#drama stresses me out to no end but it does give me something to do

[dreamonminecraft]

I'm boredddddd

#drama stresses me out to no end but it does give me something to do #<- has not been able to eat sleep or stop shaking the past few days

[tarjapearce]

Grandma's Visit.

Warnings: Drama, mild angst, Strained Relationships. Comfort towards the end. No proofread

Summary: Conchata wants to meet Benji.

A/N: There might not be updates, but have this little piece as an offer :')

Hey

Gabriel's leg bounced as the main door was closed, a bit of a slam on it. His hands immediately fetched his phone.

Migue

Busy right now.

Drop that shit and listen

?? ¿Qué pasó?  (What's wrong?)

Mamá va para allá, cabrón.

The fuck you mean she's on her way? Did you tell her where do I live?

Miguel, it's mom we're talking about.

The eldest O'Hara sighed and raked a hand over his hair. He was definitely not prepared for what laid ahead.

She wants to meet Benjamin.

Miguel's body tensed as his muscles flexed so tightly, one would think he'd break. And it wasn't far from the truth.

Conchata. Or Connie for her friends, was the ever annoying stone on his shoes. Miguel had refused to have her in his wedding. Not out of spite, rather for the  notion he had of his beloved progenitor. He knew that trouble followed her everywhere and if it wasn't following her like an overly attached stalker, is cause she was the problem itself.

Conchata was anything but easy to be around. And things had gone even more acrid after the wedding. Miguel never told you about the fourty five minute call she made him just to say how much of a bad son he was for not inviting her over.

But Miguel knew better, if he'd had her, she'd either complain about everything, ruining the mood for everyone. Or she'd start making snide comments on you and he'd get pissed, some drama would ensue causing an even bigger and jagged rift between them and his wedding would be ruined.

"Hey"

Your gentle and soft touch grounded him, anchored his mind back to his body, as his attention snapped back at you.

"You ok?"

His eyes felt tired and heavy. Unable to meet your gaze completely.

"I'll be."

You cradled him in your arms and kissed the top of his forehead. The touch alone melted him. His own arms embracing your shorter form, that somehow did the perfect work of comforting him and ease his thoughts. But when it came to his mother, little good things came out from it.

"My... eh-" He cleared his throat, "My mother is coming for a visit"

Oh...

"What she could possibly want after so many years?"

"Meet Benjamin."

Even though his words seemed simple, the clenching of his fists until his knuckles turned white, only dictated it was far from being that. Miguel didn't fear his mother, but feared and hated the words that could possibly escape her mouth when things weren't her way.

His wellbeing would be the sacrifice for the visit, cause he'd do anything possible to avoid you or his children get hurt.

"I swear, if she says or does something stupid-"

"Mi reina, let me handle her, ok?"

Your lips pursed and your brows deepened in a soft furrow.

"I won't hesitate-"

"I know. But please. Just, let me, ok?"

Both of you knew that things weren't going to be easy, his distress was obvious, he knew you'd step in if necessary, but he had to face her, it was more like a closure for him than anything. His baby boy wouldn't suffer the dooming and cursing words she gave him so many years ago. Words he learned to loathe as he grew up.

"Alright."

----

Maybe Gabriel's heads up was a false alarm, because nearly a week had gone by. A week of pent up stress and anxiety from both sides. And you could tell from Miguel's demeanor changing.

Even though being loving and a great father remained on the top list, you knew better than that. He'd been found asleep in his office after dinner, or would shut out himself for some little minutes. You'd give him space, and when he needed you, he'd always know where to find you.

He didn't even required to say 'I need you' cause you knew. His body language over the years had been a great subject of study, specially when it came to anxiety and other negatives that always switched on whenever his mother popped up in a conversation, or when something didn't sit right in his gut.

He'd pace, pick at the skin around his nails hard enough to draw blood, chew at the insides of his cheek, drink alot of more coffee to keep himself awake, grumpier than usual, irritated, short replies for everything outside his beloved family.

With you he'd be clingier than usual, he'd spoil Gabi over to avoid thinking too much. He'd pour himself into being that amazing and loving parent he never had, but at night, he'd just hold you until he fell asleep. He'd clutch onto you so tightly that sometimes you'd have little bruises, barely visible ones, in the places he'd hold.

Your comfort skills poured into his preferred love language. Physical touch. You'd play with his hair until he fell asleep, a little purr coming from him before giving into sleep, you'd caress his back in soothing circles, letting the steady beating of your heart lull him to calm.

You'd kiss his face, showering him in affection, as if with every kiss a bit of his worries would go away.

The knock on the main door however interrupted his train of thoughts. You had gone to the supermarket to get some stuff you had forgotten for dinner. Relief washing over him as you now we're home, or so he innocently had thought. All air was caught in his throat upon seeing none other than Conchata on the front door.

Even for her age, Conchata had some beauty reserved. Her skin tone same as Miguel's, soft curls that lingered above her shoulders, deep brown eyes that if one looked close enough, would see the deep red in them. Tall and seizing him with a look he also learned to master.

A scowl disguised as a smile.

"Miguel. "

"Mamá."

A too common and long pleasantries shared between the both.

She hasn't aged much.

Miguel's mind chanted.

"You're gonna let me in to meet my grandson, or what?"

A bushy brow of his quirked, blasé and bored, but he stepped aside. His whole frame had curbed her for long enough.

Here we go

Her scrutinizing gaze was unstoppable against the nakedness of his home. Her eyes raked in every little detail out of place, loading her verbal ammo with it.

"Where is the baby?"

"Asleep."

Monotone and monosyllabic answers that matched his expression was all she could pry from him. It was ridiculous the amount of pictures you seemed to have about Gabriella. She saw her when she was two, then six. Staying in Miguel’s life wasn't something she actually liked to partake on. Too busy with her own demons and new boyfriends to care.

Why would she? He was already a grown ass man.

A man that refused to have her at his own wedding. A past resentment that has lasted over the years and her own mind had been feeding the fester inside her heart. It didn't help you had one of the wedding pictures scattered around the living room.

The few proofs she  needed to see, to know she wasn't welcome, but knowing her son had his own now, was another excuse to see what kind of man and father Miguel had turned out to be.

His arms crossed on his chest as she sat down in one of the seats in the couch.

"Come."

"I'm fine here, thanks."

"I'm trying to be civil. The least you can do is obey your mother for once."

"Why you came?"

"I told you. I need to see my grandson."

"Whatever for?"

Her eyes hardened at his words, but a sigh escaped her lips.

"God, you're so like your father. Always mistrusting people."

"You need to leave."

Hearing her say such curse, made his heart beat even faster. Hands clenched tightly at his sides. Eyes away from her, like if the mere sight of her brought back so many unpleasantness he had fought hard to work them through.

"I won't leave until your... woman shows up and throws me away."

"She will."

"Of course she will. You're not man enough. Just look at this place. A mess."

"And?"

Miguel knew that paying and baiting into her games, would only hinder so. many years of progress he had done on his own. But would also mean to give her the attention she desperately seeked, even if it meant to do it the wrong way.

"What do you mean, and?! What does she does around all day?" Conchata huffed, " In my times the wife was the one that kept everything in check. I've seen nothing but a mess so far."

"Sorry for that."

Your tired and irked voice echoed from the kitchen's door. Miguel gave you a little smirk.

"Have been busy being a real mother this whole time. Miguel, mi amor can you defrost some vegetables, please?"

"Sure do. Found everything?"

You both were purposely ignoring her. A silent yet powerful statement.

You have no power here.

Conchata's eyes set like stone into you. How dared a tiny flea like yourself to speak to her in such way?. And even worse, how could his son be lenient in allowing you to be disrespectful towards her?

You had entered quietly, the heavy and draining aura could be felt even from outside. You had told Gabi to wait outside and rearrange the groceries in the meantime.

" Oh, I didn't know you had returned."

Your name rolling off her tongue felt wrong.

" It's my house too."

"Ah, of course. You didn't do a pre-nup. Te va a dejar en la calle, Miguel." (She'll leave you bare)

Conchata's gaze never left you, it only turned even more intense as her pupils followed you every step.

"I came here to meet my grandson. Where is Gabriella? "

Said precious child helped you to get the bags from your car, while Conchata opened her arms for Gabi to cuddle her. But everything that came out was her hiding behind you, while looking between you and her, as if asking permission.

"Do you want to greet grandma, baby?"

Gabi only recoiled back, hiding further from you.

"Guess not."

You shrugged and instructed Gabi to go to her room, your eldest baby ignored her grandma.

"Muy chistosa tu mujer, enseñándole a mis nietos a irrespetarme ." (Your woman is so funny by teaching my grandkids to disrespect me.)

Miguel had to roll his eyes and stare at her boringly as he pulled out the vegetables and put them to thaw while you clenched your jaw by the sudden resented babbling that came from your mother in law.

"Where is Benjamin? I came here to see him. And I'm sure you'd love to have me here again."

"He'll be up in a minute. Would you like a a glass of water?"

Miguel offered but Conchata was already set in making you as uncomfortable as possible. And when Benjamin was brought in, rubbing his sleepy and baby face, looking for you, Conchata stood and took Benji from Miguel's arms. Holding him with such disingenuous affection it made Benji to reach for Miguel instantly.

You tensed, and so did Benjamin as Conchata admired him. If it wasn't for the skin tone matching Miguel’s, one would think that Benjamin wasn't his. Benjamin had your curls. And not Miguel's soft waves. Benjamin was the splitting image of you with a bit of Miguel's DNA painted in a few selected places. Like his eyes and height.

"I'm actually surprised you managed to pop out his children. Miguel is... big. Got it from his father."

"Didn't care much about that, ma'am."

"No se parece en nada a ti, Miguel. ¿Estás seguro que es tu hijo?" (He doesn't look like you. Are you sure he's your son?)

You didn't know what infuriated you more. The fact that she hinted that Benjamin wasn't his, a shallow and not so subtle hint at Miguel's past, or the pleased smirk her mouth turned into after spilling out the venom and seeing Miguel's discomfit grow.

Some people couldn't be helped. And Conchata truly couldn't help but love hurting her son. But you weren't having it. Not when Miguel's eyes turned away from her, not in hurt but in such anger that even you knew things wouldn't end up good for neither. And still, he regarded her with uninterested eyes.

His lack of engagement at her taunts, made her even more lashing. Like a little child that refused to have her whims met.

Even worse when Benjamin started to fuss and reach for him with a nervous cry. Even he felt odd and icky around her. You took Benjamin from her, cooing and soothing him, but he wanted Miguel. Who gladly took his precious baby, away from Connie. Inspecting him for any damage to finally kiss the top of his forehead, reassuringly.

You're safe.

"Si ya terminó de incomodarnos, creo que se puede ir, señora." (If you're done making us uncomfortable, you may go, ma'am.)

Her eyes widened at your spanish. It was clear that you had understood everything she had said, but were wise enough to not lose your temper, yet you fought back.

"Remind me to never visit you again, please."

"As if you ever do that. And no, it's not an invitation."

"Escúchame bien, chamaco ingrato-" (Listen to me you ungrateful brat)

"Ma'am."

You weren't one for yelling, but your voice was firm enough to have three pair of eyes set on you, Benjamin's fussing stopped. Conchata's lips turned into a scowl at your words.

"Thanks for your visit."

"You know, you could've settled for something better-"

"Así estoy bien, gracias. Now, if you excuse us, We've got dinner to make. The door is right there." (Im just fine. Thanks)

She left with a slam that had Benjamin cry out of the jumpscare.

Miguel hushed and rubbed his baby's back in little circles to keep him calm before giving his pacifier.

" You ok? "

Your hand squeezed Miguel's for a moment while he kissed your temple gratefully.

" Yeah. She's gone. That's why exactly I didn't invite her to the wedding or meeting you."

"It's alright. God... she's-"

"Annoying. I know. Sorry you had to hear all that."

"Nah. I'm glad you taught me cause, damn... Her face upon hearing me speaking it, was priceless. And just for you to know, I was about to explain how we almost made Benji on the car."

Miguel snorted and nodded, knowing you would. You had each other's back and that wasn't up for discussion.

" Te amo."

You mumbled in his ear before stealing a kiss from his lips.

" También te amo."

#miguel o'hara #t writes✨ #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #soccer family ⚽🕷️ #gabi o'hara #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara angst #conchata o'hara #benjamin o'hara #mama o'hara #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #x reader #astv fanfic

[retrosabers]

𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐇 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐔���𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐒.

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: sometimes you and eddie’s banter can take a bit of a turn

warnings: allusions to smut, swearing

word count: 1.3k

a/n: this is a very small little something to ease myself back into writing. let me know if you would be interested in a second part! :)

“cut the shit munson.” you spit from your place at the other end of the drama room. “you don’t intimidate me.”

eddie laughs, a cynical sound that rumbles from deep within his chest. the boy smirks, and you have to fight the urge to jump across the table and smack him.

“oh really?” he leans back in his throne, spreading his legs wide. “then why are you standing all the way over there?”

you roll your eyes, poking your tongue into your cheek. his arrogance was unyielding, and it seemed especially true when he was in his element like this. eddie was always one for theatrics, even more so after a session of his beloved dungeons and dragons.

it was so irritating.

eddie cocks his head to the side, eyeing you in a condescending way. with a narrowing gaze, you slowly saunter over to his seat, eyes never leaving his. the smirk on his face intensifies. like he had you right where he wanted.

there’s always been a cat and mouse game between you and eddie. a competition to see who could push each other’s buttons the most. your friends nagged you both about the tension that so obviously lingered in the air, but you could never tell if it was from a growing dislike, or just the opposite.

whether eddie was a thorn in your side or the apple of your eye, you would never give him the satisfaction of letting him win. ever. especially in this moment.

the boy props his foot against the edge of the table, and pushes it back. the squeaking sound startles your ears, and eddie can’t help but be amused at the way you flinch. you gracefully slip past him and lean against the table’s edge. you’re situated right between his legs with a sharpness in your eyes that makes his head spin.

“i don’t have all night eddie.” you say with a bit more venom than intended. it was a long and stressful day, and you had been running around campus like a maniac looking for your chemistry notes only to find out the biggest pain in your ass had stolen them after first period.

“relax princess,” he reassures with mock concern. the pet name sets your skin ablaze and he takes note of the way your fists curl around the table’s edge when he says it. “got it right here.”

he reaches behind him for the worn out red notebook.

you scoff. “funny how you would steal my notes for the one class you and i both know you’re not gonna pass.”

he dramatically places his hands over his heart, your notebook pressed against the logo of his hellfire shirt.

“ouch. you’re killing me over here.”

“a girl can dream,” you quip back, lunging to grab your notes so you can just go home. of course, he’s quicker than you, and tosses the journal back onto the table right as you swing foward.

you lose your balance and quickly brace yourself on the arms of the throne. you glance up and find the darkest of chocolate brown eyes boring into yours. your breath hitches in your throat involuntarily, causing eddie to break out a shit eating grin.

“so you do dream about me.” he replies with a cockiness that’s surprising even for him. you’re close enough that you can smell the faint aroma of tobacco on his breath and you can really see the length of his lashes. god, why was eddie munson so pretty? the realization makes your stomach flutter, churning with a feeling that’s never been associated with him before.

but then you remember that it’s eddie, and eddie’s only trying to see you cave before he does. you’re the only person he can rile up like nobody’s business and the feeling is more than mutual. you’ve got each other in equally vulnerable positions; it’s just a matter of who’s facade is going to crack first.

“you’re right.” you admit, your voice far more sheepish than he’s ever heard. it’s bordering submissive, something eddie’s not sure anyone has ever seen from you before. the notion goes straight to his crotch.

the corner of his mouth twitches. it eggs you on.

“i dream about you a lot.” your voice is barely above a whisper as you lean in even closer, palms planted firmly on either side of eddie. a cage of sorts that he’s seemingly fine with being trapped in.

you notice the way he’s fully leaning back now, removing his arms from beside yours to tuck them behind his head. it gives you a peak of some of his other tattoos, and a new angle of his biceps that will likely be the subject of your thoughts for the rest of the day.

“oh yeah?” he asks, voice an octave lower than before. “tell me about it.”

you tug your bottom lip between your teeth and eddie has to fight the urge to close the gap. your lips are nearly touching, hot breath fanning over each other’s cheeks as you feign innocence.

“we’re always in bed.” you continue, eyes flicking over eddie’s form. you can see the way he’s breathing a little faster, and you can definitely see the tent forming in his jeans. you look back up at his eyes and his pupils are nearly black.

you boldly dance your fingers up his torso. “sometimes you’re on top, sometimes i am.”

eddie prays you miss the way his cock twitches at the thought. he doesn’t want to imagine the ridicule he would face if your friends found out. it’s exactly what you’re aiming for.

in an effort to get his mojo back, he gently cups your jaw, tracing the outline of your cupid’s bow with his thumb. he moves it down to pull back your bottom lip, watching with intent eyes as the plush flesh snaps back into place.

heat pools between your legs, threatening to put a crack in your plan that’s very clearly working. but god, there’s such a satisfaction at watching eddie be wrapped around your finger, so entranced by whatever your next move is. you’ve gotta keep the upper hand.

“the best part though” you tease with a wicked grin, ghosting your lips over his.

eddie hums. he raises his brows defiantly, like he’s daring you to confess that you’ve been thinking about him the way he thinks about you. he doesn’t care if this is some stupid fucking back and forth. he wants to hear you say it.

when your hand trails back down and brushes over his crotch, he nearly loses it. you lean in beside his ear, offering a low sultry whisper. the boy’s eyes flutter shut, preparing for whatever’s coming next.

“is when i get to stick a pillow over your face.”

his eyes shoot back open in an instant.

you look like the cat who caught the canary. a devious, cheshire-like smile on your face as you slowly back away from him with your notebook in hand.

“smooth,” he deadpans, folding his arms over his chest in an attempt to distract from the now very obvious boner he has.

“sorry, sweetheart,” you mock him, returning to your original place at the other end of the room. “i’ve gotta fly.”

in a bold move, he asks, “does this mean i should swipe your stuff more often?”

your bravado falters for a moment at his question. then, it returns tenfold.

“you’re gonna have to find out.”

you saunter out of the drama room with a teasing salute, picking up your bag from it’s place by the door. eddie, flustered yet scorned, laughs out into the empty room. the sound reverberates off the walls and the empty soda cans still scattered on the table.

two can play at this game. you may have won this round, but there was plenty more coming .

he was so going to get you back.

thanks for reading! <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic rec #hellfire club #stranger things #stranger things fics #joseph quinn #writing

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Has anyone asked you about erisol?

If no, then what's your opinion on them! :-)

I feel like people will be upset at me for this, but a completely platonic and completely lukewarm mutual dislike... they don't really like each other, but take no great issue with each other either. The boys are not fightingggg

So like. A common thing in fandoms is taking things at face value and not really reading any deeper into them. You see this a shitton with Eridan in general - lots of people take it 100% at face value that he's a casteist genocide liker, when it's pretty clear upon further examination that he's pretty much lying about being casteist and doesn't actually want to murder his friends. So, at face value, Eridan hates Sollux, and either wants to do spadesies with him, or go ashen with him. And so this has become a really popular ship, but the thing is... at basically every turn, the story kind of goes out of its way to point out that there's actually nothing between them. At least romantically.

See, Eridan does not actually hate Sollux, at least not to the level of pitch/ashen. TWICE before Sollux and Feferi start hanging out all the time, we see Eridan commenting on Sollux in a fairly neutral-negative way - the first time calling him "a drama machine" and noting that "it is fuckin pathetic," and the second time as "the dead guy who saved [Feferi]". And let's be clear about the former, Eridan is just kind of Like That, he's rude as fuck even about people he LIKES (calling his BFF Karkat an "assblood" and sarcastically referring to Feferi by her royal titles), so that's actually one of the less nasty things he's said about someone.

Meanwhile, on Sollux's end, he LITERALLY says "not interested" to what he perceives as pitch/ashen advances from Eridan. Like, actually just says those words out loud. Not even in a pesterlog, he actually just says those words with his mouth.

So it seems to me that there's a pretty clear case to be made here that Eridan and Sollux kind of just... don't really give a shit about each other, and probably wouldn't have interacted in any substantial way if not for Feferi's involvement. Especially because Eridan's chosen method of hitting on Sollux is with casteism, something he's already faking in the first place.

If we really want to dig into this, though, it's kind of - in my eyes - a lukewarm case of the hedgehog dilemma. They're a bit too similar, and it winds up causing them both mild pain to get too close.

They're both nihilists that kind of hate themselves. Sollux's mutated brain causes him a not-insignificant amount of discomfort, his visions of the future and of the "imminently doomed" have made him lose a lot of hope, and he blames himself for killing Aradia, something so painful that he didn't tell anyone else she died, to the point where most of the team - including Terezi and Tavros - had to find out after entering the game. Meanwhile, Eridan struggles with the perceived inevitability of a lifestyle that causes him nothing but distress, and his constant, overwhelming anxiety about it leads to constant stressing over whether or not he's "good enough"; whenever he's in severe emotional distress, he starts beating up on himself.

They also both front at being more okay with their problems than they actually are. Sollux has his 1337 hacker, two cool for you persona that he puts on, and Eridan is always trying to be the big bad sea dweller. For example, Sollux goes "I'm not trolling the humans, it's beneath me," but he's in Jade's trollslum, so the implication there is that he totally did try trolling, it went badly for him, and now he's pretending that he was always better than that. And I don't think I need to tell you how hard Eridan works to try and present himself as badass and scary and totally not deep in the throes of emotional anguish at all times.

And these are the similarities that ultimately make Erisolsprite so stable. Erisolsprite speculates that maybe the reason he hasn't exploded yet is that deep down, he loves to suffer. The truth is, there's nothing between the two that's really so objectionable that they would ACTUALLY hate each other; Eridan isn't actually casteist, and Eridan never really hated Sollux in the first place.

Neither would they bring each other any comfort or joy - Eridan doesn't have any sympathy for Sollux's baggage, since, like, what, he only killed ONE person, and was even under mind control, so it's not like it was really his fault. He's a drama machine. And Sollux wouldn't have sympathy for Eridan's problems, partially because they manifest in such cringeworthy, embarrassing ways (and Sollux is highly sensitive to not being cringe, seeing as he's always commenting on other people being embarrassing or overly earnest), and partially because - I mean, fuck it, he's a rich-ass sea dweller who doesn't need to worry about being harvested to be a battery for a living ship. And also he's an idiot.

That's kind of what their relationship is to me, you know? A tepid and lukewarm dislike. They're just similar enough to each other to understand the other, and just different enough to be like "ugh, but that guy suuuuuuuucks". It's very funny, but not really a ship, hahaha.

So what you really get from that is two guys that just kind of dislike each other. Not vehemently or diametrically enough for pitch or ashen, and not a trace of the requisite pity for flushed or pale. When you throw the two together into one sprite, it won't shut up about how much it hates itself, how each part of itself is flabberghasted by the other, and how much practically the only reason it doesn't explode is a resounding "meh."

Eridan likes to validate his despair; ironically, since it's all he's ever known, it's where he feels comfortable - and nobody would provide better doomscrolling material than the doom player. Similarly, Sollux likes to torment himself, suffering his guilt in silence, and Eridan has SO MUCH to feel guilty over. Combine them into one entity, and you have a guy who can reach SUCH levels of revelling in his own misery, you don't even KNOW.

Not that it's healthy or positive for either of them... just that it would be incredibly stable. It's their worst tendencies being satisfied by each other. Maybe that's a form of leprechaun romance, but it's certainly not a quadrant.

#homestuck #eridan ampora #sollux captor #admittedly sollux is one of the trolls i'm still working on grasping #and this post should also in no way be taken as 'stop shipping them' because idfc #ship what you want who cares hussie has already been driven away with jeering and sneering #i just was always kind of fascinated by the endurance of the ship #despite pretty much every piece of canon involving these two pointing to the fact that they just. kind of dont like each other #but in a platonic way

[silverflqmes]

Hi, how are u? If u don't mind, may I request *any genshin characters* with a short female reader who also has a short temper?

໒⦂ 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐂𝐒.

notes. hello anon! i’m okay, bit stressed but thank you for asking! i hope you’re doing well<3 i wasn’t sure on who to do and whether or not you had a preference for girls or boys — so i mixed them up :’) chose headcanon format since it was better suited, enjoy!

genre. chaotic + fluff

ft. alhaitham, ajax ( tartaglia / childe ), ayato kamisato, miko yae, lisa minci

short female! reader.

     ➫    𝓐𝗟𝗛𝗔𝗜𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗠   ୨୧   ˎˊ˗

⌗ you know what’s even more frustrating than living with alhaitham? it’s reaching the top shelf when you want to grab books.

⌗ that “feeble” ass scholar put the books of your favorite genre up on the highest tier because he doesn’t read them as often and prefers having his usual picks within reach.

⌗ ..or he just did it to hear you call out to him to come grab them off the shelf because kaveh is so nitpicky about moving furniture. meaning that in grabbing a chair or stool for leverage, you would risk an argument between the married couple, with the accusations going towards alhaitham, rather than you.

⌗ drama, basically. so you try to avoid it at the expense of your own dignity. and you SWEAR every time you call the scribe over, he’s got this silent, but smug aura about him and the faintest smirk. because oh, he knows what it does to that burning flame of frustration inside you.

⌗ sometimes he might grab the book and act as though he’s handing it to you before lifting it over your head, and it’s like a declaration of war.

⌗ “not funny, scribe.”

⌗ “to you.”

     ➫    𝓐𝗝𝗔𝗫   ୨୧   ˎˊ˗

⌗ thought alhaitham was bad? think again.

⌗ tartaglia is a teasing little shit when it comes to your vertically challenged self, always walking up and coming to pat your head or drape his arm ( sometimes even body ) on you with this innocent smile on his lips ( don’t be fooled ). meanwhile you’re struggling to bear his weight. smh.

⌗ if he ever does something to infuriate you, it usually ends with you pulling him down by the collar of his shirt to give him a piece of your mind. meanwhile he’s just laughing it up, which makes you all the more flushed and annoyed.

⌗ he likes to come up from behind you and babble or coo in your ear about how compact you are in his arms, teasing you with his words since it flusters you. your voice would pick up in pitch when tartaglia does this, and he only chuckles before peppering kisses all over you.

⌗ if there’s something you can’t quite reach and he witnesses you struggling to grab it, he’ll sneak up and pick you up to offer the leverage you need. of course it startles you when he does this, while he’s just holding you up simba style ( yes, yes he would do this ).

⌗ when he comes home from work, no matter how tired he might be, he rushes to your shared bedroom and spoons you, cooing a cheesy nickname and sweet nothings while he cuddles you.

⌗ “aw come now~ it’s only the truth that you’re my little munchkin<3 i could just eat you up!”

     ➫    𝓚𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢 𝓐𝗬𝗔𝗧𝗢   ୨୧   ˎˊ˗

⌗ another menace, what is up with hydro men istg..

⌗ he’s usually subtle about things, sly when he teases you about your height. you could be going off on him about something while he’s just doing the closed eye smile. but you swear there’s a smugness behind it that he hides TOO DAMN WELL.

⌗ purposely has things just SLIGHTLY out of reach to hear you call out to him for his help, as you’d be left with way of getting what you need without the help of your adoring boyfriend!

⌗ it takes a sigh and his name before he’s sauntering over, well aware of what you’re going to ask of him. and you struggle each time to get the words out, as the ice holding your pride thins even further.

⌗ yet he still asks what you called him over for, JUST to hear the words. “yes darling? what did you need me for?” there’s the SLIGHTEST emphasis on ‘need’ because that man KNOWS.

⌗ when he’s doing paperwork, sometimes he calls you over to where he’s sitting in the office, and just puts you on his lap. a makeshift chin rest, which has you bubbling with annoyance. but you can’t lie, his clothing is soft to the touch and his warmth serenades you. so the anger all but dissipates.

⌗ whenever the breeze picks up, he’ll drape his overcoat over your shoulders, which just looks like you’re drowning in bedsheets.

     ➫    𝓨𝗔𝗘   𝓜𝗜𝗞𝗢   ୨୧   ˎˊ˗

⌗ and so, the one worse than all of those men combined.. enters the mix.

⌗ miko is one for making sly comments that’s for certain. so teasing you.. will not come as a surprise, in fact- it will be very frequent that she does this.

⌗ DUDE SHE USES THE FALSE SYMPATHY THING ISTG. the whole, “aww, poor little thing can’t reach? you need your dearest most capable lover to grab that for you?” and your face is just burning with embarrassment and frustration.

⌗ pets your head very often AND YET YOU CAN’T PET HERS WHEN SHE’S THE ONE ALWAYS GOING ON ABOUT HER FOX FORM. what in the name of hypocrisy is this.

⌗ strangely protective over you? you’re her adorable little cutie, the last thing she’d want was for you to be hurt! be it emotionally or physically. so she has a somewhat possessive aura surrounding her when it comes to other people. maybe it’s a youkai thing, you’re not that sure, but she tends to keep you close to her.

⌗ if you’re taking too long while someone is talking to you, especially during meetings and discussions for the publishing house, expect her to wrap her arms around you while lowering her chin to your shoulder, eyeing the person across from you with an ‘innocent’ smile.

⌗ wondering who’s the big spoon during cuddle sessions? certainly not you.

     ➫    𝓛𝗜𝗦𝗔   ୨୧   ˎˊ˗

⌗ cut from the same cloth as miko honestly. atp it’s tall electro women with catalysts, there is no other reason.

⌗ now lisa is also one to tease, always cooing words into your ear which has you flustered beyond help. worst part is when she does it in the library and tells you to be quiet since you’re one to get loud. talk about UNFAIR.

⌗ if you’re ever annoyed about something or having a hard day, you can count on lisa to sit you on her lap with her hand on your head, gently urging you to rest on her chest ( pure heaven honestly ). and she’ll let you rant about your worries to her. she’s so mother.

⌗ while working, lisa tends to tire easily, so sometimes she might ask you to grab a book for her. to mess with you, occasionally she asks for something high up just to witness your struggling before eventually approaching to grab it</3

⌗ “you couldn’t have done that five minutes ago.. i was over here jumping and shuffling like a fool!”

⌗ “but it wouldn’t have been as fun to witness, cutie~! you should have seen how adorable you looked<3”

⌗ lisa likes to sleep for longer durations since again, she tires very easily. might be because of her lore where her life span was cut in half, but not sure.. ANYWAY. so if you’re sleeping together and you wake up before her? forget it, you’re not moving an inch. you’re in her arms until she awakens. you don’t wanna deal with angry lisa..

notes. super sorry for the delay, i’ve been busy as of late but i hope these characters are okay and that you’re satisfied with the outcome? i tried to follow what you wanted as best as i could</3 anyway hope you enjoy!

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

#— ; 🏹 ) genshin impact fics. #— ; 🏹 ) mondstadt. #— ; 🏹 ) inazuma. #— ; 🏹 ) sumeru. #— ; 🏹 ) snezhnaya. #genshin impact #gi #alhaitham #tartaglia #childe #yae miko #kamisato ayato #lisa minci #mondstadt #inazuma #sumeru #snezhnaya #alhaitham x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #yae miko x reader #lisa minci x reader #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

[gayritory]

DATING KARL JACOBS

TWS: mental health issues, swerving (driving), LIGHT dirty jokes

TYPE OF RELATIONSHIP;

Bro... the relationship with Karl is like a best friend relationship, like you both do things best friends don't do, but your guy's relationship has tons of best friend elements.

Tbh your relationship is like the definition of always being in a "silly goofy mood", and it always has a mix of wanting to know that you both love each other.

Your realationship doesn't have a Dom or sub, it's just you both look after each other and no one takes care of one person. but in love sometimes your the more dominant one. (If you look closely you'll notice that later)

Your relationship is different from other relationships cause you both do repetitive habits that make your relationship the way it is. (You'll see TONS MORE of that later:))

TYPE OF LOVE:

The type of love is obviously physical affection, but it's more deep than that. Any touch of Karl's feels like your getting surrounded by God itself.

Maybe it's the idea that the touch is from Karl but, something about Karl's touch makes you see heaven.

PHYSICAL AFFECTION:

As said before touch is your guy's love language. anything revolving around touch means love.

For example sometimes you guys randomly give eachother nose boops and head pats to show affection. It's a joking thing you guys do but it's just a way of saying "don't forget your my favorite person on earth"

HUGS! random hugs bro, this man... it could be anywhere. It could even be at a restaurant where your sitting across from each other and he ends up standing up to hug you.

"Karl what are you doing-"

"Just givin' you a hug so you know I'm still here!"

"silly, your right across from me"

"Thats to far away"

You also give each others hugs when you notice one another is nervous, it's a way of saying "hey! just know your favorite person is here for you always", meaning that you both will never feel lonely.

It kind of brings into the "best friend" aspect where having a best friend is someone you rely on all the time.

He loves your hands.

EVERYTIME he has a chance to hold your hand he does it. Everytime he's around your hand he will kiss it, it's kind of a habit that you both love. It could even be just a squeeze but he will always make time to touch your hand.

Karl takes his hand off the steering wheel to grab your hand. You look at him knowingly.

He started kissing all of your fingers contently until he got to the pinky you interrupted him. .

"KARL WATCH OUT",

In response the boy giggles loudly and pulls over.

"you messed me up, how dare you" and with that he continues to kiss your fingers.

THE MAIN TOUCH ELEMENT IS CUDDLES ALL THE FUCKING TIME!

it could be anywhere- car, couch, park, movie theater, doctor's office, even universal studios.

The cuddling comes in different undescribable forms, splayed out, tangled all together, head on lap (he loves having his head on your lap or in-between your thighs), or even just on top of each other.

EMOTIONAL STUFF:

you both don't like having emotional talks since sometimes it gets awkward. You guys always talk about the latest drama but that doesn't mean you guys do the same with feelings.

You guys rarely talk about feelings, and if you do it never gets in depth, it's usually straight to the point like: "I'm sad", "i got fired", or "i could really use a hug right now"..

Whenever you guys ask for a hug it's your guy's secret code for saying "please distract me, i need you right now", so whenever you ask for a hug you better be ready for Karls movie marathon.

Its so cute oh my god. wait. Whenever you have something stressful happening Karl just texts you random things like; "did you know that the white bubbly stuff in the ocean is whale sperm". Get used to him texting you funny stuff when you're in a bad mood…

this is also super cute! When you isolate your self in your room he messages you things like "I got our movie marathon snacks ready" or "come out, I miss you:("

Whenever your in a stressful situation Karl ends up just texting you "hi". You came to know that you don't need to reply to him, his meaning of that text is just telling you that he's still there for you.

Another thing is not only do you guys not talk about feelings, you don't talk about how much you love eachother. in other words, your not poetic:

Your relationship is almost like a elementary school relationship.

"y/n- i think i have a big hunormous crush on you!"

"No way!! ever since we dated i had-" you then interrupted yourself to say something deeper to show your affection.

"Karl? just know i love you"

"y/n-"

"OOOO is Karl blushing???"

He then just lets out a girly squeal like a school girl that's finding out his crush likes him back.

bro another thing about the relationship thing is that you always tease each other about blushing! Usually Karl is the one getting teased since your sometimes the more dominant one:))

Whenever you guys straight up talk about love for eachother without any secret meanings you both get tons of butterflies.

Since you guys usally don't talk most about this stuff, it leads to needing boundaries which you both are respectful too!

Unless your boundaries are physical affection… maybe you guys wouldn't be a good fit..

EXPERIENCES:

You also have to know that whatever you do with Karl, it will be something fun.

The thing about your relationship is that your never bored. If you both were bored you'd end up moping about how bored y'all are and then end up making jokes from it.

Talking about boredom, most people stay inside when it's cloudy/raining, you guys love running in downpour

(AHEM read this for more info)

Sometimes you guys don't go outside when it's that cold type of weather, but never assume that you guys become bored!

The rainy day beginswith your head on Karl's lap while he reads his comic book he found on his way to Mr beast's wearhouse,

"IM BATMAN" karl randomly says into your ear and starts reading again.

you guys even start playing just dance and old Wii games, which end up being over shortly after you due to you accidentally hitting Karl in the face.

"OW-"

"I'M SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY-"

You go up to him to comfort Karl's poor throbbing head, unaware about what he's about to say next.

"so aggressive and feisty…. that's kinky"

"karl-"

"HUAHAAHUAHHEHE"

Even though Karl has tons of energy-in depressing weather you both decide to chill out and watch anime, cartoon network, or nickelodeon.

Cartoons are an important part of the relationship, for example when sapnap came over…

"What if we watch jungle cruise-" sapnap tried saying but then got interrupted by the couple intensely staring at each other…

Sapnap knew something was up.

"I'm kinda in the mood for an animated movie." Karl suggested it for both of you and you thanked him for that by gently squeezing his hand.

The most popular experience you both have together is late 7-11 runs in PJs.

Every night you guys decide to order an Uber to drive you to the furthest 7-11.

"Why can't you drive" or "why the furthest 7-11" you may ask, well it's because you both want to stick your head out the window and if one of you is driving one of you is missing the fun.

You guys make the trip as far as possible so you both can stare at each other with big goofy smiles and windswept hair blowing in the breeze, all night long.

You both could never get enough of each others company.

Karl loves making handmade gifts for you both, especially matching bracelets!

he loves putting funny matching messages like "Karl's lover" and "y/ns lover" or "peanut butter" and "jelly"

Sometimes the messages could just be something goofy like "what the honk" or "pickles", but they can be as meaningless as ever but everytime you look at your wrist you'd think of the one and only 'Karl Jacobs'

This could fit into the habits category but you guys love doing art for each other. Whenever someone makes art for each other the other puts it on their fridge so it always reminds you of them.

GOOFY HABITS:

the main thing you both have are Habits that are unbreakable which make your relationship the way it is.

there's so many cute little habits, it's crazy.

Karl has tons of reaching habits so you ended up picking up 2 of them: Karl's habit of doing piece signs in pictures, and Karl's habit of covering his mouth while he laughs, for example;

You and Karl were both taking a mirror selfie together and you decided to do the infamous peace sign.

"HEY LOOK WERE TWINNING!"

Another habit that you love is Karls puppy dog eyes!

"Karl no it's 3 am I'm not going to a party"

"Please…" Karl says as he digs his sad puppy dog eyes into your soul.

He knows the tactic, you can never say no to puppy dog eyes.

You guys love each others smiles and laugh. snorting when you both laugh is always contagious, expecially the smiles you give eachother. The cure to a bad day is to see Karl's big goofy smile.

you both LOVE painting eachothers nails. but a habit of you both is always chipped nail polish!

This habit is just cute; him playing with your jewelry.

you sitting and Karl laying on the couch with his head in your lap, not paying attention to the movie but to the bueatiful person above him.

Since he's so caught up into your looks he ends ups having a habit of swatting your dangling necklace. (Almost like a cat)

If you ever wear hoop earrings Karls intrusive thoughts win by him just sticking a finger in them just for fun. he loves doing that whenever he wants attention or he's bored.

Karl isn't the only one who plays with ones jewelry, you do as well. mainly his rings. It could be you laying on his lap or waiting nervously at the doctor's office, you love moving around his rings.

This habit is extremely used; corny dad jokes/ pickup lines, every single second you both have something silly to say;

you both were chomping on some french fries in the car, sinking into the comfortable silence.

"Y/n Did you know that the first french fries weren’t cooked in France?"

"Wait what I thought they originated in franc-"

"They were cooked in Greece!"

—-----------------------------------------

"KARL!" you dramatically scream as you ran up the stairs meeting him at the top.

"Y/N, LOVE ARE YOU OKAY-"

"NO I NEED TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL"

"Baby what happened-"

"I broke my leg falling for you" you said as you winked and fake fainted

but sadly you forgot you both were on top of a stareway so you ended up falling down the stairs, ending up literally breaking your leg.

The next time you both stream you'll have a story to tell.

Another main habit you enjoy is about Karl being nerdy about Pokemon and anime. you love listening to him ramble about his interests.

the last main habit is kind of random but it has to do with energy drink bottles.

if you enter Karl's room you step into a floor covered with monster energy drinks.

habits spice up your guy's relationship since your always waking up and wondering what silly think you guys would do next.

OVERALL;

Karl's and your realationship is unbeatable, you guys are lovers and best friends and it will always stay that way.

other dating hcs

quackity x reader gn

#karl jacobs imagine #karl jacobs angst #karl jacobs #karl jacobs x reader #karl jacob #mcyt headcanons #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #dsmp fanfic #mcyt imagine #dsmp fluff #mcyt fanfiction #dsmp karl #fluff #mcyt fanfic #dating #dating karl jacobs #karl

[imagines-to-quench-thirst]

Ducan "Donut" Vizla🍩

Disclaimer: stories are fictitious and should not be taken literally, the behavior is entirely imaginative and the content may be inappropriate

Updated & repaired: 16/07/2023 (if a story won't load or something else, please message me and let me know)

MAIN MASTERLIST

JOIN US TODAY. BE A DUNCAN HOE!

Fluff🌺  Angst 🌩️ Smut❤️‍🔥

5/7 STORIES

5 Types Of Kisses🌺

MY HEADCANONS W/ OTHER CHARACTERS:

Speak In Flowers 🌺 Flowers speak their own words and show their actions. And your man loves to speak it out loud.

Visiting Your Hometown 🌺 how would your boy act when you drag him along to your hometown

Helping You To Accept Your Stretch Marks 🌺your boy helps you accept your beautiful stretch marks as they are...pure perfection

Explaining To Your Man Kdramas🌺I (V) wrote small drabbles that paired my favorite men and dramas that I absolutely love

Dating A Tattoo Artist 🌺 being a tattoo artist and your boyfriend being part of it

When Tough Times Occur 🌺Life itself can be a pain and with its obstacles, it can seem impossible to overcome it but that’s what makes us stronger as people.

Someone Rubs You The Wrong Way With... 🌺 how would your man protect you when someone doesn’t mind your business

Having A Shower ❤️‍🔥having a shower with your man sounds like heaven right?!

One Thing He Loves About You (Physically Or Mentally)🌺 the title spoils the ending a bit

No Nut November ❤️‍🔥in the glory of No Nut November, you make a bet with your liver saying if they fail you cuff them and use them to your liking but if you lose they get to fulfil one of their fantasies. And you are keen on it to make them lose, by any means.

ASKS

My Saviour 🌺protective! Duncan Vizla? Maybe they capture her and he’s ready to wreak havoc upon them? Hurt/comfort with a bit of makeup smut?

Taking Off Their S/O's Makeup 🌺 (Could you do Duncan vizla,the joker and whoever else you’d like.)taking off their s/o makeup after they come from a nightout because they are to drunk to do it themselves 💛

Stressed Student 🌺 can I request Duncan Vizla, the Joker, Victor Creed and what would they do if they see their s/o down because they're stressed due exams?

You Are My Protector 🌺 do you think he’d appreciate someone being gentle with him and spoiling him with compliments? I just imagine him getting a praise kink whenever his woman kisses his scars 😚💗

Worship Me 🌺 What about Duncan doing some exhausting teasing foreplay the whole day before having sex?😍😍

Kicking in the process... 🌺 Duncan Vizla x Pregnant Reader

October Drive ❤️‍🔥I think daddy Duncan deserves some smut, would you be an angel you are and write something, maybe some August heat car ride or smth!

Telling Him You Are A Virgin ❤️‍🔥 Ok here me out 😂 virgin X Duncan, she constantly flirts with him but doesn’t want a one night stand with him. It shocks him when she says she’s a virgin and only does long term

White Shorts VS. Duncan Vizla ❤️‍🔥Innocent girl + short shorts = very pent up Duncan = very rough sex

Period Sex ❤️‍🔥What do you think about Duncan smut while his girl is on period? I bet he's up to this shit👀👀

Duncan Pleaser ❤️‍🔥 Omg give us more swearing daddy Duncan pleasing his woman😍😍

Outdoor Quickie ❤️‍🔥hi there! I've come up with the idea for Duncan smut, IDK if you like it, but I give it a try🔞🔞how bout some outdoor quickie in winter? IDK if it's even possible in real life, but still! I very much appreciate all your imagines! you're doing great👍👍

Christmas Decorations 🌺 now here’s a little concept (you don’t have to write I just want to share lol) She is super excited for Christmas like REALLY excited she’s all over the house with decorations and at first when she asks him to help her he says no but I mean he can’t say no to her puppy eyes so he caves and they spend the whole afternoon decorating the house ✨💜✨💜✨

I Ain't No Snitch 🌺❤️‍🔥 can you imagine if one day she is kidnapped in order to get to Duncan so he has to find her and everything and when he finds her she’s all scared and crying so he gets all soft and protective 😭😭😭😭😭😭

No Bra ❤️‍🔥 some good old Duncan Vizla smut

Nightly Adventures ❤️‍🔥Lemme ask for some duncan vizla smut, daddy kink, dirty talk and pure filth? I feel like the character is underrated and has lots of potential!

Jingle My Balls ❤️‍🔥 How about some good ol' sexy time with Duncan Vizla! Ohhhhh maybe a holiday theme?? Like the reader wore idk a santa dress/elf dress and Duncan decides to jingle their bells??? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ya catchin my drift chief?? Im sorry this was cheesy

Daddy Kink Headcanon ❤️‍🔥 I was wondering if u could possibly do some Duncan Vizla with daddy kink (smut) headcaons plz it’s ok if u can’t tho 👌

Wedding Risks ❤️‍🔥 may i ask for more of it, maybe some inappropriate place/timing smut or public place or as you wish, cause it gives life :3

Brave 🌩️🌺 I have a request for Duncan! Maybe one of his old enemies gets ahold of his SO and uses her to lure him into a trap and all the angst but with a happy ending! I love your writing so much!! 💕💕💕

Departure ❤️‍🔥How bout some age gap angsty smutty fic w\Duncan Vizla? Like grey hair and wrinkles and stuff, cause kinks are kinks, you know🔥🔥🔥

First Timers ❤️‍🔥 May I request some Duncan smut, like first meeting him\first date stuff... like why wait for 2nd date when you're all head over heels :3

The Right Way To Wake Up ❤️‍🔥 How about some middle of the night/early morning wake up sex w/Mr Duncan Vizla💦💦

Road Trip ❤️‍🔥what about some road/car sex with Duncan?

Foreplay ❤️‍🔥May I request some NSFW Duncan headcanons like putting a condom on/undressing/arousing words, etc., stuff like that!

Mustache Ride I feel like Duncan's mustache gently massaging skin\clit while giving oral must be headcanon😍😍

Girl 🌺 What Would Duncan Vizla Think of having a chubby girlfriend?

Hand+Job ❤️‍🔥May I ask for Duncan receiving handjob or smth without penetration😍😍

Kisses Of Jealously ❤️‍🔥Thank you for all the Duncan fics, they are perfect😍 Let me request some steamy period smut with Duncan

Bathtub Mishaps ❤️‍🔥May I request some bathroom/bathtub Duncan Vizla smut? It should we very wet out there if you know what i mean💦💦

Leading Praise❤️‍🔥

Sinful Words What would you say about Duncan being daddy he is and talking dirty with his lover😈😈

Duncan Going To Town❤️‍🔥

NSFW Alphabet (VER 1)❤️‍🔥

NSFW Alphabet (VER2)❤️‍🔥

First Time Having Sex❤️‍🔥

Nightly Adventures ❤️‍🔥Lemme ask for some Duncan Vizla smut, daddy kink, dirty talk and pure filth? I feel like the character is underrated and has lots of potential!

Little Miss ❤️‍🔥

Fitting Punishment ❤️‍🔥

Comparisons ❤️‍🔥

Chubby!SO 🌺What Would Duncan Vizla Think of having a chubby girlfriend?

DRABBLES FROM MY🧠

Hands To Kiss🌺

Mother, Meet Duncan Vizla 🌺your mom meets your boyfriend

Jealousy Makes Him Silent 🌺

Duncan Saving You🌺

Duncan Learning Your Native Language🌺

Mornings With Duncan Vizla🌺

Making Out ❤️‍🔥

Dating Duncan Vizla🌺

First BJ❤️‍🔥

Tease ❤️‍🔥

Over The Edge ❤️‍🔥

Breathe 🌺Song fic- Breathe by Mako

DIFFERENT AUs

Professor Vizla (Professor!AU)❤️‍🔥Could you write a professor Duncan Vizla x reader smut... ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) And there is an age gap between them... Something like that... 🙈🙈🙈

Sins Of Ours (Priest!AU)❤️‍🔥 For Anon who requested it: I hope you like it, I have seen the trailer you suggested but I just changed the name because I’m a lazy bitch and haven’t found the name of the character Mads played so I changed it to Duncan. I hope that’s okay. 

SHORT IMAGINE

Duncan Seeing You After A Long Time🌩️

Seeing Duncan’s Old Videos Of Him🌺

Waking Up Next To Duncan Vizla🌺

Duncan Coming To Your Home Needing Help🌺

#duncan imagine #duncan x reader #duncan vizla imagine #duncan vizla x reader #polar x reader #polar imagine #polar movie #netflix x reader #netflix imagine #mads mikkelsen #mads polar #duncan vizla

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

Randomly, I had a thought on how likely it would have been for different characters to have fallen for Cloud and why they would have fallen for him and now I’m here! Once more! So going in no particular order let us begin (this is just the main sort of batch of characters, let me know if you wanna see any of the side ones like the Turks or Rufus)

Also keep in mind this is just me, my opinions and my blog. Don’t like, don’t read, don’t bring your ship hating or ship wars in here or I’ll punch you. Please and thank you!

Zack: I am being mildly biased with my own shipping head canons when I say that he would’ve fallen head over heels upon first meeting, but also it is canon that he was a chronic flirt and had multiple ‘girlfriends’. So I say it’s not entirely out of the question.

Sephiroth: before he lost his mind there wasn’t a chance in fucking hell it would’ve happened I think. Besides the whole difference in rank thing Seph was already far too traumatised and probably would have just seen Cloud as another guy that saw him as nothing but a war hero. He might have entertained the thought of sleeping with him, maybe, but I really don’t think it would’ve happened. We all know how he is after he loses his mind so I don’t think I gotta delve into that.

Angeal: probably not. He definitely would’ve taken some sort of liking to Cloud, whether as a friend he could find good conversation with or a sort of protege like Zack, I dunno. But ultimately I don’t reckon they’d have too much of a connection, not without some form of poly going on or something. Which leads me to this next one.

Genesis: I for sure reckon he would’ve fallen for Cloud. It would’ve been fucking messy and drama filled and more than likely would have stemmed from an enemies to lovers cause they’re both so incredibly stubborn and head strong, but they would end up loving each other. They’d definitely still butt heads and get into useless arguments but there were far too many pros to even think of giving up on the other.

Aerith: without the whole Cloud resembling Zack thing, maybe. There’s a chance that she could have but it would have been slow. Would’ve been one of those things where they hung out and talked and did all this stuff together so often that one day she would’ve turned around and realised she was in love with him. Like a full on ‘oh’ moment.

Tifa: this is another thing that’s mildly biased based off my own head canons but I honestly don’t think Tifa would have fallen for Cloud. If not for the Nibelheim incident and Cloud being exactly what she always wished for as a kid I do not think it would’ve happened.

Barret: definitely fucking not 😂 besides the fact that he hated Cloud when they first met, Cloud is so far beyond his type it’s not even funny. Plus I feel like Barret would either be one of those guys who’s like ‘my wife was the only woman for me’ or he just wouldn’t wanna put Marlene through the stress of suddenly gaining another parent.

Biggs: maybe. Like a heavy ass possibly honestly. I feel like it would have been the most generic romance in history and it would’ve been so unbelievably normal and it most likely would have been short lived, but maybe.

Wedge: I’m not gonna lie. Wedge gives me aromantic vibes for some reason. I dunno why, he just does. He’d definitely befriend Cloud (eventually) and be willing to wingman him or something if he needed it but yeah, I don’t think Wedge would’ve fallen for him.

Jessie: she absolutely loves flirting with Cloud and teasing him and being all over him, but she is definitely a lesbian. Don’t even argue with me! That woman is a full fledged lesbian and she only flirts with guys so heavily cause it’s funny to watch them scramble.

Vincent: nah, not really. Would they have a friends with benefits thing? Probably. But I feel like Vincent is far too emotionally unavailable and traumatised to even entertain the idea of being with someone again.

Cid: I feel like this is similar to Angeal. He’d definitely like Cloud and they’d bond over mechanic shit and complain about the people they chose to surround themselves with, but he definitely wouldn’t fall for him either. Cloud is way too young for him and not nearly his type in a guy. Plus he has a wife.

#fic prompt #fic #prompt #final fantasy vii rebirth #final fantasy vii remake #final fantasy vii #Zack fair #cloud strife #angeal hewley #genesis rhapsodos #Sephiroth #aerith gainsborough #tifa lockhart #barret wallace #Jessie #Biggs #wedge #Vincent valentine #cid highwind #ships #headcanons #ship headcanons I guess #zakkura #clack #clerith #strifesodos #Biggs x cloud #Jessie is a raging lesbian headcanon #and you’ll pry it from my cold dead fingers

[bengiyo]

Hi Ben!

I saw Vee from You're My Sky in your most misunderstood characters list and now I'm curious, what's your opinion on this series as a whole? Gifs tell me that it has a high production value, great cinematography and Suar in it, so I'm quite tempted to give it a go. But it's rarely talked about so... is it really worth a watch?

I love You're My Sky because it was the first show to follow in the wake of I Told Sunset About You and try to bring rich color, engaging cinematography, and and structured presentation of character dynamics after ITSAY. It's also a sports BL that takes its sports portion super seriously. It's also the show you should watch if you like when the younger guy is pursuing the older guy, because that's true for all three couples.

The show has three couples in it, and I really liked how the show kept all three couples at about the same moment emotionally throughout the entire runtime. It meant that we sometimes wouldn't see one of the side couples for a while, but I much prefer that to having the couples be in really different places and throw off the emotional tone of an episode.

Our primary pairing is between Thorn and Tupfah. They are childhood friends. Thorn followed Tupfah to his college after a few years and was confused why Tupfah no longer plays basketball. Theirs is a friends-to-lovers story where Thorn has been pining for a long time.

This show let us also see them spend time as a couple and face real complications that a couple of two aspiring professional athletes would face, including availability for college practice and potentially ending up with different clubs. There's also a great deal of examination of the kinds of coaching environments athletes might suffer or thrive under.

The second couple, Saen and Aii, aren't a sports couple, but Aii is older and graduating. He's focused on leaving Thailand and pursuing a professional career in Japan. In them you get a determined, sociable younger pursuer and a standoffish older interest.

I really liked where they went with this couple because we got to see a grandmother giving a knowing smirk when she enters the bedroom after their first night together, and we see them deal with the impending stress of being in a long-distance relationship for likely years.

I wrote about Vee in the ask you mentioned, but to reiterate, Vee is assigned to work with his sister's boyfriend on the track team. Vee, being the flirty little shit he is, teases Dome and is having a good time until it gets way too serious for both of them and he's having a panic attack in the middle of a race.

Their story is compelling because it doesn't end in success on screen. The social politics of their attraction make it impossible for them to consummate this romance under the current circumstances, and the show explores how this choice impacted the sister as well.

And then there's the basketball! This show does so much cool shit with the camera and the frame around the basketball itself. It also has a robust supporting cast in the basketball team. There's a beautiful scene of the whole team giving space to Thorn and Fah to figure out something important, and there's another lovely scene where they talk about gender identity.

Truly, as a man who enjoys sports and sports dramas, they did not fuck around when it came to doing the sports portion of this. The only other BL I remember being this serious about the sports was maybe Project S: Spike. Almost all the gifs are going to be the romance stuff, but the sports stuff in this show is well done.

I'm a big fan of this project, and I think it has some of my favorite presentations of masculinity in genre. I will probably rewatch it after I finish this UWMA rewatch.

Thanks for the ask!

#answered #you're my sky #thai bl

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

I absolutely love your writing and the way you write the Criminal Minds characters is just *chef's kiss*🤌

I was wondering if you could write something with Spencer x ftm Reader. Preferably something angsty but with a happy ending.

Maybe something like where the reader's dad/mom is in town and goes to his work to visit him and they keep misgendering him and when he tries to correct them they just dismiss him.

Maybe reader gives Spencer a look as to say "don't even bother". If the rest of the team notive maybe they come to his aid and basically kick out his family member. Lots of comfort from Spencer after.

Sorry if it's too long or confusing. You don't have to but I would love it if you did.

Thank you💕💕

warnings: deadnaming (D/N), transphobia, unaccepting parents, outing in the work place,

"(D/N)!" You freeze immediately. As does Spencer beside you.

"Who's (D/N)?" You hear Morgan whisper to Prentiss, followed by Prentiss whispering back that she didn't know. You look at Spencer, trying to gather the courage to turn around. And your dad is staring at you, you put on a fake smile.

"Dad, I've told you, it's (Y/N) now," You correct lightly, making sure to smile, the last thing you wanted was for him to get offended. You ignore the team (minus Spencer) sharing confused looks.

"You know I'm not going to remember that, I've got so much on my mind right how, what with your brother-"

"How is Danny?" You ask, hoping to change the subject.

"He misses his sister and he wants to know when you're coming back home,"

"Dad-" You sigh, dragging a hand over your face, "I told you, I'm his brother-"

"Don't be ridiculous, (D/N)." Your dad snaps, you sigh yet again, deciding not to bite back this time.

"Has Danny sorted out what college he wants to go to yet?"

"He doesn't want to go." The tone indicates that your father doesn't want to talk about it any more, so you drop it.

"How's work been?"

"Fine." He answers with a shrug. “Anyway, how’s my favourite daughter getting on?”

You try and hide the stress, but you know in a team of profilers it doesn’t exactly work. No. Instead, your team pick up on it immediately. Spencer meets your eyes and with the slight tilt of his head and the raise of an eyebrow, you know he’s offering to stand up for you, to correct your father. You shake your head, not wanting the unnecessary drama. 

 "When are you coming home?" He asks, unaware of the tension building in the bullpen - or he notices and just doesn’t give a crap, you aren’t too sure. 

"Dad, I told you, I'm staying here. I’ve got a good job," You hope he takes the hint of ‘I’ve got a good job don’t you dare ruin that for me or so help me God’. “I’m doing good here.”

He scoffs loudly, “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

“Remember that you’re the one that told me to leave.” You reminded and everyone (your father included) freezes. 

“How dare you-”

“I dare.” Your reply is instant. “Look, dad, I’ve got work to do. I finish at about six. You know where I live, the spare key is under the plant pot. Why don’t you just hang out there for a while and we can talk after I finish work?”

You hope he takes the suggestion, but he shakes his head. “No. We’re getting to the bottom of this now. I’m not having a freak as a daughter-”

“Lucky for you you’ve got a freak as a son, so you’re halfway there.” You snap. 

Morgan and Hotch both step forward and you flush, remembering that your team are here. “We’re going to have to ask you to leave.” Hotch states. 

Your dad laughs bitterly, looking past them at you, “We’ll see how long you last in the real world, (D/N).” And with that, he leaves. And your anxiety doubles. Because now you have to answer to your team. 

You look at Morgan and Hotch, “Thanks for that,” You mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly.

“Don’t mention it,” Morgan shrugged.

Hotch furrowed his eyebrows, watching you shift nervously, “I think we should talk in private for a moment.”

Your hand shoots to Spencer’s instinctively. “With Spencer?” Hotch nods. 

You reach Hotch’s office, you all taking a seat, Spencer’s hand still clutched in yours - your mind running through all the possibilities, all ending badly. 

“Are you alright?” Is the first question that leaves Hotch’s mouth. You look at him, unsure but nod. “Alright, obviously you’re not obliged to go into detail about what that was, but we’re all here for you, should you want to.” He continued, “And I can talk to the team and tell them not to ask you about it if you’d like as well.”

“I don’t mind,” You answered honestly, “But it might have to be in about half an hour. I think I just need a minute.”

“Of course,” Hotch said, standing up, “Use my office, I was coming down for a coffee anyway.” He paused for a moment, “Take as much time as you need.”

“Thank you, sir.”

When Hotch left and the door was shut behind him, Reid turned to you, “Are you okay?” You nodded before taking a deep breath. Reid looked at you before reaching forward, bringing you into a warm embrace. “I’m so proud of you for how you handled that.”

“I was a shaking mess.”

“But you showed him how badass you are,” Spencer smiled as you nodded with a small laugh.

“Yeah. I showed him.”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #spencer reid #ftm reader #x ftm reader #x male reader #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x trans male reader #spencer reid x ftm reader #male reader #trans reader #trans male reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanficiton

[supercalime]

I can’t believe I found people who think about this the exact same way as I do. I don’t get these hardcore buddie stans who suddenly try to make it look like buckTommy shipper are the toxic ones. I haven’t seen a single BuckTommy shipper who was rude without a reason (maybe a bit defensive about their CANON ship). Whereas I’ve seen plenty of incredibly toxic buddie stans who insult everyone who doesn’t ship their ship or share their opinions.

Another thing and don’t get me wrong Im not defending anyone. But I’ve seen many people heavily bullying the marisol actress because she’s apparently homophobic (not saying she isn’t or is) and wanting her to be gone beacause of this reason but totally ignore the alleged racism of ryan (again not saying he is racist or not, i dont know them personally) just because he is part of their beloved ship. By their logic Ryan should leave the show too.

Hey anon, it took me some time to answer your ask (chaotic life stuff lol) but I’m glad to finally have time to talk about this first part with you.

I’ll preface by saying I won’t get involved in actor drama, no matter how true or toxic it is because I don’t have enough information nor am I qualified to talk about the issues they mishandled. I’ll just say that, no matter who does bad things, they should be held accountable.

Okay, back to the main point: yes, it’s very strange how b*ddie st*ns are behaving towards the canon bi!buck thing. Both with people who ship bucktommy but also with the creators and actors on the show. Regardless if they are right or not about b*ddie being canon, this is not how you act with entertainment, specially with the people giving the content.

I hate to bash but it looks and sounds a lot like a toddler throwing a tantrum because they didn’t get a specific toy.

And toddlers only throw tantrums because they are brand new humans who are learning how to behave. They don’t know any better so they react with outbursts and repeated demands because it’s the only way they know to get the attention of the person taking care of them.

If I’m not mistaken, the main audience for the show is 18-45. NO ONE here should be yelling in comment sections “we want buddie! we want buddie! we want buddie!” as if they would immediately get it. It’s not how it works and it’s frankly embarrassing to see a bunch of adults acting like that for everyone to see.

And I can’t stress it enough, I’m not putting myself on a high ground here and saying I’m a better person by shipping bucktommy, as I’m sure there might be a percentage of fans out there being rude and annoying as well. But at least I’m keeping my conscience clear by not acting like me shipping two characters is something big enough in my life to ruin my enjoyment of a whole show in case my favorite ship doesn’t become canon.

I hate how fandoms behave as if they can have control over the content they are consuming. We aren’t entitled to anything and if there is supposed to be ANY discourse about which character was supposed to end with, that should happen AFTER the show ended! The story isn’t over yet! So why are b*ddie st*ns so stressed? If a show is making you this angry and demanding, please step aside a little, give it some distance because that’s not how consuming content is supposed to make you feel.

And I say that last part with sincerity because I too got way too involved with fandom discourse in the past, to the point that I had to distance myself from certain shows because being that involved made me upset.

Im just tired at this point you know. Im trying to protect myself as much as possible. Im not in the bird app, I don’t follow the show or the actors on social media, im avoiding interviews like the plague. All I want from this experience is to watch the show, gather my thoughts, form my opinions, log onto tumblr and reblog the cute stuff I see about my favorite ship without having to worry about whatever the hell is going on outside my pretty little bubble

#lety rambles #ask #911 #911 abc #bucktommy #tevan #firefly #firepilot

[faerytreealtars]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ “Less Work, More Play” ~ Ways to connect to your inner child ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Hello again, my dear Saplings! 🌱 I am back once again with another new PAC today that I hope you enjoy, take a deep breath, and choose whatever images resonate with your soul and heart, Happy reading! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

  Being connected to our child-like energy does not mean to behave like a tantruming two-year old or to act naively in situations where you know it is necessary to have a sensible and mature head on your shoulders, no to connect with the child within us in a healthy way we should embrace wonder, never fear trying out new things and remember its okay to be silly and fun now and again, don’t be afraid to laugh at yourself and never mind the unneeded judgements of others. If they refuse to look after the child within in and feel uncomfortable to see yours thriving that's a them problem!

I would love to hear if the message you received resonated with you, so don’t feel afraid to comment, for it makes me so happy to connect with you all! 💕  

Song: Lost Boy - Ruth B.

Faery-Tale: Puss in Boots ~ “Perhaps the greatest gift that can be left to you is something you already have within”

[ My Instagram ♡ / Personal Readings ♤ /  Faery Masterlist ☆  ]  

Pile 1

[Cards: Ace of Cups, Eight of Swords, The Chariot & King of Swords]

Ways you can reconnect with your inner child include slowing down in life, instead of rushing from one goalpost to another try to appreciate the journey. Collect memories physically & mentally - make an album of photographs from both adventures and ordinary life and fill it with pictures of those dear to you too. Listen & dance to music from your youth or even scrapbook/Journal about your days if you're feeling creative. Don't become another victim of the belief that once you've reached a certain age all fun must die only to be replaced with responsibilities and strict rules! Keep dreaming, keep playing, and keep growing!

Oracle: Benedicta

Don't be afraid to step outside your comfort zones, No one ever grew in stagnation - Just like a plant in a pot too small for its roots your run the danger of wilting. Be daring, be bold, and most importantly true to your soul!

Pile 2

[Cards: Four of Pentacles, Knight of Cups, Three of Pentacles & Four of Swords]

To connect more with your inner child within you I suggest some much-needed TLC & self-care. treat yourself, you deserve it! Think to yourself if your child's self suddenly appeared in your life and you were entrusted to care for them. How would you treat them? Perhaps you would give them all the nice things they were refused in life. Now is your chance to do just that. Another message I'm hearing is to not burden yourself with all the decisions if you run a business or are in a partnership/Marriage Lean on those around you (spouse/Work Colleagues) to carry some of the load it isn't your responsibility to carry it all - You don't need to feel alone.

Oracle: Rubi

Make time for your friends and family don't feel afraid that you might be missing out on work, or some other important chore on your to-do list, it won't end your world to slow down and appreciate all you've got. Wouldn't you rather make fun and exciting memories with those dearest to your heart rather than worry and stress yourself out over work? The decision is ultimately in your hands.

Pile 3

[Cards: Five of Wands, The Star, Ten of Pentacles & Nine of Swords]

The way you connect to your inner child within you may include singing along to your favourite tunes, but I'm also hearing a message to avoid conflict - don't go into situations heated and looking for arguments & if it is others not accepting you don't want to engage cut them off and take some time away from them for your own sanity. I would also advise against scrolling through social media or constantly watching content full of bad news or toxic drama. Please don't compare your life to perfect pictures online this is making you lose faith in yourself and your dreams. You're quite wonderful as you are and your inner child says they wouldn't change a thing! after all, no one but Mary Poppins can be perfect!

Oracle: Sir Norval & Elliot

Perhaps you are over due for an adventure somewhere quiet & far away from the noise and distraction of modern life. Somewhere that you can reconnect with nature and the joys of the simple every day. Put down your devices and go out there the next chance you get to fulfill the curiosity of your soul!

I hope the message you received from the child within was joyful and uplifting to you! Make sure to embrace each day with wonder and joy as that is how you can help begin the first steps to inner-child connection! For magic truly is everywhere is just depends on how you choose to view things.

-Love, Fae🔮🧚🏻‍♀

#tarotblr #channeling #divination #cartomancy #tarot #♡ messages channelled from the divine ♡ #pac #pick a card #timeless tarot #tarot cards #tarot community #faery tarot #oracle #guardian angels #guardian spirits #Inner Child Work #inner child channeling #inner child #inner child connection #inner child healing #timeless pick a card

[here4kpopfics]

Feeling in Chaos - Fall pt. 2 | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f) reader  

Genre: drama, angst, smut

AU: art college!au, friends to lovers, best friend’s brother

Wordcount: 12,670

Summary: It’s time to talk about it. 

Rating: M / 18+ 

Warnings: Language. Grief. Panic attacks. MC has PTSD and is learning how to get through it. Jealousy. Self-loathing. Ryujin’s trying. Koo’s going through something. Possibly problematic friendship/relationship. 

Smut Warnings: None, just mentions of the smut in the previous chapter. 

AN: Ah, so…surprise? Over two months later…This chapter has a lot going on. A lot of much needed conversations and finally some attempts to move forward. I have nothing further to add, except for my apologies for it being late. 😅Thank you to the soulmate @playmetheclassics for beta reading. ily

Banner and Divider by @classicscreations

Masterlist | Taglist | AskBox | Coffee?

PREVIOUS | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT

When you finally get to the club, you glance around to ensure Ryujin isn’t outside. You walk to the front of the line and get the security guard’s attention.

“I’m sorry, my friend is in there, she’s drunk, and I just need to get her out and take her home. Is there any way I can just go in and grab her?” 

The tall buff man that could honestly give The Rock a run for his money shakes his head. 

“Sorry, miss. I’ve heard that line one too many times. You’ll have to wait in line with the others.” 

“Please? She’s grieving, and I just. I need to get her home before she does something she regrets.” 

He only shakes his head again and points towards the back of the line. You sigh, grabbing your phone and calling her again. She answers, but you can barely hear her over the thumping bass. 

“Ry? I’m outside. They won’t let me in. Come out, and we can go home.” 

“Wha? Where are yo—?”

Her voice cuts off as the call ends. You groan in annoyance, getting in the stupid long line to get in the shitty building. 

The sense of panic sets in again as you wait. How do you get her home? What do you say? Do you let her speak? Do you wait until she’s sober to talk? Or do you yell at her now and hope she remembers? How the fuck are you going to get her home? Yoongi was right. But, fuck, you can’t get him involved in this. You’ve already gotten too close to him tonight. You can’t do it anymore. 

You go to your contacts, pressing the call button and hating yourself already. It only rings twice before he picks up. 

“Y/n? Are you okay? Are you still at the studio?” Your heart cracks at the voice laced with worry. 

“No, Jungkook. I left already.”

“Where are you? Because you’re not at your apartment.”

“Have you been waiting there?” Your voice falters. The image of him waiting in your apartment while you’re on the couch in your studio getting fucked and almost confessed to by your group therapy buddy flashing in your mind makes you want to scream. 

He stays silent, answering your question without saying a word. 

“Kookie…I need your help.” You exhale a shaky breath, trying to stay focused. 

“What happened? Did he do something?” There’s a certain bite in his voice that feels like an attack on you, but you set it aside, planning on stressing over it later. 

“No, Koo. He didn’t do anything. It’s Ry. She’s at this club or bar or whatever, she’s shitfaced and called me, and I’m waiting outside, but I…I don’t know how to get her home.” 

He gives it a moment after your voice trails off, finally speaking again after a while. 

“You want me to come get you two?” His voice is softer, but still tense, and you hate it. 

“Yes, please…” you quietly admit, and you can hear the sound of his keys moving as he tells you to send the address via text and to wait for him. 

This feels too familiar.

“Jungkook?” You quickly speak up before he hangs up. 

“Yes, y/n?”

“Please drive carefully.” you feel your stomach twist, “get here safely, okay?” 

He doesn’t need to ask why you’re saying these things. He knows. You know he knows. He reassures you he’ll be okay, hanging up only when you’re ready, and you look back down at your phone as the call ends. 

Five minutes later, you’re almost at the front of the line when you see Ryujin stumbling out of the building, looking around in confusion. 

“Ry!” You shout as you finally escape the line, much to the satisfaction of the people behind you. You want to run to her, but she’s still a ticking time bomb, and you’re already on edge enough that you don’t want to risk her wrath even if she was the one that called you.

“Y/n!” She shouts back, tears streaming down her face as she runs to you. You let her hug you first, hesitantly hugging her back and only tightening your hold when she starts sobbing against your shoulder. 

“Hey hey hey, I’m here. It’s okay, Ry. What happened?” You don’t expect an answer and don’t let go, just letting her desperately hold onto you and cry. 

When she finally lets go of you, you guide her to sit on the curb. It’s gross, but it’s away from the club goers passing by, and it’s still within sight of the security guard. Your hands never leave her, one on her back and the other gripping one of hers like if you let go, she’d vanish from you too. 

You stay silent for her, watching her battle with the thoughts in her head and the words behind her ruby-red lips. You look away, down the street to see if Jungkook’s car would be in view, but you wanted to give her more space.

“I don’t blame you.” Her voice cracks, and your neck almost snaps when turning back to her. 

“What?” You’re afraid to ask in case it all goes wrong. 

“For…for Kai’s death. I don’t blame you. I never did.” Her grip on your hand tightens, and the tears fall again across her beautiful face. “I know it’s not your fault. But I just…I needed someone to hate, someone that isn’t me.”

Her? Why? Why would she…?

“Ry, what do you mean someone that isn’t you?” 

She finally looks up at you, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she relives memories you have no idea about. Moments she wishes she could forget or do over. 

“It doesn't matter now.” She shakes her head, holding your hand close to her chest. “Please, y/n. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. You’re my best friend and there’s no excuse for the things I said. Please don’t hate me. I can’t lose you, too.”

You look at your best friend. The girl that was born a day before you in the same hospital. The girl that asked to draw with you on the playground. The girl that yelled at anyone and everyone that dared say anything bad about you. The girl that held you as you cried over your first heartbreak. And your second, third, fourth… 

The girl that, despite coming across as perfect to the world, bared her soul, fears, and insecurities to you one night after sneaking into her parents’ liquor cabinet. The girl that promised to be by your side for forever when your parents said you’d be nothing. The girl you watched fall in love with your brother, having the most beautiful and loving relationship with him. 

The girl who fell apart just as badly as you did. But instead of seeking help, she burned the world around her down, starting with you. 

Her name quietly escapes your lips, but before you can say anything else, Jungkook pulls up against the curb next to you. He quickly exits the car to squat down in front of you both, eyes meeting yours briefly before turning his attention to his sister. 

He looks exhausted. 

“Hey, Rybread. You okay?” He gently grabs her free hand, bringing her attention away from you and to him instead. She nods, a broken sob escaping when Jungkook helps her stand, you having to stand with her because her hand is still tightly gripping yours. 

“Let’s get you two home, yeah?” He gently speaks to only her, still refusing to look at you for more than a second. You carefully pull your hand away from Ryujin, watching Jungkook help his sister enter the backseat. When she’s finally in, seatbelt on, head leaning back, eyes closed, he looks back at you. 

You hate the sadness in those big beautiful brown eyes. Hate the dark bags forming underneath them. Hate that you’re probably the cause of some of it. 

“Are you okay to sit in the backseat or do you need to be upfront?” His question is as monotone as he can make it, but you can still pick up on the notes of concern in his words.

You open your mouth to speak, eyes glancing between the backseat and the passenger’s seat, when Jungkook shuts Ryujin’s door a little harsher than necessary, causing you both to jump. 

“Upfront it is. Come on.” He mumbles, opening the passenger’s side door before returning to  the driver’s seat with a huff. 

You get in only when he’s put his seatbelt on and turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life. You put your seatbelt on, backpack across your lap and fingers toying with the straps for a moment before a big hand reaches for your left hand.

His fingers intertwine with yours, settling on his lap, his free hand on the steering wheel, effortlessly pulling away from the curb and driving off. 

Your eyes stay on the road, trying to watch every car while simultaneously trying to remind yourself to breathe. At every stop light, Jungkook brings your joined hand to his chest, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand until the light turns green and you’re past the intersection. 

You say nothing, forcing the fear deep down inside to deal with when you’re alone. Your right hand grips the door handle like you’re bracing for impact, and it takes everything in you not to scream to pull over. The last time you were in a car was on the way home from the funeral. You were so ready to jump out of the car on the highway, actually opening the door at one point, not caring what happened to you, only about getting out.

“You need to breathe, y/n.” His voice is gentle but still in that monotone voice. It doesn’t match the way his thumb is soothing over your hand or how tightly he’s holding it. 

You hadn’t realized you were barely taking any breaths, afraid if you did, you’d scream or cry. You still don’t respond, only squeezing his hand in response as you take a deep breath, shakingly exhaling after. 

“I’m trying. It’s just—” you look down for a moment, your free hand playing with the zipper on your back, “I’m too focused on not panicking. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” His voice is losing the monotone effect, and you sneak a glance at his face. His jaw is clenched, and he looks anything but soft, more stoic instead. 

“I don’t know…I’m sure there’s a list of shit I need to apologize for that’s so long, I wouldn’t even know where to start.” 

“The top, usually.” He’s quick to respond, and you have to fight the urge to give even the smallest smile. 

“The top…the top says ‘I’m sorry you met me and got dragged into this.’”

“Well, that’s a stupid apology.” He says after a moment. “You didn’t know what would happen when we were kids. If you did, I’d have many questions. One being lottery numbers.”

You quietly laugh to yourself. Eyes jumping from the roads, to your hand in his, and his face that still won’t look at you. You’re partially relieved he’s keeping his eyes on the road. 

“And I’m not sorry I met you. You’re insanely frustrating at times. You drive me to be a jealous mess of hopelessness plagued by unrequited love. But I’m not sorry I met you. Not even a little bit. I’d rather have you in my life than out of it.” 

You stare at him, lips parting with no words able to form. He’s confessed in various ways so many times now, and it feels like a punch in the gut every time. This time, however, feels more like a stab to the heart. 

“…it’s not hopeless, Jungkook.” You swallow thickly, looking away from him and focusing on his hand wrapped around your own instead. “And it’s not unrequited…”

“Feels a lot like it…”

You say nothing, the car stopping in the apartment complex. 

You barely even registered the rest of the drive home once he started talking. Your breathing was steadied, your heart rate was racing, albeit for a different reason, and you weren’t trying to escape the car. 

Jungkook gets out first, walking around to get to Ryujin sitting behind you. You quietly get out, watching him try to coax her awake, eventually giving up and handing you the keys before scooping her out of the car. 

You lock the car when he’s got her, following behind inside to the elevator and to the apartment, neither speaking except for random gibberish from your tipsy sleeping best friend. 

He sits her down on the counter in the bathroom while you grab her a change of clothes. He leaves the both of you alone so you can help her remove her makeup and do your best to take her through her beauty routine. She'd always go on about how she could never miss a day, walking you through each step for moments like this. 

What feels like ages later, you finally emerge from the bathroom, letting her change in private, and head back down to the living room. Jungkook is sitting on the armrest of the couch with palms running across his face while you lean against the wall. 

The atmosphere is awkward. You don’t know what to say, so you pull out your phone, remembering your spat with Yoongi. 

Y/N (3:35 am): hey. I’m home. I hope you made it back okay. I’m really sorry about what I said. You didn’t deserve that. 

You hit send and watch as it switches from delivered to read within seconds. The typing bubbles appear moments later. 

Yoongi (3:35 am): Apologize with pie. 

A shaky giggle escapes your lungs before you can catch it, and Jungkook scoffs. 

Your head snaps up to the sound, wide eyes and body frozen. He shakes his head, eyes cast to the floor. You lower your gaze back to the phone, trying to decide what to type next when he finally speaks to you. 

“So why didn’t Yoongi come with you to get Ry?” You look back up at him; he’s still trying to stay neutral, a stoic demeanor that doesn’t care. 

“Koo–” 

“I mean, it’s kind of a dick move to let a woman walk alone at this hour, isn’t it?” He crosses his arms, repositioning his stance as if he’s uncomfortable. 

“I didn’t want him to come with me. He insisted but I yelled at him…” you sigh, briefly looking back at your phone before tucking it back in your pocket. “I didn’t want him to get involved in all of this.” you gesture all around you, mostly towards Ryujin’s door and Jungkook himself. 

He stares you down, tilting his head to the side and even though he’s not directly in front of you or right next to you, his stare makes you feel small. It feels suffocating - like he’s hovering above you and you’re backed into a corner. 

His eyes scan your face, your bruised lips, the very light, barely there yet hickies on your neck as well as the guilty expression. His eyes widen, and the stoic demeanor is gone, replaced by one you can’t quite read, but know all too well.  

“It’s not just sex, is it? There are feelings there.” His question knocks the wind out of you, and you shrink down even more. 

“I don’t know.” the only response you can bring yourself to say that won’t hurt either of you.

You were wrong. 

“What do you mean you don’t know? Either you like him, or you don’t.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Ryujin’s door opens just as you do. She stands at the top of the stairs in the pajamas you picked out, and she looks exhausted, eyes swollen and puffy from crying. You rip your attention away from her brother when she mumbles your name. 

You rush to grab her hand, bringing her back to her room and guiding her to her bed. She gets in, but the tears start streaming again. 

“He’s really gone…” she whispers, pulling the covers to her chin. 

You nod, Jungkook comes in after you with water and pills for her to take. Ryujin shakes her head. 

“No. The smell. He’s gone. I could sleep because I could smell him in the sheets. Now it’s gone.”

This is the longest she’s spoken to you since before the crash. And you’re still scared of her reaction to your responses. So you tell her to wait, going back to her bathroom and forcing yourself to open the cabinet he took over when he kept staying the night, finding the little bottle you were hoping to find. 

You were secretly hoping to break into her room one day to find the bottle and keep it for yourself. But you kept reminding yourself she probably needed it more. 

When you come back, you tell her to give you her pillow, and she obliges. You take the cap off the cologne bottle, spraying the pillow lightly as it dangles in your hand away from you. You hand it back to her, smiling a little when she hugs it, taking a deep breath. 

“It smells like him…” she murmurs, laying back down, pillow resting under her head. 

“I know it’s not the same, but hopefully it helps enough.” You whisper, lightly petting her hair as her eyes close and a small smile forms.

“We should buy it in bulk. So it can always smell like him.” you let out a shaky laugh.

“I’ll get right on that, Ry. Now get some sleep, okay?” 

“Okay.”

You get up to leave the room, Jungkook starting to lead the way when a small hand wraps around your wrist. You turn to look at Ryujin who looks panicked.

“Y/n, you forgive me, right?”

You open your mouth to respond but, for what feels like the millionth time tonight, are cut off before you can form words.

“You do, right? You know I didn’t mean any of it. I would never. Please. Please say you forgive me.”

You say nothing, looking to Jungkook for help. He stands at the doorway, hands in his hoodie’s pocket, seemingly uninterested in this conversation. You sigh, turning back to her, gently grabbing the hand attached to your wrist to peel her off you, but her grip tightens.

“We’ll talk about this when you’re sober, Ry, okay? Get some sleep.”

“No. Not until you forgive me.”

“Ry.” your voice shakes, a piercing pain in your eyes as you can feel the tears forming.

“Y/n, please,”

“I…–”

“Ryujin, stop.” Jungkook interjects, both you and his sister looking towards the owner of the stern voice.

“Let her go. Go to bed. She’ll talk to you about it when you’re sober.” 

You both stay silent, your eyes glued to her grip on your wrist, hers bouncing between you, her brother, and her hold on you. After a few moments, she finally lets go, laying back down and hugging her pillow.

“Okay. Tomorrow…” she whispers in defeat.

“Tomorrow.” you mimic the word, pulling her blanket back over her to keep her warm before finally shuffling out of the room, walking past Jungkook, who closes the door once you’re both out. 

You run your fingers through your hair, steadying your breathing, so you don’t cry in front of Jungkook more than you already have. 

You both lean against the back of the couch this time. Both are dead silent as you figure out who should speak first. Your eyes cast down to the floor, watching his feet shift as he tries to find a more comfortable stance.

“You shouldn’t forgive her.” You look up at him to see he was doing the same thing as you, eyes to the ground. 

“What?”

“You shouldn’t forgive Ryujin.”

“Jungkook. She…she didn’t mean it—”

“No, y/n. Have you not heard the shit she’s been screaming at you? Have you not heard the shit she’s accused you of?” He turns to face you, his voice a harsh whisper. 

“Do you not remember how fucking terrible she’s made your life the last two months? You’ve had to fucking sneak into your apartment, change your schedules to be the opposite of hers, so you don’t run into her.”

“I…” your words stumble over one another in your mind.

“She’s my best friend, Jungkook. She’s grieving. I…her world just got crushed. What do you expect me to do? Just sever all ties with her and leave? Leave her to be all by herself? And what about you? You’re her brother, Jungkook. If I do that with her, I do that with you. And I’m not going to do that. Not with the two people that mean more than anything to me.”

Fuck not again. Please don’t cry again. 

“I’ll talk to her about it tomorrow. I won’t forgive her until I know she means it. I’m so fucking tired right now, so can we please just end this conversation?” 

The words rush out in a few short breaths, tears still threatening to escape when you look at him. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. His facial expression holds many different emotions. His eyes are sad, angry, desperate, and scared. 

“Fine.”

You fucked up again. Twice in one night. Way to go, y/n, you idiot. 

“I’ll head home. Good luck.” He turns away from you, but before you can think it through, your hand grabs his wrist like his sister did to you moments ago. 

“It…it’s almost three in the morning. Just stay here.”

You’re both staring at his wrist, captured by your fingers, and in the quiet, you give a small squeeze, pleading. But his next words feel like a direct stab to the heart. 

“Is your boyfriend gonna be okay with that?” 

“He’s not…”

“Please stop lying to me. Just admit there’s something there so I can try to move on, like really try.” 

No. 

Don’t move on. 

You’re mine. 

I won’t let you go. 

“Koo…” the name barely falls from your lips. “I can’t.” 

In the blink of an eye, he’s trapped you between his body and the back of the couch. Both hands, yours still clutching his wrist, cup your face and tilting you to look up at him. 

“You can’t be honest with me? Or you can’t admit there’s something there with him?” 

You close your eyes to prevent the tears, but they win, escaping down your cheeks only to be caught and wiped away by his thumbs. 

Your name is a soft pleading whisper on his lips, making you want to crawl into a cave forever. You can only say the first thing that comes to your mind. 

“Please…just stay.” 

You feel his forehead press against yours, noses touching, lips mere inches away from his. 

Just do it. Lean forward. His lips are right there. Just give in. You know it’s always going to be him. 

Do it.

But you don’t, and neither does he, instead breathing out a heavy sigh, pulling away from you, and unwrapping your grip from his wrist. 

“I can’t be your second anymore, y/n.” 

“You’re not.” Just say it. Admit it. Fucking do it.

“I am, though. If I wasn’t, you wouldn’t hesitate. You wouldn’t look at me with all that fear in your eyes. Tell me, do you hesitate with him?”

You don’t respond, trying to find the best answer.

“Your silence is so loud, y/n.” He backs away from you, heading upstairs to your room to grab the extra blankets and pillows you’d usually have on standby for when he’d stay over. He walks back into the living room, ignoring your hurt expression.

“I’ll sleep on the couch and be out before you wake up.”

“Jungkook…” 

“Stop, y/n. Just…end it there, okay?” you want to run to him, kiss him, tell him he’s number one. He will always be number one. Yoongi is nothing compared to him. You should. You should move your feet right now.

But you don’t. 

You hesitate.

And instead, he sets up the bedding on the couch before looking at you again.

“Goodnight.” He turns off the living room light, covering the area in complete darkness as he lays down on the couch. 

You sniffle, muttering a quiet apology before slinking away to the stairs to your room. Once the door is closed, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, screaming internally. You allow yourself five seconds to cry before opening your eyes and staring off into space in an attempt to silence the voices and the pain. 

It doesn’t. 

They just get louder.

You force yourself into your bathroom to turn on the shower. You watch yourself in the mirror as you slowly shed your clothing, piece by piece, like you’re removing everything that happened today with every fabric. Once you’re in your bra and underwear, you look back in the mirror at the bites and handprints on your hips where Yoongi had gripped you tight at one point. 

The painting of the music notes on your thigh. 

You feel sick. 

You quickly shed the bra and underwear, throwing them in the trash before showering. You grab your body wash, squeezing out more than needed onto your loofah and scrubbing away at your skin. 

You cry out in pain, not realizing you’re scrubbing yourself raw, trying to get the feeling of Yoongi off your skin. Anywhere he touched, breathed, or kissed suddenly felt like acid, and you needed it off you. You stay in the scalding hot shower for thirty minutes, trying to get him off your skin and out of your hair, muttering curse words the entire time. 

When you finally leave the shower, you feel like you are running on autopilot. You change into some clean pajamas, dry your hair, and drag yourself through a quick skin routine, playing some music on your AirPods while doing so. 

You sit on your bed, staring at your closed bedroom door. You want to open it and get on the couch with him, cuddle with him like you used to, tell him it’s always him, and just be with him in every way you can.

Stop hesitating.

You throw the blankets off you, forcing yourself out of bed and padding over to the bedroom door, opening it confidently and heading down the stairs.

But you stop halfway.

Your body stills as you listen to him lightly snoring, and you flash to a few weeks ago when he confessed to having trouble sleeping. He wouldn’t say why, he wouldn’t say if it was related to Kai, and he didn’t go any further in his explanation other than it’s hard for him to sleep lately.

So you back away from the doorway, leaving the door open, and crawl back in bed. You won’t be why he can’t get back to sleep just because you need him. 

An hour later, you wake up to someone crying. You sit up in bed, rubbing your eyes to get rid of the tears you assume you’re shedding. But there’s nothing there. No tears, just a puffy and tired face. 

You listen closer. It can’t be Ryujin. Her door is closed, and she’s out cold. It’s shockingly not you, which means it’s only one other person. 

Jungkook?

You throw the blankets off of you, quietly rushing down the stairs and peaking into the living room. He’s on the couch, still asleep but sniffling and whimpering. 

You tip-toe over to him as he lays there in his sleep, tears escaping closed eyes and body shaking in fear.

Is this what he was talking about?

Is this every night?

Why didn’t he say anything?

“Jungkook?” You try whispering his name, but he doesn’t respond. You try again, a little louder, and place a hand on his shoulder to gently shake him awake. 

Gently, being the keyword. 

It apparently wasn’t.

Jungkook wakes up terrified, smacking your hand away from him and cowering back into the couch in fear. 

“Koo, it’s okay. It’s me. It’s y/n. I’m sorry. I’m so sor—.” 

You’re pulled into a hug before you can finish apologizing, one hand grabbing your arm to pull you to him, the other wrapping around your shoulders. You instinctively crawl onto the couch, curling up with him as he buries his face in your neck, tears streaming down his cheeks as he hyperventilates in your arms. 

You hold him as close as you can, your legs wrapped  around him, acting as a weighted blanket. 

“It’s okay. You’re safe.” You whisper against his temple, wincing a little when the hand gripping your arm finds your back, grasping your shirt. His nails dig into the skin on the back of your neck. 

You give him a few more minutes to panic in your arms before easing his face away from your neck, cradling his face in your hands. 

“How often has this been happening, Koo?” His eyes close, shaking his head as he tries to bury back into your neck. You stop him, pulling further away. 

“Jungkook, talk to me.” 

“Almost every night…”

Not again. 

“Why didn’t you say anything? To me? To Ryujin?” 

He stumbles over a few words, trying to figure out the answer. His hands let go of your shirt before grabbing it again seconds later, as if he has to remind himself he has control and isn’t dreaming anymore. 

“It’s nothing.”

“It's not nothing, Jungkook, if you’re having nightmares again every night...”

“They’re not nightmares.”

“No?” You raise an eyebrow, “then what are they?”

“They’re just dreams, y/n.” He shuts down the conversation, and you have no choice but to follow along. 

“Fine. Let’s go back to my bed and sleep there, then.”

“I’m fine down here.”

“I don’t care. I want to make sure you’re okay. Can I do that? You do it for Ry and me every day. Let someone else be there for you. Please?”

He lets out a heavy sigh before mumbling in agreement. You disconnect from him, getting off the couch and helping him get up. His eyes meet yours, and your heart cracks at the sight. His eyes are red, eyelids puffy from the tears he never shows. You frown, wrapping his hand in yours, keeping it close as you climb the stairs to your room. 

He lets go of your hand as you both crawl into your bed, laying on your back to let him curl up against you. His face finds its way back between your neck and shoulder, and you can’t help the goosebumps that appear all over your body from his breath on your skin.

Neither of you say anything. Probably for the best. 

You fall asleep in that position, Jungkook’s tattooed fingers mindlessly dancing along the side of your waist over your shirt. One hand tangled in his hair, softly massaging his head while your other hand rests on his forearm draped across your stomach. 

For just a moment, you forget everything that’s wrong with this. For just a moment, it’s back before everything went to shit, and this was enough for both of you. 

When you wake up the next morning, which was really a few hours later, you’re still in the same position. The only difference is Jungkook’s legs have tangled up with yours, and his hand found a way under your shirt, lightly holding onto your side. His touch feels scalding hot against your skin. The breathing on your neck gives you goosebumps. Your hands are still in the same position. 

You’re about to wake him up when there’s a soft knock on the door before it slowly opens. 

Ryujin enters quietly; her eyes cast to the ground like a child knowing she’s in trouble. You know that look all too well. It’s the same look Jungkook gave when he accidentally broke the bottle of one of your more expensive paints, letting it spill all over the floor. 

Big round brown eyes, like a puppy pleading its innocence. 

When she looks up, her eyes widen at seeing her brother wrapped around your body. She shoots you a questioning look, and you have no choice but to quietly whisper nightmare in hopes she doesn’t get it confused. 

Her face softens with a frown at the realization of the word. 

“That’s supposed to be my job…I’m supposed to be there for him when it happens.”

You sigh, your hand moving from his hair.

“We’re all still trying to figure this out, Ry. Don’t take it personally.”

“I’m not… I’m… I’m not. I just feel like I failed him. Like I failed you…”

“You’re not failing any—” You cut yourself off when Jungkook’s head moves, pressing his face even closer to your neck for a moment before his eyes open. 

“Who are you talking to?” He mumbles, still half asleep. His voice is low and husky and it kills you that you have to ignore it, as well as ignore the way his hand squeezes your side as he readjusts to get comfortable. 

“Ryujin’s here…” 

He lifts his head to look around the room, tired eyes landing on his sister. His fingers dig into your side momentarily as the siblings make eye contact. Jungkook finally lets go of you, muttering a soft oh, and pulling away from you and out of the bed. 

“I’m gonna make breakfast…” he speaks softly, giving his sister a small hug before turning back to you. 

“Thank you…for earlier…” you nod in response, not sure what to say to either of them anymore. 

When he leaves the room, there’s an awkward silence in the air. Ryujin’s gaze is locked on where her brother was just laying and yours is on her, trying to figure out what’s happening. 

And then it hits you. 

All the times she’d come over after a fight with another friend, a disagreement with Jungkook, one of the few fights with Kai, or just when all the pressures of life got too much. She’d crawl into your bed just like Jungkook did and wrap her body around yours and fall asleep in your arms. 

You called it a Jeon Thing. 

You opened your arms up hesitantly, second guessing if that’s what she’s thinking of. But you didn’t have to wait too long before her eyes lit up a little and she’s hurrying to crawl in next to you, replicating the position Jungkook was just in, except her head rests softly on your shoulder and the hand across your stomach is playing with the fabric rather than touching your skin. 

You stay completely still, still terrified of her explosions. But they don’t come, instead she sniffles. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Hmm?” You have to stay calm. Don’t give in too easily. 

“I’m really fucking sorry, y/n”

“Be more specific.” You slow your breathing, making sure you’re not the one that explodes. 

But maybe you should. 

Ryujin buries her face in your shoulder before speaking. 

“For everything. Being horrible to you. Blaming you. Saying the shit that I said…”

That’s it? That’s the apology?

Jungkook’s words from last night loop in your head rapidly, and you’re speaking before you can stop yourself, sitting up and dislodging her, forcing her to sit up facing you.

“You accused me of killing my brother, Ryujin. My brother. The one fucking person I could always count on. The one person in my family that believed in me and encouraged me to do what I wanted to do. You called me a murderer. You said it should’ve been me, Ry. You said you’d rather I have died instead of Kai. You said that about your best friend. Me. Do you hear how fucked up that is?”

Her eyes well up with tears, yours already escaping like a pro, as she fists the blankets in her hands, scared to look up. 

“I…I’m sor—”

“Ry, I’m terrified of you. You know that, right? I have to fucking sneak into our apartment. I changed my schedule at school to avoid you. I fucking went to the studio last night because I never want to come home. I stay with Yoongi a few times after group therapy until I think you might be asleep because, as stupid of a decision that is, it hurts less than coming home to my best friend telling me I murdered my fucking brother.” 

Ryujin opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. She continues pulling at the fabric of the sheets in front of her as you watch the gears in her mind turn, trying desperately to come up with some form of words.

This was always her weakness. Being told she did wrong, being told she fucked up, and there wasn’t some easy fix. One time in high school, she was so sleep-deprived from studying the night before a midterm, that she mismarked every answer on the scantron, thinking the answers were for the question before. When the teacher told her she had failed, she lost all ability to function, too shocked to speak. You had to talk to the teacher to find out what was wrong, begging him to let her retake it the next day. 

But this isn’t high school. This isn’t a test she can just retake. There is no fix for this. The only thing she can do is accept that she fucked up.

The silence is deafening, save for the sound of Jungkook downstairs in your kitchen making food and the morning hustle and bustle outside. She keeps trying to speak, but it’s getting harder and harder for you to tolerate.

“Ry…” she stays frozen. “Ry, look at me.” You grab both of her hands, stopping her from potentially ripping your sheets. When she finally looks up, tears running down her face, you give her a tiny comforting smile.

“I love you, Ryujin. You know I do, and I always will,” you start, and she whispers I love you, too back, smiling through the tears. “Our bond is unbreakable, and you and I both know we will always be there for each other through thick and thin. But this? The things you said? Ry, I can’t just easily forgive you when you say sorry.”

“I…I know. But what do I do? How? How do I fix this?”

“You can’t. That’s the problem. This is something that only time can fix, and I wish that wasn’t the case. But I’m scared of being around you right now, Ry. Even right now, I’m afraid you’ll launch an attack and spew vile accusations at me.”

“No. I won’t. I won’t do that. Ever again.”

You smile, but it falters fast. 

“I don’t think it’ll be okay until you take the initiative to get help. Talk to someone, Ry—a professional. And stop drinking so much, eat something, design your pretty dresses again, work on the showcase, and take time for yourself. It sucks, it’s scary, and it sounds miserable, I know. But until you come back to being my Ryujin? I can’t do this with you anymore.”

Her eyes widen, hands gripping yours. 

“What does that mean?”

Suddenly it’s hard to look at her. You’ve been sitting on this decision for a while but didn’t think you’d ever have to make it officially. 

“I think it might be better for us both if I move out for a bit…”

“…no”

“Ry…” she shakes her head repeatedly. “We need to figure this out separately. I can’t baby you into getting help. And you can’t deal with me and my bullshit while you’re trying to heal. I’ll still be here when you need me. I’ll be here if you need help with your project. I’m not leaving, leaving. I could never leave you. You’re my person.”

“But where are you gonna go?” 

“I…don’t know. Maybe the studio?” 

“But there’s no shower there.”

Fuck. There isn’t. 

“What if you stay with Jungkook?” 

Your face heats up at the idea of living with Jungkook, but your stomach drops at the idea of being so close to Kai’s stuff. 

“I don’t think I can…”

“He’s miserable, you know.” Her voice softens, and her hands move out from under yours to be the ones holding on this time. 

“I think he’s afraid to be alone. He hasn’t talked about Kai unless someone starts the conversation, but he shuts it down fast. He’s so focused on you that I don’t think he’s realized how much help he needs. Maybe staying with him can help.” 

“I didn’t ask him to focus on me.” You try not to sound defensive. She knows that, choosing to ignore the tone. 

“We both know he didn’t choose to. It’s a part of who he is. You are a part of who he is, no matter what.”

Are you, though? Or is he a part of who you are? He could replace you so easily if you just let him go. You know that. He must know that. Maybe that’s why he wants you to tell him to move on. That you and Yoongi are a thing. 

He wants to replace you with anyone who makes him less sad.

Anyone but you. 

“Hey,” Ryujin’s voice cuts through your thoughts, your eyes looking up at her in a panic. “I see where your mind is right now. Stop whatever it is you’re thinking.”

“But—”

“I don’t care. Whatever you’re telling yourself to make yourself think he wouldn’t want to have you by his side every moment of every day is a lie, and you know it.”

You don’t respond, mind running a mile a second, and all you want to do is go back to sleep. 

“I…I understand if you feel you need to move out and get some space from me temporarily. I would never hold that against you, y/n. But please go with someone I know so I can know you’re okay. What even is a Yoongi?”

Your body freezes at his name. Of course she doesn’t know Yoongi. Of course she doesn’t know you’re sleeping with someone from group therapy. Of course she doesn’t know you went to the studio with him last night and fucked on your couch while you only thought about Jungkook. 

“A mistake. I think…” your gaze stays focused on Ryujin’s hands holding yours, eyes burning from the tears threatening to return for the nth time. 

“Y/n…you’re doing it again, aren’t you?” She’s careful not to sound judgmental, but you can still feel it. 

“No. No. I’m…I’m not.” You shake your head, shutting your eyes tight. “I’m trying not to. It’s just sex. But last night…I fucked up. And then you called. And then we argued. And then Jungkook…”

She stays silent, and it drives you crazy that you can’t read her mind.

“I’m gonna end it with him. Whatever it is. I can’t…keep doing this. I’m tired, Ry. I’m so fucking tired.”

“I know, babes. And I know a good amount of it is my fault, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

You try to speak, but nothing comes out as her thumbs rub back and forth on the back of your hands just like Jungkook was doing last night. 

“What if I temporarily move out instead? You stay here. I’ll stay with Jungkook and stay in Kai’s room. You can stay here and try to heal on your own terms. It’ll be less stressful for you. You don’t always have to be the one making changes to your life for others, y/n. Let us make changes instead.”

You finally look up at her. Both of you have tear-stained faces, but she’s holding a smile that breaks your heart. 

“Ry…” 

“I’m doing it. I’ve decided.”

You smile back at her briefly. 

“Are you sure you’re even ready to go in his room? I went to his studio last night and couldn’t breathe.” 

She pauses momentarily, eyes on the ceiling as she thinks. 

“I think…I think I’m ready. I mean… No one will ever be with something like this, right? It’s always going to be scary. It’s always going to hurt. Even the smallest task will sometimes feel like a punch in the gut, right?” She takes a deep breath, seeing you smile again. 

“I miss him. I think being around his stuff can help me.” she quietly speaks.

“Yeah?” 

She smiles, nodding. There’s something in her expression that is still broken. Something you must not know about. But you don’t question it. Everyone has their secrets. You tell yourself that she’ll talk about it when she’s ready.. 

She doesn’t let you try to dissuade her, instead getting off your bed and dragging you to the kitchen where Jungkook has put together a full breakfast. 

He turns to you both, eyes widening at your hand in hers before looking at you. 

“Everything good?” He asks slowly. You nod silently, letting go of her hand to grab a plate and scoot past him to pile some pancakes on with some eggs. 

“Hopefully soon, yes,” Ryujin answers for you, looking nervously at her brother. “But I’m moving in with you for a bit. Until we figure out how to be, I guess…” she copies your moves, grabbing a plate and scooting past her befuddled brother. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“She wanted to move out to put some space between us. I offered instead. I’m going to stay in Kai’s room…” 

“But…” he starts, but you interrupt. 

“But we haven’t gone in there yet. We’re gonna do that tomorrow morning. If you want to join, we can do it together. Maybe it’ll help you, too.”

“Yeah, JK. Y/n said you’ve been having nightmares again. And I know you’ve been sleeping on our couch more than your bed. Maybe having someone else there can help you?”

Jungkook stares at you both, sitting on opposite sides of the table with the same amount of food on your plates. Neither looking at him. Both making decisions without him. He grips the counter with both hands, pushing down every emotion. You almost miss it when you look up. 

“Jungkook? Are you okay?” You move to get up, but you hesitate, again, when he closes his eyes and nods. 

“I’m fine.”

Liar.

“Don’t you have group therapy tomorrow morning?” He changes the subject back to you, an easy task for him. It’s easier to focus on you, Ryujin, school, work, anything and everything but himself. 

Your eyes drop back down to your food, pushing it around.

“I’m not going.” You state, hoping he doesn’t question it further. 

But of course, it’s Jungkook. 

“Why not?” 

Your chest tightens, your throat closing in on itself. When did it get so hot? Are you sweating? Is that your heart or your brain pounding? 

“I don’t feel like going.” You try sounding confident, but your voice shakes, betraying you. 

“Y/n.” Your eyes meet his, begging him to drop it. 

“Jungkook, if she doesn’t want to go, she’s not going. Let her make decisions for herself.” 

“I’m not telling her what to do, Ry. I’m trying to help her.”

“Sounds like the same thing.”

Both of you, stop. Please. 

“It’s not, though. If she wants to learn to grieve and move on in her own way, that’s what she’ll do. You can’t control her.”

“Well, obviously, but—”

Snap.

Your fist slams down on the table, dishes rattling and silencing the room. 

“Please stop! Both of you. Stop talking about me like I’m not here. I’m right fucking here. Right here.”

You’re so tired of crying, of feeling. It’s exhausting. Every single little thing makes you want to cry. It’s ridiculous.

“Jungkook, I’m not going. I’ll go to the next one, and I still have my regular appointment with Dr. Adams on Monday. But I’d rather help Ry, okay?” You wait for him to nod in understanding before turning to his sister. 

“And Ry. He is trying to help. He’s been pushing me to do what I want to avoid, and I appreciate it. I’d still be curled up in my room if it wasn’t for him. So if he has to be pushy, it’s for a reason. Leave it.” 

She nods, and everything goes silent. 

This is why you need space. 

This is suffocating. 

“I have to get ready for class. I have to head back to the studio and pick up my canvas, so I need to leave in twenty minutes…” you get up from the table, rinsing the plate before placing it in the dishwasher.

“Thank you for breakfast, Koo. It was delicious.” You try walking past him, but a hand lands on your stomach, preventing you from leaving. 

“Do you want a ride? You seemed more or less okay with it last night.” 

You should say no. You want to distance yourself from everyone right now. You need to distance yourself. Everything is happening all at once, and you should say no, walk to the studio, and walk to campus.

But it was easier being in a car with him. 

 But you should say no anyway. 

“Okay…I’ll get ready quickly.” You whisper, walking past him when his hand moves. 

You hear the two of them whisper as you climb the stairs, but you’re too tired to care, so you slink back to your room. You grab your phone to charge it while you get ready, ignoring the notifications glaring at you as you plug it in and walk away. 

When it’s time to leave, Ryujin is already back in her room, making a list of things to bring to Jungkook’s while he’s sitting on the couch, keys in hand. 

The walk to his car is quiet. Getting in is just as silent, but he repeats the night before, grabbing your hand in his and holding it close to his chest through every intersection it takes to get to the studio. When he parks in his usual spot, his squeeze tightens on you, head lolling back against the headrest. 

He looks nervous. He feels nervous. His hand is getting sweaty while his grip switches between a death grip and shaking, barely holding on. 

“Jungkook?” You inquire softly, waiting for him to give some sign that he's okay. “Do you wanna come in?”

He exhales a small breath, shaking his head. 

“I don’t think I can.”

You shift in your seat, removing your seatbelt and grabbing the hand wrapped around yours. His eyes find yours, and you’re right. He’s scared. 

Is this how you looked last night?

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Koo. It sucks. The second you step into the studio, you’re back at the moments before finals. You go into his studio, and you fully expect him to be in there working his ass off on whatever assignment he has. But he’s not. And it’s like having to relive that night all over again. And it fucking sucks.” You sniffle, playing with his tattooed hand. 

“And I know the last thing you want me to do right now is mention Yoongi,” he groans out a small laugh, and the corner of your lips twitch into a smirk, “but he made a good point, Koo. The longer you hold off on doing this, on going into the rooms, reliving the memories with him, talking about him, the more it’s going to hurt you.” 

He sighs, closing his eyes. “I’m going to pretend he didn’t say that and that it’s just you being all wise.” 

“Well, I am all wise. We’ve established this many times.” You both grin, enjoying the brief moment of normalcy before he agrees to go in with you. His hand never leaves yours, but this time you’re the one rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand. 

When you both reach the the front door, you unlock it, letting go of his hand. You give him a second before he opens the door fully, letting him step inside first.

You watch him from the front door as he stands in the middle of the living area, eyes scanning every inch of the room. When he turns back around, facing you, his eyes cast to his studio room. 

You can’t decipher the look on his face. 

He’s so good at pretending to be okay that it makes it impossible to read him sometimes. He looks as if he’s dazed; his mind is far away from the studio to somewhere you don’t know. 

“You good?” You hesitantly ask, taking two steps closer to him. 

He blinks a few times, eyes finding your worried expression before offering a small smile. 

“I’m okay. I need to get something from my room. A lens I need for class.”

“Oh. Okay.” You nod, expecting him to move, but he’s standing perfectly still. “Well, I’m going to get my canvas and clean up really quickly since I left abruptly last night…” you quietly walk to your room, turning to see him finally at his door, fingers hesitating over the pin pad before finally putting in the number and walking in. 

You enter your room, your canvas still leaning against your old ones. Black and white still. Paints dried up on the palette, and brushes stiff as a result. You dump the brushes into a jar of water and the palette onto the desk, making a mental note to return later tonight to clean up correctly. You swear you see a hint of purple as you put the canvas in a tote after ensuring  it was dry. 

You turn and are greeted by the cat painting Yoongi was obsessed with. Should you still give it to him? Even if you plan on ending things? You don’t want it, and it would look good in a cat cafe. If anything, you could give it to the cafe directly. 

God, you don’t want to talk to Yoongi. But you don’t want to ghost him completely. And before the sex, he was actually starting to be a good friend and an excellent partner in helping each other through your traumas. 

You look at the couch, resisting the urge to deep clean every inch of it. Maybe a new couch. One that won’t make you feel dirty and wrong every time you look at it. 

You have to apologize. And you have to cut ties with him.

You have to. 

You’re just going to hurt him in the end. 

You’re so good at hurting people. 

You hear the beeping of a keypad, turning your head to the doorway before grabbing your tote, setting the cat painting aside, and leaving your room. 

Kai’s door is open. 

“Jungkook?” You softly call out, leaving the tote on the couch in the living area. You call out his name again, slowly approaching your brother’s room. Your heart breaks at the sight. 

Jungkook’s sitting on the small couch with his knees pressed to his chest and his arms around his shins. His head is buried in between his knees, but he’s silent. 

“Koo?” You try again, slowly approaching, moving some of Kai’s scattered papers out of the way, and sitting next to him. 

When he still doesn’t respond, you stop trying. You’ll sit and wait by his side, ready to be there for whatever he needs. 

The most important rule in helping someone grieve: never push them to grieve how you think they should. Just be there when they’re ready. 

A mantra of sorts drilled into your brain in group therapy.

His body finally moves, his back rising suddenly as he takes a deep breath before slowly letting it out and raising his head. He doesn’t look at you, instead looking at the room he’s in. The same way you did the night before. 

His face is flush, like he was forcing himself to hold his breath. His eyes are dry, and he looks exhausted. 

“How did it go last night, coming in here?” He finally asks, head leaning back to rest on the couch. 

You flatten your hands on the couch, sliding them back and forth to feel the texture. It’s a nice distraction to keep your hands apart and not claw at your skin. 

“I had a full blown panic attack. Felt like I was dying. Like my brain was on the verge of exploding, and I kept hearing voices screaming, and I couldn’t see.” You let out a nervous laugh, keeping your eyes on the couch. 

“Voices?”

“Uh…yeah. Like, like my own thoughts, but amplified. I don’t know how to explain it…I’d rather not try, honestly.”

“You don’t have to.” He whispers, a hand stopping one of yours and softly holding onto it. 

“How’d you get through it?” 

“Jungkook…”

“What?”

“Stop…doing that.”

“Stop doing what?”

“Diverting. You already know the answer. When I say Yoongi got me through it, you’re going to say something about how I feel about him, and then we’ll fight. You know it’s always going to be you in the end. I don’t understand why you keep saying it’s so one-sided when it’s clearly not. It’s just messy and complicated right now, okay? I don’t want to have that scene play out again. Specifically not here.”

He doesn’t respond, instead, staring at your hand in his, his thumb running over your ring finger. Your eyes flick up to his face, jaw clenched tight and eyes sad. There’s no sparkle in them like there usually is, and you’re not sure how long they’ve been so dull. 

How have you not noticed that?

“Have you allowed yourself to cry yet?” You hesitate to ask, but you have to. It’s been months since Kai passed, and you haven’t seen him cry since the crash or last night in his sleep. You want to be wrong. Please let him tell you you’re wrong. 

“No.” His voice cracks as he shakes your head, and you can feel your heart drop with it. 

“Koo. You have to let it out at some point. Or else you’ll be stuck and have those nightmares forever.” 

You turn your body to face him better, bringing your entwined hands to your lap. 

“I’m scared.” He shuts his eyes tight. 

“Scared of what?”

“If I cry, I’m scared I’ll never stop.”

“Koo…”

And that’s all it takes for the dam to break, tears streaming down his face as he begins to sob. He buries his head back into his knees and lets the floodgates open. You do nothing. You don’t want to. You want him to finally let it out and focus on himself and his own grief. 

So you sit. 

And you wait. His hand stays in yours as he finally lets go of months of emotional trauma, stress, and fears.  

You’ve only seen Jungkook cry like this once. It was after his parents divorced just before he graduated high school. He had so much going on, from finishing up high school to getting accepted to the same school as you and Ryujin. He had finals, projects, an internship, a part-time job, and a social life. 

All at the same time as he watched his parents argue, his mother packing up her stuff and moving out the day after his graduation. It became too overwhelming for him. He pushed everything down as far as he could and pretended he was fine. 

But you could see it in his eyes. Just like now, that sparkle was gone. He barely spoke, and if he did, it was about anyone else. He just focused on finishing the day and praying no one talked to him the entire time. 

Until one day, you both went to a street fair to celebrate high school being over. There were a few booths with carnival games and one that let you break plates. You dragged him over, encouraging him to destroy some ceramic dinnerware and let it all out. He did, but after breaking a good handful of plates, it was as if something in him snapped. 

You rushed him out of the booth, taking him to a darkened alley to fully cry in peace. He hated crying in front of others. He hated the idea of people perceiving him as weak. You’ve told him many times it doesn’t, but you still take him somewhere quiet and safe when you know he’s upset. 

He cried in your arms in that alley for thirty minutes, finally letting you take him home and having him fall asleep in your arms. 

You’re pulled from the memory when Jungkook’s hand pulls yours closer. You shift on the couch, wrapping your arms around him as he curls into your side. His tear stained face finds its home in the space between your neck and shoulder, his hands tightly grabbing at any part of you he can like you’re his lifeline. 

In a way, you are, to him at least. 

Just like he’s yours. 

He cries in your arms for what feels like fifteen minutes, random words stumbling out of his sobs, followed by questions that will never get answered and wishes that will never be granted. You continue to stay silent, only ever whispering that he’s okay, he’s safe, and to let it out. Every now and again kissing the top of his head when he grew silent, clutching him harder when the sobs returned stronger. 

Somewhere in the living room, your phone rings. You ignore it. 

Not right now. 

It rings again. You bury your face in Jungkook’s messy curls, focusing on the smell of his conditioner instead. 

Please stop. 

On the third call, Jungkook lifts his face from your neck just enough to look at you. 

“You should get that.” His voice is a hoarse whisper. Your hand softly cradles his cheek as you shake your head. 

“Nah. My top priority right now is making sure you’re okay.” 

He smiles. It’s broken and weak, but it’s there as he pulls away from you, sitting up straight and rubbing his hands across his puffy face. 

“I’m okay.” He mumbles behind his hands, “I’m puffy and probably need to rehydrate. But I’m okay.” 

“We can wrap an ice pack in a towel to reduce the puffiness. And there’s water in the fridge, I’m sure.” You mimic how he sits, brushing some of his hair out of his face. 

“Mmm. We should do a spa day. Once you and Ry are a little better, that is.” 

“I look forward to it. Full on facemasks and mani/pedis.” It's a soft whisper. You do genuinely hope there will be a time when you three can go back to normal. Or as normal as you can without your brother.  

“You sure you’re okay, Koo?” He nods, but you shake your head. “I need you to promise me you’ll stop blocking everything out. We’re all hurting. We’re all scared of a future without him. We’re all going through this together. You don’t have to always try to be the big brave hero.”

“But then what am I? I feel like I need to be something or do something so I’m not…so I don’t—”

“Remember that he’s gone?”

He’s silent for a moment, eyes dancing around his best friend’s studio where he’s spent countless hours pacing the floor while Kai was at his desk or on the couch talking about complete nonsense, complaining about Ryujin or ranting about your latest relationship failures. 

“Yeah…” his head drops, eyes falling to the floor in defeat. “I just want to forget. Focusing on anything else helps with that.” You stop yourself from reaching out to touch him again, instead placing both your hands on your lap, twiddling your fingers in place. 

“Jungkook?” You tilt your head to the side, eyebrows knit together as you focus on your hands, carefully forming the words in your brain before speaking again. 

“Kai’s gone. He died. I was there. I held his hand as he died. So, I understand wanting to forget that he’s gone and distracting yourself from remembering. But I relive that moment every day. I don’t have that same luxury you do of being able to forget. I wake up every morning thinking this is a sick nightmare and that he’ll be on the couch or in the kitchen stealing our food. But then he’s not. And I have to remember what it felt like to hold his hand for the last time. I have to remember watching them take his body away.”

You don’t even realize you’re crying until the feeling of Jungkook’s hands holding yours makes you flinch, causing the tears to fall on them. 

“So please, please, understand what I’m saying when I say how lucky you are that you have that option to forget, but also how ridiculous and rude it is to Kai to want to forget that he’s gone.”

“Y/n…that’s…I would nev—”

“He was your best friend, Jungkook. He always will be in a way. He would've been your brother-in-law once he and Ry got married. Don’t do that disservice to your best friend by trying to forget that he died. Forget the fights, forget the disagreements and all the bad moments you had with him. That’s fine. But don’t forget Kai, okay?”

He remains silent, lips shut tight, and eyes watering again. But he nods, squeezing your hands with his as a quiet okay escapes his lips. 

Your phone rings a fourth time, and you groan, letting go of Jungkook’s hands and getting up. You stomp over to your phone and glare at the screen. 

Mother (7) Missed Call

Mother (12) Text Message

Father (1) Text Message

Yoongi (3) Text Message

You put your phone on silent, slipping it into your backpack all the way at the bottom. 

The door to Kai’s room closes, and Jungkook appears behind you. 

“Was that Yoongi?” His voice carries no negative tone for once, no malice or anger. You shake your head, picking up the canvas tote that’s quickly taken away from you by Jungkook. 

“My mother…” your voice trails as you watch him walk towards the front door. He grimaces in your direction when your feet finally catch up to him. 

“Gross.” He steps out of the studio, letting you lock the door. You both silently head down the elevator and back to his car, where he waits until you both have your seatbelts on and your hand is back in his when he pulls out of the parking space. 

“What does she want now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to know. Probably asking when I’m gonna come back home and get a real job now that they’re left with the lesser child.” You scoff, eyes on the road. 

“That or she already wants me to make plans for Christmas. Which I don’t want to think about at all.” 

Jungkook smirks, bringing your hand to his chest at a stop light. It takes you a second until you realize you’ve made it several blocks without your heart rate skyrocketing. Your eyes have been watching every car just like last night, but it feels less stressful. 

Because it’s him. It’s always him. 

“Why is it always you?” 

“Hmm?” The light turns green, and he steps on the gas. The feeling of panic is still there. But you’re able to push it back down. You don’t say anything, and he doesn’t question you further as he pulls into the school’s parking lot. 

He exits the car first, helping you out next and putting your canvas tote on his shoulder. His hand finds yours again as you both walk to the art building in silence. 

“So when do I get to see the painting?” He questions, handing you the tote. 

“At the showcase.” You smile at his pout. 

“But that's months away.”

“Exactly. I don’t think I want anyone important to see any of it until then. It’s hard enough that I can’t see the colors right now. I don’t need other people seeing whatever mess I’ve made.”

“I’m sure it’s beautiful. Just like everything you create.” His hand squeezes yours, and you smile at the feel of his hand wrapped around yours. Your safety blanket. 

“I can’t wait to see your showcase next year. It’s gonna be great. You should use that one photo you took when we all went on that hike and saw all those stars.” You grin, the memory is still so bright and real in your mind. The meteor shower you wanted to see so badly that you convinced the three of them to hike up a mountain with you just to see it. 

“You and that damn mountain. You bamboozled us.” Jungkook groans. 

“Excuse me. You said you had fun and would do it again!”

“Only if you wanted to. And had a better reason. And without Ryujin. She complained the entire time. Even Kai was getting annoyed.”

“Okay. We’ll go back, just the two of us, the next time there’s a good meteor shower.”

“It’s a date.” 

You nod, but don’t respond. That phrase suddenly has such a bigger meaning than it did before. Instead, you focus on climbing the stairs to the third floor and approaching your classroom. His voice eventually breaks you out of your racing thoughts. 

“Do you want a ride home tonight?”

“I need to actually clean my brushes from last night. So I’ll be at the studio. Besides, isn’t your last class later than mine?”

“Fair. I can come get you after? Or bring food?” Your silence makes him panic, “or not. I just hate the idea of you out on your own so late…that’s all. I’m not trying to control you or anything.”

“No, no. I get it. Yeah. Come by after class. That’s fine. I just. I don’t know. Sorry.” You shake your head, gripping the straps to the tote. Confused, Jungkook opens his mouth to ask you to clarify what you’re saying, but the sound of his and your name from down the hall stops him. 

Your eyes find the source of the shout and land on Joshua and Jimin. Joshua glances down to your hand in Jungkook’s before shooting you a smirk. You let go out of instinct and readjust your grasp on your tote with both hands and avoid how Jungkook looks at you. 

“Hey, Jimin. How’s your second to last year so far?” You smile at him. His face flashes from confusion towards Jungkook to the same friendly smile you have towards him. 

“It’s great! Frustrating moments when my equipment decides not to function, but that’s expected. How—, uh, how’s your painting?” 

You can’t blame him for sounding hesitant. You haven’t seen Jimin since the funeral, and with the way everything that happened that day, you’d be treading lightly too. 

“It’s…going. I’m trying to change the way I paint. I’m not excited about the showcase, though.” 

“Oh, yeah. Taehyung’s been going on about it. You two have a lot to do, huh?” You smile at the mention of his boyfriend, missing the nights you’d invite them out to drink with the rest of the sQuad. 

“Yeah. I’m not sure how to get it all done in time. But I can’t wait to see what Taehyung does.” 

He smiles in return, and it’s suddenly awkward. You don’t know what you’re supposed to say next. Jimin looks just as lost, and Joshua is on his phone. Jungkook sniffs for the sake of making a noise. 

“We should go out to that karaoke bar again soon.” His voice breaks the silence, the three of you looking up at him. 

“I think that’s a great idea.” Joshua chimes in, “but first, we have a class that starts in forty-five seconds. See ya, friends.” He grabs your wrist, spinning you around in the direction of the classroom, dragging you with him. 

“Shua, class starts in ten minutes. Not forty-five seconds.” You whine as he sits you down in your seat, sitting next to you after going across the room and coming back with two blank canvases, setting one on his easel and the other on yours. 

“I know. But I needed to get you away from Jungkook so you could tell me why y’all were holding hands.” He grins, turning to face you once his stuff is set up. 

“This isn’t elementary school, Joshua. We can hold hands without it being anything.” You glare at him, slowly pulling your tools out of your bag, and placing them neatly on the table next to your easel. You grab a second easel, a much smaller one, and place it next to the big window. 

“While that is true, y/n, it’s you and Jungkook. Everything either of you do with one another means something. Always has been, always will.”

You look down at your canvas tote with a frown. He’s not wrong. That’s how you two are. Every action, every sentence, every thought. It all means something. Even if that something is meaningless to others, it’s the world to you both. 

“I guess…” you sigh, opening the tote and pulling out your canvas. Suddenly very hyper aware  others can see it as you set it down on the easel by the window. 

“Oh, holy shit, that’s beautiful, y/n.” Joshua says, standing up to look closer, “the colors are stunning.”

“Are they…?” You squint at the painting. Some colors are just barely visible. You see the purple a little stronger, and a bit of what you think is yellow? You’re still not sure. 

“Yeah, the way you blended the green with the—”

“No! Don’t tell me. I wanna wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“For when I can see the colors again.” You grin, actually feeling hopeful for once. Joshua smiles back, patting your shoulder and sitting back down. Before Joshua can question further, Professor Varon walks in exactly as class is set to begin. 

“Okay, everyone! Let’s get to it! The first week is done, and now down to serious business!”

The class goes by so fast you’re not even sure you registered any information in your brain. You spent too much time glancing between the professor and your finished painting. At one point, while walking the room, he stopped by you, eyes on the finished piece as he asked you to stay after class. 

Joshua packs up his stuff, saying goodbye to you with the promise of getting together for clothes shopping in a week or two. Professor Varon makes his way to your seat next to the big window once everyone is out. 

“So, how was the process?”

“The what?” You look up at him, his eyes still on the painting. “Oh. Uh, shit? Yesterday after I left I went to our shared studio for the first time…” 

How was that only yesterday?

“And how’d that go? Being in a place you used to spend a lot of time with him in?”

“Horribly?” You let out an exasperated laugh, “I went in his room, had a panic attack, made a horrible decision, woke up, sat in his room talking to nothing, and then finished the painting.” He gives it a beat of silence before he smiles. 

“So it sounds like it went pretty well.” You both laugh as you slowly put your stuff away.

“I guess so. It felt good painting…I just kinda zoned out for a few hours, and when I came back, it was done more or less.” 

“And what about the colors?”

“Joshua said there was green in it. I can kind of see purple, and I think there’s yellow. But I’ve decided to stop straining to see it.” 

“That’s a good idea,” he smiles at you, “just keep painting, y/n. You’ll see it again.”

“Thank you…I’m trying.” 

“That’s all you can do sometimes.” He shrugs, walking back to his desk as you put the canvases back in your tote. “And put that one in your showcase. Everyone should see it.”

Hope you enjoyed it, let me know what you think, any ideas on where it’s going or any questions. The next chapter is Ryujin’s POV and oh boy is that not gonna be fun to write. 😖

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[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Heart. Sick. (m, cold)

clearly the clicky clacky keyboard helped my writers block because here I am, back to churning out a 5k fic in one day lmao. this is a Greyson-centric one, and tbh it's a lot of exposition, and a lot of character development. but don't worry - Greyson is plenty miserable throughout 😅 I hope you guys like these ones that are a little more plot-driven! I honestly set out to write fluff but it wanted to be a drama fest. classic. enjoy!

Cw: male, cold, some mess, coughing, sick character galavanting about instead of just going to bed, implied contagion

“What is your problem today?”

Greyson’s head snapped up at the sound of his boss’s voice. He raised an eyebrow and put down his knife; this seemed like the kind of conversation that required his full attention. “What?” he asked, brilliantly.

Elijah crossed his arms. He had been leaning against the prep table, but straightened up to his full height when the chef regarded him. “You’ve been here for an hour and you haven’t even stopped in the office to say hi,” he said. Did he hear how lame and codependent he sounded? Yes. But that was their friendship – lame, codependent, and most of all consistent. Greyson always made the office his first stop when he got in; they checked in with one another, mapped out the day, traded stories from the night before if one of them had been off. Not having his morning gossip session with Greyson made Elijah feel like he was living in a weird, wrong, nega-dimension, and he didn’t want that to become a thing.

The chef huffed out a laugh. “Seriously?” he asked, picking his knife back up. “I have a lot of shit to do today, Lij,” he said. “Matt called out.”

“Oh,” Elijah said, immediately feeling stupid. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I am telling you,” Greyson said, looking pointedly up at his boss. “Right now.”

Elijah bit his tongue; this was exactly what he meant. Greyson wasn’t himself today. Matt calling out was obviously stressful, but the chef never let things like that make him angry, or short, or snippy. Something was definitely off – he didn’t know what, but it was definitely something.

“Did he say why?” Elijah asked as Greyson continued to chop. Greyson stopped short again and looked back up.

“Why what?”

“Why he called out.”

“Who?”

“Jesus Christ, Greyson,” Elijah threw his hands in the air. “Did you smoke a bowl the second before you walked in today? Matt. Did Matt say why he was calling out?”

“Oh,” Greyson said, turning once again to his prep work. “Yeah, some sort of flu thing. I said if he has a fever he can’t come in.”

Ah. There it was.

Greyson and Matt were what everyone in the restaurant affectionately called the plague rats – that is to say, they were the ones who brought any illness that was roaming around New York City into the restaurant, ad infinitum. They were the partiers, the club kids (though Greyson, at thirty-one should have reached the end of his club kid stage years ago), the chronic sleepers-around, and the past few months, it had gone from going out a couple times a week, to going out every single night. Hardly a month went by that the two of them weren’t complaining of a sore throat, a cold sore, a stomach bug that they’d been gifted by one of their many nights out.

And, of course, they never went out partying without one another.

“Did he seem okay last night when you guys went out?” Elijah asked, the question so pointed it may as well have been an accusation. Greyson shrugged, covered up the last of the prepped vegetables with plastic wrap, and slid them into the reach-in cooler below the prep station.

“Maybe a little off,” Greyson said. “He didn’t mention anything.”

“What time did you guys leave?” Elijah asked. Greyson gave his boss an incredulous look.

“What are you, a cop? I don’t know, mom, one or two? What difference does it make?”

Elijah recoiled a bit at the chef’s snappiness. “Christ, sorry, just trying to suss out whether he’s actually sick or just hungover.”

“Who gives a fuck?” Greyson asked, pushing his hair back into a small ponytail and tying it with a rubber band Elijah knew came from a package of asparagus. “He’s not coming in, that’s all we really need to know, right? Are we gonna track him down and fire him if he’s hungover?”

“You are on one today,” Elijah said. “No, we’re not going to fucking track him down, Jesus Christ.” This time, Elijah went for an honesty-is-the-best-policy approach. “I’m trying to figure out if you’re in a mood because you have extra work to do, or because you feel like shit.”

Greyson rolled his eyes and breezed past Elijah. He yanked open the walk-in and stepped inside, his boss hot on his trail. The chef grabbed two heads of cauliflower and a few bunches of radishes and nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned to see Elijah practically on top of him. “Stop following me,” he growled, pushing past Elijah again.

“Greyson,” Elijah said to the rapidly-closing walk-in door. He pressed the red button to let himself out, and once again tailed the chef to the prep table. “Greyson, I just want to know if you’re alright,” Elijah said, keeping a healthy distance. Greyson took a deep breath and put down his knife.

“I am fine. Matt will be back tomorrow. Please, let me do my work. Ple – hh...hhNGSTHH-uhh!” Greyson crushed the sudden sneeze into his shoulder, picked up his knife, and continued his work, not acknowledging it at all. Elijah bit his cheek.

“Bless you,” the older man said, accusatory.

“Elijah,” Greyson said, not looking up, “leave me alone.”

Elijah nodded, not that Greyson could see it while he chopped. The GM turned, walked back to the office, and pulled out his phone to text Matt.

Hey, he typed into their chat. Heard you’re sick, hope you’re getting some rest.

Thx boss, Matt typed back almost-instantly. Should be good by tomorrow.

Elijah paused before sending his next text, but then did it before he could question himself too much. Just wanted to ask...was grey acting weird with you last night? He’s totally on one today.

It took a minute or two for Matt to text back – the three bubbles popped up and went away at least three times, as though Matt was trying to figure out what to say but kept second-guessing. Finally, the text came through.

Wait, is chef there today? He told me he was going to call shelly in.

Elijah cocked his head at the phone screen; Shelly, the sous chef Greyson had brought on a month ago, was scheduled off today. Why would he call her in?

No, it’s just greyson today. Why would he call shelly in?

This time, it took Matt no time to respond.

That asshole, he said he was going to take the day off.

I’m lost, Matt. Why would he take the day off…?

Another minute of bubbles popping up and going away ensued. When the text did come through, Elijah felt his face flame. That motherfucker, he thought, slamming his phone down, screen-up on the desk and stalking back to the prep kitchen.

On his open phone, the text from Matt: he gave me this shit. We literally went and had one drink, then he said he had to go bc he felt like trash. Fuckin greyson.

Fuckin’ Greyson. That was for damn sure.

***

He knew he was coming down with something on Monday, but it was one of those excruciatingly slow-to-come-on illnesses that made you wonder if you were actually just crazy, and this whole thing was in your head. A sneeze here, a rogue cough, the sore throat that came and went with several long drinks of water – for three days, Greyson gaslit himself, told himself he was imagining it, took Emergen-C and chalked it up to allergies.

“Morning, boss,” Matt had greeted him.

By the time Thursday – yesterday – had come around, it finally hit him properly. Greyson woke up with a heavy feeling in his chest, his head throbbing, and a lump in his throat to match the one in his stomach. He sighed as he got ready, loaded up on dayquil, and headed into work.

Greyson had returned the greeting with a rough, “HNGSTHH-ue!” and a sharp sniffle. Matt winced as his boss unpacked his knife bag.

“Yikes,” he said, “I guess that girl from the bar last night wasn’t just doing a lot of coke, then?”

“More like the guy I stayed the night with on Saturday didn’t just have a naturally deep and husky voice,” Greyson said, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. “It’s the world’s slowest-to-come-on cold, I swear. I’ve been almost sick since Monday.” He coughed into his sleeve for what felt like a long moment, came up to see a water bottle placed in front of him. “Thanks.”

“No worries,” Matt said. “That makes sense, though,” he continued, “because I can definitely feel it coming on. Thought maybe it was allergies.”

“Sorry, kid,” Greyson said. “We’ll get you outta here early.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “If you’re here, I’m here, boss,” he said. The two of them had prepped in near-silence for awhile, before Greyson seemed to realize something was off.

“Has Elijah come back here yet this morning?” he asked, and Matt shook his head.

“Isn’t he off today? I think Mark said he had some sort of appointment.”

Greyson flashed Matt a little look and the sous chef blushed – Matt and Mark were very recently a thing, a fact that was clear to everyone in the restaurant and that the two of them were attempting to hide, as if any fling that took place within the confines of these walls was anything other than obvious. Greyson figured now wasn’t the time to bully his muse.

“Thank god he’s not here,” he said instead. “Elijah, I mean. I’m so sick of him giving me shit every time I have a stuffy no – NGTSHH-uh! Hh...HTSHH-ue! Fuck.” Greyson slunk away from his prep area to blow his nose, cough again, and wash his hands.

“Bless,” Matt said when Greyson made his way back to his station. “To be fair to Elijah -”

“No,” Greyson stopped Matt by holding up a hand. “We’re not talking about this.”

“I was just going to say, I mean, you have been out a lot since the whole… breakup situation.” The way Matt trailed off made it obvious that he immediately regretted bringing this up. Greyson sniffled, stayed silent for a few moments, and then sighed.

“You're one to talk. And besides, I don’t know how it’s my fault that every club in a five-mile-radius is a cesspool,” Greyson muttered, a lame attempt at a joke. Matt took the bait and huffed out a laugh.

“I don’t think Elijah blames you for the general grossness that is the midtown club scene,” he said. “I think he’s just worried about you.”

Greyson wasn’t so sure. Maybe it had started as worry; worrying was one of Elijah’s greatest passions, after all. But it had been six months since Greyson and Collin had broken up, and in that time worry had turned to annoyance, which had led to what felt like resentment. A month before, Greyson had been laid up with strep throat, thanks to a girl who he swore was trying to steal his tonsils with how deep she shoved her tongue into his mouth, and Elijah didn’t even try to hide his distaste.

“Seriously, Grey?” he had asked when the chef stumbled into the restaurant sweating, shivering, and unable to speak. “Who over the age of twelve gets strep throat? What’s next, mono? Chicken pox? Run the gambit of diseases kids get from putting their hands in too many people’s mouths?”

Greyson knew it was stupid to go out drinking and partying every night; he knew he was too old, knew it was irresponsible, he knew he should be processing the breakup instead of drowning every feeling he had about it in booze and sex. He knew. But he just couldn’t do it. Collin was the first person he’d ever really loved; getting over the coldness with which his first love threw in the towel that was their relationship was easier said than done.

He certainly wasn’t going to tell Elijah of all people that. He loved the man; Elijah was his best friend, his business partner, the guy he called first when something amazing or devastating happened, but this was not his strong suit. Elijah was basically a nun when it came to all things partying; he prided himself on never having more than two drinks when they went out, never sleeping around, and being married to the restaurant. Greyson loved Elijah, but he knew that the GM just wouldn’t get it.

So, the reprieve from being harassed about his near-constant menagerie of illnesses was a welcome one. He and Matt had prepped, passing a box of tissues between them the entire time, they’d gotten through a relatively slow service and, like every night the past few months, they’d ended the evening at a bar a few blocks from Elliot’s.

Greyson wanted to want to be there, truly he did, but he didn’t have it in him. Maybe it was the thought of being the only chef in the next day – Matt was well and truly coming down with the cold Greyson had come in with – or maybe it was just that the constant barrage of illnesses was starting to wear on his body, but the thought of staying awake for another minute, let alone another few hours, made Greyson’s head pound.

“I’m gonna call it,” Greyson said, shooting back his whiskey and placing a twenty on the bar top. “Take the day tomorrow, alright?”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “What about you?” he asked, coughing into the back of his hand. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Greyson said, elbowing Matt playfully. “I’ll call Shelly in, okay? I’ll take the day, too.” It was a lie; Shelly wasn’t ready for the responsibility of running a Friday night, not even a slow one, but if it made Matt take a day off, it was worth it to lie.

“Alright,” Matt said, wary. “Well, have a good night, Chef. Feel better.”

“Same to you,” Greyson said. “Tell Mark I said night-night. Give him a little kiss for me, too.”

Matt’s face turned bright red. By the time he’d collected himself enough to respond, his boss was gone.

***

“Greyson!”

Elijah stomped his way through the kitchen, on the hunt. He reached the back kitchen before Greyson could hear him, and the chef was blowing his nose into a rough paper towel looking caught, like a deer in the headlights.

“You fuckin’ asshole,” Elijah said, “why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

“I’m not sick,” Greyson said, sniffling and tossing the paper towel. His eyes, Elijah noticed now, were rimmed red, and his voice was low and gravelly. “It’s allergies.”

“Right,” Elijah rolled his eyes. “Contagious allergies? Allergies you passed along to Matt? For Christ’s sake, Greyson, I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you lately, but you need to get it together. If Matt’s sick, that means Mark is going to get sick, then my entire front of house team gets it. What do you think you are, twenty-three years old? You can’t go out every single night and sleep around with anything that has a hole and also have an eighty-hour-a-week job. You’re not a kid, Greyson. This behavior? It’s childish. And I’m fuckin’ sick of it.”

Greyson stood there and took it, his mouth in a hard line. “Okay,” he said after a beat.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” he repeated. “You’re right. I’ll – hh! HhhIGSTZH-ue! Huh! HuhhESTCHZUE!” The chef sneezed painfully into his elbow, cleared his throat, and righted himself. “I’ll stop. It’s childish. Okay?” his voice was nasal, hoarse, and tight, as though he was on the verge of tears. All the fight Elijah had brought to the back kitchen was rung out of him like a washcloth at the end of a long bath.

“Um,” he said, “okay. Good. Now, go home. I’ll call in Shelly, I’m closing the books, it’ll be an easy night. Go rest so you can be good for the weekend.”

The chef just nodded, not making eye contact. “Heard,” he said, packing up his things. He didn’t beg to stay, didn’t insist that he was fine. He just picked up his bag, nodded at Elijah, and said, “See you tomorrow.”

Elijah was so in shock, he didn’t even respond until Greyson was out the door. “Yeah,” he mumbled, blinking. “See you tomorrow.”

***

The pulse of the music thumped in time with Greyson’s headache; it was oddly soothing, if a little disconcerting how in tune the two were.

“I’ll take andother,” he called to the bartender as loudly as he could muster. The bartender nodded, brought the bottle over, and topped him off, smiling seductively all the while.

“This one’s on the house, love,” he said in a faint British accent that Greyson couldn’t decide was real or fake. “What’s your name?”

“You’re very cute,” Greyson slurred, all levity out the window three drinks ago. “But I’mb sick as a dog, and I’mb ndot trying to pass it around any mbore than I already have.”

The bartender laughed. “This job is worse than a daycare when it comes to germs,” he said over the thrum of the crowd and the bass of the music. “Pretty sure I’m immune to just about everything at this point.”

Greyson let a sloppy smile paint his face. “Mbust be ndice,” he said, taking a swallow of his drink, then turning to his elbow to cough. “I work in a kitchend, it’s just about as bad but I haven’t seemed to gain any immu – immu...huh...hhINGTZHH-ue! HTSHH-ue! HRSHH-ue!” Greyson pulled his white tshirt over his nose and mouth and ducked almost completely under the bar to sneeze. He swore under his breath, sucked in through his nose, and sat himself upright once again. The bartender tutted in sympathy.

“Poor thing,” he said, smiling slyly. “You should be in bed.”

He wasn’t wrong; after Elijah’s blowup, Greyson had certainly thought about doing the right thing, going home, crawling into bed and actually attempting to get better. It had only been noon when he left the restaurant, and if he didn’t have to be in til noon the next day, that was almost a full twenty-four hours that he could spend doing nothing except relaxing, resting… being alone with his thoughts…

Yeah, that wasn’t about to happen.

Instead, Greyson had walked forty blocks to Greenwich and had lunch at one of his favorite spots. He’d moved on to a coffee shop from there, writing in his little black notebook recipes that he wanted to try out at Elliot’s. After that, he’d stopped into a CVS and bought them out of dayquil; three or four swigs later, and he was on his phone rapidly texting anyone he’d slept with in the past two months to see if they wanted to hang out. They did not.

The failed attempts at a hookup sent him into a darker place than he’d like to admit, so Greyson decided four pm was late enough to start drinking, and he took a cab back to midtown to begin his nightly spiral. The bar with the cute bartender was stop number four of the evening; at stop two, the dayquil had worn off. By stop three, he was coughing every time he took too deep of a breath. This was the stop where he’d given up the facade of health and just allowed himself to be the grossest person at the bar – much to everyone but this bartender’s chagrin.

“Yeah,” he said to the bartender, “you’re probably right.”

The bartender winked and turned back to the other bar patrons, leaving Greyson to sit foggy-headed and cold, alone with his whiskey. He looked at the clock on his phone – 11:45PM. The restaurant was probably empty by now. He wondered if Elijah was still there, finishing up paperwork; he thought about texting him, then remembered the blowup again. Greyson put his phone away, pulled a fifty out of his wallet, and ducked out of the bar.

It was cold outside; it was barely September, but Greyson could definitely feel that fall was in the air. He didn’t realize until now that he’d forgotten his jacket at work. Fuck.

Greyson shoved his hands into his pockets, shivering – there was no way he was going to make it back to his apartment without a jacket. The chef looked up at the street signs and realized he was only a block or two from the restaurant. Fuck it, he thought, sneezing into his exposed elbow. I’m getting that jacket.

***

It had been a long shift.

Shelly was great, really – she was just young, and a little bit scared of the enormity of running a restaurant. Elijah had figured that out at about seven pm, when she was nearly in tears with just six tickets on the board. But they had gotten through it, with Elijah taking over expo and Shelly running inside middle. It was fine. Long? Yes. But fine.

At eleven, the restaurant had emptied and with it went the servers, cooks, and junior managers. Elijah finished up his paperwork, locked the front door, set the alarm, and sat down at the empty bar with a glass of whiskey – just him, the thrum of the heater, and the restaurant.

When he was feeling really low, Elijah would spend hours like this; just sitting at his bar, looking out into the dining room, reeling in what he had created. This space was his, a place that he had spent his entire life clawing upwards for, despite the drone of older restaurateurs telling him he was too young, or too poor, or too talentless to own his own place. Elijah hadn’t grown up with money, or support, or any kind of nepotism that would have propelled him into this field, but he’d grown up with something most people hadn’t – drive. Passion. An absolute need to succeed, despite it all. Sometimes he needed to remind himself of that.

He knew that no one could really understand his reasons for being as anal as he was about everything in the restaurant – not even Greyson, though his counterpart came close. Often, Elijah felt like he spent his life explaining himself; explaining why he wasn’t married or even dating at thirty-nine, explaining why things had to be done a certain way so that appliances and tables and chairs and glassware and plates would last as long as humanly possible; explaining why people should care about his restaurant, his vision. Sometimes, Elijah wished he didn’t have this fire inside him. This passion for his work. He knew damn well his life would be easier if he didn’t.

Elijah looked at his phone as midnight approached, thinking about the day, thinking about Greyson. He wished things had gone down differently this morning, but he know Greyson could be like a kid when it came to arguments – quick to forgive, quick to forget. Sometimes that made Elijah feel even worse; he wished the other man would scream back at him, give in to his baser desires like Elijah was so wont to do when it came to arguing. Greyson saved those more carnal instincts for after work, Elijah supposed.

It would be worked out by tomorrow, whether Elijah wanted it to or not. He sighed, drained his glass, and went to turn off the lights behind the bar – when the alarm began blaring.

Elijah froze in his tracks. Who the fuck was breaking into the restaurant?

The GM burst through the doors to the kitchen and ran towards the back, absolutely nothing to defend him in his hands. If he was defending his restaurant, he was doing so with his bare hands; he’d figuratively clawed his way up to this position, he would certainly literally claw someone’s eyes out if they attempted to take it from him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Elijah heard someone at the back door before he saw them. He slowed his pace when he heard the voice. Greyson.

“Grey?” Elijah called, turning the corner and seeing the chef clumsily attempting to turn the alarm off. Greyson was wearing just a tshirt and jeans despite it being near-freezing outside, and the way he was fumbling with the alarm system meant he was almost certainly wasted. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Greyson turned to his boss and smiled, lopsided. He looked like shit; he was as pale as his shirt, his nose was bright red and running so much that he had taken to swiping a hand under it every few seconds, and Elijah could hear the wheeze in every breath he took. “Oh, thangk God,” he said, moving out of the way so Elijah could turn the alarm system off. “I thought if that back was opend, I could just sneak in. To grab mby jacket.” Greyson coughed away from Elijah, an angry, productive sound that made the GM flinch. “Sorry,” Greyson said. “It’s cold outside.”

“I’m well aware,” Elijah said, turning away from the now-silent alarm. “What are you doing out? You’re supposed to be at home. Getting better. Remember, I sent you home twelve hours ago? What have you been doing, out partying? You’re sick, Greyson.”

“I kndow, I kndow,” Greyson said, yanking the rubber band out of his hair and letting it fall wildly around his shoulders. “I just… I… hh… huh! HuhhhIGTSZHH-ue! HTSH! HRSHH-uh! Fuck – HNGSTHHZUE!” The sneezes wrenched themselves from him, rough and painful-sounding. Greyson stood, post-fit, and pushed his hair back with a hand. “Sorry,” he said, his voice wavering.

Elijah sighed; it was too late to fight. “C’mon,” he said, “let’s go sit for a bit. I can’t send you home like this.”

He led them both back to the bar and, despite his better judgment, poured them each a whiskey. Greyson coughed and took a swig of his before Elijah even sat down. “Thangks,” he said.

“Don’t mention it.” Elijah drank his whiskey slowly, trying to decide what to say to the chef. After a moment of silence so tense it could be sliced through with a butcher knife, both Elijah and Greyson attempted to start a conversation at the same time.

“Grey, I -”

“Lij, it’s-”

They both stopped, smiled at the absurdity, and Elijah motioned to the chef as if to say the floor is yours.

“Ndo, you go ahead,” Greyson said, sipping his drink. “Besides, I cand barely talk.”

Elijah couldn’t disagree with him there, so he let out one forced little laugh and then sighed. “Grey, I’m sorry. Really. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“Grey,” Elijah said finally, turning towards his friend, “what’s been going on, really? You’re… something is wrong. You’re not… you.”

Greyson shrugged. “I shouldn’t be bringing every disease kndown to mban into the restaurant, but here we are,” he said, coughing into his fist. Elijah laughed in earnest this time, and the two of them lapsed into silence once again.

Greyson pursed his lips, downed the rest of his drink, and cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he said. “You’re right. I’mb ndot.” The chef sighed and turned his barstool towards Elijah. “It’s… it’s the whole Collin thing. It’s beend… a lot harder than I thought it would be. Getting over himb.” Greyson sniffled; Elijah was unsure if it was illness-related, or if the other man was crying. He was quickly given an answer when Greyson wrenched to the side – “HGTSHH-ue! Hh! HhhNGTSHZ-ue!” The chef wiped his nose on the back of his hand and cringed. “Sorry,” he said.

Elijah shook his head. “Dude,” he said, “you could’ve just told me you were taking it harder than you expected. You know I’m always here if you need to talk. I thought we were friends.”

“Lij, we are friends, but like… I don’t kndow. It’s weird talking to you about this shit because you don’t… I don’t kndow, fuck up. You take everything in stride, like it all rolls off your back. I’mb ndot like that. Plus, you literally ndever date - I’ve ndever kndown you to have a single girlfriend, let alonde break up with someone, and we’ve kndown each other for years.” Greyson pressed his hand into one of his eyes and groaned. “Fuck, I thingk I’mb getting andother fuckigg sindus infection,” he muttered. Elijah gave his friend a pointed look.

“The fact that you know off the top of you head exactly what that feels like definitely says something about these past few months,” he said, prompting a sharp laugh and the middle finger from Greyson. Elijah smiled. “You’re right,” he said, after a beat. “I don’t date. There was a girl, a long time ago – before I bought this place. I thought we were going to get married one day.”

Greyson’s eyebrows shot up, headache clearly forgotten. “Ndo way,” he said. “You’re shitting mbe. You? What was her name? Do I know her?”

Elijah laughed. “You don’t know her,” he said. “She was actually a chef, too, at this vegan brunch place in the Financial District. But she wanted kids, she wanted me to have a job where I could be home in the evenings…” Elijah shrugged, a fingernail digging into a groove in the bar top. “It just wasn’t meant to be.”

“Dude,” Greyson said, placing a hand on Elijah’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, man.”

Elijah shrugged again, and looked back up at Greyson. “It was a long time ago,” he said. “But I mean – I do get it. Heartbreak, that is. You can talk to me about anything, Greyson. And I’m not some let-it-roll-off-your-back, take-it-in-stride monolith, either.” He smiled, attempting to break the tension. “Obviously I get pissed all the time so just… talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. I want to help.”

The two of them sat in silence once again, neither really knowing the right thing to say next. Finally, Greyson’s body broke the tension: “HNGTSHH-ue! God, fuck,” the chef reached across the bar and attempted to blow his nose in a cocktail napkin – to no avail.

“Bless you,” Elijah said, and Greyson nodded.

“Thangks,” he said, slowly lowering his head to the bar top. “Fuck, I feel like such hot garbage. The going out every ndight thigg is definitely ndot for anyone over thirty.”

Elijah couldn’t help but cackle. “And you wonder why I have a two-drink-maximum hard line? I’d be dead on the floor if I drank like you and Matt. Welcome to old age, bud.”

“Yeah, you mbight be on to something there,” Greyson said, closing his eyes. “Definitely ndot gonna be hooking up with anyone under twenty-five anymbore, either. They’re all cesspools. HGTSHH-ue!”

“Bless,” Elijah said again. “Want me to drive you home?”

Greyson opened one red, watering eye. “In a mbinute,” he said. “I just ndeed to...rest mby eyes.”

Elijah pursed his lips to keep from laughing at the spectacle that was Greyson; mouth-breathing, whiskey-smelling, chest-crackling Greyson. Heartbreak didn’t look good on anyone, but on him it was especially rough. Within moments, the chef was snoring.

Elijah shook his head, stripped a table of its clean white cloth, and placed it over Greyson’s shoulders. Rest was rest, he figured. Elijah poured himself a rare third drink and sat next to his ailing friend.

“Sleep well, Chef,” he said, and took a long pull.

#whiskeyswriting #snz #sickfic #snzfic #coldfic #snzblr #snez #male cold #male snz #contagion #another long one gah sorry guys #if you made it this far i hope you liked it!! #& prompts are always open im always looking for inspiration #❤️❤️

[overwatchfics]

can you do Shimadas taking care of their sick s/o? 🥺

A/N: Reformatted this so it fit your request lmao sorry this is late, but hope you're feeling better homie!

Hanzo

He feels like such a mother hen, he takes care of you like no other

I headcannon that Hanzo brews a mad cup of tea, he'll put every ounce of effort in brewing the best cup for you

He won't get too close to you at first, but if you're ABSOLUTELY miserable he'll hold your hand and rub soothing patterns into your back and arms

He'll begrudgingly do his goofy fisherman's dance if you really need something to cheer you up

Or he'll tell you the good memories of his childhood growing up in Shimada castle, of how he'd seen Genji sneaking treats to Kiriko in their youth.

Ok enough, he doesn't care if he gets sick anymore, Hanzo doesn't like seeing you in any discomfort, so he'll get under the blankets with you and hold you.

He'll prepare some hot soup with crackers on the side.

If you have long hair he'll loosely braid it and card his fingers through it.

Headache? He'll lightly massage your scalp to get you to relax.

Even if you look like shit he'll still call you beautiful

I feel like he has a fondness for novellas or TV dramas and he'll quietly murmur under his breath Oh no she did not

He'll put these dramas on tv for you two to watch and honestly watching Hanzo's reaction is more entertaining than the show itself

He'll grab a cool wash clothes and wipe the sweat from your face and keep you clean.

If you have to go to the doctors, he'll hold your hand through the process

Both Shimadas have a massive fear of the doctor's office and you can't convince me otherwise

Genji

He can't catch any illnesses so cuddles?

Having a cyborg ninja boyfriend comes with its perks and one of them being he can control his body temperature.

Hot fever? That's alright he's got his cooling system on

Too cold? And blankets make you sweat too much. Butt warming technology activated (Like in those leather seats in cars)

Aside from this he panics if you have a nasty illness and he goes to Angela on how to best take care of you

Since its winter he'll get you involved in some silly arts and crafts, and you can bet he makes you a cut out of paper snowflakes

Can't really cook, so he'll order some take out (Mostly soup)

Genji has tried to cook a few times (the few times he has, it was so bad even Moira said it was unethical)

I feel Genji would also have a small gaming set up and he'd play a single player game with story so you could enjoy the story with him

I'm getting carried away with random Genji hcs lemme get back on track

He would buy you two matching fuzzy pajamas and socks so you could suffer in comfort with him looking a little goofy in his pjs

Not the best brewer but he can make a decent cup just for you

As much as he hated cough medicine himself, he'll make sure you'll take it

GENJI WOULD BE THE TYPE TO GO "Here comes the airplane prrrrrrrrrrrrrb!" and poke at your lips with the spoon until you relent

Kiriko

Kiriko would just pocket you. End of story.

Lmao no I wouldn't do that to you

Her Ofuda is primarily used to heal fresh wounds and usually trauma injuries (Bullets wounds, tears, slices, bruising, etc) not illnesses

When you fall ill, she could care less about getting sick since the fox spirit kinda protects her from trivial stuff like that.

Kiriko cuddles are on the table, she'll curl up with you on the couch and if you'd like she'll give you shoulder rubs (Spoiler: They're fucking amazing)

She would take you to the bathroom and wash and dry your hair while softly humming or singing a light tune

she'd blow dry the hair and massage the scalp to release any pent up stress and the vapor from the hot water would help the illness

Kiriko asks her mom for some soup recipes. A good ol family recipe is good for the soul

She totally has an apron that says "Kiss the Kamori"

She tries to heal with the ofuda to help ease any aching or pain you're in

She hates seeing you so miserable and does what she can to put a smile on your face

Even if that means telling embarrassing stories of Hanzo and Genji that they'd rather you not know about

Or blowing raspberries lmfao she doesn't care if you're sick, she's blowing them on your neck or stomach regardless. It really just ends up into cuddling

Once she quiets down, she'll just pull you into her arms and ask if you're alright.

#overwatch2 #overwatch #overwatch imagine #overwatch x reader #kiriko kamori #kiriko overwatch #kiriko x reader #kiriko #genji shimada #genji x reader #hanzo x reader #hanzo shimada

[oddbiscuit]

Now that the drama has ended I need to make an appreciation post about ha eungyeol. This boy is SO sweet. He doesn't even think before taking other people's burdens on as his own. The stress nearly kills him half the time but does he relent in how much he cares? Not at all, not until the message of the show finally comes crashing down, that you need to live your own life. The show does take a roundabout way of getting there, with plenty of trauma sprinkled in between, but it does get there.

He's also a complete mess. You can tell the life he's lived in order to keep his family safe ever since he was a child, in that he doesn't give a shit before doing something absolutely insane in order to fix things. Throw all social decorum out the window in order to get close to yichan and fulfill his dreams? Absolutely. Try to woo an ahjumma-he-doesn't-know-is-eunyu in order to salvage his parents relationship? Absolutely. Of course the stakes are high but he chooses the most insane ways to help. Like I would at least hesitate before jumping off a cliff.

Speaking of the cliff scene- that might be my favorite scene of the show. You feel his desperation. You feel how scared he is. And you see that he's still just a kid. The one thing this show did amazingly is show that despite his mature facade, despite the multitudes of burdens he takes on, despite how reliable he is, he's just a kid. He breaks down, he misses his parents, he misses the protection and guidance they offered. Eungyeol crying as he held on to yichan at the beach broke me. It was such a stark reminder that oh this boy is 18 and lost and has to carry all this by himself. How many other dramas show vulnerability like this? Or depict teenage characters as teenagers, who do stupid, insane things, and who at the end of the day are still figuring out life as they go, no matter how mature they may seem. It makes eungyeol seem human, and not just the typical teenage character in dramas. And it's not just eungyeol that's shown this way, all of the teenage cast feel like high schoolers - a bit immature and lost, but still trying their best

So I'm glad he gets to enjoy moments of youth he didn't exactly get in his own life. I'm glad he has all those memories with the band. I'm glad he meets eunyu who brings out the kid in him, who breaks through the mature side of him, till they're bickering and laughing and finally looking like the kids they are.

With where the show ended, I really hope he finally gets a sparkling youth of his own, in his life.

#twinkling watermelon #ryeoun #choi hyun wook #kdrama #ha eungyeol #as you can see I'm very passionate about this kid #he's just such a sweet kid #all of the main characters are tbu #rambles