs, “Alright alright, go try it on.” 
You do as she says and when you come out wearing the dress, her mindset changes, “Okay, fine I actually like it.” 
“Then I’m going with this one.” When you turn to leave you hear her mutter something about Barnes is going to love it. 
“We really have to try on tuxes? I have plenty.” Bucky says to Steve. 
“yeah but you need a new one for this gala.” Steve shrugs, “Plus, Tony’s paying for it so why not.” 
“Are you sure that sending y/n and I is a good idea? We don’t talk that much.” 
“You guys are going to be great. I mean you two work well together. I’ve seen the two of you out in the field. The chemistry is great.” 
“yeah but that’s.. not even close to acting like we’re married and in love.” 
Steve sighs and puts a reassuring hand on Buck’s shoulder, “Look, you got this. Y/n is a beautiful woman and you two work well together. Who knows, maybe you two will fall in love by the end of the night.” Steve shrugs. 
Bucky rolls his eyes, “Yeah right.” If only he knew. 
~ Night of the Gala ~ 
Nat had spent the afternoon getting you prepared for the gala. She went over the target and what needed to happen tonight while she helped with hair and makeup. And by helping, I mean she told the ladies what to do. 
“And most importantly, have fun with Barnes tonight! It’s a luxurious night at one of the most anticipated parties of the year.” 
“Okay, but we’re still on the job. We still have to get intel on the target.” 
“Yeah but you two have to play the part, so you still get to have fun.” She fixed the bottom of your dress so you could see the final look in the mirror, “You look stunning!” 
You tilt your head as you admire your reflection in the mirror. Getting dolled up like this was a rare occurrence, so this was a treat. “Its not too much?” 
“No, it’s perfect. Tonight is going to be great.” She gives your shoulders a gentle squeeze, “We should get you to Barnes. He’s probably waiting for you.” 
“I don’t know if I like this new look.” Bucky rubs at the stubble on his cheeks and chin. 
“Facial hair is popular now. All the ladies love it.” Steve hands Bucky his suit jacket; you’d be down any minute now. 
“When have I ever had to worry about what the ladies loved on men? They loved me anyway.” Bucky chuckles as he slips the suit jacket on. 
“Yes, well, some of us weren’t that lucky.” He peeks over his shoulder when he hears you and Nat’s voice, “Look, if the night goes well, look in the left pocket of the jacket.” 
Bucky looks at his best friend in confusion, “What?” 
“If the night goes well, left pocket.” Steve quickly mutters out, but it was more of a jumbled mess as you and Nat approach. It leaves Bucky wondering what the heck Steve meant and if this was a mission, why would it matter if the night went well? He didn’t wonder for long, because his attention was somewhere else as soon as he laid eyes on you. 
You wore the dress with such a confidence he wondered where it could have been all this time. Yeah, he’d seen you out in the field, kicking ass, but this was a different side of you; a different confidence. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you outside of your field uniform. Well, there was that one time... Knocking is very important. 
“You..You look..” Bucky was tongue-tied. There wasn’t a word in the dictionary that could describe you. Not a word that would capture the immense beauty of what he was looking at in this very moment. 
Luckily, Steve jumped in, “I think he’s looking for.. beautiful, stunning. You know somewhere along those lines.” 
Bucky suddenly felt underdressed. did he put enough gel to slick his hair back? Did it look okay? Was his suit good enough? Did he put on enough deodorant? He put on his underwear, right? 
“Your new look fits you well.” You motion to your face with your finger, “You look very handsome.” 
He clears his throat as he fiddles with his coat, “It’s scratchy.” 
You giggle, “facial hair is very popular now though. The ladies love it. I know I do.” 
Bucky wasn’t sure why, but that comment made him feel giddy inside. What the hell was going on with him? Snap out of it Bucky! “Should we get going?” He holds his arm out for you and you gladly take it, slipping your arm through his, “Yes we should. Don’t want to be late!” 
When you arrived at the event, the two of you signed into the party under fake names of course. As you made your way to your table, you two began searching the crowd for the target. 
“I haven’t spotted him yet.” 
“Yeah I don’t...” You take another look and you finally spot him as he enters the room. “He’s just entered the room.” 
Bucky pulls your chair out for you, “Yeah I see him.” 
“Apparently we’re supposed to gather intel on the guy, but Nat never specified what kind.” 
“Steve didn’t mention it to me either. I guess we’re supposed to keep an eye on him?” 
So, that’s exactly what the two of you did. You two played along as the happy couple, talking with the others at the table while dinner was served. 
“So, how long have you two been married?” The woman asks with a smile. Oh god, you two didn’t even go over anything like in the car. 
“4 years.” Bucky smiles at you as he takes your hand in his, “But we’ve been together for 6.” 
“Oh that’s so wonderful! My husband, Carl and I have been married for 30 years!” 
“Wow 30 years? That’s.. amazing.” You comment, thankful Bucky took the lead. 
“You want to know the secret?” She leans in closer, “the sex!” 
“Oh?” Bucky asks, raising his eyebrows questionably at you. 
“No no!” She laughs, “I’m only messing with you two. This is going to sound so cheesy, but it’s love. It really is.” She looks longingly at her husband, “If you two love each other, that’s only half the hard work it takes to making a marriage last. The other half is being truthful. And of course respect, and trust. There’s a lot that goes into a happy and healthy marriage.” 
You didn’t know if it was on purpose, but Bucky gently squeezed your hand at the end of the lady’s advice. Something about Bucky shifted after the two of you talked to that older couple. Bucky kept his hand on you, whether it be to hold your hand, put his hand on your thigh or even around the back of the chair. It left you feeling confused, because from what you’d heard, Bucky wasn’t one for physical affection. You weren’t sure if he was playing the part well or if this could somehow be real affection toward you. 
The two of you swayed softly to the music. Bucky held you close to him, one hand in yours and the other on your waist, “Are you enjoying the night?” 
“We’re technically supposed to be on a mission.” 
“Yeah but we can still enjoy ourselves.” He pulls away to look down at you, moving a piece of hair of your shoulder, his fingers grazing your soft skin. 
“Are you enjoying it?” 
He chuckles, “I asked the question first, doll.” 
You playfully roll your eyes and shrug softly, your eyes dancing around the crowd to make sure the target hadn’t left, “It’s only pretend..” 
“Is it though?” 
Your eyes snap back to Bucky’s. 
“Is it only pretend?” His hand leaves your hip to run his finger along your cheek, “Are we really faking this?” 
The skin on skin contact sends a shiver down your spine, goosebumps covering your body, “I don’t know, Bucky. Are we?” 
He smirks softly, “You really don’t know how to answer a question do you? You’re supposed to answer it with an actual answer, not a question.” His hand moves to your neck, cupping your cheek as if he was going to... 
And then his lips meet yours. Bucky Barnes was kissing you. Oh god but was this real or fake? Was this a part of the married couple look? Was he only playing his part of your pretend husband? Even with the confusion, you returned the kiss. Your hands going to the back of his neck. If you were being honest, you didn’t want it to end. 
Bucky’s lips slowly leave yours, his eyes locked on yours. 
“Real or fake?” You whisper, gulping, “The kiss, was it real-” 
To answer your question, his lips pressed against yours again. 
As the party neared its end, you and Bucky decided it would be a good time to leave. Walking out of the event center hand and hand, Bucky remembered Steve’s advice. He patted his jacket and felt something in the inside pocket. When he pulled it out, it was a hotel key. The same one hosting the gala. 
“That sly bastard.” 
When the two of you opened the hotel room, inside it was only one large king size bed and a dozen roses sitting on the bedside table with a bottle of champagne and of course two glasses. There was also a note - 
 if you’re reading this, it means the night went well and our plan worked. Please make sure you give us credit at your wedding. Also, order whatever you want because Tony’s paying. We’ll tell him that later. 
p.s. don’t be mad, this wasn’t a real mission. We picked the guy out from the guest list and told you to watch him. - Nat & Steve (aka Matchmakers) 
Marvel tag list: @hommoturttle​ , @iheartsebastianstan , @5jacobm5​ , @lovely-geek​ , @fangirl-swagg​ , @1-800-thanos , @jessyballet​ , @katiaw2​
All my works tag list: @blossomreed , @mggstyles  , @simonsbluee , @thewolf-and-thesheep​ , @obxrafejjwhore , @abbiesthings , @itstaskeen​ , @reniescarlett​
589 notes · View notes
niksfics · 3 years
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↬ FATE
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↬ PAIRINGS: kenma x f!reader (side aka rebound mention) miya atsumu x f!reader
↬ WARNINGS: a whole lotta angst, breakup, it’s an online relationship, kenma is cold and hurts ur feelings
↬ SUMMARY: your relationship with kenma really had felt like the last one. He was it, turns out he didn’t have similar feelings.
↬ A/N: alright loves!! This isn’t proofread at all it’s 2 in the morning I’ll edit when I wake up, butttt Thanks to my lovely ex girlfriend you are now being graced with this steaming pile of trash. (Lovely was not meant sarcastically at all she is in fact very lovely.) Ngl almost, if not all of this story is about my relationship with my ex gf. This is how I cope people. → It’s taken me awhile to actually be able to right something that’s why things kinda stopped. Tbh after she broke up with me it’s been very hard for me to write so hopefully this helps! And I hope you enjoy!! I would also just like to say if it feels a lil weird it’s cause these are things I’ve actually written in my notes I tweaked it a little to fit the story but it’s straight from the source 😩
WC | 2.5K
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You sighed as you opened your notes app. Your eyes scanning over all of the little facts and quirks he had told you about himself. All the stuff you’d wanted to remember. The stuff that had seemed so important to you before. Now it was meaningless, almost like facts about a stranger. Almost as if you hadn’t spent four months learning about and growing with eachother.
You scrolled down a little bit right under, how his favorite marvel character is Spider-Man and you chewed on your lip. Your fingers hovering above the keyboard on your phone. You looked over the facts again. The things he dislikes and the stuff he adores, the things he likes to collect to the way he feels passionately about a certain topic. You begin to type.
Friday June 25th 2022 12:22 Am
I cried again tonight, because I still love you. It’s been a month and six days since we broke up. It feels like there’s a hole in my chest. You seem to be doing fine though, so I’m happy for you! This is the second time since we’ve broken up that I’ve felt actual physical emotional pain in my chest. Remember when I told you how bad it hurt after we broke up? Remember how you didn’t even ask if I was ok? Didn’t even bother to answer. Do you remember that? I remember. I’ve thought about it every day since. I remember it being so bad I genuinely thought I was having a heart attack. Wasn’t until I’d called tetsu crying that he’d told me it was just emotional and I should probably try to relax.
I read through our old messages. I’ve never wanted something back so bad. Never wanted to beg anyone to stay till now. I wish you loved me like I love you. I wish I hadn’t grown so attached, wish I hadn’t fallen so deeply into love with you. I wish it wasn’t my fault that we broke up. I wish I wasn’t so fucking scared. I wish I was fearless. Wish I could rise into love bravely. I wish I was brave when it came to you. I keep telling myself it was me. It was me not you. You didn’t love me anymore. You don’t love me anymore and you’re just too nice to say that. So you told me in the only way I could handle. Except you hadn’t used the words you should have. You got bored. We both know it’s true. You were bored of it, and I don’t blame you. I know we’ll never talk again, and part of me is so glad. Another part of me forces myself to read through all our messages though. I wish I could just tell you one last time. I love you.
You sighed saving it before closing out of it. Tears you hadn’t known were falling finally became known to you as they streamed down your cheeks. Your eyes puffy as you wet your lips, the salt of them coating your tongue. You were bitter and so were your tears. I briefly wondered what he was doing right now. Probably playing a video game. You knew his schedule all to well by now. Probably testing out a new game for his stream.
A new set of fresh tears fell as you remembered how you used to call him right before he went on. Being lulled to sleep by his occasionally curses and the clicking oh his controller or his keyboard.
You never expected things to end this way. You really thought he was the last one. Yes it had only been four months, but the way he made you feel. The way that it had felt. It had felt final, and you’d been friends before you even started dating.
You sniffle moving yourself to the kitchen to poor yourself a glass of water as you remembered how nervous you were when you first texted him. You had acumulated quite the crush on him back in high school. As Inarazaki’s manager you were required to go to the games, and even after your team lost you had stuck around. Watched him play and cheered him on. Two weeks later you had begun to text, as friends of course. It wasn’t until four months ago that you’d gotten together.
Your anniversary was only two days prior to your break up. You both had never been one to even care about that stuff. You had agreed early on in the relationship that we wouldn’t do anything due to the distance, and the business of our schedules. You were never one for remembering things like anniversaries anyways.
He really did feel like the one. Sometimes you just know. Sometimes you can just feel it. Like, you know that feeling you get when you know something is off or you know for sure something is about to happen even without being told it’s going to. That’s what it felt like to be with kozume kenma.
You thought you knew, you thought this time, this time its for real. You thought it was finally safe to say, that he was the one. You both had even admitted to looking for each others initials in those stupid soulmate tik tok videos.
You were finally in a mature relationship with someone you could talk about anything to. You had gotten so caught up in it, that you didn’t even see the end creeping up on you.
You’d finally gained the courage to text him again. Unfortunately it was in a drunken daze. Your hands shaking as you fumbled with your phone typing things you’d come to regret in the morning. You’d sent him a series of texts telling him how much you missed him, how you didn’t understand how he was so okay. You had been a wreck that night. One of your friends puking in her toilet as you cried. You were happy of course that he was doing so well, but you’d been a wreck for so long and he hadn’t even changed. You told him you wished you could be okay.
When you’d awoken the next morning hair knotted in a complete mess and wiping drool from your chin your heart had sunk even lower. His response was cold. You knew that kenma could be cold. You knew that it was just who he was, but this particular text had felt so unfeeling and unfamiliar, it was as if he hadn’t even sent it himself. He had only ever talked like this to you once and that was when you first became friends all those years ago.
Kozume ❤️
Hey, it’s okay. And yeah you see what I choose to put up. I could be better. But I choose to stay optimistic and busy. Sorry that things are this way.
You had never seen so many periods in a text before. He only used grammar like that when he was peeved, and maybe you were wrong, maybe he’d done that on purpose, but it had hurt so bad. It had caused an ache so deep in your chest that you weren’t sure if you’d ever even dated him at all.
Yeah.
It was the only thing you could bring yourself to respond back with. How were you supposed to respond to that? You’d stared at it for so long and after you’d sent it you wished you had said more. Wished you would’ve said something more insightful than a simple, heartbroken, “yeah.”
Not too long later there was another ping and you held your breath. His name briefly appearing across your screen.
Yeah. I could be better. But I hope you do well soon. I’m sorry that I can’t really do much to help out
And of course you did the only thing you could do. Deflect. Pretend like you hadn’t said what you’d said not even fourteen hours ago.
No it’s fine. I’m fine. You don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry that you could be doing better.
He left you on seen. You knew you sounded like an asshole. At least to you, you felt like an asshole. Why couldn’t you have come up with something else. Why couldn’t you tell him the truth. Tell him how you felt. Tell him that you didn’t think you should be broken up anymore. That the month long cruel joke was over and you were ready to spend your nights falling asleep to him playing video games again. You didn’t though, and you never would. You’re not brave enough, too prideful to even try.
You swallowed down the bile rising in your throat as you realized even if you did beg him. Begged him to take you back. Tell him that you still love him. You were too late, and you just couldn’t be selfish when it comes to him. He is over you and it was so plainly obvious. You know that deep down. Know that he’s moved on, and it kills you inside. So you did the only thing you could do. Try and put it into words.
So as you lay in bed the warm body you let occupy your space sound asleep beside you, his toned blonde hair tousled slightly and you sighed. Finally away from the shenanigans of your friends you took a deep breath before you closed your eyes.
You opened up your notes app again and scrolled past the last entry. You swallowed again as you blinked the tears out of your eyes. Your thumbs beginning to move before you even gave them permission.
Wednesday June 30th 2022 1:39 Am
Here I am again. Stuck. Stuck in the same place I’ve been for so long. You know, I write so beautifully when I’m broken. I’m most of my best work is written when I’m being torn apart. But I just, I can’t seem to find the words. I can’t seem to put it into a document and turn out little story into a different story to cope. Can’t seem to write it out. Can’t seem to move on.
I hovered over the unfollow button on your page today, to keep myself from scrolling through your things again. To keep myself from getting hurt. So I don’t have to be reminded. I want to delete it. Delete where we officially met. On a chat through my screen. I wanna wipe the messages clean. And I’ve tried. Oh how I’ve tried. But I can’t.
I want to delete our conversations. The hours long talks we had, but then, what happens afterwards? What keeps the memories alive. I’d never been so in love with someone before. I’ve never actually…. Been in love before. I thought I’d been in love, but it didn’t feel like that, and losing them never hurt like this. Losing someone has never hurt this bad before.
I’ve never felt the emptiness you left so deep in my very being with anyone I’ve ever met before. I can’t seem to pull myself together. And it’s pathetic I know. It’s pathetic that I’m still here. In the same place I was a month ago. It’s about to be two months we’ve haven’t been together. I’m hurting. Hurting so bad. It’s painful to look at you.
I haven’t deleted the photos even though I probably should. They’re still tucked away in an album in my camera roll labeled “us <3” the one one I made specially just for you. The way I’d been so excited when I was finally ready to tell my friends. I even have this stupid notes folder from when we were dating where I wrote all the little things about you that I never wanted to forget. I find you so endearing. Everything you do. I just couldn’t help but right it down to keep it safe so it never leaves my mind. So that I never forget. But now, forgetting is all I want to do.
I never thought there’d be a time in my life where I was more emotionally stunted that I normally. So stunted I can’t even put this, our split up, into words. Make it something entertaining for somebody else to read. Write a book about it. My publicist keeps asking when the sequel for my book will be done. I don’t know if it’ll ever be finished. I can’t do the one thing I’ve always been good at. I’m crying as I write this.
And I wish it would just end here in this little notes app. Wish the love would die in here. I always think I’m over you and then I see you again, and nowadays your everywhere. A very big hit and I’m happy for you and your success, but seeing you makes my heart squeeze in my chest.
I think I’m over you until I play that stupid fucking game that causes me to scream at my phone, or my laptop in frustration, but I just can’t seem to delete it because I know it’s something that you love. That show we used to talk about. I know you know which one, I can’t seem to watch it without thinking of what was. You’ve ruined it forever cause now it only reminds me of you. I know you’ll never see this, but I like to imagine you can. That my time for closure has somehow come.
When you told me you were sorry that things were this way, it was a real slap in the face. It stopped my false hope. My wishing. It all came to a halt. I’m glad. Glad that you’re happier. That you’re better without me. But god, now I’m so fucked up and I can’t even talk to you.
You were the only person I had left. The only one who understood me. And now you’re gone. You took a part of me with you that night. A part that I’ll never get back. I should’ve known that you would leave. I’ve never been able to get someone to stay for longer than three to four months.
I thought I could let my guard down though. I thought we were in the clear. I’d thought finally. Finally someone is gonna stay. I thought you were my person. I still think that to this day. I thought we were gonna make it. And now I’m with this guy I don’t even like. He’s not you, he doesn’t act like you. He doesn’t like video games like you do.
He doesn’t talk to me like you do. Like you did. But you know how it ended I don’t need to put it here. Unfortunately I’ll always love you even if you don’t love me. This is so scattered, I’m sorry I couldn’t make you happy.
With that you closed the app and put down your phone. Plugging in it and as it dinged miya atsumu rolled over in his sleep. He reached for you his hands wrapping around your waist to tug you against his strong body.
His gravely voice whispering through sleep, “mmm finally decided to come to bed?” You hum moving an arm under on of his to wrap around his thin waist. “Mhm, thought you might need the company.” You began to draw little shapes and letters against his back as he chuckled, “oh yea? How thoughtful of you princess.”
Suddenly it was quiet and your closed eyes opened to his wide brown ones, his eyebrows furrowing .
“Did you just spell kozume on my back?”
153 notes · View notes
parkerslatte · 3 years
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Years Passed [Chapter One]
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Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1.6k
Part Summary: After a decade of living in England, Y/N finally moves back to America to be closer to her family.
prologue / next chapter
Years Passed Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Taglist
***
CHAPTER ONE: FAMILIAR FACES
Y/N was always one to follow her dreams. Originally her dream was to become an astronaut but she soon found that she wasn’t smart enough for that. That’s when she found herself falling down the route of art. Y/N had always been a gifted artist since she was a child. While everyone in her class was drawing stick figures and calling it a day, Y/N would take time to get the proportions of the body right. People would always say she was trying too hard or just trying to get attention. Y/N didn’t care - she was doing what she loved.
It wasn’t until high school where she began to take art more seriously, people would come to her to do art commissions. At first Y/N refused, she didn’t want to charge people for her art but once she realised how much she could make from it, doing art commissions became her job. Throughout high school it was her main source of income. However, it wasn’t until the end of high school where Y/N decided that art was the thing she definitely wanted to go down. 
Opening up her own gallery became her dream. A couple of years after breaking up with Spencer Reid, Y/N moved to England. She didn’t exactly know why, all she knew was that she wanted a fresh start. Y/N moved into a small flat in Cornwall. It was perfect for what Y/N needed. She spent just over ten years of her life living in Cornwall and Y/N couldn’t be happier, however there were many instances where she missed her family. Y/N could never afford to constantly go between England and America and neither could her family. A lot of her time was spent on phone calls and video calls with her family. 
It was only recently that Y/N moved back to America. Six months to be exact. After nearly eleven years of being away from her family constantly, Y/N decided to move back to America. She didn’t make the decision lightly, it took her many months to come to the conclusion. Y/N had many friends in England. She had her small art gallery. Most importantly, her daughter had her friends in England and her school - everything she had ever known. 
Y/N’s daughter, Harper, was seven and she was the light of Y/N’s life. Everything she did was for Harper. Y/N didn’t want to pry Harper away from her home, but she wanted her to get to know her family. When Y/N told Harper the news, Harper was excited, she had always been a curious girl and moving to a new country was exciting for her. 
“Mummy!” Harper yelled, running out of her room to Y/N who was sitting on the couch. Her daughter’s accent was a little messed up. Some words would come out in an American accent and some in a British accent - more specifically the Cornish dialect. 
Y/N smiled upon seeing her daughter. As she ran, the wild curls on top of her head bounced up and down. Harper approached Y/N and climbed onto the couch next to her. Y/N wrapped her arm around her daughter and pulled her in close to her side.
“What’s got you so energetic?” Y/N questioned. 
“Can we go to the park?” Harper asked, “You said that we could go today.”
Y/N checked the time on the clock on the wall, “You really want to go at ten in the morning? You don’t want to wait until midday then we can go out for lunch?”
“Can we go now? I’m bored.” Harper draped herself over Y/N’s lap dramatically.
Y/N shook her head, a smile on her face. Harper was definitely one for dramatics, something she inherited from her father.
“Okay, how about this?” Y/N started, “We wait until eleven and we can invite Melanie and Toby and we can go and get lunch with them?”
Harper nodded her head vigorously causing Y/N to chuckle slightly. The only reason as to why Y/N wanted to wait longer to go out was because she was waiting for Harper’s birthday present to turn up. It wasn’t her birthday for another three weeks but Y/N always wanted to leave time in case the package never turned up in case she needed to buy something else. 
“Why don’t you go and play in your room and I’ll come and get you when it’s time to go?”
Harper nodded before running off to her bedroom down the hall. Checking the clock again, Y/N realised the package wouldn’t be here for another half hour. Deciding she had time to kill, Y/N made her way to her bedroom to get changed. If she was going to be out for most of the day, she decided that being in sweatpants and an old shirt wasn’t going to look so good. 
Picking out a simple sundress, Y/N got changed in a flash before she found herself seated on the couch again. Over the last few days, Y/N had found herself being more tired than usual. Everything she did drained the life out of her, obviously she wanted to run around and play with Harper but she would tire out quickly. Harper would try not to get sad about it as she understood why Y/N got like this once a year. Y/N wasn’t going to explain it until Harper got a little older but she understood perfectly. 
Grabbing her phone off of the coffee table, Y/N pressed on Melanie’s contact. Melanie had been Y/N’s friend for a while. They met a year before Y/N had moved to England, due to their long distance friendship, Y/N had expected that they would fall out of contact but they never did. Melanie was godmother to Harper and Y/N was godmother to Melanie’s son Toby. 
The phone rang a few times before Melanie picked up. 
“Hello?” Melanie’s voice came through the phone.
“Hey Mel!” Y/N greeted.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Well Harper and I are going to the park in an hour and I was wondering if you and Toby would like to join us?” 
“We’d love to,” Melanie answered, “Toby’s been pulling my leg asking when he would see Harper next.”
Y/N chuckled, “We’ll meet you at the park if that’s alright.”
“That’s more than fine, we’ll see you then.” Melanie responded before hanging up the phone. 
Y/N tossed her phone back on the couch and slumped back down. She could easily turn on the television and watch something but she didn’t feel up to it. Getting back up from the couch, Y/N headed over to Harper’s room and pushed it open. Her daughter was hunched over her small desk, scribbling away on a piece of paper. Y/N smiled at the sight. Her daughter had taken after her in artistic skill, always having the dream that one day she would be as good as her mother. 
“Hey Harp.” Y/N said, entering her room. 
“Mummy, look I’ve done a drawing!” Harper said excitedly holding up the picture, “It’s the same one you painted.”
Y/N took the drawing out of Harper’s hands and held it up. Y/N had painted a landscape of a forest a few weeks ago and Harper had copied it almost exactly. Every time Y/N would do a commission or a painting for fun, there would always be smaller versions of the same painting but made with colour pencil. Sometimes Harper would sit next to Y/N while she was painting and they would do it together. 
Y/N always enjoyed doing art with Harper by her side. She would constantly ask questions about it and Y/N was always more than happy to answer. From sitting next to her and watching her paint, Harper had been teaching herself how to paint. Y/N would always offer to help her but Harper always refused the help, letting Y/N only watch from a distance. Their whole house was filled with paintings from both Y/N and Harper. 
“It’s incredible, Harp.” Y/N said crouching down, “Even better than mine.”
“No it isn't, your one is better.” Harper said, “Yours are always better. I want to be like you when I grow up.”
Y/N pressed a kiss to the side of Harper’s head, “I don’t want you to be like me, I want you to be like you. You are going to grow up and be an extraordinary person, like you already are.”
Harper hugged Y/N tightly, “I love you mummy.”
“I love you too, sweet girl.” Y/N pressed a kiss to the side of her head once more before she heard the doorbell ring. 
“Is that Melanie and Toby?” Harper questioned.
“No, it’s someone else, Mel and Toby are meeting us at the park,” Y/N explained, “Now why don’t you clean up in here before we head out.”
Harper nodded before she began clearing everything away. Y/N headed out of her room and opened the front door. Y/N expected it to be Harper’s present however she was greeted by two people - more specifically FBI agents. Y/N looked between the two, very obviously confused. 
When Y/N looked up at the male agent, her eyes widened the slightest amount. His hair was curlier and he had a slight stubble. He looked as if he filled out his clothes more as well. Even if it had been more than a decade, she could recognise him anywhere. 
Spencer Reid.
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PERMANENT SPENCER REID TAGLIST
@spenxerslut  @averyhotchner @drayshadow @moviequeen51 @spencer-reid-am-i-right @ssavanessa22 @amurderofcrowsinatrenchcoat @mbjackie @jklemps @reformedmoneyshovel @nomajdetective @jesuisbenny @jooniehomie @spencerreid-187 @onyourfingertips @uhuhuh @rubyhi208-42 @archer561 @c0rpsecore @sweetandsunny @zoeygraygubler @algonsa @jswessie187 @shemarmooresfedora @kaz-2y567 @alfonsais @aikrus @nani-2305 @death-becomes-her @sarejane @isabelle-558 @measure-in-pain @the-nerd-gang @manuosorioh @luredwithpretzels @ceeellewrites @totallyclearwitch @jekkles @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @sarahpaulsonlov3r @periwinklemax @kuolonsyoja @heartmira @hoodpankow @parahmur
SERIES TAGLIST
​@its-9pm @nani-2305 @reidsfish @mochionly @spencerswildestdreams1 @magnetas @matthewscumslut @madsgraygubler @bakugouswh0r3 @rexit-mo @shinshankai
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juletheghoul · 3 years
Text
Oblivius Chapter 5
I have so many feelings about these two, Spills & Francis may be two idiot babies but they're my idiot babies and I LOVE them. Lots of yearning in this chapter, and maybe a different side to Claudia.👀
Likes & reblogs are appreciated
Frankie Morales x F!Reader
Pairing: Frankie x F!Reader
Word Count: 3K
Warnings: Angst, yearning, 18+ language, mentions of alcohol / being drunk (Please let me know if I forget anything)
Masterlist Series Masterlist Part 4 Part 6 Playlist
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Age 18:
His truck was full.
He was driving, you were shotgun - like always - and there were three more friends in the back. The trunk held boogie boards and towels, sunscreen and a cooler full of food and drinks.
You got there early enough that you found a good spot and within half an hour you were completely set up. There were three big beach blankets spread out with two big umbrellas to hide under when the sun got too hot.
“Spills, can you get my back?” He was handing you the sunscreen as he pulled his shirt up.
You were momentarily taken aback, you’d known him for so long, this wasn’t your first beach trip but he looked… good.
You spent a little longer than you should have making sure every inch of the golden skin of his back and shoulders was covered in sunscreen. Making sure to dip your hands just under the band of his swim trunks. When he turned he had a big smile and you had to ignore the way your stomach flipped.
Get a grip, it’s just Francis.
You couldn’t get a grip though, not with the way butterflies swarmed in your stomach whenever you paid attention to him. His hair was growing out a bit, curling slightly at the edges. You’d never thought about him this way and you had to keep reminding yourself to look away.
Later on in the day when you were in the water you played the same games you’d played since you were kids and when you jumped on his back he didn’t push you away; his skin warm from the sun. Instead he let you wrap your legs around him and everything felt right.
“You okay back there?” He laughed as he held onto the back of your knees.
“Peachy.” You smiled as you held on.
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**Present Day**
“Hola Mijo, you better go in there and calm her down.” His mom greeted him at the door when he walked in, her eyebrows raised at him.
“Hola mami, what happened?” He kissed her on the cheek like he always did before making his way further into the house. She couldn’t say - just that Claudia was upset. He was walking towards her, but his mind was still back with Spills. He could still smell her hair as he made his way into the den.
It’s the same shampoo, she still uses the same shampoo. Focus Francisco.
Claudia was almost shouting into her cellphone.
“Well I need it here sooner than that. My wedding is in three weeks and I need everything to be perfect - so I don’t give a shit what you have to do to get my dress here in time but you better find a way to do it!” She was looking daggers at him and he let her finish the phone call before he spoke.
“What’s going on babe?” He put his hands on her arms and started trying to calm her but she shrugged out of his grasp.
“What’s wrong Francisco, is that I told you this would be difficult.” She wasn’t yelling but her tone was icy. “How am I supposed to get married without a wedding dress. Would have been fine if we were back home.”
Not this again.
“Claudia, I told you when we got engaged that I wanted to get married here and you agreed. I explained to you very clearly that I’ve been away from my home, my life, my family - my friends for years and I wanted to get married here. Now tell me what the problem is.” He wanted his feelings to be clear. He loved Claudia, he really did. She was sweet and beautiful and she treated him well. She could be a little spoiled though and if he didn’t put his foot down now, he’d never have a choice about anything ever again.
He would not live his life that way.
“Yes I know I agreed, and for the most part I’m okay with it. I know your whole life is here, but it would have been so easy to get married there.” She pouted and it didn’t invoke the feeling it should have. It didn’t spur him to try to please her, it annoyed him.
He momentarily thought about when Spills pouted up at him, it never annoyed him. He pushed the thought away.
“Maybe, but we’re not getting married there. We’re getting married here, now what can we do? Let's look for a solution.” He softened up at her a little bit, after all he wanted her to be happy.
She sighed loudly and put her arms around his neck, her voice got a little higher as she tried to appeal to him.
“Frankie, baby- I just want everything to be perfect.”
That doesn’t work on me.
“Let’s just try to have everything go smoothly. It’ll be our day regardless, right?” He put his hands on her waist to bring her close, trying to get her out of her head.
“How long do we have to stay here Francisco?” She leaned back to look up into his face and he sighed.
“We have to talk about that, after the wedding we’re going back to stay with your family for a little while but then we have to talk about where we’re going to live.” He held her, but she pulled away.
“I don’t want to live here after Francisco. I appreciate that you grew up here and everything and we can visit but I do not want to live here.” She crossed her arms petulantly, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. They’d spoken about this before and she had agreed to give it an honest try, but they’d been in town less than a week and already she was telling him she hated it.
“You can’t know that in three days babe.” He sat on the couch.
When they agreed to get married - he’d been scared of this, he’d been scared that she’d do this. He knew she loved him, and he loved her - as much as he could - but the look on her face when he’d put his foot down about spending this time at home should have told him everything.
She didn’t say anything, she sat with him and reluctantly agreed.
“You’re right, I’m sorry. I just miss home. I’ll give it another shot.” She sounded genuine and he wanted to believe that. “How was your night with Spills? Is she feeling better?” She smiled at him, putting her hand on his thigh and he placed his over hers. A silent truce.
“She’s doing much better, we ate dinner and watched a movie.” He held her hand as he spoke and she smiled at him.
“I’m glad to hear that - hopefully she doesn’t get that drunk at the wedding.” She laughed lightly.
He knew she didn’t mean it in a nasty way, but he bristled at her words.
“She was just nervous about meeting all of you, and even if she did it would be fine. Everyone gets drunk at weddings.” He tried not to sound defensive but she raised her eyebrows at him. “I just don’t want you to think that she’s a mess. She’s like a-” He couldn’t say sister, he’s never thought of her as a sister. She was so much more. “She’s just really important to me.”
“I know babe. I didn’t mean it like that, she seems sweet.” She smiled at him. She was still trying to get back in his good graces, taking his defensiveness as residual anger. Thankfully.
“We should plan something for all of us to do together. It could give us more time to bond.” He thought about it momentarily then agreed, he knew exactly what to plan.
------------
There was something playing on the TV, you caught vague flashes - people talking but you weren’t taking anything in. Your sweatshirt smelled like Frankie and all you wanted was to cuddle up to him. He had been so sturdy beside you, so strong and comfortable.
What the fuck is a wedding emergency?
The mature - adult part of your brain said she was a nice person and if Frankie was with her it was for a reason. Obviously he was happy with her or he wouldn’t be marrying her. Frankie had never been the kind of person to settle.
The other part of your brain, the jealous possessive part told you she was a bitch. She was ruining the life you’d planned out with Frankie. If he’d never met her you’d be together now, laughing and planning the rest of your lives together. He’d be in your bed, or you’d be in his.
[Francis]: Hey Spills, we’re planning a get together for the wedding party - day after tomorrow - beach day. I’ll be there to pick you up at 7am.
It was like the universe was testing you. How many memories could he taint with Claudia?
[you]: sounds good, Claudia, you, me and who else in rustbucket?
[Francis]: Just you and I, and don’t call her that. Claudia’s family is coming so she’s going to ride to the beach with them. I’ll grab coffee on the way. =)
[you]: Hope you have a new tape in there, if I have to listen to queen I’ll jump out of the car
[Francis]: lol a ride is a ride Spills, see you then
[Francis]: was really nice hanging out with you today btw, goodnight
[you]: I had a great time with you - like always, thanks again for all the food, goodnight Francis!
--------
It was easy to ignore everything when you were getting work done, you had taken off a few days when you knew Francis would be home and you were taking advantage of it. The day before your beach trip was used to do all those little tasks you tended to put off.
Your laundry was done, the kitchen was clean, even the fridge had gotten a bit of elbow grease. Everything was ready and packed for the trip.
You tried not to think about the ride to the beach with Francis, you tried not to think back to your previous trips to the beach with him. Those memories were so precious and thinking about how your next memory would be with him, and his new in-laws was tearing you up inside.
Please let this go well, please don’t let me make a fool of myself.
You hoped someone was listening.
The anxiety didn’t let you sleep and you watched the clock crawl closer to morning; it seemed pointless to lay there.
Might as well get ready.
-----
He wasn’t nervous, but he wasn’t excited.
He made his way over to her house, stopping to grab coffee on the way. He thought about his conversation with Claudia, about the possibility of leaving this place. He really didn’t want to. He wanted to be close to his mom, he wanted to be close to his friends and his home.
I want to be close to Spills, I want to see her everyday.
He scolded himself, he was going to marry someone else. He kept trying to remind himself, but when he saw her walking towards his car it all went out the window.
God Spills, you’re killing me.
She put her beach bag and a small cooler in the backseat and got into his truck with a big smile, pushing all other thoughts out of his mind. He handed her the coffee he bought and she took it gratefully, brushing against his fingers, even now - she affected him so much.
Snap out of it Francisco, you aren’t a teenager anymore. This is your friend.
“Hazelnut?” She asked as she smelled the steam floating around her pretty face.
“Of course.” He pulled away from her place, making his way towards the highway. It would be an hour or so until they got to the beach.
“Open up.” The buttery bagel half she put into his mouth as he drove tasted better than he remembered.
------
The drive was over much too soon.
If only it had lasted all day - catching him up on all the gossip he’d missed out on while away. Watching his excitement when he talked about flying, you could have listened to him talk forever.
“Finally!” Cheers rang out when the two of you arrived. The boys had set up a bunch of blankets and umbrellas and you suddenly remembered the state you’d been in the last time they saw you and you felt the blush creeping up.
Benny smiled big when he saw you, tapping the place beside him after you’d all said your hellos. You had no reason to deny him so you sat, setting up all your stuff within the space he made for you.
Blessedly, Claudia hadn’t arrived yet and you cherished this time without her, maybe it was mean - maybe it was selfish but you couldn't help it.
“Hey - Thanks for the other night, for getting me home and making sure I was okay.” Pope set up his stuff on the other side of you.
“No problem, glad to see you feeling better.” He was talking to you but you noticed him give Benny a curious look. Benny ignored it. You watched as Will and Frankie set up a volleyball net, you studied both men and there was no denying that Will was gorgeous; but your eyes were drawn to Frankie. You couldn’t help it, your eyes raked over him greedily.
He was so broad, stronger than he had been in his teen years and his belly had gotten a little softer with age but it suited him. He was gorgeous, he had always been gorgeous. He felt your eyes on him then and he smiled at you, walking over to you with the sunscreen in his hands like he always did. His smile faltered slightly when his gaze landed behind your place in the sand.
“Hey babe, how was the drive?” Claudia and her family had arrived and they were setting up just behind you.
Do you have some sort of alarm? How are you always ruining every single goddamn moment?
“It was hectic! Left a little later than I meant to but we survived.” She was breathless as she came to greet him. You busied yourself with something, anything in your bag to avoid watching them kiss. When you looked back she was squeezing sunscreen onto his back, rubbing the lotion much the same way you used to whenever you’d come to the beach together.
He didn’t meet your eyes when she did it, and you were thankful. You didn’t think you could handle seeing him enjoying her touch so much. Instead you focused on the people around you. You focused on Benny and Will and Pope, trying your best to ingratiate yourself to them. Hopefully erase the memory of you as a belligerent mess.
---
As the day went on you found that you liked these guys, not just as an extension of Francis - but because they were fun. They made you laugh, they spoke to you like they’d known you your whole life. They almost distracted you enough. You also noticed that Claudia was only here to lounge in the sun. She had absolutely no interest in getting in the water, no matter how many times she was asked by Frankie to join him.
He played it off like it didn’t bother him but you knew it did, and that in turn hurt you but your heart leapt when he turned to you.
“Spills, wanna come in the water with me?” He smiled and held out his hand and you gladly accepted. Following him in like you always had.
“Not much of a swimmer?” You couldn’t help but ask when the two of you were in the water.
“Not really, it’s a shame - the water's perfect today.” He floated, making sure to splash you and you waited until he was perfectly relaxed to splash him back. “God I love it here.” he spoke as he floated closer and closer.
“Me too. I want to live near the ocean one day.” You spoke absentmindedly, trying to feel for little shells or rocks as you walked further and further from the shore. He followed you.
You felt him splashing you from behind and you tackled him. The two of you turned into children in the water and it ended with you wrapped around his back like always. His hands on the back of your knees as you held on. You both watched the shore in silence, everyone too focused on whatever they were doing to notice your closeness and you were thankful for it. It made you hold on tighter, trying to get closer and he wrapped your legs around his tummy.
Maybe it was inappropriate, maybe if Claudia had been watching she would have had some words for him, or you, or both of you - but it didn’t stop you.
“Let’s just stay out here Spills. Let’s stay in the water forever.” He stroked the skin of your shins under the water and it was so hard not to cry right then and there. “Just you and me, living in the water.” He laughed but it came out sad.
“I’m game.” You rested your chin on his shoulder briefly and he bumped your head with his. This one little moment made the whole day worth it, and when he pulled away as you knew he would, your heart broke just a little bit more.
You were both wrong in your assumptions however. The moment you had thought was private, that you thought you’d stolen without anyone knowing had been seen and catalogued by someone on the shore. Pope had seen the whole thing, and he had some words for Francis.
--------------
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glxssylaufey · 3 years
Text
high by the beach [jonathan pine]
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summary: Jonathan Pine x reader ; you are the oldest daughter of Richard Roper. needing an escape from reality, you sneak out to the beach for a quick joint. what you didn’t expect was for Jonathan Pine to catch you.
warnings: smoking weed, age gap (still over 18!) , underaged drinking/smoking, sexual tension
a/u: yes, this is 100% based off the song “high by the beach” by lana del rey :) enjoy!
*°:⋆ₓₒ ₓₒ⋆:°* *°:⋆ₓₒ ₓₒ⋆:°* *°:⋆ₓₒ ₓₒ⋆:°* *°:⋆ₓₒ ₓₒ⋆:°*
You didn’t belong there, to say the least. You sat alone at a small empty table at one of your father’s late night parties. His parties were always extravagant and flashy. It seemed as if he only threw the parties just to remind everyone how wealthy he is. These events always made your ears ring with annoyance. Summers always felt like this. Your mother would send you and your little brother Danny to visit, but it never seemed like Richard ever has any time for you and your brother.
After finishing yet another glass of champagne, you sighed and ran your fingers through your hair. You still had one year to go before you could legally drink alcohol, though Roper and all his excessive friends never seemed to care. Suddenly, ears perked up upon hearing your name being called.
“Sister! I’ve brought you some sweets!” your little brother Danny called, setting a napkin full of cookies down on the table. You smiled ruffled his brown messy hair.
“That was very kind of you, Danny, thank you.” you laughed, picking up one of the cookies. “Are you having fun?” you asked. His face lit up with excitement.
“Yes, loads!” he confessed. You were glad at least one of you were having fun. “I made a friend yesterday, too.” he said. You raised an eyebrow, trying to remember if you had seen any other children his age here.
“Oh really?” you asked, chewing a bite of cookie. “What’s their name?” Danny’s smile became wider.
“I’ll go fetch him, I want you to meet him!” he said quickly before running off. Before you could open your mouth to protest, he was already gone. You sighed deeply before picking up another cookie, hoping this new friend of Danny’s is an old enough child to understand boundaries and not talk for hours on end.
What you absolutely did not expect was for Danny’s new friend to be a full grown man. A handsome one at that. The man sauntered up to your table holding Danny’s hand, wearing a navy blue suit that hugged his body perfectly. He looked like the perfect gentleman.
“Hi there.” he spoke, voice smooth as silk. “Name’s Jonathan.” he put his hand out to shake yours. You looked up at him, trying to wear your friendliest smile. When you took his hand to shake it, you nearly melted. His grip was firm yet not too tight and you could swear there was electricity coming out of his fingers.
“Pleased to meet you.” you finally said after clearing your throat. “I’m Y/N.”
“Y/N.” he repeated, testing your name on his tongue. “The pleasure is all mine. Your brother is quite the company.” he chucked, smiling down at Danny. The younger boy beamed proudly, looking back up at you.
“I wanna go look for dad, Y/N.” the young boy said.
“That’s fine.” you said with a nod, leaning back in your chair trying to remain calm. You could still practically feel Jonathan’s eyes roaming all over you.
“Come on, Jonathan!” Danny exclaimed, grabbing the man’s hand again. “Once I’m done we can go play!” this made Jonathan chuckle.
“Why don’t you go on without me for a little, Danny.” he said gently pulling away from your brother’s hand. The boy complied and began to walk after flashing you and Jonathan a smile. You took a deep breath after Danny traveled off while Jonathan pulled a chair up.
“So how is the all famous Y/N Roper doing this fine evening?” Jonathan teased with a chuckle. His words made you blush easily.
“She’s doing just fine.” you said in the best flirtatious tone you could muster. “But she would probably be much better with a refill.” she spoke scooting her empty glass towards Jonathan. He cocked his head at you slightly before standing to his feet, a bit more hesitant than usual.
“Well of course, I am a gentleman.” he joked before grabbing your glass. “So what can I get for you tonight, darling? Water? Punch?” he continued.
“Punch?” you asked nearly offended. “More champagne will do just fine, thank you.”
“Champagne? Danny says you’re only twenty.”
“So?” you ask. “My father doesn’t care if I drink at this age. I also don’t think he’d be very pleased you’re making me wait for a drink.” you said almost in a whisper, the previous alcohol in your system making you confident. You knew your father probably wouldn’t care if Jonathan retrieved a drink for you or not, you only wished to appear authoritative for the upper hand on the man.
“Well, my deepest apologies, Miss Roper.” Jonathan said playfully before shooting you a wink. “One glass of champagne coming right up.”
You giggled as you watched Jonathan walk off to fill your glass. The way he strutted away while his height allowed him to tower over the crowd gave you intense butterflies. You really couldn’t believe you were spending the night flirting with an older gentleman, as proper and handsome as they come. It excited you to no end.
When Jonathan returned back to your table he arrived holding two champagne glasses, one for you and one for him. The two of you continued to talk to allow yourselves to get to know each other. He told you stories of serving in the military and you told him stories of previous summers spent here with Danny. You and Jonathan were quite an attractive pair to be seen and when it ended up catching Frisky’s attention, things took a turn.
Frisky was a smart man. He never failed in intimidating anybody. That’s why Richard Roper put him in charge of keeping an eye on you and Danny to prevent the two of you getting into any trouble. Knowing Jonathan’s flirty antics, Frisky deemed this a solid opportunity to step in.
You caught a quick glimpse of Frisky hastily making his way to your table. You gave a sarcastic deep sigh at him, knowing exactly why he was so worked up. Once the bulky man stopped at your table he crossed his arms and lifted his chin towards Jonathan.
“And what do you think you’re doing, Pine?” he said in a serious tone. Jonathan didn’t seem too phased by him.
“Well, I’m just having a drink here with Miss Y/N.” he replied almost bored.
“Yes, Miss Y/N Roper. I know what you’re up to.” Frisky snapped.
“Frisky, please!” you interrupted. “I’m a grown woman, if you should be babysitting any of my father’s family it should be Danny.” you argued with him. Though Frisky was stubborn.
“I don’t want to hear it, Y/N. Pine, get up.” he waved his hands at Jonathan. “Go find Danny and put him to bed, it’s late.” he demanded. Jonathan didn’t put up any further struggle. He calmly rose from his chair and took one last sip of his champagne. He then gave you a gentle smile and bowed his head.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N.” he said sweetly.
“Thank you, Jonathan.” you nodded. As he walked away with Frisky you sank in your chair slightly before sighing. ‘Well there goes that excitement.’ you thought. You were growing quite tired of your father and his men treating you like a mere child when you’re an adult. Standing front your seat, you finish off your glass before storming off to your room. At this point, the party just felt like an inconvenience.
᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃
Your eyes felt heavy with sleep by the time you were sure everyone had gone to bed. Though you were in dire need of rest, you couldn’t seem to relax. It was 1 a.m. and you decided to settle your nerves with a late night walk. The punishments for being caught were severe but you were confident in yourself to know you wouldn’t be caught.
You quickly packed a small bag for your walk, including a jacket along with your stash of three joint of weed and a lighter. You always enjoyed a quick light up when you felt a bit tense. You tip toed silently down the stairs and out the back doors. From the pool’s patio, you had a beautiful view of the ocean. You decided to walk down to take your quick walk in the beach.
After successfully sneaking through the large property you finally found a spot to relax on the vast beach. There was a full moon illuminating the night sky, allowing you good skylight in the darkness. You sat down upon the sand close to the shore and opened up your bag. You wrapped your jacket around you to act as a blanket in the wind. Then you lastly picked a slim joint out of your bag along with a small yellow lighter. You clicked the lighter and put the flame towards the end your joint to burn the end. Afterwards you put the joint between your lips and took a deep drag. Inhaling the smoke, you closed your eyes and felt the wind blow against your skin. You began to relish in the light headed feeling as your body began to relax. After an exhale, you began to take another puff.
“Excuse me?”
You jumped upon hearing a voice next to you. You looked up at the figure above you, only to find the one and only Jonathan Pine standing talk above you. You quickly exhaled the smoke and attempted to hide the joint.
“What are you doing at this hour?” Jonathan asked you in a slightly hushed tone.
“I could ask you the same.” you stated sitting up straighter.
“Couldn’t sleep. Just wanted to get some fresh air.” he calmly explained. He was wearing a fitted t-shirt and grey sweatpants with his blonde curls a bit of a mess. It was definitely quite the outfit change from the party but he still managed to be probably the most attractive man you’ve seen.
He looked out to the waves for a second before bringing his gaze back to you. He gave you a shy smile before speaking again.
“May I join you?” he asked politely. You were relieved when you realized he wasn’t going to snitch to your father about sneaking out or drag you to his room. So you moved your backpack and pat on the sand beside you.
“Of course.” you replied. He sank down to the ground and got comfortable in his spot. There was a bit of silence with nothing but the sound of waves crashing in the night. After a couple seconds you placed your lit joint back between your lips to take a puff. Jonathan watched with a smile.
“Weed?” he asked with curiosity. He wore a smile that told you you didn’t have to hide it from him.
“Yeah.” you admitted. “It helps me relax.” you said turning to look at him. He chuckled a little while shaking his head.
“My my, little Miss Roper. First we drink champagne at the party underaged and now you’re smoking marijuana?” he mocked a tsk and winked. “You’re a very naughty girl, Y/N.” he said darkly.
You giggled and blushed profusely at his comment and you could feel your heart begin to race.
“I’d love to.” he said before taking the items from your fingers. “Would you help me, darling?” he asked handing you the lighter. You accepted with a playful smirk. Once he placed the joint between his lips you raised the flame to meet it’s end. He inhaled deep, expertly intaking the smoke. He held his breath before blowing out the smoke into the wind. He chuckled lightly before taking the joint from his mouth.
“Do you want to join me? I have an extra.” you offered with a smile. Jonathan smiled at you, watching as you pulled out a second joint and your lighter. He hesitated to answer at first, making you think he would decline. You were pleasantly surprised with his answer.
“Good?” you asked with a smile.
“Very.” he laughed, his head falling back slightly.
You both continued to laugh, the two of you already buzzed. Jonathan took another drag of his joint before clearing his throat.
“We should do this more often.” he joked, leaning into you slightly. You laughed and took another hit.
“What? Sneak out and get high?” you asked. Jonathan scoffed while tapping some ash off his joint.
“Technically, you’re the one sneaking out. I’m allowed to be out here, I’m an adult.” he teased. You rolled your eyes.
“I’m an adult too, I don’t care what you think.” you sassed back. Jonathan raised an eyebrow at you.
“You know what I really think?” he asked, his voice deepening. You shivered at his tone, looking up to meet his bright blue eyes, finding his face much closer to yours.
“What?” you asked.
“I think you’re beautiful.” he whispered in your ear before looking down for your reaction. You could feel your face heating up from his comment. Jonathan’s cologne overtook your senses as you leaned in closer to him.
“I think you’re high.” you replied, breaking into laughter. Jonathan chuckled before raising his head.
“Yes, but you are too.” he said. You opened your mouth to speak but before you could protest Jonathan’s lips crashed against yours. You melted into him, deepening the kiss. Jonathan pulled away before looking into your slightly red eyes.
“Jonathan Pine, you are exquisite” you sighed, before bringing your lips back to his. The kiss was more passionate this time, the both of you relishing in the taste of each other and the euphoria of your high. Everything felt so perfect. Jonathan laced his fingers into your hair, making you whimper. You broke the kiss with the older man, allowing both you and him to breath. Jonathan lifted your chin with a finger, raking his blue eyes all over you.
“And you, Y/N Roper, are perfection itself.”
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iamcalmdammit · 3 years
Text
Matching his crazy — (3) For you|| [Jang Han-seok x reader]
<part 1, part 2>
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Back when he had been diagnosed as a psychopath, Han-seok’s parents believed he would never have real friends or a girlfriend as he lacked the necessary social skill. In a way they were right—he had friends but those people meant absolutely nothing to him. Sometimes they were useful and certainly helped keeping his true nature hidden from the world. You, on the other hand, were different. In the past years he had leaned to love you in his own way, growing so attached to you that now he simply couldn’t imagine what not having you around would be like.
It wasn’t the kind of love normal people experienced, it was something closer to possession or obsession. He still got mad whenever you talked to other men but he managed to learn how to trust you. As long as you returned to him in the evening and didn’t keep secrets from him, things were working just fine. He was quite proud of himself actually—he would have never thought he could trust someone this much.
After an afternoon spent at the ice rink playing hockey on his own, Han-seok was surprised to spot a familiar face near your apartment. He was tired, but not too tired to handle a situation like this. Whoever these people were, they’d been keeping an eye on you for the past two weeks. A part of him hoped they would get what they wanted soon and leave, but now it was clear they were surveilling you for some reason.
“Why don’t you just come in for a cup of coffee?” he asked the man with a wide grin on his face. “I don’t know what you want from her but I’m sure we can discuss it and find a solution.”
The man gaped at him at first but then he began to walk away. But Han-seok didn’t want him to leave so he grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the door of the apartment. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the man tried, although he didn’t bother breaking free. “Let me go.”
Once inside the apartment, he threw his duffel bag and the hockey stick on the floor then pushed the man into the living room. It took you a few seconds to fully understand that there was a complete stranger kneeling in the middle of the room, looking like he was on the verge of a heart attack.
“What’s going on?” you asked hesitantly.
“Oh, this gentleman has been following you for like two weeks now, and I’d like to know why,” Han-seok explained before turning to the man with an expectant look. “We’re listening.”
The man shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Letting out an annoyed groan, he picked up the hocked stick and said, “We can do this the hard way, but it would be easer for everyone if you started talking on your own.” To make it clear he wasn’t joking, he hit the floor only inches from the man’s body with the stick. “Next time I won’t miss.”
At first there was only silence in the room. But then, just when he raised the stick again, the man finally spoke up. “All right, all right, fine. Someone hired us to keep an eye on her family, especially those important to her father.”
“Who hired you?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never talked to them. Someone else keeps in touch with them, I swear,” he said.
Han-seok glanced over at you to see your reaction but there was nothing. You looked just as calm as you usually did. “What did you have to report about her exactly?”
“Her daily routine, who she meets—things like that.”
“What else can you tell us?” But instead of a proper answer, the man only shook his head. This guy definitely wasn’t a professional, otherwise he would’ve said a lot more. “Well, this was disappointing to say the least.”
He couldn’t leave the apartment because if he did, he would have alerted his boss right away. Han-seok glanced down at the stick then his gaze shifted back to the man. It had to be done, there was no other option. Slowly raising the stick, he readied himself, preparing for the first strike.
Even though he was now brutally beating up this man, you didn’t scream or run away, instead you pulled up your legs and took a sip of your coffee as you watched the scene. He loved this. The thrill of hurting someone so badly that they were bound to die in the end, and also seeing you being so chill about the whole thing. The man stopped breathing pretty soon, so once it was over, he tossed away the stick and sat down next to you.
“Better?” you asked with a knowing smile as you offered him the mug.
Han-seok grinned at you and took the coffee from you. “Much better. He won’t be a problem anymore,” he replied while he wiped away some blood from his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Do you have any idea who sent them after your father?”
“No, but I’ll have to call George to clean up this mess anyway. I don’t need a dead body in the apartment,” you told him with a shrug. “The more involved I’ll be in Dad’s business, the more often things like this will happen.”
He sighed and pulled you into a hug to kiss the top of your head. All he wanted was you to be safe, and he was willing to do whatever it took to make sure of that. After you pulled away, you picked up your phone and called the man who usually took care of cleaning up after your father. Even though he and your father had never really seen eye to eye, he couldn’t help but respect how well he trained you for this job. Not many people could remain this calm in such a situation.
In less than an hour George arrived with a team to take care of the body. While the others did their job, he questioned you about what exactly had happened. Everything went smoothly until Han-seok left to take care of a phone call. When he returned, he overheard your father’s friend saying something that truly enraged him, right to the point where he wished he could kill this man too.
“—man in cold blood. He’s dangerous, kiddo. Your father is right, you should leave him before you become one of his victims,” George told you worriedly.
You forced a smile on your face. “It’s fine, he won’t hurt me. Trust me, I know him.”
“Good girl,” Han-seok quietly said as he watched the to of you.
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New chapters on @reallyverybored
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