#Before I knew for how long I'd be written off sick he messaged me this morning that -

[madiomens]

Hi! I actually have a request! Can we have noahx reader who is a musician asking him to produce her music? You can choose between fluff or smut buf I'd like to read about a relationship!

Hi! I actually really enjoyed writing this <3

You get fluff AND smut ;) It's long as hell but I hope you enjoy!

Thank you for requesting!

(I've never written anything using Y/N because I try to avoid it, but it is used once or twice in this since it was unavoidable. So don't hate me for it plz <;3)

Warnings: pure filth

Produce Me

I am not ok.

I am not fucking ok.

My friend's birthday was last night, and we all got entirely too wasted. And my drunken ass DM'd none other than Noah Sebastian, of THE Bad Omens, to produce my music. I gave a stupid, misspelled blurb about how I am a struggling rock artist who needed someone to take a chance on. Topping it off, I attached a voice note of one of my song recordings I had made in my makeshift studio in my house.

And he FUCKING REPLIED.

My hands shook as I stared at my phone in shock.

"Hey! I actually think your sound is sick and I would love to meet with you to talk more about you and your music. What if we met at the studio today? Say around 4?"

This can't be real life. I must still be drunk, right? Gotta be.

I blinked my eyes a few times and pinched myself to ensure I was in fact sober and that this was real life before typing back a message.

"Hey there! 4 sounds great. What studio?" I typed back, throwing my phone and covering my eyes as if it would erase what was currently happening.

A few moments went by before my phone buzzed and I was throwing myself across the couch to grab it. He attached the address along with a 'Can't wait' that sent me into a whole screaming fit. I looked at the time on my phone, which read 1:30 PM and I scrambled to my feet to find my belongings so I could rush home to get ready. I stumbled over the sleeping bodies spread out around the floor, gathering my things and rushing out the door.

I sent a quick text to my friend explaining what was going on before getting in my car and zooming to my house. Once inside, I took the quickest shower of my life before applying some light makeup and throwing on a pair of ripped jeans and a hoodie. It took everything in me not to throw on a Bad Omens hoodie, but I decided that would look like I was trying too hard. I grabbed my flash drive with my songs I've made and a croissant along with a water bottle from my fridge before flying out my front door. I slid in my car and gripped the steering wheel, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath to try and calm my nerves

He's just a regular guy helping a regular girl get her music produced.

He's not an extremely successful rockstar who I've had the fattest crush on for forever.

Totally normal.

It was a short drive to the studio, and before I knew it I was pulling up with 10 minutes to spare. I took another deep breath before climbing out of my car and heading inside the building. I ran my fingers through my still slightly wet waves before walking through the door, eyes instantly landing on the lanky man sitting on the couch across the room. He had his hood up over his head and was scrolling on his phone, sunk lazily down in the couch.

I tried to calm the pounding in my chest at the sight of him, taking a few moments in the doorway to mentally prepare before walking towards him.

"Noah?" I questioned as I got closer.

His head popped up and a grin slid onto his face as he pushed off the couch, putting his phone into his pocket.

"You must be Y/N." He said, extending his hand to me.

I nodded with a smile. "I am, nice to meet you." I said as I shook his hand, mine much smaller than his and feeling like a toddler's hand.

"Nice to meet you. I'm really excited to work with you. You have a sick voice." He said as he dropped my hand, grin still on his face.

My smile widened. "You have no idea how much that means to me. Thank you."

"'Course. Follow me." He said, nodding his head in the direction of a hallway.

I followed behind him down the corridor, walking into the room at the end of it. He shut the door firmly behind us and gestured to a chair at the large soundboard in the center of the room. I took a seat and he followed, scooting the chair so that his knee rested against mine.

"So," He started, messing with a few buttons in front of us. "I already set up the audio clip you sent me to play over the speakers so we can get a deeper listen. I won't lie, I already played it once and it sounds even sicker in here."

I grinned at him. "Let's hear it."

He pressed play and the sound of my voice rang out around us, my raspy tones more enhanced by the sound system set up. I looked at him in awe as I listened, Noah meeting my eyes with a wide grin.

"See?" He questioned as the clip finished.

"Holy shit." I said through a chuckle.

He nodded and rubbed his hands together. "Please tell me you have more for me."

I opened my purse and pulled out the flash drive I brought, placing it in the palm of his hand. "There's three finished songs on this. I recorded them in my makeshift studio, so they definitely don't have the production quality you're probably used to." I said, all of a sudden getting shy about my work.

He shook his head and gave my arm a light comforting squeeze. "If you knew where I started you wouldn't be saying that." He said with a chuckle.

"Trust me, I've heard it all." I wanted to say but bit my tongue, settling on a chuckle of my own.

The next hour was spent with Noah playing the songs I provided and praising them, making comments about little tweaks and twists he would do to them. He played with the sound board some to add in his vision, blowing my mind with how his own mind works. It came so effortlessly to him. He could imagine something and make it come to life with the twist of a few knobs and pressing a few buttons.

By the end of the session, it was pushing 10 PM and I was officially fully comfortable with him. We had a balance of joking around along with working on my music, making the whole process so much easier. At one point he had pressed record while I laughed at a joke he made and insisted I put it in one of my songs.

"If you don't, I'm going to. I might still do it anyways." He said with a chuckle.

That was quite hard to contain my excitement over.

We agreed to meet at the studio most days for the next couple of weeks to fully work on what I have created already and to create all the songs I had written in my home studio.

Every day that we met, Noah surprised me with different mixes he had worked on his own time at his house. He was extremely flexible with my work hours, always down to meet at the studio whatever time I got off work.

"Do you ever sleep?" I asked with a laugh when I walked into the studio at 8:30 PM a week later, coffee in hand for both of us.

He turned to look at me, stubble starting to form on his face, and letting out a laugh of his own. "Not when I'm inspired."

I shook my head at him and took my seat by his side, sliding the coffee across the table. He sighed and hugged the coffee to his chest. "You are an angel. Thank you."

I smiled and took a sip of my own coffee. "The least I can do."

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders in a side hug, causing me to rest my head on his shoulder to return it. The scent of his cologne filled my senses and sent a jolt of electricity through me. I blinked myself out of the trance as he broke the hug, clearing my throat and turning to face him.

"What have you created now?" I questioned, trying to calm the butterflies.

"You're gonna fucking love it." He said, excitement on his features as he pressed play.

It was my favorite song that we've recorded in the past week, but something was different about it. I listened closer for a few moments before gasping and smacking him in the arm.

"That's your voice!" I exclaimed as he laughed at me.

He turned down the song, letting it play quietly in the background. "You talked about wanting it to have background vocals that weren't your own so I thought I'd add some in to see how it sounds. You like?" He questioned, crooked grin on his face.

"Do I like it?" I questioned. "I fucking love it!"

He grinned and bit his bottom lip as if to stifle the size of his smile. "I hoped you would."

"Can I keep them on the song?" I questioned, poking my bottom lip out.

He chuckled and shook his head, pinching my bottom lip I had poked out. "I can't say no to that face."

I clapped, giddiness filling me up. "Noah Sebastian, you are fucking amazing."

"I'm alright, nothing amazing." He said as the song came to an end, looking away from me.

I could swear a blush creeped up his cheeks as he pulled his hood further around his face, hiding the color from me.

"No, I'm serious." I said, squeezing his arm so he would meet my eyes again. His cheeks were still a light shade of pink once he faced me again, a sparkle in his eyes and shy smile on his face. "You're amazing." I said more firmly, staring into his eyes.

He brought his hand up to squeeze mine that was still on his arm. "Thank you, Y/N. That means a lot."

I nodded. "Of course. It's true."

His eyes searched mine, hand still on top of my own and neither of us daring to break contact. My heart leapt into my throat as he slowly started to lean in, eyes darting between my lips and back up to my eyes as if asking permission.

"We shouldn't." I whispered, own eyes darting down to his lips.

He slightly shook his head. "We shouldn't." He whispered back.

"I don't want to ruin the working relationship we have." I whispered again, voice even softer as my common sense slowly started to chip away the more his scent wrapped around me.

"I don't want that either." He whispered, a huskiness taking over his voice and sending shivers down my spine.

He paused right in front of my face, lips barely ghosting against mine as we stared into each other's eyes. Our breathing sped up and mingled together, the air around us thick with tension as neither of us dared to make the move but both wanting so badly to do so.

We stared into each other's eyes a few more moments before he spoke up. "Fuck it."

He pressed his lips against mine, pulling my wheeled chair closer to him so that his knees were on either side of mine. Butterflies exploded throughout my body as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, his own snaking around my waist. I pressed my body flush against his as I opened my mouth to let his tongue tangle with mine, the taste of him filling my taste buds and causing my core to throb. I stood up so that I could straddle him in his chair, my lips never leaving his. He brought a hand up to grip the hair at the nape of my neck and causing me to moan into our kiss at the feeling. I pushed the hood off his head so that I could tangle my fingers through his hair, lightly pulling and causing his own moan to escape him.

I pulled back breathlessly, placing my hands on his cheeks. "What are we doing?" I questioned.

He shook his head, lips swollen. "I don't know. But I don't want to stop."

"God, me either." I said before slamming my lips back onto his.

He picked us up, causing me to tightly wrap my legs around his waist as he carried us to the leather couch on the back wall of the room. He sat down so that I was straddling him, his hands resting on my ass and giving it a squeeze. I ground my hips into his, the feeling of his growing erection sending a shockwave through my core. He let out a deep moan as I did this, moving my ass so that I did it again. He brought a hand to the front of my leggings and slipped it underneath the waistband, landing on my bare clit as I decided to forego panties today. I gasped against his lips, breaking the kiss so that our lips were brushing against each other's.

"Is this ok?" He questioned breathlessly, finger resting on my clit.

I nodded, eyes meeting his as my mouth hung open. "More than ok." I breathed out.

His finger started to circle my clit, causing my eyes to close as my head dropped backwards. A moan escaped me while his finger magically worked on me, easily sliding throughout my arousal.

"God, you're so wet." He breathed out huskily, placing a trail of hot kisses down my neck.

I circled my hips against his finger, the pit in my stomach growing faster than I'd ever experienced before. I tangled my hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling tightly. I began to loosen my grip in worry that I was hurting him but paused when a moan escaped him when I pulled tightly. My moans got louder and I smacked a hand over my mouth to muffle them, worrying anyone else in the building would hear.

"The studio is soundproof. Let me hear those pretty sounds." He said against my neck, biting down on the skin.

I dropped my hand from my mouth and gripped his shoulder tightly, hips still circling his fingers. My moans sped up as my orgasm quickly built, my release getting closer and closer.

"Noah, you're gonna make me cum." I moaned out, bringing my head forward to rest on top of his.

He brought his free hand up to grip my chin, raising it so he could meet my eyes. "Cum for me. Let it all go, angel."

My brows furrowed and my jaw went slack as I was on the brink of my orgasm, hips speeding up as his finger did the same. My moans hit a higher pitch before my orgasm exploded, causing me to toss my head back and cry out at the pleasure coursing through my body.

"That'a girl." He praised, placing more kisses on my neck.

I brought my head forward, resting my forehead against his as my chest heaved and he worked me through my high. My body twitched against his while his finger slowly circled my sensitive clit, causing me to grip his shoulders tightly. My eyes slid shut while I took deep breaths to return my breathing to normal and he peppered kisses against my cheeks before landing on my lips. He broke the kiss and pulled his hand out of my pants, licking his fingers clean of my arousal. I rolled my bottom lip into my mouth and stifled a moan at the sight before grabbing his face and pressing my lips onto his, tasting myself on his tongue.

"Fuck me, Noah." I mumbled against his lips.

He growled into the kiss and flip us so that I was on my back and he was hovering above me. He stood up to pull his shirt off along with his pants and I did the same, drinking in the sight of his naked body. My eyes dropped to his erection, precum gathering on the tip as he slid his hand down his length.

My core throbbed at the size of him and I reached my hand in his direction. He walked closer and I grabbed his erection, sliding my hand up and down while using my thumb to smear the precum down the length of him. A soft moan escaped him before he crawled on top of me, pressing his lips to mine.

"Are you.." He mumbled against my lips, almost unable to finish his sentence.

"I'm clean and on birth control." I mumbled back, reaching between us to rub my thumb over the tip of his dick.

"I'm clean too." He said, kissing me harder.

I kissed him back, rubbing my thumb back and forth and causing him to moan against my lips. "Then get inside of me."

Those words were all it took for him to slide his length between my lips before sliding all the way into me, my arousal making it easy for him to fully enter me. We broke the kiss to gasp at the feeling, my legs coming up to wrap around his waist.

"Noah." I breathed out, placing my hands on his cheeks. "Don't go easy."

His eyes darkened as I said this. He pulled his hips back before slamming them into mine, causing me to cry out in pleasure. He placed his hands on my hips and squeezed hard as he began thrusting into me harshly, undoubtedly leaving bruises behind for later. His name fell from my lips in moans over and over the more he thrust into me. He leaned back and pulled my legs up so that they rested over his shoulders, squeezing my knees together. I gasped at the new angle, his thrusts perfectly hitting my g spot and my legs rubbing together stimulating my clit.

"Fuck." I moaned out, tossing my head back into the couch. I squeezed his thighs with my hands, nails digging into his tattooed skin.

"You feel so fucking good." He moaned, placing a kiss then a bite on my ankle.

"God, you're making me feel so good." I said, opening my eyes to look up at him.

The more he thrust into me the more my second orgasm built up, turning me into a moaning mess beneath him.

"You're gonna cum again, I can feel it." He groaned, thrusts staying at a steady pace. I nodded as my moans sped up, eyes squeezing shut. "Let go again. You can do it."

My breathing sped up before I was screaming his name, my second orgasm of the night crashing over me like a tidal wave. His thrusts slowed down to work me through my high again, body twitching underneath him.

"Fuck." I breathed out, eyes opening back up to meet his.

He smirked and leaned down to kiss me, my legs draped across his shoulders. "Good girl." He said against my lips before starting thrusting into me again.

My knees were to my chest and ankles over his shoulders as he kissed me, his thrusts becoming sloppier as his own orgasm crept up on him.

"I'm so fucking close." He growled against my lips, hand coming up to squeeze my neck.

My mouth dropped open as he squeezed me, more pleasure shooting through my body. "Cum for me, then." I breathed out, eyes locked onto his.

His brows furrowed. "Goddamn, you feel so good." He whined.

I bit my bottom lip as I watched his face contort in pleasure, a few more sloppy thrusts into me before he was pulling out and cumming on my stomach. Whines and whimpers mixed with his moans escaped him, his eyes rolling back as his body shook with his orgasm. I drank in the sight of him coming undone between my legs, committing everything to memory.

He sighed and dropped his head once his high calmed down, placing a kiss on my ankle. He slowly lowered my legs so he didn't hurt me before grabbing a few tissues from the table beside us to clean both of us off. He squeezed himself between me and the couch, turning me on my side so that we were face to face and his arm was draped across my waist.

"Hi." He breathed out.

I giggled, pushing the hair off of his forehead. "Hi."

"That is not how I expected tonight to go." He said, eyes shut in exhaustion.

I chewed on the inside of my lip to stifle the smile that threatened to slide onto my face. "Are you mad about it?"

His eyes popped open as he quickly shook his head no, causing me to laugh. "Not at all. I wouldn't be mad if it happened again, either."

I grinned and pressed my lips onto his.

"Me either."

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian smut #bad omens #I AM NOT OK ANON

[toomanyrobins2]

I'm A Beast

Summary: An orphan all her life, Y/N is simply too old to remain at The Bowery Home any longer. That is where an anonymous patron has swooped in to send her off to college and all he requires…a monthly letter of her academic progress.

Based off the book and musical “Daddy Long Legs”

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

last part // series masterlist // next part

2nd April 

Dear Batman, 

I am a BEAST. Please forget about that dreadful letter I sent you last week--I was feeling terribly lonely and miserable and sore-throaty the night I wrote. I didn't know it, but I was just sickening for tonsillitis and grippe, and lots of things mixed. I'm in the infirmary now, and have been here for six days; this is the first time they would let me sit up and have a pen and paper. The head nurse is very bossy. But I've been thinking about it all the time and I shan't get well until you forgive me. 

I have a bandage tied around my head in rabbit's ears. It’s thoroughly pitiful looking. Doesn't that arouse your sympathy? I am having sublingual gland swelling. And I've been studying physiology all the year without ever hearing of sublingual glands. How futile a thing is education! I can't write anymore; I get rather shaky when I sit up too long. Please forgive me for being impertinent and ungrateful.

Yours with love and many, many apologies, 

Y/N

THE INFIRMARY  

4th April 

Dearest Batman,

I don’t think it's possible to feel more guilty than I do now that I am on the mend. I have written the harshest words to the man who I owe everything. And now, on my bedside table, sit the most beautiful bouquet I have never set my eyes on! 

And not only did I receive flowers, but a note as well! You are not bald! The joy I feel may eclipse my guilt entirely!

Yesterday evening just towards dark, when I was sitting up in bed looking out at the rain and feeling awfully bored with life in a great institution, the nurse appeared with a long white box addressed to me, and filled with the most beautiful, colorful bouquet. And much nicer still, it contained a card with a message written in a funny little uphill backhand (but one which shows a great deal of character). Thank you a thousand times. Your flowers make the first real, true present I ever received in my life. If you want to know what a baby I am I lay down and cried because I was so happy.

Now that I am sure you read my letters, I'll make them much more interesting, so they'll be worth keeping in a safe with red tape around them--only please take out that dreadful one and burn it up. I'd hate to think that you ever read it over. Thank you for making a very sick, cross, miserable Freshman cheerful. Probably you have lots of loving family and friends, and you don't know what it feels like to be alone. But I do. To make up for my behavior, I have a secret I've been keeping from you. I hope you won’t take everything away from me, but I feel so awful I must find a way to make it right. 

Goodbye--I'll promise never to be horrid again because now I know you're a real person; also I'll promise never to bother you with any more questions. Do you still hate girls? 

Yours forever, 

Y/N

Bruce felt a weight lift from his chest as he read the letter. As soon as he saw the sign offs and her sending him love, it was a relief after a week of headaches. Y/N must have written the first letter before the flowers had reached her, because if there was one thing Bruce knew, she would have gushed…or at least he hoped she would. Instead of sending Alfred out to fetch them, he found himself at a flower shop. He had studied the language of flowers and had carefully crafted a message to her. Purple hyacinths for regret and blue for making peace. The lily of the valley was symbolic of his humility and hope that Y/N would return to happiness. Yellow roses showed his hope of friendship and the one flower he was nervous about: pink carnation. The message was never forget you and Bruce was worried it was too intimate a message. While Y/N may not know what he was saying or that he was even communicating, Bruce was reaching out in all of his stunted emotional intelligence.

8th hour, Monday

Dear Batman,

I hope you aren't the Trustee who sat on the toad? It went off—I was told—with quite a pop, so probably he was a fatter Trustee. 

Do you remember the little dugout places with gratings over them by the laundry windows in the Bowery Home? Every spring when the frog season opened, we used to form a collection of toads and keep them in those window holes; and occasionally they would spill over into the laundry, causing a very pleasurable commotion on wash days. We were severely punished for our activities in this direction, but in spite of all discouragement the toads would collect.

And one day—well, I won't bore you with particulars—but somehow, one of the fattest, biggest, juiciest toads got into one of those big leather arm chairs in the Trustees' room, and that afternoon at the Trustees' meeting—But I dare say you were there and recall the rest?

Looking back dispassionately after a period of time, I will say that punishment was merited, and—if I remember rightly—adequate. I don't know why I am in such a reminiscent mood except that spring and the reappearance of toads always awakens the old acquisitive instinct. The only thing that keeps me from starting a collection is the fact that no rule exists against it.

Bruce remembered that particular incident fondly. Thankfully, the trustee had not been he. It had been Thomas Elliot who had the misfortune of the toad. Knowing that Y/N had been part in that attack on the odious man had a massive smile growing on Bruce’s face. He returned to the letter, hoping to hear more about her day. 

After chapel, Thursday

What do you think is my favorite book? Just now, I mean; I change every three days. Wuthering Heights. Emily Bronte was quite young when she wrote it, and had never been outside of Haworth churchyard. She had never known any men in her life; how could she imagine a man like Heathcliffe?

I couldn't do it, and I'm quite young and never outside the John Grier Asylum—I've had every chance in the world. Sometimes a dreadful fear comes over me that I'm not a genius. Will you be awfully disappointed, if I don't turn out to be a great author? In the spring when everything is so beautiful and green and budding, I feel like turning my back on lessons, and running away to play with the weather. There are such lots of adventures out in the fields! It's much more entertaining to live books than to write them.

“AHHHHHH!”

That was a shriek which brought Harriet and Babs and (for a disgusted moment) the Senior from across the hall. It was caused by a massivecentipede. Just as I had finished the last sentence and was thinking what to say next, it fell off the ceiling and landed at my side. I tipped two cups off the tea table in trying to get away. Barbs whacked it with the back of my hair brush—which I shall never be able to use again—and killed the front end, but the rear fifty feet ran under the bureau and escaped. This dormitory, owing to its age and ivy-covered walls, is full of centipedes. They are dreadful creatures. I'd rather find a tiger under the bed.

Friday, 9.30 p.m.

Such a lot of troubles! I didn't hear the rising bell this morning, then I broke my shoestring while I was hurrying to dress and dropped my collar button down my neck. I was late for breakfast and also for the first-hour recitation. I forgot to take any blotting paper and my fountain pen leaked. 

In trigonometry the Professor and I had a disagreement touching a little matter of logarithms. On looking it up, I find that she was right. We had mutton stew and pie-plant for lunch—hate 'em both; they taste like the asylum. The post brought me nothing but bills (though I must say that I never do get anything else; my family are not the kind that write). In English class this afternoon we had an unexpected written lesson. This was it:

I asked no other thing, No other was denied. I offered being for it; The mighty merchant smiled.

Brazil? He twirled a button Without a glance my way: “But, madam, is there nothing else That we can show today?”

That is a poem. I don't know who wrote it or what it means. It was simply printed out on the blackboard when we arrived and we were ordered to comment upon it. When I read the first verse I thought I had an idea—The Mighty Merchant was a divinity who distributes blessings in return for virtuous deeds—but when I got to the second verse and found him twirling a button, it seemed a blasphemous supposition, and I hastily changed my mind. The rest of the class was in the same predicament; and there we sat for three-quarters of an hour with blank paper and equally blank minds. Getting an education is an awfully wearing process!

But this didn't end the day. There's worse to come.

It rained so we couldn't play golf, but had to go to the gymnasium instead. The girl next to me banged my elbow with an club. I got home to find that the box with my new blue spring dress had come, and the skirt was so tight that I couldn't sit down. Friday is sweeping day, and the maid had mixed all the papers on my desk. We had “tombstone'' for dessert (milk and gelatin flavored with vanilla). We were kept in the chapel twenty minutes later than usual to listen to a speech about feminine women. And then—just as I was settling down with a sigh of well-earned relief to The Portrait of a Lady, a girl named Ackerly, a dough-faced, deadly, unintermittently stupid girl, who sits next to me in Latin because her name begins with A (I wish Mother Waller had named me Zabriski), came to ask if Monday's lesson commenced at paragraph 69 or 70, and stayed ONE HOUR. She has just gone.

Did you ever hear of such a discouraging series of events? It isn't the big troubles in life that require character. Anybody can rise to a crisis and face a crushing tragedy with courage, but to meet the petty hazards of the day with a laugh—I really think that requires spirit.

It's the kind of character that I am going to develop. I am going to pretend that all life is just a game which I must play as skilfully and fairly as I can. If I lose, I am going to shrug my shoulders and laugh—also if I win. Anyway, I am going to be a sport. You will never hear me complain again, Batsy dear, because Harriett wears silk stockings and centipedes drop off the wall.

Yours ever,

Y/N

P.s. Answer soon. How am I to know what to read if I don’t know your favorite book?

@inluvwithladybug

@pierres-new-spectacles

@kity-k4t

#toomanyrobins #batman x reader #Batman #Batman imagine #Bruce Wayne #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #battison #battison imagine #battison x reader #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson imagine #Robert Pattinson #✉️ #batfamily #batfam #batfamily imagine #batfam imagine

[sidhewrites]

Chapter 7! We get to meet Josie, but, more importantly, we get to meet Renfield. Cat Incoming!

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I nearly slip and fall in the mud on my way out of the graveyard, stopping just long enough to let a part-timer know I was heading out for a bit before sprinting through the gate, past the apartment block and into downtown to Mean Mug. 

She's sat with two coffees at our table, the one we'd spent so long talking and laughing and staring into each other's eyes. But today is just one more failure in a pattern of [not being on time.] I don't know how it happens. I swear I try, but any time we make plans, I forget, or I get distracted, and I show up late.

I'm not going to pretend I'm the only wronged party here. Josie was the one who pulled the plug on our relationship, and I'm trying not to blame her for it. But I also see the way she purses her lips and checks her phone -- that hint of frustration she tries to subdue until it festers into bitterness -- and it sparks an old frustration in me that I have to fight back.

I swallow it. We're being civil today. I swallow my anger and waltz in with a smile. "What do you know, Jo?"

"Hey, Kaz." She looks at me with an uncertain smile that fades quickly.

"What's up?"

"Um..." She gestures vaguely, and sighs in that specific way that tells me I've missed something important.

I bite back the urge to snap. What is it this time? Look. I'm air headed. My skills lay in organizing other people's schedules, landscaping a historical site, and having big muscles. It took a while to figure out how to read her unspoken messages and the intricacies of every roll of her beautiful brown eyes, but I had yet to turn into a mind-reader.

[“Where’s the box?”]

Shit. God Jesus damn it shit. In my rush to get over here, I'd completely forgotten our whole reason for meeting. "Look, Josie, I..." I groan. There's no good excuse, but I try anyway. "It's been... you know, a real long day, and I completely forgot."

"I bet." She nods. "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I should have written it down, but there was the tree trimming to schedule, and Mr. Ngo's wife was sick--"

"Oh no. Is Phan okay?"

"She's doing better, but he's taking a few days off to look at her."

"Okay, yeah. Keep going."

"So I had to give an interview for the ghost hunters--"

"The what?"

Shit.

I had also, incidentally, been briefed on the NDA Mr. Ngo had signed to let the Archivists work in relative anonymity here. [maybe? hm.]

I groan, but make myself answer her. "There's some guys here looking into a bunch of local legends. They're going to take a few ghost tours, and they spent the day going around the graveyard with a tour guide to see the historically significant graves, and..."

"And...?" Her eyes shine.

"And they're spending a few nights ghost hunting in the graveyard, and I have to supervise."

"And...?"

"And...that includes tonight?"

"And...?" She looks me dead in the eye.

This time, I know what she means. "And it's the Haunted Archivists."

I wince as she shrieks, a hand over her mouth. "I knew it! I knew it. Oh my god, I'm so jealous." She hesitates, and I know she's trying to decide whether or not to ask me for a big, important favor.

"Absolutely not," I say, before she has a chance. "Mr. Ngo trusts me to handle things while he's away, and I'm not going to let someone into the graveyard at night!" Not to mention, I was still on thin ice with the archivists.

"You don't have to. Just leave the gate open just a smidge."

"No." She pouts, batting her eyes at me.

"Can I--"

I make a point of slurping loudly.

Josie groans, but accepts her fate.

#

Sunset falls on the graveyard, old trees and headstones casting strangely shaped shadows across the grass. I haven't had a chance to touch up that one portion, and wince. I take pride in my work, and this looks sloppy, half-finished. Still, nobody else seems to care. More than anything, they just grumble as I usher them out and lock the gate.

"Sorry, guys. You can visit again tomorrow."

There's some closing work to do -- sweeping the front of the office space, collecting any trash left over. It's nearing nine when I'm done, which means the Haunted Archivists are on their way for call time.

[transition, tbh could take out.]

A brief history of the Ouija board. [fill in with the ouija board history.]

And now, thanks to Hasbro and Hollywood's combined efforts, I'm sitting in a graveyard at the end of my latest double shift, loaded up on caffeine, watching a bunch of people figure out the best lighting by which to contact the dead.

"Do you guys need me for anything, or...?" I gesture helplessly. I feel useless standing around, but no visitors are allowed to be unsupervised at night, even if they do have filming permits.

"Um...No? Not really, sorry." Lourdes shrugs, but I don't think she's sorry.

"How long do you guys think you'll be setting up for? There's a patch of grass over there that I didn't get to mow this week, and I don't want to let it get much taller."

"You mow the grass at night?"

"Sure. I mean -- usually I do it at four or five in the morning, but I can make do."

[They say no, and instead she goes to tend to some of the flowers around the headstones, straightening them and brushing off debris.]

She doesn't text back right away. Weird, but not unheard of. I leave it be, and turn on the lawnmower and take care of what I can before Maddie lets me know it's time to start filming. I guess I'm making too much noise for the sound tech, so instead I follow Maddie back to the circle of light where the rest of the Archivists are finding their places.

I stop just short of the light as my phone rings, and pull it out to check if Mr. Ngo needs anything. But it's only Josie. Of course. I groan, and reject the call, instead sending a text to let her know I have to turn my phone on silent when cameras are rolling.

Mick and Lourdes (who i s2g need better names) sit on the ground on either side of their ouija board

and as theyre filming, another call this one with the emergency ringtonew.  "Josie, I told you, I'm busy with a film crew tonight." I'm half expecting her to tell me she's outside one of the gates and to pretty please let her in.

Instead, she's in tears. I can barely make out what she's saying, and I have to try a couple times to get her to calm down enough to speak in words.

I mouth an apology to the team and step away to continue the call. "Josie, it's okay. I'm here. Just tell me what's wrong."

"It's -- It's Renfield," she manages to cry out. "He's gone."

"What?"

My heart drops. Josie's ancient rescue cat, a fluffy black beast named Renfield. [something]

"What happened? Did you see where he went?"

"No -- I left the door open too long after bringing my box in, and he must have just..." She dissolved into tears once more.

"Okay, Josie, I'll help look for him. I promise. I can't... go too far right now, but I'll look around the apartment block, okay?"

"Okay."

I excuse myself to go look around the block closest to the graveyard, glancing back every now and then to ensure the lights and film crew hadn't gone too far. It wasn't going to be easy to find a black cat in the middle of the night, but I hoped sweeping my phone's flashlight around would be enough to catch his eyes reflecting in the shadows. But after a half hour of no luck, I feel obligated to return to the graveyard and check in on the film crew.

I'm just past the east gate when a shadow bolts past me. It's as tall as my shins, trailing a familiar smell of fur and tuna, and I take off after it without a thought.

Renfield's got his ears flat against his head, fur bristled so he looks twice as big as usual, but he's moving faster than I'd ever seen him go. I chase him across the green, twisting and turning through headstones, and part of me realizes that if it wasn't for my ex-girlfriend's ancient cat moving at super-feline speed, this would have been a fantastic workout.

"Come on, Renfield! Stop running!"

He doesn't listen. Instead, he bolts to the side, taking off towards the sphere of light where the Haunted Archivists have their ouija board set up. Lourdes and Mick sit on either side, hands on the planchette, but they're all watching with horror as Renfield nears the set.

"Catch him! Someone catch him!" I yell.

One of the gaffers makes a brave effort, but Renfield evades his grasp. He leaps between the two hosts, knocking the ouija board to the side and sending the planchette flying before disappearing into the dark.

"Sorry!" I yell, leaping after him, and finally tracking him to a large grave towards the back corner of the graveyard in the corner I hadn't managed to mow the other day. The grass is taller here, the headstones more faded and weathered.

He's snarling and hissing. It's more active than Renfield has been in years, and I hesitate, glancing around to make sure that nobody else is close enough to scare him. I flinch, catching sight of a shadowy figure over my shoulder, but it's nobody. Just a tree in the dark. I breathe out slowly, and bend down. "Renfield, it's me. Hi baby boy." He presses himself up against the wall, eyes bright and wild. "Come on, little boy, it's okay. It's me. Wanna smell?"

He hisses as my hand gets closer, but I must get close enough for Renfield to catch a whiff. He looks around, eyes fixated on a point over my shoulder, and refuses to move.

"What is it? Come on, it's just me." I look back anyway, but there's nothing there but the shadowy tree once more, naked branches casting strange shadows over the headstone. I recognize it as the place I'd first met Lucy, but it seems she decided against coming tonight. I force myself to ignore the disappointment, and tell myself I'm relieved instead. The last thing I needed was a troublemaker on top of everything else.

"There's nobody there, Renfield. Come on, it's okay. Come on."

Renfield's ears swivel towards me, and finally, he tears his eyes away from the tree and darts forward into my lap.

"There we go, good boy. Baby boy, you're okay." I hold him close, running a hand through his fur. "I've got him!" I shout over my shoulder, and the film crew's relieved cries echo over the graveyard.

He's too old to vocalize properly, but I recognize his snuffling and wheezing as his version of pleading meows. Poor thing hadn't been outside since he turned twelve a few years ago. He must be terrified.

I pause, looking to the side one last time. The tree remains a tree with the same heavy shadows as always.

"Come on, baby. Let's get you home." I press a kiss to the top of his head, and shift my weight, holding him with one arm to fish out my phone.

Josie picks up on the first ring. "Kaz?"

"I got him. He was in the graveyard."

"Oh thank god!" She starts crying all over again, but I hear the relief in her voice. "Is he okay?"

"A little scared, but nothing a good cuddle won't solve. Right, little man?" I hold the phone up to Renfield's face. He sniffs it, and wheezes his old, squeaky meow. "That's right, Renfield. We're taking you back to your mom."

Actually, hold that thought. 

I glance over to the Haunted Archivists. Maddie held the ouija board awkwardly, but all eyes were on me.

Screw it. They hated me enough as it was.

I hold the phone up to my ear again, and say, "Josie, do you wanna come meet me down at the graveyard?"

Tag list:

@adaughterofathena

@ambreeskyewriting

@carnelianflames

@feather-dancer

@halfbloodlycan

@nadunacreates

@serenanymph

@vigilantdesert

#writeblr #writing #mystuff #my writing #gl chapter #graveyard lesbians #wlw fiction #supernatural romance #queer fiction #low fantasy

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing x.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 8, 711

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a/n:

so here is the mini monster chap !! i know I said this was going to be a drabble series but I clearly got carried away LOL

anyways, no spoilers for this chap but I can say it's one of my favs that I've written and I think we see oc getting the comfort that she deserves (and needs!)

and also !! this is my first time updating a series on tumblr and it feels *exciting* hehe, I hope you enjoy this chapter c:

let me know your thoughts in my asks!! i'd love to hear what you think so far :3

all the love and I hope you're having a great

day/night/evening/afternoon wherever you are ❤️

“Open up!”

The only person that would opt to yell to get your attention than ring on your doorbell like a normal person would be Yena. And it helped that you immediately recognised her voice from the first syllable she uttered. That and you were currently moping in your living room with lactose-free ice cream, courtesy of Jimin that dropped it off a day ago when he heard that you were ‘sick’. Even if you hadn’t seen him face-to-face, you remember him softly hoping you’d get better.

You don’t know why she’s at your door, but you’re already on your feet to get her when you hear her begin to mutter curses directed at you behind the thin wood of your entrance.

“I can hear you!” You call.

“Well bitch then open the damn door!” She snaps.

You roll your eyes, and so far with the number of times you’ve hung out with her, it’s safe to say that the two of you were comfortable. You never knew how fun having a girl best friend was until you met Yena, and sure it’s only been a little under two weeks since you’ve gotten to know her through various messages and FaceTimes, but you feel like she’s your friend soulmate.

And when you expressed that to her over a FaceTime call a few nights back, you remember her gagging all while you flush and attempt to take it back. You know her candidly calling you bitch rather than your name was her saying she felt the same.

You pull the door open as she stands there with her eyes narrowed into slits, eyeing you up and down before she scrunches her nose.

“There’s a thing called a shower that you should look into. You look like a rundown version of long-haired Noah Beck.” She grimaces when she eyes you up and down.

You scowl. “You did not just compare me to him.”

She clicks her tongue before she shoves you aside by shoving a plastic bag of the takeout food into your arms and steps into your apartment.

Yena ignores the glare you shoot at the back of her neck when she looks around your living room, scrunching her nose like she was here to inspect your room than pay you a visit.

“Did someone die in here or was that just your will to live?”

You scoff. “Wow. Drag me.”

She waves you off before plopping onto your couch while you sigh, immediately heading to the kitchen to prep the food she brought over.

“For a moment I thought you were dead.” She confesses casually.

When you return with bowls and plates, with the cutlery to match—you give her a dry look before you’re taking your seat on the floor; attempting to hide your half-eaten tub of ice cream, which Yena immediately spots.

“So your first instinct was to yell at my door in hopes that I wasn’t actually dead?” You ask dryly.

She picks up your ice cream and grimaces at it, silently judging you for the flavour before she gives you a shrug.

“Yeah. I was hoping that your spirit would confer.”

You snort. “And the food?”

“A peace offering.” She tells you like it’s obvious.

You sigh, you loved Yena—you really did. She was all over the place and random, but it was a refreshing difference that you needed in your life from the usual law and order you often opted for.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your concern,” You tell her, pulling out a container to see your favourite lemon chicken as you eye her suspiciously. “But what brings you here? I told you I was sick.”

Yena scoffs. “And sick you are, bitch. What kind of sick person devours ice cream? Sure, you look the part but your diet says otherwise. Don’t think I didn’t see the empty packet of snickers in the trash.”

You scowl.

“I recovered yesterday.” You lie, taking a bite out of the chicken.

Yena rolls her eyes and you know she doesn’t believe you. She leans into your couch while she watches you eat, “Namjoon texted me that you may need some company.” At that, you choke.

Her eyes widen as you hit at your chest to get the food to go down, eyes still wide at her revelation.

“Why would he do that?” You cry.

“Girl, I know you’re not trying to deflect—you’re literally about to choke and die.”

You glare at her. “I’m fine.” You cough for good measure, then you’re levelling another serious gaze at her.

“I’m fine.” You reiterate with an emphasis on your state even though you were anything but. “I don’t know why the hell he thinks I need company.” You mutter under your breath.

At this, Yena’s face softens as she leans forward to rest her elbows on her knees while you avoid her gaze; idly poking at your food.

“I don’t know either, and you don’t need to tell me anything.” She says softly. “That’s all I’m here for. To be your company, whether you need it or not.”

You don’t know how much Namjoon told her over a text message, but you don’t think it’s much. Purely because he didn’t seem like a snitch and he was too respectful to ever let other people into the business that wasn’t his own. Even at the thought, you want to groan because you essentially lured him into thinking it was okay for him to kiss you while you were … you don’t even know what the fuck was happening anymore.

“I—” You say weakly, and all Yena does is offer you a comforting smile.

For some reason, the fact that she’s here right in front of you after you spent the day crying and feeling like your heart has been repeatedly stomped over with the addition of your rumination—it feels nice to have someone with you, even if it’s just their presence.

But the way she doesn’t look at you and expects something out of your conversation makes you feel even more overwhelmed, and that’s probably why the dam breaks.

Yena’s eyes widen as she immediately darts out to wrap her arms around you when you end up in violent sobs. You don’t know why you’re crying but you are, and you’re tired of hiding things, your feelings and your intent just to pretend like things were okay.

“It’s okay.” She strokes your hair and it feels warm, like a mother comforting a crying baby and you realise that this is what friends should feel like.

“N-no it’s n-not!” You cry into her shirt and it’s messy, but she doesn’t seem like she minds. Especially when she supports your pliable frame.

“You wanna talk about it?” She asks softly, giving you a kind smile.

You sniffle, staring forward as you feel your eyes swell with the escalation of your tears.

“I don’t know.” You whisper.

She hums, “It’s okay not to know. You don’t need to know everything.”

“I’m just so tired, Yena.” You tell her in a hushed breath.

“Life is difficult.” She admits. “It’s natural to be tired.”

You’re thankful to hear that she doesn’t comfort you with blind optimism. She’s real and she acknowledges how shitty things may be, and frankly, you didn’t need another wannabe altruist telling you that things will get better. You knew that, everyone did. But when you’re at rock bottom and all you see is darkness, you’re not looking for better. You’re looking for a reason to continue.

“Can I say something?” She asks. The way she looks at you is soft and open, and non-judgemental. You feel safe.

You nod your head, teary eyes staring up at her.

“You’re not responsible for anyone’s feelings except your own.” She looks at you so seriously that you nearly feel your breath escape. “There are things that you can and cannot control—and the latter usually falls under the people around you.”

You suck in a breath, and you wonder how she’s so spot on without ever touching on the true context.

“Namjoon texted me but I didn’t come here because he asked me to. It’s because you deserve to have someone be around you when you’re clearly not okay.”

“I’m—”

“You’re not.” She blinks, and you almost pout at her firm tone. “And that’s okay. I don’t need to know what happened to justify how you feel. You could’ve stubbed your toe and feel like absolute shit and I have absolutely no right to judge you on how or when you feel emotions.”

You wonder where she’s been your entire life and why she was only in your life now.

“But the thing is,” She sighs. “You don’t always have to choose between something or the other. Sometimes you need to choose yourself.”

You stare up at her in awe because Yena was cool in general, her laidback and unbending personality was mainly what drew you to her because you’d argue you were the opposite. Even if Jungkook’s words stung, you could take it at face value and accept that it was true.

You were uptight and you were a bit of a prude, and for the longest time, you always resented that aspect of you. But you realised with Yena, she had traits that were resented in a woman as well. And you realise that you’d never be perceived the way you want unless you perceive yourself in a positive light first.

So when she speaks to you so sternly, yet with a tone of care as she picks apart her words so carefully—you realise what you have to do.

“I think I like Jungkook.”

Yena pauses for a brief second, but you don’t see any judgement in her face. Just confusion, a warranted emotion you don’t blame her for having.

“I figured as much.”

Your eyes widened, “How—?”

It’s almost like a repeat of the first night at the football game when you befriended each other, but she only shoots you a gentle smile.

“Call it a woman’s intuition.”

You blink, fiddling with your fingers before you stare up at her, continuing your drawls.

“And we kissed.”

At this, Yena cocks an eyebrow up, “Was this recent?”

You fiddle with your thumbs before you sigh and push yourself up.

“Thing is …” You mumble, “I’m not like that.”

You don’t answer her question because you can’t think of a proper enough response to tell her that yeah—you did kiss him, amongst other things that you foolishly allowed yourself to indulge in. You knew Yena wasn’t judgemental but you also knew that you couldn’t retrieve your words the moment they left your mouth. It was your own judgement that stopped you from saying the things you really wanted and it sucked, royally. Because you could tell that Yena wasn’t out here to crucify you for being … liberated. She just wanted to be there for you.

Yena scrunches her eyebrows in confusion as she allows your words to settle, pondering a response.

She settles for a huff, “Care to elaborate?”

“I don’t … do things like that.” You say softly. “I’m shy and quiet. I’m not active in the social sphere and I only have three friends that I can reach out to if I wanna hang out. But even then, I don’t … I don’t like partying, or drinking, or loud spaces. I’m awkward and horrible at social interaction let alone being able to navigate my romantic feelings. And … I felt so bad about it.”

Yena’s eyes soften, but you can’t look at her just yet. Not when this is the first time you’ve ever laid yourself vulnerable, emotionally that is, to someone that wasn’t just the confines of your thoughts.

“I always wondered what it’d like to be confident, to be liked on campus and not just be known as the smart girl.” You whisper. “My entire personality was built around my achievements and I didn’t know what else to do. What if … what if I peak here and fail after?” Your eyes are wide in despair, and you feel your lips quiver when you speak.

“You’ll never know.” Yena reminds you gently. “You won’t know who likes you or what people say about you—but you’re going to be hearing your own thoughts 24/7 and that’s what kicks you down or drives you further.”

You sigh, nodding your head.

“It’s just … Jungkook and I were close. We grew up together even if he’s younger than me. But we just got along well and he … he saw me. He used to comfort me whenever I’d tell him how pressuring it got and—I feel so stupid because he probably says that to everyone and I fell for it.” You chuckle with no emotion, staring at the stray thread poking outside of your couch pillow.

“Have you spoken to him about your feelings?” She asks softly.

Immediately, you scoff and the sour emotion peaks through again.

“He’s made it clear what he wants to hear from me.” You mutter.

Yena purses her lips before resting her hands gently on your shoulder.

“You’re not answering my question, ______.” She chides gently.

You nibble on your bottom lip and shake your head. That earns a sigh from her as she wraps her arms around you once again, resting her chin on your shoulder as you allow yourself to feel the comfort of her warmth.

“He kissed me first and we did things together.” Your lips quiver when you recall the memories, “A-And he’s with Jennie. I just …” You flutter your eyes shut, “I don’t want to say that I’m the other girl but I feel a lot like a second option and it sucks.”

Yena doesn’t ask, and she doesn’t need to. She doesn’t need to justify why you felt the way you did, so she holds you tighter.

“Babe.” She gently turns you to look at her with both hands resting on your shoulders. “Did you talk to him? Properly? Do you really know if he’s with her?”

“I think them kissing proves enough to me.” You snap, and you don’t know why you’re being so hostile, especially to Yena.

She purses her lips, “You kissed him and you aren’t together.”

You wince and she shoots you an apologetic look. She sighs before reaching out to squeeze your hand, all while you stare at the ground to level out your emotions.

“I’m not saying that you can’t feel the way you do. But I’m offering objectivity here. Men are … they’re blunt creatures and that’s the biggest difference between men and women.” You furrow your eyebrows as she takes a deep breath before she continues. “And the idea that we’re equal? No, we’re not. I’m not talking about our systemic positions in society but on an emotional level. Men take things surface value and work with it, they don’t stop to think about the layers of feelings that go into interpersonal relationships with friends, family or lovers. Women? We go big or we go home. All we see is the big picture and sometimes the little details get lost in translation. This isn’t me justifying Jungkook playing home with you or Jennie at the same time, but offering you a perspective that may be hard for you to see because you aren’t him.”

It was true, and you hated yourself for being aware but not putting action based on your own thoughts. Yena only reaffirmed the idea that you overthought every single interaction and maybe that was why you were the one that was hurting.

That, or you and Jungkook had horrible communication problems that neither of you was ready to face just yet. But how could you? When the two of you were on two different wavelengths and you were trying to be just enough for him while he was jumping off pedestals to see you.

It didn’t feel nice, and it sucked because he was the same person that comforted you and broke you all at once.

“I’m scared.” You whisper.

She smiles at you gently, patting your head gently as you peer up at her with tears between your lashes.

“And that’s okay.” She reassures you with a soft voice, “The only thing scarier than being scared is not feeling at all.”

Before you go to where your heart tells you to—your mind is the only thing that keeps you rooted in some form of rationale. That’s probably why you’re outside of Namjoon’s dorm. You don’t think you’ve ever paid his place a visit despite him telling you his address on multiple occasions, usually opting to hang out in public yet serene places where you were able to get a breather.

Your feet feel heavy and your fist is raised, but it barely moves. Especially when you’re just eyeing his door like a deer caught in headlights. You’ve rehearsed the apology on your tongue a million times, even if you don’t really know what you’re apologising for. But you feel like you must, particularly because you’ve senselessly let him see all of the feelings that you were trying to suppress in hopes of retaining the same ones he had for you.

You take a deep breath and deliver the first knock, the vibrations making your arm feel weak.

But you’re tired of always surrendering to bigger and more frightening things that you could understand. So you purse your lips and play the waiting game.

It seems like a long twenty minutes that you wait, but in reality, it’s only two when the door swings open. You brace yourself to see Namjoon, apology already sitting on your tongue.

You should’ve dropped a text, you knew that. But you decided against it because you haven’t spoken to Namjoon since what happened a few days ago. Neither of you speaking about the kiss or the way your eyes glistened when you saw Jungkook and Jennie together.

“____?” He asks confusedly.

You give him a meek smile, “Hi. Can I come in?”

He blinks at you, and you notice he still has his glasses that he usually forgoes during the times you’ve hung out—and you feel a little guilty for catching him at a bad time.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Sure.”

Namjoon steps aside and you’re welcomed into the space of his living room. The first thing you notice is the interior, and how … Namjoon it was. It’s both cluttered and neat, the palette of his furniture matching the overall vibe he emanated. His furniture is mostly wood, light sandalwood that makes it feel all the homier.

And you tell him such, “You have a very homey place.”

Namjoon turns his head to look at you right before he plops himself back onto his couch where you see the bits and pieces of paper scrambled across the floor and the couch. Even then, he was able to look so welcoming even though you reckon he has a right to be hostile—for a reason you came here to apologise for.

“Thank you.” He flushes, patting a spot in front of him for you to take your seat.

When you settle, the atmosphere turns strained when you mull over your words so that you wouldn’t stumble over them. You practised, you did—about a hundred times before you came here and you thought you were ready to apologise and put things behind you but it’s proven difficult when all he does is look at you in earnest.

“Not that I—uh—mind,” He mumbles, “But is there a reason why you’re here?”

You blink at him as you ignore the quiver in your heart.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt.

“_____ why are you—”

“You didn’t deserve what happened the other day.” You interject, voice soft but unwavering when you force yourself to look at him as his eyes widen.

“I wasn’t the one that saw something I shouldn’t have.” He reminds you with a frown.

You swallow, “I kissed you. And you …” It wasn’t helping that he was looking at you so gently as he awaits your continuation. “You didn’t need to save me back then, Namjoon.” You end in a whisper.

Namjoon reaches out to grab your shoulder, touch gentle as he searches for your eyes.

“I didn’t save you …” He tells you tenderly.

“It’s not just that!” You exasperate while you throw your hands up in the air. “I-it’s everything … from the way you treat me and the way you look at me. You didn’t need to do any of that and you even—” You trail off, fluttering your eyes shut. “—what did you say to Jungkook right before we left?”

Namjoon’s eyes enlarge as his grip becomes tense against your shoulder. You can almost see the way his mind kicks into gear as he thinks of a response.

“That—I—does it matter?” He huffs.

Your eyes soften, “Namjoon.” You force yourself to look at him even if now he was the one that tries to avoid your gaze. “What did you say?”

Namjoon tightens his lips before he sighs deeply, head dropping forward before he looks at you.

“I told him to be honest.” He says softly.

You furrow your eyebrows, “To be honest …?”

“I know you have feelings for him.”

Your face blanches when Namjoon basically exposes you. It’s one thing for you to be self-aware of your complicated feelings towards the other boy. But when someone else points it out, especially when it’s Namjoon—the boy who’s been nothing but kind and patient with you while you’re too busy being caught up in your emotions—it’s like a slap across your face.

“I-I don’t—”

“You don’t need to lie to save my face, ______.” He chuckles dryly, eyes darting away as he tries to neutralise his expression. You wince at the spite he establishes, but you know deep down that Namjoon isn’t angry at you. No, he was far too understanding to be. Disappointed? Frustrated? Sure, but never angry,

The silence answers for you when you look away this time, eyebrows scrunched as you attempt to navigate the conversation. You came here to apologise, and to be honest.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

“Don’t.” He takes a deep breath as you flinch. “Don’t … apologise.” He sighs.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on, Namjoon.” You murmur apologetically.

He shoots you a half-hearted chuckle, “You didn’t do anything. Really.”

“But I did, Namjoon. I kissed you back.” You frown.

“That doesn’t imply anything. I kissed you, and you reciprocated. We all kiss someone and not mean anything by it.”

You flinch, and you’re familiar with that more than anyone else. The reminder only stings because it makes you realise that you were not much different from Jungkook, the same person you’ve claimed to have messed with you and fucked you over.

“I’m—”

“Please don’t apologise anymore.” He says. “I already feel like shit.”

You smile sadly at him, “How do you manage to be so nice even when other’s do you wrong?”

Namjoon sighs, then he grabs both your hands in his. “You didn’t wrong me, _____. It’s not your fault you don’t feel the same way I do.”

“How did you …” You trail off.

“How did I know you had feelings for Jungkook?” He chuckles. “The same way he knew I had feelings for you.”

You purse your lips, eyes dropping to your lap. “It’s not that simple, Namjoon …” You say softly.

Namjoon smiles at you gently, “Is it?” He gently nudges your knee with his so that you’d look at him. “Life is simple. It’s not easy. But it’s simple.”

You scoff even if a small smile teases your lips, “You really are a philosophy major, aren’t you?”

The two of you grin in tandem before he purses his lips, possible mulling over something before he faces you.

“The two of you are close so … why beat around the bush?”

Your eyes flutter shut, shaking your head. “Like I said, it’s really not that simple.”

He rolls his eyes at you, but it’s not to mock or taunt you. Namjoon simply sees a naive, yet an intelligent girl who doesn’t see what’s right in front of her.

“Remember what I said? I’m a simple guy.” He reminds you, lips in a grin. “Try me.”

You snort, but you’re still nervous. You still remember that he has feelings for you, so you’re hesitant. And he immediately recognises the guilt-ridden expression that you mar.

Namjoon shoots you a stern glare, “Don’t overthink it.”

You sigh.

“Jungkook and I …” You start, fiddling with your thumbs. “We grew up together.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes and shoots you another one of his bland stares. “I know the history. I just want to know why?”

You furrow your brows, “Why?”

“Why the two of you insist on being so emotionally constipated.”

You gape at his audacity, and you’re glad the atmosphere isn’t as tense because Namjoon simply snickers at your reaction.

“I am not—!”

He waves you off, “Really?” He adds dryly.

You purse your lips and relent, even if you didn’t want to agree with him—you knew that he was … right. To a certain extent.

“We kissed.” You blurt.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, “That’s not surprising.”

You shoot him a dry look before he raises his hands in defence.

“He was my first kiss.”

At this, Namjoon’s widen.

“When you were in high school?” He pries.

You flush, embarrassed that you had to tell him otherwise.

“Two months ago.” You mutter.

Namjoon splutters, and you can’t help but glare at him when he quite literally chokes on his spit. You know you caught him off guard, but him rubbing salt in the wound that’s relatively fresh makes you scowl.

“Oh.” He clears his throat. Then he repeats, “Oh.”

You scoff, “Yeah. Oh.”

“Then … what happened?” You know he’s treading carefully with you when he asks you his question softly.

You purse your lips, and you recall every single moment you’ve shared with him. From giggles to hushed kisses, to intimate touches and sweat-stained sheets that have you gasping for air. You remember it all, and they meant … they meant the world to you, but just a speck in his memory.

“Things escalated and we … did stuff together.” You wince.

Namjoon nods in understanding, he gestures his hands around, “Like—”

“I’m a virgin.”

Namjoon blinks.

“And for the longest time, I felt embarrassed about it.”

“Oh.”

“I struggled to find my footing between being sexually liberated and being a woman because for the longest time I thought those two were mutually exclusive. For me, at least.” You say softly.

Namjoon only stares at you.

“And I always wanted validation from someone else to tell me that what I was doing was the right thing to do. Or the supposed thing to do. Never what I really wanted to do.”

“Not that I’m uncomfortable but … why are you letting me in on this?” Namjoon asks with a raised brow.

“Because I want to do something for myself for once.” You whisper.

“Okay …?”

“Why do you like me? Even if I’m … boring and not as sexy as other women?”

You sound pathetic, and the first person you find yourself comparing yourself to is Jennie—a beautiful, confident woman who looked so assured in herself.

“You’re not—”

You groan.

“Namjoon.”

“Okay.” He sighs. “If you’re asking me if I care that you’re a virgin, then no. I really don’t. Because frankly, that concept to me is false and problematic. Whether or not you’ve had sex or not isn’t any of my business.”

You duck your head.

“And I like you because you’re interesting. You’re funny and you’re assured in your own way. You don’t need to be a certain standard of pretty or sexy or whatever for me to like you. I like you because of the time we’ve spent together and that I’ve gotten to know you. The real you and not the person I admired from afar but the girl who throws in jokes out of nowhere but fits so well with the situation. The girl who’s willing to spend three extra hours of her time to help with content that wasn’t prescribed to her. I like you because I’d like to think I’ve grown to understand who you are.”

Namjoon says all of those things while staring at you straight in the face and you feel compelled to cry. Because no one has ever been so honest with you and you hate that your heart can’t reciprocate what should be an easy feeling that comes naturally.

“Fuck.”

His eyes widen.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He coos, a hand petting your hair gently as you sniffle.

“It’s not, Namjoon. Everything sucks because everything is so complicated. Why can’t I just have feelings for you instead?”

It’s selfish, and Namjoon winces. But you’re so overwhelmed that you miss it, and Namjoon is too nice to point his own feelings out.

“You don’t pick and choose your battles, _____.” He murmurs softly.

“That’s not what my mom told me.” You whimper.

He chuckles, “Yeah. Most people like to believe that because it makes them think that they have a choice over the bad things that happen in their lives. But in reality? They don’t. No one decides what happens to them. You pick and choose how you react to things. How you deal with situations and what you make out of those situations is what you can choose to do. You don���t like me, and that’s fine. You don’t have to just because I’m nice to you, _____. Being nice is the absolute bare minimum and something that everyone should feel and do.”

Your face crumbles, “Why are you so wise?”

Namjoon smiles, “I’m not. It’s called offering a different perspective. Just because I see things one way doesn’t make me any better than you who sees things in another. That’s why we meet different types of people throughout our lives. The good, the bad, the in-between. There’s always something people offer to us in the midst of chaos.”

You sigh.

“I’m sorry, Namjoon.”

He pats your head, “I said don’t apologise.”

“No, but I want to. You’ve been nothing but kind to me and you picked up a shitty situation to be in when Jungkook and Jennie were at the library. Even right after I kissed you. That was … a horrible thing to do. I shouldn’t have done that just because—just because I was confused … you don’t deserve that.”

He doesn’t look angry, and that’s even worst because you want him to react, to call you a bitch and say that you were a horrible person.

“I don’t.” He shrugs while you wince. “But a lot of the times we don’t deserve a lot of things that we get. And that’s okay. You did what you thought was justified then, and there’s nothing you can do to change it. But you’re hurting too, and you’re confused—that’s what drove you to do the things that you did, and even here. That’s why you’re apologising to me, right? Because you’re not as confused anymore?”

You shake your head.

“I am, I’m still so confused.” You whisper.

“Then let me offer you another perspective.”

You look up to him with big eyes as he smiles at you gently.

“You have feelings for Jungkook.” You immediately flinch, even if he didn’t hit you. But Namjoon continues. “You’re trying to keep the picture as simple as you can even if it hurts you in the process. But

“You don’t understand, Namjoon … we … did things … that I’m not proud off …”

“You don’t have to—”

“He was my first kiss. My first … sexual experience. Even if it was just … third base,” You cringe, but Namjoon isn’t judging you at all. “A-and that’s all I was to him. An experience.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Do I, Namjoon?” You say softly. “He said things to me that were so hurtful. And a stupid part of me forgives him but it still hurts every time I think about it and when I see him with Jennie.”

You whisper the words Jungkook’s said to you, and for the first time, you see Namjoon’s jaw harden. The most emotion that wasn’t rationale you’ve seen in Namjoon ever since you first arrived.

“I know it hurts.” He murmurs, holding you close. “And I really don’t want it to seem like I’m justifying his words … but would you want to hear me out?”

You purse your lips and nod nevertheless.

“Jungkook isn’t a bad person.” You blink, you never thought he was. “I know you don’t think he is but you want to. Because of the things he’s said to you because why would a good person say those kinds of things, right? But the world isn’t black and white like that. There’s a grey area where 99% of the population falls into because we operate on emotion and sometimes we say things that we may feel but not necessarily believe in.”

“Jungkook … he’s still young. And I know we’re in college and stuff but he’s still three years younger than I am and two years younger than you. He’s spoken to me about how hard it was to adjust to a high school life where you, Jimin and Tae weren’t a part of. And I don’t know about you but if the only friends I’ve ever known suddenly left because they had to … I wouldn’t know what to do either. He was at a point in his life where his environment played a huge part in the values and internalised beliefs he had.”

You look away as you reflect on his words, nibbling on your bottom lip.

“He mixed around with different groups of people, and I hate this saying but it’s still a common belief to many—especially people his age, almost out of high school. But the ‘boys will be boys’ mentality is more than just misogyny and sexism, but a culture where it feeds off complacency and peer pressure. Jungkook suddenly had to shift from three, good friends who were progressive and influential in an objectively good way to people he was obliged to like because they were his peers.”

You gape at him, purely because you knew that Namjoon was smart and wise but his introspection leaves you breathless and enlightened.

“But that doesn’t change the core of Jungkook,” Namjoon says. “He’s still Jungkook. He doesn’t know how to ask for things that he wants without feeling like he’s betraying his masculinity. And again, I’m not justifying his actions because he’s a grown man too. But he’s lost, and the only thing he knows to uphold this sense of masculinity is by being sexually liberated. Even if he conflates his own emotions with his endeavours.”

“I … I don’t even know what to say Namjoon.” You murmur, eyes looking up through your lashes.

“You don’t need to say anything. I just want you to be honest to yourself, not anyone else. But yourself.” He tells you, carding a gentle hand over your head.

You fiddle with your thumbs.

“What do you want?”

Despite you confiding two different people, you find yourself at a convenience store at 12AM, scarfing down ramen from a cup noodle because your mind was a funny place when it was muddled with a hundred different thoughts. You knew sleep wasn’t an option for you either, and you were hungry. But somehow you didn’t have anything back in your apartment that screamed ‘I’m in a crisis’ enough for you to eat.

Which is why you’re here, while the cashier keeps his eyeball to himself when he sees yet another college student who’s probably having their third mental breakdown of the day.

It is, but not for the right reasons, you think dryly.

You think you’re alone until the chime of the bell momentarily distracts you and you turn your head to acknowledge the next lone customer who may be going through their own set of issues, or had a fucked up sleeping schedule.

But you’re not expecting to make eye contact with Jennie, out of everyone or any stranger you could’ve come across.

She spots you, shoots you a weird look that has you nearly choking on a string of noodles before she moves on to what she came here to do and stops at the snack section, skimming through her options before she settles on a pack of shrimp chips. Your heart churns because they were Jungkook’s favourite. You don’t want to wonder why she picked them.

You turn to your noodles, scarf them down some more because you want to eat your thoughts away even if you’re half-considering to call Jungkook, tell him you wanted to talk. But you knew that if you spoke to him now when you were still sorting out your thoughts, you’d end up in a situation you won’t be ready to deal with.

So when you poke at your food and sigh to yourself, you almost miss the way the stool beside you scrapes against the floor as you cringe.

You turn to shoot a petty glare at the person, and you see Jennie; casually tearing open her chips and popping one into her mouth

You blink at her, and you’re left even more speechless when she juts her hand out as if to offer you a shrimp cracker. Like it was a weird symbol of a truce. Even if you weren’t really … enemies.

“Want some?”

You stare at her, and before you can think twice your lips are moving.

“The crackers or your company?” You say dryly.

Her eyes widen, and so does yours. You didn’t expect to say your exact thoughts and you don’t think she expected a quiet, timid girl like you to have said that—out loud at least. Like Yena said, everyone has a mean bone in them. Some longer and larger than others, but they were still there.

“Wow.” She huffs, but she doesn’t seem offended. “Rude, much?”

You wince and feel compelled to apologise. “Sorry.”

She waves you off and you feel odd to be sitting next to her. You always expected her to be more malicious, a lot more of a bitch. And you frown to yourself because you suppose it’s your own preconceived notions of her due to the association she has with Jungkook that had you thinking of her that way.

“What’s someone like you doing here on a weekday?” She asks off-handedly.

The term ‘someone like you’ doesn’t sit well with you, and you scowl.

“I’m eating. What does it look like?” You retort, and Jennie only raises an eyebrow at your response. Much like an angry kitten.

“Damn, I was just asking.” She mutters under her breath, “I’m hungry. Needed a snack.” She shakes the crackers in front of you, “You sure you don’t want one?”

You can’t believe her as you gape at her easy-going state when she thrusts the bag of crackers into your face yet again.

“No.” You furrow your brows, gently pushing it away as she shrugs her shoulders.

“It’s good.” She reasons, and you don’t know why she’s so adamant about having you take one.

The irrational part of you thinks she wants to poison you, to eliminate you for good so she won’t have to deal with your pathetic pining over a person that wasn’t even yours.

“I know.” You mutter. “I tried it before.”

Jennie nods her head slowly, observing the content of the packet on the back before she turns to face you, “Jungkook introduced this to me. Didn’t see the appeal but it’s addictive.”

You freeze, and your ramen soup is getting cold with the way you haven’t prodded at it for a while and in the air-conditioning in the convenience store. You feel your stomach drop, especially now that your initial suspicions were confirmed.

“That’s nice.” You grit. It really isn’t.

“Did he introduce it to you?” She asks with a tilt of her head.

Why you’re still talking to her, or why she was bothering to talk to you when she’s ignored you all this while—you aren’t sure. But you still answer her despite the spite that forms in your chest.

“I introduced it to him.” You inform.

She hums, unbothered. It only irritates you more.

“Is there a reason?” You huff. “Why you’re here?”

She raises an eyebrow, “I’m hungry?”

You scoff. “No.” You slam the table ever so slightly because even if you were annoyed and confused, you weren’t that brave and you didn’t want to cause a scene at a convenience store at midnight. “Why are you here. Talking to me.”

Jennie blinks at you, then stares at you for seconds too long that you flush under her unwavering stare before she ends up in a fit of giggles. You almost think she’s here to mock you, to call you out on your pathetic and humiliating pining for someone who doesn’t care about you the same way you do to him. But she pats you on the shoulder, and you want to think it’s condescending but it doesn’t seem that way at all.

“You’re an acquaintance. You looked like you needed the company.”

You frown, “I don’t.”

She rolls her eyes, munching on another chip.

“You do. Your posture looks depressing.”

“Excuse me?” You scowl.

“It’s true.” She shrugs. “You don’t seem the type to be here wallowing unless it’s really bad. You seem like you have your shit together.”

And because your mind is already muddled and confused, and filled with irrational thoughts. Her words set you off, and you seem to be underrating or overreacting more than usual. So you snap, you shove your cup aside that the soup nearly sloshes out and send her a glare so blazing that Jennie’s caught off guard.

“And you think you know me well enough to gauge whether or not I’m ‘like this’ or the type to have a perfect mental breakdown regimen because I’m smart?” You seethe. Jennie’s eyes widen. “I have mental breakdowns like every other student and I binge eat when I’m stressed and I fuck up from time to time. I curse, yes! I see your face. Oh does she not curse? Well, look at me, bitch. I can curse like a motherfucking sailor at sea when the fishes come because I’m human. I’m just like you. So fuck off with your ‘you seem like you have your shit together’ because I don’t and I’m so fucking annoyed with your stupid face whenever I see it because it only reminds me of Jungkook!”

The silence is defining, even the cashier stops counting his bills for the night because you don’t hear the rubbing of money together. You feel his stare on your back, and more pressingly, you feel Jennie’s shocked expression linger on your face, and now that you’ve come down from your rage. Your face heats up in embarrassment.

You don’t even recall what you said, except for the fact you’ve mentioned her and Jungkook in the same sentence. And your face pales.

“I …” She chokes.

You flush, before you’re turning away, snatching your belongings to leave and forget this convenience store and never return because you don’t think you can show your face here ever again.

But before you’re able to make a run for it, a hand grabs your elbow that stops you from moving any further.

“This is already as embarrassing—” You exasperate, trying to snatch your arm away.

“For a girl so smart, you’re really dumb, aren’t you?” She deadpans.

You gape, finding enough strength to retrieve your arm as you stare at her with a dumbfounded expression.

“Excuse me—?”

“Firstly, let’s unpack what you just said because there are a lot of things that need to be dissected here.” She says blankly.

You scowl, “Look I don’t—”

“One.” She blinks as if she was doing a presentation for a course and not talking to an alleged acquaintance. “I don’t think you should act a certain way just because you’re smart. You’re entitled to your own mechanisms and I’m not judging you for them. I was simply pointing out my own observations, and I’m sorry for being insensitive.”

You’re stunned to silence, because did Jennie just … apologise to you?

“Two.” She says. You listen silently. “I think you have things you need to talk to Jungkook about, and frankly—I would’ve stayed away if I knew that the two of you were a thing.”

“We’re not a thing!” You cry, face flushed.

She shoots you an unimpressed look, “Really. So that oddly targeted blow-up was because of your mental breakdown and not because you don’t have feelings for Jungkook?”

She’s the third person to call you out the same day, or within the first one in the next. And it’s even more embarrassing because it’s the girl you’ve compared yourself to countless times because of your own insecurities.

“Yes.” You snap childishly.

Jennie sighs, gesturing for you to sit on the stool. You want to defy her out of spite, but you’ve already gotten this far into the conversation and you feel like you’d miss out on something if you left now.

“Why are you mad at me?” She asks.

“I-I’m not mad—” You weakly protest.

“You are. There’s anger in you and if it’s not directed to Jungkook then it’s directed to me. Is it because I’m a woman?”

Your eyes widen, “What—?”

“Let me reword that,” She sighs. “Is it because I’m the woman with Jungkook?”

You flinch at her declaration, especially since she indirectly confessed to being with him, while you weren’t.

“I don’t …” You trail off in a whisper.

“I don’t blame you for being angry.” She says. “But I need you to understand that I would never have done anything with him if I knew that the two of you were together.”

“We’re not.” You blink, and her unimpressed look is still there that makes you speak a little louder. “We’re not together.”

She opens her mouth to say something, then shuts it. You see her furrow her eyebrows before she settles for a response that comes a few moments after.

“Okay, then if you’re not together then why the resentment?” She puts it so simply and now that you’re listening to her, you feel a lot stupider.

“I just …” You croak, fiddling with your fingers, “I don’t …”

She sighs, “Listen. We’re both women here. I know how it feels to be left in the dark when it comes to things like this but there’s no point in being angry at me when in reality it’s Jungkook you need to talk to. If you aren’t together then I don’t understand why you’re angry with me—or with him.”

You sit there in silence, nearly pouting like a scolded child.

“You’re his type.” You say softly.

Jennie pauses before she raises an eyebrow.

“And you believe that?”

You furrow your eyebrows, “I mean, of course?” You mumble, “You’re pretty, confident and sexy. Any guy would like you.”

For a moment, you think you’ve said too much. Looked to vulnerable. But Jennie doesn’t do the typical mean girl thing where she laughs in your face and threatens to expose you. Instead, her eyes soften, and her hand reaches out to hold yours.

“____.” She calls your name gently, and you look away, embarrassed. “You’re pretty. You’re confident. You are sexy.”

You flush, “No. I’m not.”

She scoffs, “_____, there isn’t a set definition of what a pretty woman is like. Nor is there a one-dimensional understanding of a confident woman. There are confident women who strut in their walk and commands all the attention in the room. But there are also quiet, assured women who are intelligent and confident in their capabilities. Both of them are so different, but the one thing that they have in common?” She prompts as your eyebrows furrow. “They’re both women who are worthy of love.”

You blink up at her when her tone goes softer.

“I don’t think I’m Jungkook’s type.” She tells you.

But for some reason you need to deny it, again.

“I think you are.” You mumble, “You’re … you. And you’re probably … experienced.” You cringe at what you say, and you’re mortified if you need to explain yourself to her. But Jennie immediately picks up on it, and you don’t notice how she tenses for a split second but recovers immediately.

“We’ve done things together, yes.” You feel your heart shatter, “But you don’t have to do anything with him for him to like you.”

You sigh, “Maybe. But that's the only way he’s ever wanted me.” You say so softly that Jennie almost doesn’t catch it.

Jennie’s face softens much more, turning into a much gentler expression as she nudges your chin to look at her. And when you do, you feel wounded. You feel so much less assured than you were when you were raging at her. You hated it, how she treated you so kindly when she should’ve been cursing at you like you did to her.

“Do you want to know something?” She asks.

You nibble on your lips before you nod your head.

“If someone doesn’t want you. It’s not because you’re lacking. It’s because they’re lacking the sense to perceive you in a way that recognises your inherent worth to be loved.”

Your breath hitches and Jennie continues.

“I’ve had instances where men didn’t want to sleep with me because I was too confident, too sexually liberated for them. As if who I slept with mattered because it wasn’t them. It was never going to be them.”

“I didn’t sleep with Jungkook.” You tell her, voice soft as if you needed to clarify.

“And you don’t need to. You don’t need to sleep with anyone for them to want you. If Jungkook only wants you for your body then he doesn’t deserve you.” She points out.

You feel your heart clench, and the realisation coming from Jennie only hurts even more.

“But he’s important to me …” You whisper.

“What’s important is not always what’s good for you.” She informs you with a gentle smile. “Your sexuality is yours. And if you want to sleep or be sexual with someone, you do it because you want to. Not because someone coerced you into doing it.”

Your eyes widened, “N-No. Jungkook didn’t force me. I consented. To all of it.” You murmur, “I wanted to do it. B-But I just felt so … lacking? In comparison and … since then all he’s came to me for was just … that.”

Jennie nibbles on her bottom lip, “Jungkook’s not a bad person.” She says softly. And she’s the second person that tells you that. So you know it’s a true reflection of his character.

“I know.”

She smiles, “We both do.” She nods, “But he’s misguided. He’s never had the ability to be with someone he really cares for and I think when that happened—he dealt with it the only way he knows how to.”

You furrow your brows, “But he’s with you.”

She shakes her head with a small chuckle, “No. Not emotionally, at least.” She informs. “And he doesn’t care about me. I know. He’s always kept me at arms-length away, and I’m fine with that because I don’t like him like that either.”

You blink, and your ears turn red. “H-How do you—?”

“How do I separate lust from affection?” She laughs. “It’s because I can. Not everyone can do that, and Jungkook is one of them.”

“But you just said that he didn’t care about you.”

“I’m not talking about me,” She smiles sadly.

Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion until you realise what she was implying. And you don’t want to assume anything, never. Because hope was the one feeling that was worse than fear and you didn’t want to subject yourself to that just yet.

“Oh.” You mumble.

She nods, squeezing your hand.

“I think he misses you.”

You purse your lips.

You missed him, too.

#bts fic #bts imagine #bts fics #bts imagines #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #bad boy good thing

[thatfanficstuff]

Summer Wedding - Stucky

Grouping - Stucky x Reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. smut including unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), public teasing, oral sex (m receiving), spit roasting, minor knife play and other stuff I'm sure I forgot.

A/N: This is the first fic I'm posting for my summer celebration and it was actually written for boxofbonesfic's Hot Girl Summer Challenge. Not as um...descriptive as I'd intended on making it but I like it. Enjoy.

Word count: 3544

***

The wedding was beautiful, even you had to admit that. It was a relatively simple affair as these things went, though you were certain your uncle had spent several thousands on the flowers that seemed to dot every surface of the grounds of his estate. At least he’d kept your cousin from having a large church wedding this time. There was only so many times that was acceptable anyway, right?

A sigh slid from your lips and you sipped at your drink. You never should have come to this wedding. You weren’t in the mood for it. No, you should have made up an excuse about being sick and stayed home. The only reason you hadn’t was the fact you had no desire to listen to your mother bitch at you for the next six months for missing a family event. Just the thought had you rolling your eyes.

You’d actually been looking forward to the wedding until last week. That’s when you discovered your boyfriends were going on a mission and would not be back in time to accompany you. Not only did you hate going to weddings alone, but you’d already gone through the ordeal of explaining to your aunt why you need a plus two instead of a plus one. And she certainly hadn’t kept that information to herself. Half the damn day had been spent answering questions about your relationship from nosy family members.

Speaking of…Your cousin Natalie sat down in one of the empty chairs that flanked you. She smirked and sipped at her champagne. “So, where are your dates, Y/N?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes again. Too much more of that and you’d have a raging migraine. Instead, you kept your gaze on the dance floor and took another sip of your drink. “They had to work.”

“I just find it interesting that you all but beg mother for an extra seat and here they both are. Empty.” She eyed you, waiting for a reaction you had no intention of giving her. “I mean, why lie? It’s kind of pathetic.”

You finally turned your head to her. “Shouldn’t you be doing something wedding-ish? You are the maid of honor, aren’t you? Oh, that’s right, you aren’t in the wedding party, are you?” You sucked a breath through your teeth in mock sympathy. “Sorry.”

There was certain to be a reason why Natalie wasn’t part of her only sisters third wedding, but you didn’t care beyond the fact it was sure to be a sore spot. Frankly, Natalie had always been a bitch, even when you were children. Though, unlucky in the marriage department, her sister Sally had always been your preferred cousin. Maybe Sally had finally gotten tired of dealing with her sister’s shit.

Natalie narrowed her eyes and leaned toward you. “I don’t believe you could get one man to put up with you, let alone two. No one does. We actually had a pool going over whether either of them would show up. And if they did, whether they’d leave with you since you’d probably paid them to be here. I mean, most people just make up one boyfriend. Two really takes the cake. You never could stand not being the center of attention.”

The irony wasn’t lost you that most of your family had no idea you worked with the Avengers. Nor had you mentioned the names of those two boyfriends of yours. Real attention seeker you were. You chanced a glance at your phone to check the time. You had at least another hour before you could leave without a lecture from your mother. You also had zero messages from your boys. Hopefully, that meant they were taking care of business and would be home soon.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” your cousin started whisper yelling from beside you as she froze in her chair. Her eyes were wide and slightly crazed.

Your brow furrowed. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Even as you waited for an answer, your trained ear picked up murmurs beginning amongst the other guests.

When you went to look over your shoulder, Natalie gripped your hand. “Don’t turn around,” she said through clenched teeth. When you went to do it anyway, she snapped again. “Don’t. They’ll see you staring.”

“Who?” Your tone was clipped as irritation crawled through you.

“Steve Rogers and James Barnes just walked in,” she hissed, her gaze locked on them. So apparently she was allowed to stare but you weren’t. By this point, everyone else would be staring as well. The boys were used to it.

You snatched your hand away from your cousin and spun in your seat. As soon as you saw them, a smile covered your face. They had been so certain they wouldn’t be back in time. You knew they’d pushed themselves to be here for you. You ran your gaze over them, taking in the rare sight of them in suits. Even though you’d helped them pick them out, you still licked your lips at the sight.

Steve wore a beautiful bright blue suit that you knew brought out his eyes even though they were currently hidden behind sunglasses. Buck’s suit looked light blue but it was actually a thin blue pin stripe. Both of them looked incredible as always, but you always got a little thrill seeing them dressed up. Of course, that feeling was mutual.

They hadn’t seen you yet, but they were scanning the crowd as they moved across the vast grounds of your uncle’s estate. When your uncle moved to greet them, you stood as well.

Natalie grabbed at your arm. “What are you doing? You’re going to embarrass me.”

Yeah, she didn’t need any help with that. You shook her off and started toward your men. Both of them immediately locked onto your presence and wide smiles greeted you. Your uncle got to them before you could. Steve shifted his attention to speak with him, but Buck’s attention was 100% on you. His gaze trailed over you from head to toe and his eyes darkened.

“We’re extremely honored that you’re here. How did you hear about the wedding?” you heard your uncle ask. He was one of the politer members of your family.

“They’re with me, Uncle Frank,” you said as soon as you were close enough to be heard without raising your voice. “Sorry they’re late. They were working.”

Frank turned to you, his mouth slightly agape and his brows lifted. “These are the dates Margie wouldn’t stop going on about?” Margie was his wife and the aunt you had to beg for the extra seat.

You hummed in agreement.

“Well, I certainly hope so or this is going to turn awkward in a moment,” Bucky said with a lopsided grin. He opened his arms in invitation and you stepped into them. “Missed you, doll.”

You nuzzled against his chest briefly, careful not to transfer your makeup to his shirt. “I missed you, too. So much. I’m glad you’re home.”

There was a tug on your arm and you were pulled into Steve’s embrace. He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey, soldier.” You turned to look at your uncle who was still staring in stunned silence. “Steve, Bucky, this is my Uncle Frank. Father of the bride.”

Both of your boys shook his hand and thanked him for allowing them to come. He hurried back to his table, undoubtedly to announce this strange turn of events. You fell into step with your boyfriends, taking their hands in yours while you walked in the middle. You led them over to your table to find Natalie still in Bucky’s seat.

“Natalie,” you said to get her attention. When she continued to gape at the two men you said her name again.

She smiled at you as if you were her favorite person in the world certain there was an introduction in her future. “Yes, cousin?”

“You’re in his seat.”

She blinked at you for a second before her face twisted in anger. She scrambled from the chair and stormed back to her table with a toss of her head. Steve and Buck chuckled as they took their seats on either side of you. They slid their chairs as close to you as they could get. “Are you two hungry? We already had dinner but I could find you something.”

Bucky squeezed your thigh. “We ate. Don’t worry about us, sweetheart.”

“I’m glad you two made it,” your mother’s voice caught your attention and you turned to find her standing next to Steve. He stood to greet her and you leaned against Bucky, knowing he wouldn’t care to do the same. “If I had to listen to one more person say she made you up I was going to scream,” she admitted as she hugged Steve. That earned another low chuckle from Bucky.

“Mrs. Y/L/N, it’s good to see you again,” Steve said, managing to sound sincere. Not that he disliked your mother, but they’d just returned from a mission. All they wanted to do was stay home for a couple of days and destress. But they’d come here for you and they would be on their best behavior.

“We won’t be staying long, mom. They just got home,” you informed her and braced yourself for an argument.

Instead, she nodded. “Of course, sweetheart. Just make sure to introduce them to Sally before you leave.”

You groaned. “Can’t I just do it at her next wedding?”

“Y/N!” she snapped but you caught the twitch at the corner of her lips.

Bucky snorted a laugh beside you while Steve shot you a chastising look. You smiled. “I will, momma.”

She left and Bucky turned to speak in your ear as Steve sat back down. “We don’t have to leave, baby girl.” The nickname shot a thrill up your spine. “I love weddings. The food. The dancing. The clothes. Like this little number you have on. I really love this dress, doll.” You wore a white sundress with tiny blue flowers on it to match their suits that fell a few inches above your knees. It was the first time either of them had seen it.

Steve’s arm settled across the back of your chair and his fingers played with your hair. “Yeah, that dress is something special. It might be a bit too short, though,” he said without glancing at you. Instead, he seemed to be keeping an eye on the crowd around you.

“It’s not too short.” You loved the dress and thought it was perfect.

“Yeah, Stevie. If anything, it’s not short enough.” Bucky’s fingers dragged your dress up your thigh, bunching it up in his hand as he went.

“What are you doing, Barnes?” you hissed.

“I told you I missed you, doll. I want to show you how much.”

You placed a hand on his, stopping his movement. “You can’t be serious.”

“Of course, we are. We talked about it all the way home,” Steve answered. He lowered his mouth to speak in your ear. “Talked about how we wanted to please you in front of everyone. With everyone watching because you know their eyes are glued to our table trying to figure out how we managed to land a beautiful gal like you.”

You snorted a laugh that cut off in a gasp as Bucky pulled your dress further up your thigh. “I don’t think that’s what they’re thinking, Steve.”

Bucky kissed the patch of skin behind your ear. “How come he gets Steve and I got Barnes?”

“He’s not the one actively trying to feel me up at my cousin’s wedding.” Your eyes slipped closed as his fingers brushed your inner thigh. Sweat beaded your skin and you wondered if you could blame it on the heat even though it was ten degrees cooler than it had been earlier.

“But it was all his idea,” Buck whispered.

Your eyes flew open to shoot a glare at the blond’s head. “Steven Grant Rogers, What would your mother say?”

Buck laughed, drawing the attention of some of the few people that weren’t already staring. “She’d probably say, ‘good going, Stevie’. She would have loved you.”

“Would—” All ability to finish your sentence or to have a rational thought fled from you when he pushed your panties aside and ran his fingers through your folds. Fuck.

“She’s already soaking wet for us, Steve. Such a good girl,” Bucky cooed.

Steve’s hand fisted on the back of your chair as he glanced around again. “I was wrong. I don’t have the patience for this. I need to be buried in her.” He slid his sunglasses off and put them in the inside pocket of his jacket. He turned to face you, blue eyes burning into you. “You have exactly two minutes to find us someplace private or we’re going to finger fuck you right here until you scream. Your choice, princess.”

In less than a minute, you’d sent a text on your phone and jumped to your feet. Taking their hands in yours, you dragged them toward the house. You pulled them through the large home until you reached a familiar door on the main level. Opening it, you shoved the super soldiers inside. You locked the door behind you and turned to find them already loosening their ties.

“We don’t have time for that,” you argued with a wave of your hands. “I told Uncle Frank we were borrowing his office for an important phone call. We have twenty minutes tops.”

Bucky groaned. “I wanted to take my time with you. I missed you,” he nearly whined.

The corner of your mouth kicked up. “We can take all the time you want later, baby. Right now, just fuck me.” That had him groaning again, an entirely different sound this time.

Steve, however, wasn’t wasting any time. He grabbed a cushion from the couch and tossed it on the floor. “All fours, princess.” He was already undoing his belt by the time you dropped to your knees. He moved behind you and pushed your dress up to give himself a clear view of your ass. He ran his hand over it before giving you a light swat. The mild sting was still enough to have you shifting.

“These have got to go,” he said tugging on the side of your panties. “Buck?”

You glanced up to see Bucky grin as he pulled out a knife and handed it to Steve. He traced your spine with the back of the blade causing you to hiss and arch your back. The sensation only doubled when he moved from cloth to bare skin. The cold steel on your flesh sent tremors through you but you weren’t scared. Far from it. “I think she likes that, Stevie,” Bucky said, a teasing lilt in his voice. “We’ll have to remember that.”

Steve merely hummed before slicing through both sides of your panties and pulling them off as he handed the knife back to his friend. His hand immediately cupped you and his fingers dipped into your soaking wet folds. “Christ, Y/N. I hope you’re ready for me, baby.”

The head of his cock nudged your entrance as if asking for permission but that only lasted a moment. A second later, Steve surged forward filling you with his length. You moaned at the familiar sensation and clawed at the carpet. He paused, giving you time to adjust then he was thrusting into you in long, slow strokes. “Don’t tease,” you ordered.

Steve laughed and increased his speed. When you groaned, Bucky was there rubbing the tip of his cock across your lips. You opened your mouth and sucked at him greedily, needing to taste him while Steve railed you from behind. Only when you had both of them inside of you did you feel complete. Whole. Whatever the fuck was wrong with you, you hoped there was no cure. You would gladly die like this.

The feeling of both of them moving in and out had a perfectly sinful, wanton moan coming from you. The vibration ran along the length of Bucky’s cock and he grunted. His fingers tightened their hold in your hair and his speed increased. Steve mirrored his pace and it didn’t take long for the office to fill with lurid grunts and the sweaty, sweet smell of sex.

Soon, you were so lost in sensation you became little more than a vessel for them to use as you climbed to your peak. Their rhythm stuttered and you knew they were close. You clenched your walls around Steve and were rewarded with a hiss and his grip on your hips tightening. At the same time, you sucked harder on Bucky and ran your tongue along the underside of his cock. “Fuck,” he bit out. “I’m close. Cum, baby girl. Come on.”

Steve’s fingers found your clit. Two seconds later you were screaming around the cock in your mouth as your cunt clutched greedily at the one in your pussy. Fuck. Bucky came next, his load shooting into your mouth and down your throat. As you swallowed his offering, Steve filled you with his cum. You felt it leak around him and drip to the floor.

They pulled out of you at the same time and you collapsed to your side. “Holy shit,” you said between pants causing your boys to laugh.

“Holy shit’s right. Damn,” Bucky agreed. Your eyes followed his movements as he tucked himself back into his pants and put himself to rights. Before you could turn to Steve, you felt fabric between your legs cleaning you up.

A glance showed him wiping away his cum with the remnants of your panties. He gave you a wicked grin. “Can’t have you leaking all over your cousin’s wedding, now can we?”

Your face heated as you thought about all the times they’d made you walk around with their cum leaking out of you. Apparently, that wasn’t appropriate for a wedding but was fine everywhere else. Steve stood and pulled his pants up before doing up his belt. He held out a hand to you. “Let’s get you fixed up, sweetheart.”

They’d barely done anything and looked like they had when you walked into the room. You, on the other hand, probably looked like you’d gone a couple of rounds with a rabid raccoon. Stupid men. Steve made sure your dress was laying correctly so everything was covered while Bucky did the same thing behind you. They both fiddled with your hair for a moment before declaring you gorgeous.

You narrowed your gaze at them, not buying it for a moment. The three of you quickly put the office to rights. There was nothing you could do about the smell of sex in the air but hopefully it would dissipate before your uncle needed to use it.

“Seriously, baby girl. You look fantastic,” Buck insisted when he noticed you fidgeting.

“Yeah, but you guys like it when I look freshly fucked,” you said as you opened the door. There was a mirror in the hallway you used to check your appearance. You actually didn’t look that bad, but you definitely looked a little wild. You shrugged. Honestly, you didn’t care. “All right, we’re saying hello to the bride, then we’re leaving.”

“No argument here.” Steve took your hand in his and Buck did the same thing on the other side.

When the three of you made it outside, you headed straight for the head table. “Sally, this is Steve and Bucky. Boys, this is my cousin Sally and her new husband Ben.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Steve greeted with a smile. Sally launched herself at him and wrapped him in a hug.

“I can’t believe you came to my wedding,” she squealed before letting go of him to hug Bucky. His eyes begged you to help him but you just smiled. Sally was a bit flighty but she was good people.

She hugged you last. “You should have told me, Y/N. I would have sat you closer to the front.”

“It’s okay, Sally. We have to go. Congratulations,” you said then let her go. When you did, you found that most of the family had come to get introductions or say their farewells. Nicole tried to go in for a hug, but Steve subtly made sure it was nothing more than a handshake. The fact you didn’t introduce her was enough to tell them she wasn’t the kind of person they wanted to know.

When she tried to hug Bucky, you intercepted and hugged her instead. “It was good seeing you, Nicole.”

“You have some explaining to do,” she said in a low voice as she hugged you tighter than necessary. When she released you, she continued to stand by you.

You watched Bucky and Steve say goodbye to your mother and uncle before they turned to you. You held up a finger to tell them you’d be right with them and leaned sideways to get closer to your cousin. “So, just out of curiosity, did anyone in the pool have them fucking me during the reception?”

#stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #here be lemons #knife play #hot girl summer challenge #marvel fanfic

[babluvsu]

Eren doesn’t know: Chapter 2 (Jean x Reader x Eren)

Dating Eren is hard, especially when he’s in a band that’s constantly away. While your boyfriend is gone, your friend Jean decides to help out with your loneliness. Problem is, neither of you can stop.

Warnings: Cheating (lots of it), smut (also lots of that, like, a lot), angst, one-sided love, language

Written by me an my bestfriend @msack3rman 😌 We thought of this late night on a drive and it stuck

1.4k word count

Chapter 1, ((Chapter 2)), Chapter 3, Chapter 4

"Baby, what if we went and got dressed and went out to lunch, then walked around the park?" You turned to him watching as his normally dumb grin appeared on his face. "You're still asking me on dates, after 3 years?" You smiled softly and giggled.

"Of course I am, you're just too hot not to." His face tinted in the slightest shade of pink and you felt your heart flutter. It almost felt like the first time you went on a date with Eren. Nostalgia had you feeling like mush and you couldn't help yourself as you leaned over and kissed him.

Eren kissed back with the same gentleness you were using. He felt loved and cared for and he had already forgotten. Just like he wanted to. Moments like these make him feel like the flame between the both of you was still ablaze. "C'mon sunshine boy, let's go."

Eren's heart was beating so fast in his chest he could feel it in his ears. You two raced to the door of the house, stumbling inside and laughing at one another. You weren't always competitive. But Eren brings out that side of you. He brings out all the best in you and you love him dearly for it. Your chest ached terribly as you remembered you wouldn't be able to change around Eren or shower with him tonight.

Eren had chased you to your shared bedroom pinning you under him. You felt giddy as he kissed along your neck and marked the skin there. Thank god Jean didn't bite you there. You felt your heart start to race when he pushed his hands under your shirt and dragged his nails across your sides. In a panic you gave an excuse to him, "I'm on my period, we can't do anything." There was a pout on your face and Eren pulled back with a matching expression.

Then he smiled and shrugged it off. "That's fine, I can spend my time with you without needing to have sex." Eren was celebrating inside, he wanted so desperately to text Mikasa and say, "I told you so." Eren knew you hated having sex on your period and your periods last for a while.

"You can shower first then, I'll decide where to go for food." He sat up sitting between your legs on the bed as he scrolled through his phone. You rolled over and dropped off of the bed, getting a nice outfit for the outdoors before going to the bathroom.

Eren shut the car off after parking and the two of you got out, making your way to the trail that went around the park. It had taken much longer to get out of the house to eat because Eren's manager had called him. The man kept your boyfriend on the phone for over 20 minutes. You grew annoyed quickly. Even in his down time, when it was supposed to be you and Eren it ended up being you Eren and anyone else who wanted to join.

He quickly made it up to you, even though he shouldn't have had to in the first place. His manager called him, he didn't call his manager. You shouldn't have gotten so upset because it wasn't his fault. But you couldn't help it. On the bright side, you're now walking with him at sunset. Eren's eyes shined so brightly in pure sunlight.

His skin was radiant and god he's just so handsome. He's so breathtaking, but you forget so easily when you're apart for so long. The low quality video calls honestly make you feel worse but hearing his voice as you fall asleep makes up for it. Eren's hand waved back and forth in front of your face, "You've been staring at me for a whole minute, are you gonna blink yet?"

You chuckled and grabbed his hand holding it as you walked with him. "I just love you a lot Eren. Don't bully me for appreciating you." He smiled and squeezed your hand as you looked away blushing. He didn't mean to fluster you, but he doesn't feel bad, your reddened face looked gorgeous under the last few rays of sunshine in the sky.

You had already walked around the entire park 2 times, talking about everything and nothing. Your phone went off for the 20th time since your date started and you were starting to get really annoyed. Another intruder on your quality time with Eren. You pulled your phone out and quickly glanced at the notifications, as soon as you noticed Jean's name you frowned and shut your phone off.

Eren glanced at you and let out a sigh. "Angel?" You pocketed your phone again and turned to give him your full attention. "Would you make me choose between us and my band?" Your frown deepened.

Today, you can't give him the answer you usually do. You knew you'd be as patient as you could, but you couldn't handle this question tonight. "Eren, I don't want to answer that.. I feel like I have to choose between my happiness and yours."

"I love you, but I also love my family. You both mean the world to me, I'd feel lost without both of you." You squeezed his hand and took a deep breath. "I feel lost every time I wake up and you've left to go on tour without saying goodbye or when Armin will answer your phone and let me know that you've exhausted yourself until 5 in the morning every day for the past week while you're out cold."

You weren't angry, you were sad and you were tired. "I'm sorry. I don't want you to think of it like that." Eren's voice was soft and sweet. His heart felt like it had stopped and in his mind that flame between you two was starting to dim again. He tugged on your intertwined hands and it brought you to his side. You leaned against one another as you made your way back to the car.

This date was your idea and the whole point was to cheer Eren up and finally spend time with him. Now you just feel like crying because the majority of the date was focused around other people and it hurt that you had to choose what to sacrifice so Eren didn't sacrifice anything.

Moments like these make you remember why Jean is in your life the way he is now. You were doing something for you and you were being selfish. However, being selfish still feels shitty and suddenly you feel sick on the car ride back home.

After getting home, you left Eren’s side to go to the bathroom, pulling out your phone to look at the now 20 notifications from Jean. You rolled your eyes, he really couldn’t take a hint sometimes.

Hey

Are you up?

Do you wanna do smth today?

If you want we can go to lunch

I’ll pay

Ok ig not

Sorry for bothering you

Are you ignoring me?

Did I do smth? If so i’m sorry

Pls talk to me if smth is wrong

As you read through his messages, guilt began to build up in your throat. I mean, how hard could it have been to send a simple “Sorry, I’m busy” You knew you shouldn’t feel like this. You really did nothing wrong. All you wanted to do was spend some time with your boyfriend, who you rarely even saw anymore, and you could hardly do that today with all of the interruptions. You just wanted to be alone. No distractions, no interruptions. For just a moment to be rid of all guilt and shame. But, the knocking on the door brought you back, making you realize that it wasn’t possible.

“Yeah?” You call out through the door, not wanting to face Eren just yet. You could hear a sigh from the other side.

“I’m sorry for asking that earlier,” he sounded sincere and a little hurt, “I just love you and my band so much and I don’t want to ever have to choose between you two.” His voice was soft and you could feel a lump begin to form in your throat. “I know I’m gone a lot and I’m so sorry for that. I love you and don’t ever wanna lose you to something like this. Please just come out and talk to me.”

Letting out a shaky breath, you slowly open the door and when you see Eren and how upset he looks, you couldn’t stop the tears from falling. You wrap your arms around his middle, burying your face in his chest as you cried into his shirt. A hand came up to rest against the back of your head while the other ran across your back in soothing circles. “Shhh, it’s okay Angel, I’m here.” His voice was barely above a whisper and he rested his chin on top of your head. “I’ll always be here.”

#attack on titan #fanfic #my fic #jean x reader x eren #eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren x reader #jean kirstein #jean x reader #aot angst

[kiwikyuu]

━━━━━━━━ greatest asset ; oikawa tōru

summary — there was only one thing you could think in that moment; oikawa could not lose his greatest asset no matter the cost

word count — 1.3k

genre — imagine ; enemies to lovers, slight angst, fluff

warning(s) — car accident + coma, self sacrifice (read: not death). sort of cliché oops, cursing, not edited

a/n — i read a hand holding headcanon and something about it just spurred this idea in me. also this might be a little out of character but everything just kinda made sense in my head so oops. it has been so long since i've written imagines so please be patient with me

❝ IT ALL HAPPENED SO FAST, BUT HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN FASTER. ❞

They called him the Great King—Oikawa the Great. He was a star on and off the court. With his impeccable serves and his seemingly endless fan club of girls, people found it hard to believe that a guy so stuck up his own flat ass could ever yield willingly to someone.

Then you came into the picture.

You two clashed in every way possible from the moment you met. The dislike was mutual and unwavering. There were even whispers that Oikawa found you more intolerable than Kageyama Tobio, the infamous genius setter of Karasuno High.

"There's a thin line between love and hatred, Y/N."

"Yeah, it's called rationality, Tōru, and my balance is impeccable."

Bickering became but a pastime between you two, and considering that you took the same bus as Oikawa, it happened often.

It was foggy out this afternoon. Mondays were his day off, which meant you found yourself walking stubbornly beside him. Oikawa tried his best not to mind you, but his eyebrows furrowed in frustration regardless.

"Take a picture, Tōru. It'll last longer," you said, narrowing your eyes at him as the bus stop came into view just across the street.

He scoffed. "Like I'd want a picture of you in my phone."

You rolled your eyes at him. "Stop acting so high and mighty, you arrogant asshole."

Arrogant asshole.

There it was, the words he had heard so many times before whether it was directly at him on the court or behind his back when he was turned. Everyone always had something to say, something to critique.

Oikawa wasn't sure why it bothered him so much today, but it did. Maybe it was the recent loss against Shiratorizawa at Inter-High, or maybe it was the underlying fear of not wanting to be like Kageyama and knowing what you said sounded exactly like something that he would have said to insufferable first-year. Regardless, it struck a nerve and it struck hard.

You had never seen the expression that Oikawa had donned cross his face before, and for the first time, you worried you had overstepped. Sure, he was annoying, but your comments were always meant to irritate not cause genuine harm.

"You know Y/N, for someone who acts so smart you're really fucking dense," Oikawa said, his voice small but slowly getting louder. He let out a booming laugh as he turned to face you.

"Calm down," you said.

Oikawa shook his head. "I mean, arrogant asshole? Your vocabulary is shit. Why not pompous prick or ingenuine idiot?" He took a step forward as you took one back leaving the both of you to stand dangerously close to the edge of the sidewalk.

"You're going to – " slip if you don't be careful.

But the damage had already been done, and Oikawa felt his foot slide off the curb. He would have went flailing backwards if he hadn't had the reflexes of a skilled volleyball player. He steadied himself quickly, shoes coming down flat against the asphalt of the side of the road.

For a moment, you thought he was safe again because he hadn't hurt himself. The fog was thick but not thick enough to cover the blinding headlights of an approaching car that definitely did not have enough time to swerve safely away from Oikawa who didn't even realize what was happening behind him.

There was only one thing you could think in that moment; Oikawa could not lose his greatest asset no matter the cost. You weren't stupid. You knew if the car hit him, it would have affected his hands. What was a setter without functioning hands?

It was a split-second decision. Suddenly, you were pulling Oikawa back onto the sidewalk as the momentum propelled you forward to take his place.

It all happened so fast, but he should have been faster.

Everything went dark but not before you saw the abject horror in Oikawa's eyes.

A week later, you woke up in the hospital.

"If those are tears in your eyes, Shittykawa, I'm going to – "

"You're too mean, Y/N. You just woke up from a coma."

The doctors had informed you that considering your injuries, it would take you at least a month to recover and that was if you were lucky. You weren't overjoyed to be missing school, but Aoba Johsai was just considerate enough after a certain whiny setter complained to everyone he possibly could to provide accommodations so you'd be able to graduate in time.

Meanwhile, during your recovery, if Oikawa wasn't practicing for the upcoming Spring Nationals, he was to be by your side.

"I saved your life, Tōru, so you bet your flat ass that you're going to help me during recovery," you said when he objected to your request. Eventually, he agreed.

And so began an interesting friendship.

The students of Aoba Johsai were shocked when they found out. Oikawa Tōru, the Great King of the court, reduced to a compliant errand boy?

Iwaizumi was just glad Oikawa had finally met his match. Perhaps, this would turn to be for the better.

"Tōru, buy me milk bread."

"Only if we can share." THUD. "Y/N, you hit almost as hard as Iwa-chan."

"I'm bored, Tōru."

"Okay, and?"

"Stupidkawa, read me a story."

"Jared, 19."

"Oikawa, I want bubble tea."

"And milk bread?"

"You know me so well now."

Until finally you were discharged, and with your recovery, a strong bond with the pretty setter that made your heart flutter from time to time.

The volleyball team was still preparing for Spring Nationals which was slowly approaching. Oikawa, now able to turn his full attention to it, fully immersed himself into practice. He was the captain after all.

And it was only once you started to drop by that you noticed it.

It being the swarm of butterflies that pooled in your stomach whenever you found yourself around Oikawa now. For some reason, you could no longer overlook the handsome features of his face or the attractiveness in his confidence.

Really, you wanted nothing more than to disappear in a hole once you realized.

Iwaizumi figured out Oikawa's feelings for you before he did.

It was the way the usually level-headed setter would become even more boastful on the court if you were sitting in the bleachers during their practices. Sometimes, a slight pink even tinged his cheeks when you managed a smile at him.

Slowly, the two of you were falling for each other more and more.

Oikawa would take you home after practice if you were still there, getting off at your stop which was three earlier than his so he could walk you.

"You don't have to take me all the way, Tōru."

"I want to."

You would come bearing gifts the next morning after a particularly rough night, somehow managing to get through all his fan girls to give him milk bread packaged prettily and decorated with a post-it note holding a message.

"Cheer up, Stupidkawa."

"You really know what warms my heart, Y/N."

It continued like this for a while. Iwaizumi declared he'd kick Oikawa off the team if he had bear any more of this overly-sweet pre-relationship period. Then finally it happened.

Mondays were his day off, which meant you found yourself walking happily beside him. Oikawa and you were bumping shoulders—a back-and-forth that you were now used to.

"We should get bubble tea," you decided.

"And milk bread," he added.

You stared at him blankly. "You had milk bread like every day this week. How are you not sick of it?"

"I hang out with you every day, and I'm not sick of you," he countered.

"Yeah, but I'm not bread," you said, still looking at him blankly despite the bubbling pit of affection in your chest at his words.

Oikawa nodded thoughtfully. "You're better."

You scoffed, trying to play it off, though your cheeks burned. "Your fan girls would trample me if they heard," you joked. "Something about stealing you from them when we're not even – "

"Go out with me."

#oikawa x reader #oikawa angst #oikawa headcanons #oikawa x you #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa toru imagine #oikawa toru x you #oikawa imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #oikawa x y/n #haikyuu imagine #oikawa toru x y/n #oikawa toru headcanon #tw car crash #tw car accident #tw coma #tw self sacrifice

[jafndaegur]

What Ties You to Him & What Ties You to Me

Zen x MC

a/n: listening to sad BTS and shower thoughts will give you the oddest hurt/comfort ideas.

MC's breath huffed out in a small puff of cold air. The screen of her phone was bright in the early winter morning. She tugged the blanket over her shoulders more, regretting that she'd chosen to sit in just her pajamas out on the front stoop stairs.

The text message glared up at her, a single sentence from Jumin. "The flight from Munich to Seoul was a nightmare."

He sent that an hour ago and she still hadn't found the courage to respond. What was she supposed to say? Thanks for disappearing to Germany, going dark, and then coming back married! Honestly, MC should've been impressed. Korea's poster child disappears for six months and the worst speculation had been he'd found better business in Europe. The idea made her sick. How could someone so iconic and so seen just one day slip into obscurity? Again the overwhelming nausea worked it's way up to her throat.

When Jumin left he'd promised to let her know when he landed—had asked her if she wanted a souvenir upon his return. She expected nothing less from him, he was her best friend afterall. At least she considered him so...whether he saw her in that light or not, she couldn't say. Not anymore. And it wasn't like she could voice it.

Being the doting boyfriend he was, Zen had taken immediate notice at the drop of her emotions. The constant upset worry and depression at the growing time of Jumin Han's departure. With the first day of nothing, she summed it up to him being tired after a long flight. On the second day, she figured he needed time to settle in. Day after day, she came up with a new excuse for Jumin's absence from everywhere: their texts, the RFA chatroom, even the news. And it wasn't like she was waiting without action during his radio-silence. She texted him every day at first. Tried calling too at times. The humorous thought of him not purchasing an international phone plan crossed her mind at times too. But MC didn't vocalize. Zen always noticed the warped look on her face after another day of quiet, and even when he wanted to say something, he kept it to himself. She knew her boyfriend was going against his very nature to poke at Jumin's misgivings—he had a knack for stoking the business man's irritation that way. But no one was more conscious of Jumin's distancing than MC. So Zen left it be.

And she almost gave up too—so many times she'd written a goodbye which followed a list of worries and concerns about him. But she could never send. So she moved on instead. She removed their conversation from her recent texts and forced herself past. Jumin had always been one for emotionally distancing himself with needed. This must have been one of those times.

But like his lifelong best friend, it seemed that Jumin would not be coming back. And he had no intention of letting any of them—not her, not Zen, not even Jaehee, Yoosung or Seven—know either.

Until today.

She'd heard it on the radio first. How C&R's heir had returned from a staycation in Germany to wed and honeymoon his beautiful bride. The news on TV confirmed that. But his message to her, left little to no information for divination.

MC wiped at her nose, insisting that it was the cold and that she was definitely not crying.

A flash of silver caught her attention and her gaze jolted up, wondering if it was Zen passing by during his morning jog. But the moment slipped away and no one was there.

Sighing, the pads of her fingers dug into the phone screen. He acted as if he'd never left, never not said goodbye, never left a trace. Even if they both pretended everything was normal again, she was still worried. Why did he leave? Why did he leave for so long? Why didn't he say anything, not even a farewell? MC asked these questions over and over again until she was dizzy. Maybe it was selfish to want an answer, but she wanted something. Anything.

"Babe."

She looked up and this time Zen was there. He wore his black baseball cap per usual, and his hair neatly tied back in a bun. He wore a dark jacket and his running shorts over his leggings. So he was on a jog. But in his hands was a bottle of water and a piping hot cup of something.

"You looked cold earlier, your nose was running." He handed her the styrofoam cup. "The coffee shop on the corner was open, and I needed water anyways. It's really important to stay hydrated in the winter, you know?"

He stretched his arms over his head before plopping down on the steps next to her. "MC, do I even want to know why you're out here in your pjs? What would happen if another man saw you?"

Taking a sip of the drink—a pleasant surprise of hot chocolate—she giggled.

Zen leaned forward and rested his elbow on his knee, propping his chip up with his hand. "I saw the news."

MC took another sip of the beverage before resting her head in his shoulder. "He texted me."

"Did you respond?"

She shook her head.

Humming, he laced his hand in hers. "That's okay babe."

"Is it really?" She wondered if he was just acting, or worse, just humoring her.

Zen pressed his lips to her brow. "I'd be more worried if you were jumping up and down for joy right now."

She peeked up at him, gaze tentative under lashes.

"You're always gonna love the stupid prick," he muttered grumpy, nuzzling his nose against the crown of her head. "So it makes sense if you're still upset and concerned."

"Zen..." his name was whisper on her lips, moments like these where he wasn't flamboyant or too much were treasured and the things he said here. MC recognized that far off look in his eyes, the rueful pain that conjured a mirror image of Jumin without it actually being the CEO in Line.

"You'll always think of them, always be frustrated and worried." He curled his lip and made a disgruntled noise before swinging her a smug look. "Don't get me wrong. I know what ties you to him and what ties you to me are totally different loves. Clearly I have the superior one."

This time, MC did laugh.

"But the way you feel right now is fine, honey. Other than V, you were the only one able to get under that thick skin of his." He continued, hand tugging her up. "And that silver-spoon jerk under yours. Take this at your own pace, sweetheart. You don't have to force the upbeat friendliness."

MC found she couldn't respond. She didn't need his permission. And yet having it...

"Have you eaten? Let me make you breakfast," Zen chirped, leading her up the stairs back to her apartment.

"I've only got a few eggs and some onions," she murmured back, one hand still in his and the other clutching her phone.

"Omlettes then!" He smiled brightly, giving his arm a little swing. "And then grocery shopping after my rehearsal. Can't have my princess going hungry."

MC pressed to Zen's side and snuggled close. He laughed and shook his head, pulling the blanket tighter around her. He muttered about how she'd probably catch a cold and how she really should pay attention to how long she sat out on the front stoop. With a smile, MC took his playful chiding and decided he was right—she pocketed her phone and handed Zen her keys for the apartment.

#mysme #zen x mc #mysme zen #mystic messenger #hyun ryu #I wrote this instead of working on noise of rain rofl #what is this? #the product of sad bts songs #mostly magic shop #it hurts sksksksks💔

[roboraindrop]

This one's going here! While its technically comfort writing, I think its fluffy enough to count 💕

---

It had been a long day for the detective, and he just got to sit down and relax after hours of questioning, searching crime scenes, and filling out the paperwork to go along with it. He was pretty tired, but his lunch hour was creeping up slowly.

While that thought normally would fill him with glee on it's own, it had a little less of a kick today, as his usual lunch date, his partner Rain, had gone home earlier that morning. On top of everything going on at work, he still found time to worry about them, considering going to their apartment after work to check on them.

Speaking of checking on them, he glanced at the clock and reached for his cellphone. It only rang for a moment before a rather drained Rain answered.

"Hey, Dicky. Lunch time?"

He smiled at the sound of their voice, feeling some of that stress and tiredness leave his body. They always had some kind of magic over him... he assumed it was love.

"Yep, I figured I'd stop by your place, maybe I could bring you something? Do you have an appetite?"

Rain groaned a little bit, shaking their head. When they realized he couldn't see that, however, they laughed at themself and responded, "I'm afraid I might lose anything I try to keep down. Besides, I dont want to risk you getting sick. You're too important."

Dick could hear the smile in their voice as he blushed, rubbing the back of his neck, "Aw, come on, pal.... It's worth it to know you're taken care of. You're important too, y'know!" After a moment, his voice got softer, "How are you feeling, baby bear?"

The doctor couldn't help but melt at his special nickname for them, reserved only for those moments of worry. "Awful. I think I might nap," They said around the combination of a yawn and a groan, "My stomach is killing me and I cant decide whether I'm hot or cold."

The detective frowned, longing to be by their side instead of at work. He started calculating just how long it would take him to get to the apartment and how long he could stay before having to come back, but he knew if he left and saw them in such a state, he wouldn't want to leave them to come back to work.

"I'll come over after work if you're feeling up to it," He offered, "I know you need your rest, but..."

He trailed off, and they knew how badly he wanted to be there for them. He had such a kind heart... and the thought of being cuddled to sleep definitely did seem like a good one. "I'd really like that."

"Great! It's a date, then!" He maybe got a bit too excited, and had to bring it down a couple notches before continuing, "I'll let you get some rest. Try to eat something small if you can, and stay hydrated!" He advised, fiddling with a pen on his desk.

"I will. Thanks, Dicky." There was a pause before a soft, "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Oh, and check your pockets!"

"Wait, my--?"

The phone was hung up before he got his answer, and as he reached into his pocket slowly, he felt a small piece of paper. Curiously he removed it, staring at his name written in what was quite frankly bad handwriting. He smiled to himself, knowing only one person with writing like that. As a doctor, it was practically part of the job.

"What the... when did they have time to slip that in?" He wondered aloud, turning the note over. On the opposite side, there was a little message;

"To my Dicky,

Your eyes shine like stars, and I'm a lovestruck astronomer. It's not only my duty, but my pleasure to hold you close and study those galaxies. When you smile the stars dance. When you laugh, I swear I see heaven. When we touch, I feel the Big Bang. You, my darling, are a complex solar system. Those who cant grasp your beauty simply cannot see all of you for what you are.

That was really cheesy, so let me put it plainly; Dick, you are handsome, smart, and have the kindest heart out of anyone I've ever met. There's not a single thing about you that I would ever change. Thank you for being such an amazing part of my life. I hope you know how loved you are and never, ever forget it.

Your loving partner,

Rain"

Dick looked down at the words scrawled in barely legible ink, feeling his face heat up, his heart pound a little faster, and a warm buildup of tears in his eyes.

"Aw, Rain... Why'd you have to go and make me cry at work?" He laughed out loud at himself before wiping away the tears. His heart ached with so much love, both that he recieved, and longed to give. If he hadn't wanted to leave work and head to their apartment to be at their side before, he definitely did now.

---

A few hours later, Dick walked up the stairs to the second floor apartment, taking the spare key he'd been given and quietly unlocking the door. He snuck in to his love's apartment, careful to keep the drug store bag from rustling too much and giving him away. Once he set the contents on the counter he headed into the bedroom and was greeted with the sight of his sleeping beauty... Even if only beautiful by his standards.

Rain was sprawled out on their queen sized mattress, a recently discarded stuffed whale they had been cuddling with now at their side. Their colorful hair was wild, sticking up in every possible place, ending made his heart leap to see how adorable they were.

He approached the bed slowly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to their forehead and finding it hot. "Rain?" His hand moved to brush back some wild hair as they stirred, "Hey baby bear."

"....Dick...." They smiled a bit, using quite a bit of energy to sit up, even with his help. "Are you off early...?" They mumbled, looking at the alarm clock on their bedside table.

"A little," He admitted, moving sit beside them and let them rest against him, an arm lovingly over their shoulders, "I asked to leave early, I was worried about you."

They simply grunted in response, feeling some relief when their burning cheek met with his cool jacket. His hand was next to make contact as he felt their forehead.

"You're burning up," He frowned, "I didnt know if you had anything for fever, so I picked up some medicine for you. I'll go grab it--" He tried to stand up, but Rain held tightly to his arm, finally comfortable.

"No, stay..."

He couldn't help but smile at their sweet clinginess, kissing the top of their head. "Only for a minute, you need some medicine in you." He held them close, remembering the sweet words they'd written and feeling warm, himself. "Besides, what's a solar system without his sun?"

#rain writes things #comfort writing #comfort #self shipping #selfship #long post #gumshoe #court date

[quokkalatte]

Mixtape pt. 4 [M.YG]

Part 4

Category: One Shot series

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Female!Reader

Summary: Living as an aspiring rap artist in Seoul, all you want to do is work on your music and try to get your name out there. Of course when you have someone as annoying and spiteful as Min Yoongi makes that extremely difficult. Until he decides to help you out.

Warnings: smut, language, some Namjoon action (which ofc is a warning cause oof), angry Yoongi, alcohol consumption, perhaps some angst but not really

Warnings for this chapter: Honestly none except slight mentions of sex

Author's Note:so sorry it took so long to get his out thank you for being patient ♡ this chapter is short. Like really short but I'll try to make the next one longer ~ Autumn

Tags; @notsolovelykarsyn @psychoticshawtyy

Cannot tag: @deesixx2801

[Message me to be added to the tag list so you can be notified for new updates]

× × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × ×

It was like clockwork, waking up again and feeling angry and bitter at myself. Making myself something to drink and brooding and contemplating telling Yoongi not to come, tell him I'm sick. Any excuse not to see him again.

I sat on the couch, staring at Yoongi's contact, chewing my lip. I pressed his contact and texted him.

Me: don't come today, I've come down with something

Jerk: OK

I sighed, putting my phone down, going to take a long shower and try and get over the pounding in my skull, drinking was never a good idea. I undressed, stepping into the shower and allowing the steaming water to pour down my body, my eyes closing in content. I lathered myself in soap and wrapped myself in a towel, ruffling my hair with another to dry it faster. A faint knock had me frowning, dropping the towel I was drying my hair with I quickly adjusted the one covering my body, making sure I was appropriately covered, I went to the door, checking the peep hole and nearly yelped in shock.

Yoongi stood outside the door, container in hand and two drinks in another. His blonde hair was tousled and he was peering down the hall at something, scratching at his neck for a moment, pushing the grey goodie he wore for better access. I let out a short gasp. I told him I was sick! What was he still doing here? I backed away, from the door, eyeing it like it was deadly or toxic.

"Open the door Y/n I know you aren't still asleep, you texted me 30 minutes ago" Yoongi's aggregated voice came from the other side of the door. I swallowed and glared

"I told you I was sick Yoongi"

"And? Just let me in please your druggy neighbor keeps peeking at me and it's unnerving" he says, the last part fading into a whisper. I groan, pulling the door open, and Yoongi steps in quickly. He freezes once he sees my attire. Color floods his pale cheeks, and I blush darkly. "Uh, did I interrupt something?"

"N-No I just got done showering. I wasn't expecting you to still come" I mumble, excusing myself to dress, leaving Yoongi in my living room. I quickly pulled on a hoodie and sweatpants. I found him peering around my desk, and I clear my throat, and he turns to me. "Finished?" He asked and I roll my eyes.

"I still don't know why you're here, I told you not to come"

"I was already on my way when I got your text, and it wouldn't be the first time I've been around you when you're ill" he prompts, walking over to my kitchen island and setting the box and drink tray down.

"Have you considered maybe I don't want to see you?"I snap, fed up with him already. Memories of last night kept swimming in a haze, the alcohol making it dim to remember everything, but I understood the jist of watching Yoongi stick his tongue down some girl's throat and going to bed with her.

"Have you worked on a song yet?"

He completely ignored my question, opening the box and the tempting smell of sushi wafted towards me. I folded my arms, and huff

"You didn't answer my question"

"You didn't answer mine" he smirks, plucking a sushi roll and plopping into his mouth. "I brought you some too come eat" he mumbles, his cheeks puffed as he chewed. I growl in frustration and take one. "Well?"

"Yes I've worked on the song" I grumble, remembering the furious drunk scribbling I did last night in anger. Yoongi swallowed, taking a drink from his cup and dusted his hands on his pants.

"Let's see then" he asks, and I walk over to my desk and snatch the papers and handed them to him. He raised his eyebrows at me, before scanning the angry lyrics. I knew what they were, those were the one thing I remember about last night. The lyrics spoke of harsh love, love that wasn't reciprocated and the pain of having to watch him move about and not do anything about it. I suddenly realized the inspiration of the song was reading it, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth formed the words. I grew nervous, wanting to know what was running through his head. He read through them twice before handing them back to me.

"They're very meaningful, full of emotion. I'd tweak the grammar a bit and take out a couple of repitions" he says, but his mouth moved as if he wanted to ask something else. His tone was guarded and he took another sushi roll and chewed it. I nod, returning the paper to the desk. The silence that followed was awkward. Yoongi wanted to ask something, I could see it in his eyes. It did nothing more than agitate my already hostile mood with him. He chewed the sushi in silence, eyeing me as I watched cars come and go out the window above my desk. It got to much.

"Just ask what you want to ask Yoongi" I sigh, turning to look at him. He seemed embarrassed that I had caught him, but as he eyed me, his nervousness quickly snapped and he spoke.

"Is the song about the guy you're with?" He asks, tone cold and judging.

"What guy?" I frown at him, halfly with exasperation

"The Panda Express guy" he said impatiently, like I was an idiot of some sort. My eyes widened and a blush rose on my cheeks.

"I'm not seeing the Panda Express guy Yoongi" I growl.

"Are you sure?" His tone mocking.

"Positive."

"Then what are the looks he gives you every time we go out after a session?"he accuses. I groan, this boy. He acts almost like he's jealous. Which couldn't be true considering the activities he had partaken in merely 12 or so hours ago.

"That's what they are Yoongi. Looks. He kept trying to ask me out but I turned him down. He thinks we have something special after we drunkenly kissed at a friends party over a year ago" I scoff. Yoongi squinted at me, trying to see if I was telling the truth.

"Jimin?" I groan, wanting to strangle him.

"Just a friend"

"You sure?" His tone was sharp "you seemed awful cozy last night"

"Dammit Yoongi I don't like Jimin! I don't like the Panda Express guy! I've never done more than kiss a guy so stop treating me like I'm some common whore" I yell, fists clenching in anger. Yoongi blinked, taken aback my my outburst. He looked guilty for a split second, and he eyed me. I blushed, realizing I had admitted my viginity to a guy who had probably taken many.

"You've never had sex?" He asks after a pause. I turn my eyes to the ground, not meeting his gaze

"No. Never found a guy I liked enough to do things with" I mumble. I didn't like the silence. That all that seemed to be happening were bouts of awkward and tension-filled silence. I just wish he'd speak. Yoongi was always bad with words, except when he was rapping. Then he could spit out words faster than I could comprehend.

"Neither have I" I was caught in my thoughts that I almost missed him saying it. I looked at him, and he looked back. This pissed me off. I balled my fists, walking over to him, and grabbed him by his hoodie. He yelped as I dragged him towards the door. The shock must have allowed me to do so, considering Yoongi was taller than me and more built. I shoved him towards the door.

"Get out" I snap. "I don't want you here again. If all you're going to do is patronize me and slut shame me and tell lies then I don't want you here. Ever" Yoongi sputtered at me

"What are you-"

"No!" I cut him off "you don't get to listen to me announce my intact viginity only for you to reply with you haven't had sex either" I growl, pointing my finger in his face.

"I havent-"

"Liar! You had your tongue down some poor girls throat just last night! I saw you so I dare you to deny it" I hiss. He swallowed cautiously.

"I won't deny it, but I didn't have sex with her" I snort and he glared at me. "it's true. I was going to, but I stopped. I always stop. I can't bring myself to do it" he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. I frown, not fully believing him. He always had girls at parties, every single time. He'd take a girl upstairs, and now he's trying to say he's never slept with them? I was doubtful.

"Why do you stop? They're pretty and eager" I ask

"Because I don't like them. I don't want to have sex with someone I don't care about. It needs to mean something." He says. I study him before replying. He seemed honest and genuine, I didn't see a trace of a lie on his features. My next question I knew would anger him, it was a touchy subject, but I couldn't deny my jealousy that wiggled it's way into my head.

"The girl in the song you wrote for, is she special?" I ask. Yoongi's gaze was intense, and I had to will myself not to look away. I stared into his brown eyes as he spoke.

"More than she could possibly know" he says, his voice low and calm. The air sparked with a new kind of tension, created from his words and gaze. It sent pickles of emotion up my spine and caused a round of goose bumps to grace my arms. The jealousy egged me on, I wanted to know more about this girl that apparently plagued his thoughts enough to have a song written for her. Did she know about the crush Yoongi was harboring so deeply for her? Maybe not, or they'd be together already.

I didn't realize how close Yoongi was to me. His face hovered inches away from mine. I could feel the exhaled breath fan across my face and the heat his skin put off warm the air between us. It chilled me, him being so close and my cheeks spread with warmth as I realized he hadn't broken eye contact. He licked his lips, and leaned forward just slightly, his breath setting me aflame.

The loud sound of a phone ringing caused us to jump. Yoongi stumbled back into the door and I turned to find the offending noise. Yoongi phone was vibrating and ringing nest to the food and drinks. I tried to still my rapid hear beating as Yoongi quickly walked over to it, picking it up and answering it.

"Hello?" His voice was higher pitched and his cheeks were flushed pink. Incomprehensible words came from the other side. Yoongi hummed "okay I'm in my way. Try to get him not to move it" he says and hangs up. He glanced at me "I need to go"

"What happened?" I ask, instantly worried. He wrinkled his nose

"Namjoon's roommate, Seokjin, got his hand caught in the sink. Reached down to grab something and it got stuck. I need to go help get it out while Namjoon panics unnecessarily" he says. I open my mouth to respond, to tell him I wanted to come, but he was already out the door with a quick slam and a rushing sound of clothing, leaving me alone and confused.