#and im trying! real hard! ifs tiring at times but!

[beastofmoss]

Here's a little tidbit about me:

I choosed kindness out of pure spite of the world.

#theres more of course #im tired and a bit emotional but like #the world is so wonderful #and its messy #and people are complex and messy #but i want to support people in any way i can #and im selfish for that yeah? a lot of it is a desire to find a close friend #but! I ALSO DONT WANT PEOPLE TO FEEL IGNORED OR NOT IMPORTANT #and i may not be the best at giving everyone my attention and i make mistakes #and im trying! real hard! ifs tiring at times but! #i want to make wonderful memories and i want to share kindness #because the world may be messy but here we are #we are here and theres love in the smallest of things #laughter and smiles a keysmash #listening to one another #PEOPLR ARE AMAZING #JUST AAAAAGG

[hansolmates]

a hero’s journey (m)

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

prompt used: “I should’ve known.”

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

It’s so easy to ignore the world. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe a little too well. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wow. So that explains everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Understandable.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But honestly? Fuck Jisoo. 

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

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

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

“Sounds good, thanks Joonie.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nevermind, get out of my apartment.” 

“Uh, this is my apartment.” 

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

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

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

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

“Remember Jeon Jungkook? Majored in graphic design.”

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

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

A pause. And then, “Want a beer?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re running away.” 

“Am not.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yeah.” 

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

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

“You miss her?” 

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

“Did you talk about it?” 

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

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

“And are you trying to get over him?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

“But it works!” 

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

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

“Bumble.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or are you? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? I can pay for my own food—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I allowed to state my opinion?” 

“Since you asked so politely, no.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, he’s your fuck buddy then?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Namjoon holds out his hand, “Hand.” 

“No—”

“Hand.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pizza also sounds good—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do I want to know?”

“No.” 

“Do you want me to leave?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m home, Jungkookie!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

vernie bernie: or a tickle to my pickle? 

vernie bernie: beatin ya bean? 

You: ohmyGOD 

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

You: call. Ill come after dinner

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey Pretty Girl–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only recently,” you frown. 

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

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

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

“Because I wanted to protect you!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you still love him?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey Pretty Girl—

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

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

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

Hopefully yours, Jungkook

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’cha got there, partner?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey Pretty Boy...

Jungkook and Jisoo are no longer together, evidently. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi: come inside, u loser. 

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

You: dw i’ll wait, it’s only 11:50

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—coming along?” 

“Wha?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mean by what?” 

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

“Well, we’re here now, right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook,” you whine, “read mine.” 

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

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

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

“I’m on page eighty-three.” 

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

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

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

“Yes ma’am.” 

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

“I wish you did, too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook…” 

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

“Jungkook—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

“Please, baby.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

some time later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then the hotel room?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

“You know I love you, right?” 

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

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

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

“You’re terrible.” 

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

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

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

[98prilla]

Nightmare

Can’t stop writing me some soft Roman and Virgil!

He was stupid. This was so, so stupid. What was he even doing here, hand hovering over the door, poised to knock, if he could just steel himself enough to knock…

 He bit back a growl of frustration at his own cowardice. It felt like butterflies gnawing at his stomach, crawling up his throat, buzzing in a panic in his head, making his shoulders hunch higher. It was the fear of the dark of a child, the fear of the monsters under the bed, the fear of everything and nothing, the fear of the unknowns.

 Because what if it hadn’t been a simple nightmare? What if it had really happened and he’d sunk back to his room and cried himself to sleep and everything being fine and perfect and normal was the dream? What if he knocked, and was met with cold, icy eyes?

 What if Roman did as threatened and ran him through before he could say a word?

 What if Patton told him, so gently it was cruel, that he was a nuisance, a bother?

 What if Logan produced his journal, filled with reason upon cold, undeniable reason, that he was simply a hindrance?

 What if they were right?

 He couldn’t, couldn’t face them. He should just go back to his room and wait for one of them to come looking. If they came looking then it hadn’t been real, but he could not stand to face them if it had been.

 He didn’t know why it was Roman's door, he was hovering outside of. Perhaps because the prince was always so blunt. He would know, immediately, with Roman. Maybe it was because he couldn’t take anymore gentle devastation from Patton, any more pure evidence of his detriment from Logan. Maybe because he hoped to god even if it was real, that Roman would somehow pity him enough to let him in anyway, before sending him away for good.

 He bit his lip, hand shaking. Do it, just do it, why was this so hard? The longer he waited, the worse it got, the gnawing becoming a pit becoming a black hole in his stomach and he was just about to shuffle away when the door opened, revealing a yawning, bleary eyed Roman.

 He froze, fear and hope and shame welling in his chest, making it hard to breathe. Then Roman spoke.

 “I thought I heard you out on patrol, Stormy Knight. Wandering the halls so early?”

 He burst into tears.

Because Roman had spoken softly, Roman had smiled tiredly, Roman didn’t draw his sword or snarl or slam him against the wall and tell him to never come back, and it had been a dream, just a dream, and nothing, nothing could match the pure relief flooding through him.

 “Virg? What's wrong? Are you hurt?” Roman asked. Roman was worried. Was worried about him.

 He shook his head, barely able to speak through the tears, through the what ifs still running and running and running through his mind, so loudly.

 “H-had to s-see… didn’t kn-know…” he wasn’t being coherent, he barely knew what he was trying to say, but Roman must have understood, in some way.

 Carefully, slowly, Roman reached out, tugging Virgil close, wrapping his arms around the lanky side.

 “This ok?” He asked, when Virgil didn’t respond at all to his touch. He felt Virgil nod, and he choked out something that was maybe a yes.

 Roman nodded, resting his head atop Virgil's, humming softly and he gently swayed with Virgil in his arms.

 “there now, my little black hole. It’s alright.” He cried harder at that, somehow, and his hands fisted the fabric of Roman's pajama top, clinging to him as if his life depended on it.

 He was barely aware of Roman swaying, murmuring gentle nonsense, as his tears finally gave way to hiccupping gasps, as he sagged against Roman.

 “sorry… im sorry, I-"

 “Virgil. It is ok, its ok.” He buried his head against Roman, he didn’t want to look up, didn’t want to see the pity in his eyes. “shall we get you back to bed?” his eyes widened, and he shoved out of Roman's embrace, stumbling until his back hit the wall.

 “N-no. No! I c-can’t, I c-cant do it a-again, I-" he broke off, breath heaving, hands tangling in his hair as he fought for air, the world blurring around him.

 “Kiddo, ya just aren’t really helping Thomas, y'know? It might be better if you just… stopped."

 “His productiveness goes down 40 percent whenever you are around, and you also have a damaging effect on his social life. There is no if. Thomas will be empirically better without you.”

 “il… eath… please…” no no no no. They were right, of course they were right, he wasn’t good, wasn’t needed, wasn’t-

 “virgil.” His eyes shot up, Roman was kneeling a foot away from him, eyes warm with sympathy and concern and understanding. “can you hear me?” he swallowed dryly, managing a small, shaky nod, and Roman's face lit up with a gentle smile.

 “good. Then listen to me, ok? You are never unwanted. We love you, I love you. I will never tell you to leave. And I would fight the others if they said otherwise. It was a nightmare, Virge. Just a nightmare.” Slowly, Roman reached out, ever so careful as he tucked Virgil's bangs back, letting his hand rest gently against Virgil's cheek.

 “P-p-promise?” Roman's heart broke at that quiet vulnerability, his eyes wide as saucers, filled with a broken kind of hope, a shattering kind of pain.

 In an instant, Roman had scooted closer, scooping Virgil onto his lap, cradling him close.

 “I promise. I promise, Virgil. I promise.” He let out a soft sniffle, shoulders shaking as he wrapped his arms around Roman’s neck, face pressed against his shoulder, he was tired, so tired, but the fear ate at him, even as Roman rocked him, rubbing his back, murmuring and humming and being so patient with him. And somehow every small action, every small movement of kindness and love sent him back over the edge into tears. They were seemingly endless. He didn’t remember bottling this much up inside, didn’t remember when he shoved all this sadness and deep, aching, endless fear into his chest, but he couldn’t stop it from leaking out now.

 “Oh, darling… I know. I know.” He didn’t know how long they had been kneeling there on the floor, but he was exhausted, yet completely unwilling to let go of Roman, too tired to be ashamed of his need for touch right now, too warm and sleepy to force on his dark demeanor, and pretend that he didn’t want this, need this, crave this closeness. “Sometimes talking about nightmares can make them better. That’s what we always do, me and Remus. We tell each other our nightmares, and then we make them better. We say all the ways we would defeat whatever monster hurt or chased or scared us, we turn the fears into something ridiculous. Once, I was being hunted through the imagination, by some giant, shambling, thing. I couldn’t leave the bed, I was terrified. Remus said next time I had that dream, I should imagine the thing trying to move with roller skates on, I should imagine it with googly eyes, I should make its body turn into playdough and its legs into pipe cleaners. It wasn’t so scary after that.” Roman said, getting a small, weak laugh out of Virgil, who shook his head.

 “maybe. Maybe in the morning. But i… I can’t… right now, I can’t…”

 “That’s ok, too, darling. You don’t have to tell me anything. You don’t have to talk about it. It just may help. Do you wanna spend the rest of the night with me?” He nodded, so fast it made his head spin. He couldn’t bear to go back to his room alone, he would die, if he had to go back alone. “alright. Going up, then, my sliver of starlight.” He let out a soft noise as he was lifted up in Roman’s arms, the fading adrenaline and minor panic attack weighing him down, so he was very nearly asleep by the time Roman carefully settled the two of them in his bed.

 He curled tight against Roman, letting out a small happy sigh, at the warmth, at the touch, at the comfort as Roman wrapped his arms around him, cuddling him close and gently, thumb stroking his forehead in blissful, soothing circles.

 “go to sleep, Virg. No nightmares will find you here. I promise, love.” Roman murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head, causing him to let out a soft, small almost mewl at how damn good he felt. “Sleep well, love. Sweet dreams.”

 And they were.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #emotional hurt/comfort #protective roman #fluff

[honsoolie]

don’t rush | 02

pairing: Yoongi/reader

genre: slight enemies to lovers, college au, fluff, eventual smut, classical pianist!yoongi, violinist!reader, they’re both actually really into each other but won’t admit it

warnings (for this chapter only): mentions of stage fright/performance anxiety, swearing, sexual references, slight angst, dad jokes :|  

words: 6k 

rating: +18

summary: You know, when Min Yoongi’s face isn’t screwed into an accusatory scowl, he looks exactly like the kind of guy you’d have no trouble falling in love with. Or, the conservatory au where Yoongi helps you get over your stage fright. In more ways than one.

a/n: didn’t plan to take this long for an update, life gets in the way, you know the drill. read 01 here and as always, this is crossposted to ao3 :) 

When you get inside, the warmth welcomes you in. You’re not quite sure if it’s from the heating in the hallway or how Yoongi’s eyes had shone in the moonlight. You lean against the inner door frame, a happy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, legs a little weak in the knee. You feel light-headed, maybe from being up late, maybe from your exhausting day, maybe from the lingering remnants of Yoongi’s cologne. 

Did that really just happen? Did he really just ask for your number? Was this all a dream?

The euphoria is short-lasting, however. You still have some assignments waiting for you, and only a couple hours left until your morning classes. The tiredness never lets up, and your limbs heavy again as you make your way inside the lobby of your dorm.  

Unknown number (2:47am): hi this is yoongi 

Unknown number (2:47am): did you get inside ok? 

You (2:48am): yeah

You (2:48am): did u? 

  Yoongi (2:50am): im walking back now 

Yoongi (2:50am): you should sleep soon :// 

  You (2:51am): I still have hw :( 

You (2:51am): text me when ur back inside too 

  Yoongi (2:53am): lmaoo is it counterpoint hw 

Yoongi (2:54am): it’s so sweet that you care for my safety ;( 

  You (2:54am): yes sadly 

You (2:55am): ofc I care, we can’t have our amazing star pianist get hurt 

  Yoongi (2:55am): im home now

Yoongi (2:58am): you have a thing for praise, don’t you 

Even though you can’t see him, you splutter alone in your room, roommate fast asleep. There is no way that means what you think it means. 

You (3:00am): idk where u got that from 

You (3:03am): maybe i do, you’ll have to find out 

  Yoongi (3:04am): I would, but you have to finish your analysis worksheet :/ 

  You (3:15am): ugh, fuck it

You (3:15am): im going to sleep 

You (3:15am): ill just wake up early tomorrow to finish it before class 

  Yoongi (3:16am): what? No goodnight? >:( 

Yoongi (3:17am): some manners you have 

Yoongi (3:17am): what a rude girl 

  You (3:18am): aw have i been bad? 

You (3:18am): I’m sooooo sorry 

You (3:19am): gn 

The minutes tick by, and you grow more indignant than you should. Is he serious? 

Who doesn’t say goodnight back? Maybe you scared him off. Maybe all this “flirtatious” banter was just how Yoongi talked to his friends. How would you know? You don’t know anything about him. 

The same insidious doubt creeps back in. Maybe this is all a game to him. Maybe he just wanted to introduce himself to another music student in the department, you all were supposed to know each other anyway. Maybe, worst of all, he had really only meant to wake you up in the music building as a simple courtesy, no intent behind it. You groan as you sink into your bed, cradling your head in your hands. 

You (3:27am): some hypocrite you are 

  Yoongi (3:30am): I was in the showerrr relax 

Yoongi (3:31am): hm you have been bad 

Yoongi (3:33am): maybe I should punish you 

  You (3:29am): u wish 

You (3:30am): but goodnight for real, we have class in five hours :”( 

  Yoongi (3:31am): goodnight

Yoongi (3:31am): save me a spot next to you 

~

You were in the world’s smallest big crisis. 

Was Yoongi actually serious when he asked you to save a seat? Or were you just indulging in wishful thinking? Was he flirting with you last night? And if he was, what are you supposed to do now? 

Whatever he meant, you would have to face him now. 

The endless litany of maybes and what-ifs grows louder in your head, even louder than last night during your text correspondence with him.You elect to use your backpack to save the seat next to you as class time draws nearer, chiding yourself for overthinking something so casual, but it does nothing to soothe your existential anxiety. 

“Thanks for saving me a spot, I’m so glad you remembered.” A voice brings you out of your reverie. It takes a moment to register who it is at first. Your eyes meet the traditional college garb first, sweatpants and an overwashed fundraising t-shirt, then the half-tamed cowlick, that ever-present cup of coffee. Your breath catches in your throat, breathtaking despite the casual circumstances. It’s just another class lecture, you chastise yourself, but your gut twists nonetheless. 

Seeing Yoongi in such close quarters is still an adjustment for you, his presence (or even the thought of being close to him) a shock to your body. You had spent so much time languishing after him that even now, it still feels like waking up into a dream. 

You clear your throat, stalling, “Yeah, putting my backpack in the seat next to mine was sooo hard. You should compensate me for my labor.” 

You try to put on the flirty smile that you were wearing last night, but it feels like a grimace. God, you are way too nervous for this. 

You realize you’ll never get tired of the way he laughs at your shitty jokes, the way his shoulders shake and eyes crinkle at the corners. 

“Yeah, I will, don’t you worry about that.” He sinks into the seat next to you and doesn’t spare you a second glance. 

Dr. Won walks in, the picture of put-togetherness, killing whatever flirty response you had formulated. 

You thought you had enjoyed having a crush before, but admiring someone and imagining a life together from afar was worlds away from talking and sitting next to said object of affection. This shouldn’t be that big of a deal. You shouldn’t be tripping all over yourself when Yoongi sits next to you in lecture. 

Whatever Dr. Won is saying is drowned out by Yoongi sitting next to you. It feels deeply unfair how he affects you, when he gets to sit next to you like nothing important is happening. It’s just another day in lecture, preparing for the midterms coming up. 

He’s not even doing anything, minding his own business. You shouldn’t be swooning when he is just sitting there, again bouncing his leg, taking diligent notes. From the furtive glances you steal, even his handwriting is attractive. Endearing, even if it was a little messy and looping over the printed lines.

~

True fact: the only reason why Yoongi fidgets so much is because of the effect you had on him. It drives him up the wall, the way you keep tucking your hair behind your ear. He envies your unfaltering concentration, the look in your eye when you see something on the Powerpoint slides that you have to jot down. 

Yoongi can’t stand to silently sit next to you without doing anything anymore. Taking his pen, he scrawls on the corner of your neat notes. He knows it’ll piss you off, but that’s the reaction that he wants. 

  do you have any idea what is going on 

  He watches carefully for your reaction. Satisfaction creeps into his neutral expression when you notice, confusion turning into what could only be a lovestruck smile, and then into an irritated grimace. Fuck, even the curve of your wrist was enough to drive him crazy. You pick up your pen, writing back. 

  No, stop writing on my stuff 

  Okay, new plan, Yoongi concedes. He settles for writing on the corner of his own notes, tearing off the corner. He slips the paper into your lap, fingertips skimming the top of your thigh. He doesn’t notice, but he leaves a trail of goosebumps in his wake. 

  don’t you think dr. won dresses like an old hag 

  You write back on the scrap of paper: 

actually you could learn a thing or two from her 

  Yoongi smirks, in classic Yoongi fashion. 

You know I would rock a long skirt like her 

  Yoongi watches you read his message, smile, and then tuck the note into your notebook. 

~

After class, Dr. Won reminds everyone of the midterm coming up two weeks from now, and that’s when Yoongi senses an opportunity. The two of you walk out of class together, forced to walk side by side because of the student foot traffic.

“Do you like, want to study together sometime?” Yoongi blurts out, louder than he needs to be, even among the hum of the other students. 

 He clears his throat. “I mean, we’ve shared a lot of classes, so.” 

You can’t help but laugh in surprise, or maybe incredulousness. You resist the urge to let the satisfaction show on your face. “I didn’t know you ever noticed.” 

“Of course I did. You’re like, the biggest nerd on the planet.” Even when Yoongi is teasing you, he can’t help but sound bashful. 

You gasp in mock offense. “There’s nothing wrong with being a nerd.” You both stop, standing at the mouth of the lecture hall. 

“Of course not.” He’s awfully close to you, close enough that you can see the mole on the tip of his nose. “That’s why I’m asking you to be my study buddy.”

It’s not necessary to be standing this close. Sure, the hallway is busy, but not that busy. 

“Study buddy? That sounds lame.” You scoff, playing hard to get. Both you and Yoongi know you’re going to say yes anyway. 

“What else do you want me to call you? My homework homie?” 

“Uh, yeah . That sounds way better than study buddy. ” You’re more proud of your humor than anything else, even if it earns a deserved eye-roll from Yoongi. 

“And midterms are coming up. So you know, mutually beneficial.” Yoongi takes a sip from his coffee, peering at you from behind the rim.   

“Like… friends with benefits?” You can’t help yourself. It’s just too easy to flirt with him. 

Yoongi tongues his cheek, he grins. “Only if you want it to be.” He’s having way too much fun with this. 

You try to hide your reaction, but Yoongi notices anyway. (He notices a lot of things you don’t realize.) Your wide-eyed shock, the blush that’s flushing down your neck, the way you open your mouth as if to say something equally as flirtatious back, your laugh, like this is actually way more casual than it is. 

“So I’ll take that as a yes,” He says. You could get used to the playful lilt in his voice. 

“Only if you promise you won’t just copy my work.” You cross your arms in front of your chest, suddenly very aware of how tall he is. 

“I live and die by the honor code, y/n. Of course I won’t,” Yoongi says, leaning ever closer to you in the cramped hallway. 

You quirk an eyebrow. “Does a man of honor text me like you did last night?” 

“Oh come on. If you’re going to be friends with me you’re going to have to learn to laugh at dirty humor.” Friends? It’s a start, at least. 

“Who said that I didn’t like dirty humor?” 

“Hmm, I did.” There’s a glint in his eyes that wasn't there before. “You’d have to be a woman of your word and show me.” 

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” You flash an innocent smile, like you don’t see the implication of what he’s saying. 

~

Tuesdays have always been the most bittersweet day of the week for you. It’s lesson day, but oh, it’s lesson day. It feels like the day of judgement, every single week. It’s a culmination of all the blood and tears that you’ve poured into your music in the past week, another chance at evaluation. You’ve known your violin teacher longer than you’ve been in college, and it still shouldn’t scare you this much.

The nervousness spins and dips in your chest as you make your way up the winding stairs that lead to the music building. You usually soothe the apprehension by reminding yourself of all the things you’ve done to prepare, just like you usually do before you go out on stage. This week you were supposed to get the rest of the Bach partita memorized and cleaned up, but it still resides in your memory as disjointed bits and pieces of what it’s actually supposed to sound like. You try to run through the parts that you were stuck on last night, but you draw a blank. You usually don’t take this long to commit pieces to memory, but when you open up your score, all you can think about is the unmoving stare of the audience. Seeing your life flash before your eyes every time you stare at your pencil markings isn’t exactly conducive to productive practice sessions. 

As you retrieve your violin from your locker and make your way to the practice room, you feel like you’re preparing yourself for your own undoing—every scale, every tick of the metronome—another step towards your demise. 

It shouldn’t be this serious, but the pitter-pattering of your heart says otherwise. You glance at the clock. It’s time. You pack up now, so you have a couple extra minutes to wait solemnly outside of her office, staring at the posters that advertise the professionals who come to perform concerts at your college. Next week, a pianist and violinist duo is coming. In the picture, they’re smiling proudly next to a Steinway piano. They look proud of themselves. They probably don’t feel like they’re allergic to the stage, probably live for the audience’s applause. That’s probably how they ended up there on the poster, after all. 

Your violin teacher isn’t scary. She’s a homey, lovely old woman whose wrinkles come from a lifetime of smiling. She’s the type to bring you sweet, homemade pastries that are almost as warm as her hugs during the toughest parts of the semester. Which makes the moments when she’s unhappy all the more painful. It’s not her fear that plagues you, but disappointment. 

The door clicks open, and you have no more time to ponder your failures as a musician. You gather your things and head inside. Nothing inside her office has changed since the previous week. The same teetering stack of well-loved method books sits on her chair, the same humidifier whirring steadily in the corner, the same Dr. Kim Hyung-Seo sitting on the piano bench. 

“Good afternoon, y/n! How’s the Bach coming along?” She asks, like you haven’t spent the past week treating this piece like your mortal enemy. She takes a sip of her warm chamomile tea, from the same snowman-shaped mug that she’s used every week, because she is that endearing. In another life, she would probably be your grandmother. 

“Good morning. Ah, you know…” You trail off and gesture into the air, trying to hide your grimace. How could you possibly describe the unease and unsureness around performing without crossing some kind of professional boundary? 

“Let’s hear it, it’s okay. Are you all warmed up?” You nod as you unpack your things again. As you move to put the Bach score on the music stand, she tuts. 

“Didn’t we agree that this would be memorized last week?” Dr. Kim flips through her lesson notes, inky blue scrawling over the pages. “Yeah, it should be memorized. Close the score, darling.” Usually, when Dr. Kim calls you darling, warmth unfurls in your chest and you beam. You’re not feeling particularly warm right now. 

“Ah, okay…” With slow reluctance, you close the score, the plain paper cover mocking you. You lift your bow to your violin, and shut your eyes. You don’t want to watch this. 

~

Yoongi (4:38pm): Hey 

Yoongi (4:38pm): wanna study tonight :] 

If there’s anything Yoongi is good at, it’s having perfect timing. You half-walk, half-run out of the music building, sucking frigid air into your lungs. The cold weather seems to force the tears back into your eyes. If there was ever a worst-case scenario for how a lesson could go, then that was what just played out in the music room. 

Shutting your eyes won’t stop the barrage of images, playing the world’s cruelest slideshow behind your eyelids. Your teacher’s pursed lips, the still fingers clasped over her mug, the pinched brow. 

“y/n, we don’t have much more time to clean it up…” Her words echo in your head. “We’ll try again next week…” The disappointment was the worst thing, the downward tone in her voice. “I expected better…” 

You (5:15pm): maybe 

You (5:15pm): what time? 

  Yoongi (5:20pm): like now 

Yoongi (5:23pm): are you busy? 

  You (5:25pm): no I just finished up a lesson 

You (5:26pm): i’m about to study in the library if you want to join me 

  Yoongi (5:30pm): I don’t want to go to the library :( 

  You (5:31pm): why not 

  Yoongi (5:32pm): if I feed you dinner will you come to my apartment 

Yoongi (5:33pm): I really don’t want to walk to the library it’s too damn cold 

  After all, the best way to a woman's heart is through her stomach.

  You (5:35pm): fine 

You (5:35pm): it better be a hell of a dinner 

  Yoongi (5:36pm): of course it will 

Yoongi sends you his location, and you’re walking as fast as you can through the campus to make it to his apartment before you can freeze your fingers off. 

~

Yoongi’s expression is nothing short of scandalized when you show up at his door. It’s a typical mouse hole apartment, his front door identical to all the other ones that you’d passed to get here. 

“You’re not wearing gloves? In this weather?” 

“I don’t have any…” You rasp out. You’re tired. Your throat hurts from trying to hold tears back during your entire lesson, and you have no spirit left to give Yoongi an innuendo-laced comeback. 

I expected better. 

“Oh my god, you’ve been playing violin for how many years and nobody ever told you to wear gloves when it’s cold?” He leads you inside, the warmth abating the cold that’s wormed its way underneath your clothes and into your bones. 

“For God’s sake, y/n, hasn’t anyone ever told you about the importance of blood circulation?” Yoongi clasps your hands between his, rubbing and blowing air on them to warm them up. He doesn’t notice your surprise amid his chastising, muttering something about common sense. You don’t try to keep your guard up this time, just trying to bite tears back at the mention of musicianship. The firm press of his hands grounds you. 

“There.” He smiles, proud of himself. “Warm now?” 

Oh yeah, you’re definitely warm. In every dimension of the word. But you don’t tell him that, so you settle for a weak nod. 

“You can put your stuff there. I’m hungry now, let’s eat first?” You hum in affirmation as you settle your heavy backpack on his cramped couch. 

It turns out that Min Yoongi’s idea of gourmet cooking is heating up two freezer-burnt Hot Pockets while you watch him putter around the tiny kitchenette. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him without his glasses, and this is when you finally internalize that Yoongi will always look good no matter what he does or wears or says. 

“You made it seem like you were cooking,” You say, just to fill the silence. 

“Uhhhh, I don’t know who told you I was capable of cooking, but they were wrong. I can show you a good time in other ways, no?” 

You snort. 

In hopes of saving time, he microwaves both of Hot Pockets at the same time. You silently bristle at the fact that even your dinner is getting more action than you are these days. 

You and Yoongi eat together in his tiny living room, sitting on mismatched stools.  

“How did your lesson go?” Yoongi says, more focused on eating than on you. 

“Oh…” You set your Hot Pocket down, sighing in defeat. The image of Dr. Kim sitting behind the piano bench, her dissatisfaction like a noxious cloud. “I… I…  got ripped apart. I’m a little behind with preparing for the Bach festival, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing I do or prepare will make me less stressed about it.” You slump onto the counter, recounting all the things you did wrong in your lesson today. I expected better. 

“What’s the stress about? We still have over a month, right?” You’re suddenly jealous of Yoongi. His nonchalance, his seemingly constant reassurance that everything is going to be okay. 

“I’m not worried about that… just, no matter how much I practice, I’m gonna fuck it up on stage.” Your forehead pinches in frustration. 

“Are you that nervous?” 

“I’ve always been this nervous. For any performance. I haven’t performed alone in a while… and you know. It’s Bach, and everyone expects me to do some amazing job, and it’s like, I don’t know if I can deliver that and-” Yoongi eases his hand on your shoulder, calm, reassuring. He looks concerned. Like he cares. Like a friend. 

“When was the last time you played something just for the fun of it?”

“I don’t know, maybe my freshman year? I used to arrange themes from movies.” 

“We should work on something together, just for fun. We’re such a perfect instrument combo, there’s so much repertoire for violin and piano.” 

“What did you have in mind? Do you even have enough time for that?” (You know you don’t have enough time for that.) 

“It doesn’t even have to be a difficult piece. It could be something easy or hard, I don’t care.” Yoongi ponders his next words over a bite of his food. “I… I... just want to see you less stressed out. And music should always be fun, not just for a grade. What kind of music would you be making if you weren’t happy?” 

“I don’t know…” 

“I know this one Brahms piece that I think you’d like. Totally fits your vibe. We can just work on it slowly, you know? Or we could arrange the Anpanman theme song, I don’t care.” 

~

“I think I’m mostly good for the midterm, except for the composer dates,” Yoongi spins around in his office chair, dragging his feet on the ground. 

“Me too,” You say, as you drink in the sight of his room. For someone who claims to abhor studying and all things academic, Yoongi appears to be quite the organized student. Despite the constant claim that his education is merely a necessary evil, he keeps his notes organized in uniform binders on a well-cared for bookshelf. The bookshelf is adjacent to the extremely detailed wall calendar, marked full with due dates and deadlines in pens of various colors. 

He runs his fingers over the binders to locate the binder allocated to the species counterpoint class you’re taking together. 

“I already have flashcards for everything before the Romantic Era, but I’m so fucked for everything else.” 

“Why not just use Quizlet like everyone else?” You say. You eye his neatly made bed and the Kumamon stuffed animal shoved hastily underneath it. 

“Back in my day, we used flashcards like cavemen,” Yoongi reasons, despite the fact that your birthdays are months within each other. “And besides, they feel better in your hand.” Of course, they’re indexed by color and musical era. 

~

“Ugh, I hate sitting at my desk. My back is starting to hurt,” Yoongi says, despite having worked for about ten minutes. “Do you want to lay down?” He pats the fluffy comforter adjacent to him. Yoongi doesn’t wait for your response however, plopping down on the bed with an audible thump. 

“Okay, old man,” You jibe, but you’ve also been sitting for a majority of the day. Your back is aching too, but you’ll never admit it to him. 

Sometimes, at times like these, you wish you could just muster up the courage and stop playing this game of cat and mouse with him. When you lay on his sheets that smell like him, quizzing each other, you wonder what would happen if you confessed your feelings for him, right then and there. 

Or outlined exactly how exactly you would take his cock in your mouth, given the chance. Other times, you consider the fact that he might like to play with his food before diving in. Whatever it was, it scared you, the unease climbing up your spine and staying put. 

You wonder if he understands the implication of you so casually lounging on his bed, but then you realize that you likely don’t exist in the realm of romantic possibilities for him. He likely sees you as the nerdy, sexless violinist that spends all her time slaving away in the practice room or the library. That’s why you’re here, after all. To help study for the midterms coming up. “Being friends with him is better than nothing,” you tell yourself, but you can’t really bring yourself to believe it. 

You don’t remember, or at least don’t care to, when Yoongi started touching every aspect of your life. It’s really only been a couple of weeks since the two of you started studying together. You don’t dare to imagine how much of your thoughts he would occupy if you continue your friendship into the coming months. If your crush of massive proportions was bad before, it’s truly out of hand now. It certainly didn’t help that he actually knew you existed now. He spammed you gifs of baby animals while he was on the way to class, texted you links to performances of pieces that he was working on. He even began to send you teasing texts on the mornings that he made it to the practice rooms before you. 

Every experience you have is colored by thoughts of him. The coffee that you drink like ambrosia conjures up images of him sitting across from you in some far-off sunlit cafe, laughing at all your jokes. On the nights when sleep escapes  you, you lay awake rehashing over and over what you had said to him on the previous day. You even fall into reveries when he’s sitting there right next to you. 

 It’s inescapable, especially with the Bach Festival looming over your head. The more time you spend in the practice room, the more you go back to that one fateful night. You can still see the image of him now, sitting before the piano, playing Chopsticks. 

You both make your way through the fat deck of flashcards, Yoongi quizzing you first. 

“J.S. Bach?” You note to yourself even the upswing in his voice was cute. How did you ever let yourself get so whipped?

“1685 to…” You falter, still stuck on his voice. Even his voice drives you crazy. 

“Come on, you should know this.” He drives his point home by poking you in the side, and he likes the gasp that you make. 

“1750.” Of course you know Bach’s birth and death dates by heart. You see it every time you open up your score. Even the scant prod he gave you in the side, over your clothes, is enough to make your skin heat up. 

“And if you ever tickle me again, you won’t live long enough for midterms,” You threaten, but your harsh tone of voice doesn’t reach the light in your eyes. 

“Brahms?” 

“Ugh, fuck, I don’t know. 1832 to?” 

“Wrong.” He sets the cards down next to him, looking at you in mock disappointment. In an instant, he attacks you with tickles, and your efforts to bat him away are fruitless. 

“This-this is what you get for not knowing when Brahms was born! Learn through punishment! 1833 to 1897, remember that next time!!” He collapses on top of you, burying his face in your neck, unrelenting. Yoongi sounds almost gleeful in your torture. 

You writhe under his touch, and for all the wrong reasons. 

For the first time in your life, you’re almost glad you’re ticklish. Your eyes roll back into your head, not of your own accord. It’s too much, the soft skin of his cheek pressed up against your neck, the warm weight of his body against yours, the way his legs cage you in. A moan slips in between your helpless giggles, and Yoongi doesn’t miss it. 

“Uhhh, what was that?” He doesn’t stop, merciless in his advance. “I didn’t know you liked tickling… like that.” He’s teasing you, now. He can’t hide his pleased grin. 

Between gasps, you manage to pant, “I… don’t…” 

“Then what? Tell me.” That’s when Yoongi relents, leaning back. He continues to straddle you, because he’s cruel like that. (And because he likes it too.)

“You’re just… ugh, I don’t know… so close.” In Yoongi’s eyes, you’re a study in debauchery. From your struggle, your hair is mussed, the hem of your shirt awry. Your cheeks are flushed, from embarrassment or from the tickling, you don’t know. Your chest frantically rises and falls, trying to regain your breath. 

You, on the other hand, feel fucking ridiculous. Contrary to popular belief, being on the recieving end of tickling is fucking physically exhausting. 

Yoongi is stuck on the hot and bothered look on your face, except for the hard look in your eye. You despise being tickled, even if it is Min Yoongi doing the tickling. He wonders what you’d look like if you were underneath him in… different circumstances. 

Would it compare? 

“I… I… I just…” You avert your gaze now, hiding your face behind your hands. You can’t stand to look at him right now. 

“Spill it, or I’ll go back to tickling you until you break.” He grabs your hands away from your face, pinning them next to your head. 

He really isn’t going to make this easy for you, is he. 

This is overwhelming. The eye contact is too much. The weight of his hands on your wrists, holding you down, is too much. The way his panting breath tickles the skin beneath your collar is too much. You’ve had a bad day, the voice in the back of your head whispers. He makes you forget how awful this semester has been. He makes you feel better. Make this day easier on yourself. Just give in. 

There’s no hiding it now, you concede. 

You shut your eyes, unable to face him. “It’s just… been a while.” 

“Uh-huh. Continue?” He places his hands back on your stomach, as if in warning. 

“Since uhhhh… I’ve done… anything… with anyone…” Your words hang heavy in the air. Your secret is out. 

He laughs. He really has the audacity to laugh. 

“Shut up! I’m just like, touch starved, okay?” You’re definitely just blushing out of embarrassment, at this point. 

Yoongi starts to ponder if he crossed too far of a line, but you continue anyway.  You huff, indignant and desperate to cover your ass. This is not how you ever imagined telling Yoongi you were ever interested in him, sexual or not. 

“Not everyone is like, the campus pussy magnet and gets to fuck whenever they want,” You say. 

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, I’m not the campus pussy magnet. We’re... not so different. I haven’t been with anyone, um, in a while.” Now Yoongi takes his turn to blush and stutter. He does that thing he always does when he’s nervous, runs a hand through his hair and lets it rest on the nape of his neck.  

“I find that hard to believe. No need to lie out of pity. Like, come on. Look at you. You’re all…” You gesture down his body, “And you have that whole vibe going on, and you’re tall, and you have good taste in cologne, and-and-and you play the piano , and ugh. You should know that by now.” You babble on. You’re not that good at keeping secrets, anyway. Might as well let the cat out of the bag while you’re at it. 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but you’re not fazed. By now, you’re used to the long silences that elapse when you’re with him. You wait for him to talk first, just so you can discreetly enjoy the feeling of him straddling you for a little longer. You try to pass off the silence as you quietly fuming at him for calling out your lackluster sex life, but you’re really just trying get yourself together. 

Then he starts laughing. Again.  

“What are you laughing for now?” Your brow furrows in frustration. 

“Nothing, nothing, don’t be mad. I just didn’t think that tickling would be a turn on for you.” 

“It’s not!” 

“To be completely honest with you, you look like one of those really innocent soft girls on the outside but you’re actually like, into choking and have a secret sex dungeon.” He doesn’t seem to care that you’ve all but revealed your massive, terminal crush on him. 

You sigh, but you’re just glad he gave you something to fire back with. 

“You and I both know that the university dorms are too small for a sex dungeon, Yoongi. I can’t even have candles in my room. What sex dungeon is complete without candles?” 

“Oh, a devil in the details. The ambiance is important, I see…” That devious smile of his makes a comeback. 

“Oh, shut up. Give me the flashcards, four-eyes.” He relinquishes the flashcards, but he still continues to straddle you. 

“Woah, there’s no need to insult my glasses.”

You ignore him, desperate to move on from your momentary lapse in judgement. “Haydn?”

“1732 to 1809. What about music? Music must be important if you care about the ambiance. Answer my question.” 

You laugh to cover up how worked up you are. “Maybe you can find out after we finish reviewing. Scarlatti?” 

“1660 to 1725. What kind of music do you listen to? R&B, something sexy?” He sits up now, spurred on by your refusal to answer his questions. 

“Or do you listen to classical music then, too? Does Chopin get your blood flowing?” He’s being insufferable now.

You groan into the pillow. “Yoongiii, let’s focus.” 

“If it’s something like Liszt, I’m sure I have a couple recommendations.” 

Yoongi sits up straighter, waggles his eyebrows in a way you definitely shouldn’t find endearing. “Or, I could record something for you…” 

You snap. “Just, I don’t know, sometimes I listen to music?” Your attempts to stop the blushing are in vain, heat blooming across your cheeks and down your neck. It’s even harder to stop when it’s your embarrassingly short sexual history on the line. 

“I prefer dirty talk anyways…” You murmur under your breath, wishing he could just get the fuck off your case. The more he keeps talking about things like this, in that tone of voice, the harder it’s going to get to keep your ever-growing crush a secret. 

Still, some small part (let’s be honest, the monkey brain part of you) of you, the part of you that aches for him, wants to spur him on. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing! Nothing.” 

“Hmm… something about dirty talk?” Fuck, does Yoongi have a good ear. He smiles. He knows he’s gotten you now. 

Okay, you should probably admit to yourself that he’s flirting with you now. The touches, the holding you down, the insistence on pushing this tiny matter, it all adds up. And the math says that Min Yoongi is flirting with you. 

“Mmm, nothing.” You snuggle a little deeper into his bedsheets, playing coy.

“You know, like during sex? Don’t make me tickle you again, because I will stoop that low.” 

“I don’t remember saying that…” You mock-pretend to ponder his question, catch your bottom lip between your teeth. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his gaze fall downward. You know you’ve gotten him now. 

“Can you refresh my memory?” 

“Like… you know.” He shrugs. 

“I’m an auditory learner. Do you have an example?” 

“Hmm, let me think… I’ll tease you until you’re begging for me to touch you properly? Does that ring a bell for you?” 

“No…” You bring your hands to your face to cover up your blush, and because you can’t stand to look at him. Not when he’s talking to you like that, with that look in his eye, his hands on your body. “It doesn’t…” You laugh, even beneath his weight. 

He laughs. “I’m just teasing. You’re so cute when I get a rise out of you.” 

Oh. 

#armywriterssupport #btsgoldnet #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenarios #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts #bts x reader

[vexatiousbby]

Grief advice I wish I could’ve gotten, but now I’ll give:

1. Eat. I know it’s the last thing you want to do, but people are already worried. It’s easier to just eat something small rather than get questioned by people and forced to eat.

2. Do normal things. They arent watching.

3. Take lots of pictures and videos of anything you do during this time. Chances are you’ll forget most of the things you do for the next two months. Your brain will make you forget traumatic experiences.

4. On top of number 3, get pictures and VIDEOS of them. Especially if anyone has videos of them talking. Their voice might not be easiest to remember when you want to remember it the most. Again, your brain will block it out. You can think as hard as you want about their features and still draw a blank.

5. There are stages to mourning. I interpret them this way, but everyone has a slightly different view I’m sure.

•Numb(week or so for me)— you’ll feel a lot of things for days. So much so that you’ll go numb. You’ll zone out a lot. You’ll probably shake sometimes, and break down throughout the day. You won’t want to move too fast or do things you know you should do. I didn’t laugh for 5 days straight, which I never realized how much I laughed until I didn’t anymore. You’ll be in denial, and convince yourself it’s not real. You might have extremely realistic dreams about them. I did for a week and a half, and convinced myself a couple times he was alive somewhere and I just needed to find him. It’s normal, acceptance will come later. Try your best to convince yourself the truth. After the dreams I had multiple panic attacks and some during the day. There is nothing to stop the pain. Stay around people, you’ll get through it, I promise.

•Sad—(a month for me) you’ll want to cry, a lot. But you’ll get tired of crying. Try and hangout with people. Social interaction helps even if you don’t want it. I drank a lot during this time (which I DO NOT recommend) and cant remember much of what I did or felt. I cried every other day.

•Anger—(a month until about a year and a half tbh, but since it was self inflicted I feel it went on longer than other circumstances would) After you finally accept they’re gone, you’ll be angry. At the world, at them, at things they are missing out on, that you can’t remember little things about them, at yourself for whatever reason. It’s okay to be angry. It’s okay to feel things. You will also have bad days. You may just wake up and cry over them. I got them about 3-6 times a month. It’s been 2 years and they’re down to about 1-2 a month. It’s hard to accomplish things. It’s hard to realize you have to go your whole life without seeing them again. It’s hard to listen to new music without wanting them to hear it too. Try your best to ignore the “what-ifs”. Things happen daily and we cannot predict them. People will always do what they want to do in the end regardless of what it costs other people. Be there for YOURSELF. I was there for everyone else and didn’t feel through it like I should have. You may always have problems tbh. I have trust issues, I can’t trust anyone that says “I’ll be ok.” I had to say I love you before anyone leaves or before I do. My phone is turned on and up every night (I NEVER forget) in case someone needs me.

After about a year and a half I got less and less angry. I’m thankful for the time I had while I had it. I feel lucky to have even been born in the same lifetime as him. Im lucky to have met him and loved him. I can talk to some people about him. I can look at pictures without breaking down. Haven’t tried videos even though it’s been 2 years. Some things take longer I think. I’m not ready yet, and I may never be. I no longer base all of my decisions off of what he wanted. He isn’t here and I have to do things for ME because I’m here and I’m the one living this life. You have to do the same. Things don’t really get better, they just get easier to deal with. But eventually you will be happy with where you are. It took me two years to be genuinely happy without him around, and I’m worried there will always be a hole in my heart but it’s a spot no one else can fill and I’m okay with that.

To sum it all up: eat. Sleep even if the nightmares ruin you. The days go by faster if you do. Take lots of pictures and videos. Don’t let anyone make you feel like you should move on any faster than you are. Hangout with people. Be thankful instead of regretting things. Don’t take anyone for granted. Things get easier to deal with. You will get through it and do the things that would make them the proudest of you. Things like this happen and we cannot predict or stop them from happening. Take care of yourself. Even if it’s the absolute last thing you want to do—it’s a must.

Lastly, call me if you need anything. I cried to a couple of my friends on the phone some nights because things just got a little too hard. They didn’t know him or understand, but it’s nice to hear someone’s voice and have someone listen. You can text me multiple times and I’ll wake up, or you can call me and I’ll be there. This isn’t something you deal with alone. But IT DOES get easier, I promise. I wish someone would’ve told me it gets easier so I would’ve been more hopeful. But I’m glad I’m here to tell others.

[sodapopstyles]

the girl

calum hood x reader

I cannot explain the love i have for this song (or for calum) ps. i miss blonde streaked cal

11:30 pm: are you still calling tonight?

12:23 pm: cal i’m sorry but i can’t stay up any longer :-(

12:45 am: i hope you had a good time performing and im sorry i couldn’t be there! be safe tonight i love you

Calum felt like proper shit. Not only because of the amount of alcohol he had consumed at the club last night (how many shots had he taken last night?), but also because he had broken his promise to you. He knew something was wrong from the second he woke up (and it wasn’t just because he was 30 minutes late to an important band meeting) and saw a few texts scattered over the course of last night on his phone. Sure, you didn’t sound upset in your texts, but Calum knew you. He knew you’d probably stayed awake for a little while longer, checking in with the boys to make sure he was okay, because that was the kind of person that you were. In a world of give and take, you had only ever wanted to give.

He had promised you days ago that he’d call after the concert last night, especially since it was your two-year anniversary, but the promise slipped his mind at the mention of free drinks and karaoke at a club nearby. Calum swears he didn’t mean to forget; he just got busy was all. And he was busy this morning too—which was why he still hadn’t responded to your messages. He was currently supposed to be helping the boys write some new songs, but how was he supposed to do that when he knew he totally fucked up? He knew that you were probably an anxious mess right now, thinking that you had done something to make him upset. So now his phone was burning a hole through his jeans pocket, and all he wanted to do was talk to you; tell you it was nothing you did, he just…well, he just was a piece of shit. His mind was a mess of what-ifs and scenarios of you leaving him (rightfully so, he was an absolute dick after all), and all he could think about was how he had passed up a night of talking to you for a damn club. He was hit with a sudden fog of missing you, and he excused himself to go to the “bathroom”, where really, he went to the quietest room he could find. Slipping his phone out of his pocket, he quickly dialed your number and put the phone up to his ear, his gaze falling to a chipped piece of tile on the floor. He toed it nervously, hoping your sweet voice would coo through the speaker. It rang once, twice, three times—then went to voicemail. God, he fucked up.

“Hi babe—I uh, I really need to talk to you. Call me when you get this? I love you.” Clicking the red end call button, Calum ran his hand through his hair, his body slumping against the wall. Guilt flooded his veins when he thought about you waiting for a call that never came. His fingers tugged at the ends of his dark hair, frustrated with himself. Maybe it didn’t sound like that big of a deal, but you deserved more than the world, and he couldn’t even give you half of that.

There was no way in hell that Calum was going to be able to concentrate on song-writing right now, so he slid down the wall into a more comfortable position. He tugged on a loose thread around the rip in the knee of his jeans and aimlessly scrolled through the various social media apps on his phone. His eyes were glazed over as he watched the thousands of pictures scroll past on his Instagram feed, not really paying attention to the actual pictures. He had just stopped scrolling, deciding to switch to another app, when the picture that he had stopped on caught his eye.

It was a picture of you and Duke together, the puppy curled up against your side. Calum stared at the picture, noticing it had been posted an hour ago. But the caption. The caption was what made him suck in a breath, his heart stuttering painfully in his chest.

Even my phone misses your call, by the way.

It hadn’t really been that long since he’d called you, right? He quickly pulled up his phone log, not really believing that it had been that long since the two of you actually spoke on the phone. His heart dropped when he looked at the date of the last phone call. It had been over three weeks ago—over a month since there had been any real communication between the two of you, minus a text here and there. Calum quickly dialed your number, praying that you would pick up. But again, one, two, three rings—and then your voicemail. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He really was the worst.

How had the time slipped that far past him? How could he have forgotten about you? When he left, he had promised you that he’d always come back to you no matter what. That he loved you, and he’d talk to you as much as he could. At first, there was a phone call every other day. And without realizing it, those every other day calls turned into once a week calls, and then tapered off into nothing. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard your giggle, or your adorable sleepy voice, and the way it would get soft and syrupy before you were about to fall asleep. A dark wave of loneliness suddenly crashed down on him, threatening to swallow him up whole.

You were his best friend, the person he could share anything with, and he loved you. Oh God, he loved you like a moth loves a flame. He could never tire of you, never be bored with who you were. A life without you would be like…Calum didn’t even want to think about that. With him being mildly famous, it was rare to find people who actually cared about him as a person, but you did. You never asked for expensive things, even though he had told you whatever you wanted was yours. At most, the only material thing you’ve asked for is postcards from his travels, and that was simply because you wanted to see the different places his dreams were taking him to.

Calum knew from the moment he met you that you were something special, and when you had stopped to tie your sparkly pink balloon from the fair around the little girl’s wrist (she had been traumatized after a goose came up and snatched her cotton candy out of her tiny fist), he swears that’s when he fell in love. You always took care of other people—strangers even, and it warmed his heart from the very beginning.

The ringing of his phone pulled him out of his reverie, and he sat up a little too quickly, banging the back of his head on the wall behind him. Calum’s hand came up to cover the tender spot, his fingers circling around the aching area, trying to soothe it, while his other hand cradled the phone to his ear. The rings on his fingers clicked against the back of his phone case, and if he was standing, he would have stood on trembling legs. His entire body was buzzing like a livewire with nerves (and excitement) at the prospect of hearing your voice, finally.

“Hello?” Calum was breathless, both anxiety and a craving for your voice gripping him like a vice.

“Hi.” You said softly, not a trace of the hardness he thought he deserved in your tone.

“I’m gonna start off by saying that I am so, so sorry. I didn’t even realize—”

Your sigh was sad and desperate. “That’s the problem.”

“What?”

“That’s the problem Calum! You didn’t realize, and—and I didn’t realize. Not until last night. We’re drifting apart.”

Calum stayed silent, a mix of something akin to fear and dread and hopelessness burned through every nerve ending in his body. You continued. “Cal, I love you okay? I really, truly do.”

“Why does it sound like there’s a ‘but’ coming?” Calum whispered, swallowing nervously.

“But this is getting to be too much,” you said, your voice cracking, “and it’s just—it’s not fair. I’ve been waiting my whole life for someone like you to show up and whisk me away into a life where I actually mattered, and half the time I don’t even get to see you. I’m so in love with you, and it…it hurts.”

“I’m so sorry. You have no idea how much I wish I could be there for you…with you.” Calum breathed, truly meaning everything that he was saying to you. A sudden sob on the other end of the line tugged at his heartstrings, causing him to hesitantly ask the question he had been dreading all day. “Are you going to leave?”

The line was quiet, and then a harsh sniff. “What?”

“Are you…all I want is for you to be happy, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. And if this isn’t—if I’m not making you happy, then you can—”

“I’m not—fuck, I’m not leaving you Calum.”

It took a minute for Calum to answer. “Okay.”

“Baby, I swear I’m not leaving. I’m just a bit frustrated is all…I don’t—I wouldn’t leave you just because things got hard.”

“I think I would be totally lost without you.” He said quietly, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I know I would be lost without you.” You said back, just as quiet. “Where do we go from here?”

“I don’t know. I’m home in,” he paused to check his calendar, “14 days. I think we should—”

“Please don’t say start over. I want what we have right now in this moment, but with more talking. You—you have no idea how much I missed your voice.”

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry that I was drifting.”

“Please don’t do that again, you scared me. I thought…I thought I was going to lose you.” Your voice wavered slightly, and Calum closed his eyes. He knew you were crying, and it hurt, it hurt to know that the cause of your tears was his doing.

“You’ll never lose me. I’m yours to keep, forever and always.”

“I love you Cal.”

“Marry me.” He blurted out suddenly.

“What did you just say?”

“I know you sacrifice so much for this relationship to work, and I’m so lucky that I found you. You have no idea how much I love you, and I—I want to spend the rest of my days loving you endlessly. Of course, I’ll get a ring and—"

“Yes.” You said quietly, so quiet, that he didn’t hear you at first.

“Propose to you the right way and—wait. You…yes?”

#calum x reader #calum hood #calum #calum hood imagine #calum imagine #calum one shot #calum hood one shot #calum hood x reader #calum au #calum t hood #calum hood preference #calum hood au #calum x you #5sos #5 seconds of summer #calum blurb #calum hood blurb #calum hood oneshot #calum oneshot

[95825s]

breaking walls

member: ong seongwoo

summary: seongwoo has always been wanting to be in a real relationship with you but you’re scared of commitments and he’s trying to make it work

genre: angst + fluff

a/n: requested! so... this is not that long and i hope (i really hope) it’s not confusing.... please bear in mind that seongwoo x reader are not in a “relationship” but has a relationship but it’s not a couple relationship...it’s already confusing IM SO SORRY 

you’re welcome with that sweet smile plastering on ong seongwoo’s face the moment you enter the coffee shop he loved to be at

you sit across him, your favorite drink is already placed perfectly in front of you and you see seongwoo’s smile become broader, “just the way you like it” he says, figured that you’re thinking about your drink

“as always by the one and only, ong seongwoo” you tell him, your lips smile along with his

“my one and only” he corrects you naturally, his eyes left yours suddenly, now focusing on his own coffee

you let out a quiet sigh, as you look away from him without saying anything back, and you start to feel the anxiousness back

your fingers aimlessly touch your glassed drink, with that soft tension reappears again whenever seongwoo indirectly brings up that one thing you hated to think about

seongwoo hums, making your eyes divert back onto his, and you see him looking back at you while placing back his cup after drinking his coffee

“it’s bitter” he says, his expression remain serious, but his eyes are staring into yours, so deeply and you knew it’s not about the coffee

you had known seongwoo for so long, and it was never about the coffee

“coffee is always bitter, seongwoo, always will be”

“and yet i still love it” he says, his eyes still bore into yours and you’re once again left defeated

laughters are often shared between you and seongwoo, hands are often hold together with yours and his, and kisses are often place on each other’s lips 

and the taste from your lips has always been on him, on boring days or after an argument

seongwoo never did want a complicated relationship in his life, nor did he expected to have met you a year ago, standing under a tree, searching for a shelter from the rain pouring heavily on your head

and he never regretted appearing beside you, the sudden lost of contact with the rain brought you to look up, only to see a handsome stranger

he still remembers seeing you declining to take the umbrella from him, and he insisted but you grew more worried for him, a stranger, soaking wet under the rain

he remembers being under that one umbrella together in the end, bringing you to your destination you wanted and confidently, he asked for your number with the sight of your cheeks blushing

he sighs, looking around the living room of his apartment after having that coffee break just now, as he feels your current body snuggle onto his 

his eyes land onto your peaceful sleeping face before his lips turn into sad smile that has been lingering these days

he knows, that you’re building a huge wall between you and him, he knew it for so long

no matter how many times he had told you that he loves you and that he wants to be with you, it seems like the wall becomes bigger and harder, like you’re forcing him to stop

but he doesn’t want to stop, not until you tell him the reasons why he needs to stop,

then maybe… maybe he would stop loving you, just like you always wanted

you fear commitments. the commitments to where you have to be stuck with something or someone and afraid that you may have made the wrong decision

you never loved that word, because every time you remember that word, it always lead you to seongwoo

and it triggers you that you that in fact you knew you never deserved someone like seongwoo

the thoughts of what ifs, that what if one day he realized that you aren’t the one for him, what if you aren’t perfect for him and what if-- you make him fall out of love?

and so the huge wall between you and him has grew bigger, with you being scared and slowly getting detach from him

and him knocking onto that huge wall, pulling you a lot closer to him, making you yearn for him again 

and it’s dumb because you always want to get away from him, by going out of town without telling him, by making excuses that you’re busy, by hanging out with some other people, but

you always find your way back to his embrace, his arms are open for you and you just let him in again

his silly grin on his face, as he calls you with cute nicknames that you secretly like, his funny remarks whenever he sees something that could make you laugh and finally, his sweet gestures that seem to be there whenever, wherever

“hey, sweetheart”

“what”

“do you want to watch a movie?” seongwoo asked, looking at you sitting on his couch

“sure, seongwoo” you replied, as you continued texting whoever it was on your phone, well, that was until you feel a blanket on your body and an arm wrap around your waist

“for warmth” seongwoo mumbles, motioning the blanket that was on you as he gently brought you closer to him, “and for me”

you wake up from that short slumber, figuring that you’re indeed snuggling onto seongwoo like usual, as you slowly remove yourself from his grip, making sure he doesn’t wake up from his own nap

you look at him once more, sighing, before standing up to make your leave like usual

“don’t go”

you halt your movement from turning the doorknob, before looking back to now awake seongwoo

“i need to go somewhere, seongwoo”

“go where, y/n?”

and seongwoo frowns, and you sigh once more, “look. i just need to go”

“can you stop doing that?” he stands up from the couch and walks towards you

you frown along with his, “stop doing what, seongwoo?”

“running away from me”

“i’m not running away from you--” suddenly you feel his lips onto yours, and that bitter taste from the coffee he drank plays around on your lips, as his hand grabs onto your face, “stop saying that” he kisses you deeper, and you’re getting weak over whatever he’s trying to do to you

he lets you go, with your breathing fill into the silent apartment with his, and you couldn’t bear to move an inch because the look of seongwoo’s face had meant one thing

hurt

“what are you afraid of, y/n?”

“nothing”

“stop lying”

and you look at him, anger rise into your body, “if you don’t like me lying, then can you please hate me?”

“y/n--”

“can you for once, stop loving me because i’m tired of this, seongwoo. i’m tired of seeing you smiling at me, giving me those stupid hugs and kisses because you know how much i’m never enough for you--”

“don’t say that”

“it’s true, seongwoo. i’m never going to be that perfect someone for you and you know it too, i don’t want to commit into a relationship where i feel insecure and always worrying if i’m ever enough for you, to be able to make you happy-- when we both know we always argue over something and that worries me a lot”

and you haven’t realize that your eyes are tearing up, and seongwoo tries to wipe them off but you avoid him, “just-- stop being too nice, seongwoo”

you turn your back and just trying to open the doorknob but seongwoo blocks you, his hands grip onto yours, and he’s now looking at you crying

and he gives you a tight hug, and you just want to let go from his embrace but you knew that you had always loved his stupid hugs

“don’t say anything and listen to me” his hand pats soothingly on your head, gently making you sob over his sweet gesture again

“i love you. and that’s my choice, y/n. i love you just the way you are, and you’re the only one that i want to spend my days with, the good and the bad. you’re perfect in my eyes, y/n, and that will never change. i want you to be mine to love, to keep, to be happy with,, i just want you to stop feeling insecure and start to trust me. and i know that you’re scared, and i am too, but i want us to work. i want us to feel happiness because of each other”

and you’re sobbing really hard onto seongwoo’s chest, and thinking, after endless fights with him and with yourself, you know the huge wall that was supposed to build up between you and him, is now finally gone

#ong seongwoo scenarios #ong seongwu scenarios #wanna one scenarios #wanna one requests #ong seongwoo requests

[dirtycreekwater]

(Im sorry if i sent too many!! I was on a roll and love this idea of child!verge) On yeah, Logan teaching virgil things. Like just simple words and such. Mess about with Rubik's cubes and reading. More then once Patton found them cuddled up with a book nearby. Patton teaching verge how to eat. Jes a fussy baby, but Patton's actions and noises are too funny. Roman teaching him to write and draw. He makes all the cute pictures to stick on the fridge and makes princely v proud.

this kinda gave me a good minuscule plot idea bless 👏🏻

tag list: @softbludemon @justanotherpurplebutterfly @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @bubblycricket @i-just-punched-malfoy @the-laarmy @i-am-a-fander @amazable01 @myboyvirgil @silverglimse-productions @tinyten19 @mewsicalmiss @of-swords-and-princes @sabriel-fanboy-83 @thatcrazyrandom (again really sorry if ive missed anyone. also gonna tag @pippa-frost cos i just now remembered that at one point you said you wanted to be tagged in all fics & you’ve drawn child!Virgil so i figured you’d wanna see this. you’re now officially on my tag list. sorry for forgetting!!)

~

The longer Virgil was a child the more frustrated, and worried Logan became. Physically Virgil stayed the same, but mentally he seemed to keep regressing. Logan felt like Virgil himself panicking, and jumping to conclusions. He needed to discuss this with the other two elder sides so while Virgil napped in his room Logan called them to the common room.

“What’s up with you, nerd?”

Logan sighed, and pulled at his hair as he desperately tried to resist his urge to strangle the prince.

“What’s up is you, and your ridiculous fantasy world getting us into this mess!”

Roman sighed, and sat next to Logan.

“Logan, I am working on fixing it, okay? I can only do so much.”

Logan groaned, and stood up so suddenly it startled the other two.

“And what if you’re too late? Virgil seems to be regressing more and more the longer he’s a child. His speech has become far more baby like. I’ve had to remind him what simple words mean, and read to him more often. Yes, I’ve read to him when he was an adult, but he hardly understands anything! What if he’s stuck like this, Roman?! Ever think about that being a possibility?!”

Roman stood up, and faced the panicked side.

“Geez, Logan. Calm down. You of all people should know that ‘what ifs’ are not helpful in these situations.”

Logan chewed his lip nervously, and looked at Roman. He wasn’t sure why, but there were tears forming in his eyes, and he felt incredibly stupid.

“You.. are correct. I.. I apologize. Just.. keep trying. We need Virgil back.”

Roman’s harsh demeanor immediately crumbled at the sight of the usually put together side so distraught. He reached out to hug him, but stopped himself.

“Logan… I am doing everything in my power to get him back. Just.. keep teaching him things. I’ll go back to my dream world now. Everything will be okay.”

Logan sighed, and wiped his eyes under his glasses.

“Yes, well, go on then. I will wait for Virgil to wake up, and continue the lesson I’ve made for him.”

As if on cue a tiny sleepy voice spoke up behind them.

“I don wanna do more learny things.”

Patton, and Roman giggled at the adorableness despite Logan’s increasing frustration.

“We’ll do something easy today, okay? Come on.”

Logan walked over to the very sleepy Virgil, and picked him up. Virgil immediately nuzzled his face into Logan’s neck, and yawned. Logan sighed, and sat at the dining room table placing Virgil in his lap.

“Look, Verge. We can read some of these books. They’re easy.”

Virgil glared at the books then at the other sides that were staring at him adoringly.

“No.”

Roman chuckled, and muttered a “good luck” as he sunk down. Patton smiled at them then sunk down to his own room. Logan muttered indignantly to himself which made Virgil giggle.

“Oh yeah my pain is so funny to you isn’t it?”

Virgil nodded, and grinned at him. Something that was quite rare for him to do even when in child form. Logan couldn’t help smiling.

“You’re lucky you’re adorable, Virgil.”

Once the word “adorable” left Logan’s mouth Virgil stopped giggling, and glared at Logan. Logan merely chuckled, and opened one of the books on the table. Which he’s come to learn was one of child Virgil’s favorites. Moonlight: The Halloween Cat.

“Think you can read the first line for me?”

Virgil took a moment to scan the words on the page then softly read aloud, “M-Moonlight loves the night. I-It is her favorite time..”

Logan proudly beamed at Virgil, and urged him to continue.

Once Virgil finished the whole book, with a bit of Logan’s help, he yawned while rubbing his eyes tiredly. Logan chuckled, and grabbed another book as he stood up.

“Still tired?”

Virgil nodded, and curled up to Logan with his thumb in his mouth. Logan silently chided himself for finding this so adorable as he moved to lay on the couch. Once he got them in a comfortable position, with Virgil laying on top of him curled up against his chest, he pulled Virgil’s thumb out of his mouth earning a small whine.

“Thumb sucking isn’t healthy, Virgil. Now let’s read one more book, and then you can sleep, okay? I suppose we can just work on improving your hand-eye coordination another time.”

Virgil nodded sleepily, and mumbled something Logan couldn’t understand.

“What was that?”

“You rwead to me. I too sweepy.”

Logan’s heart swelled, but he chose to ignore it as he opened the book to begin reading.

About five minutes later Virgil was asleep, and Logan found himself drifting off as well. He tried to fight it off, but he was warm & content with Virgil in his arms so he let his exhaustion consume him.

Some time later Patton popped back up into the common room to find Logan, and Virgil curled up together still sleeping with a children’s book long forgotten, and abandoned on the floor. He tried really hard to contain his squeals, and used his phone to snap some pictures. There was no way he was letting this be forgotten. It was too cute.

The next day Logan decided it was Patton’s turn to teach Virgil something.

“Patton your child is a ridiculously messy eater. That’s child, and adult Virgil. I’ve been teaching him things related to cognitive thinking. You, being the father figure, should be teaching him proper etiquette.”

Patton couldn’t help giggling at the thought of his child always making big messes, but nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, okay I can do that, teach!”

So, come dinner time, Patton placed Virgil into his lap so he could help him.

“Look, Verge this is a fork. Or a dinglehopper like in the Little Mermaid! But we don’t brush our hair with it. It helps us eat! Try it.”

Virgil scowled at the tiny fork in his hand then smirked as he realized exactly what Patton was trying to do. He calmly placed the fork down, and picked his food up with his hands as he smugly stated a simple, “No.”

Logan, and Patton sighed as Roman giggled like an idiot.

“What if we do it like this, kiddo?”

Patton took the fork, scooped some food up, and started making airplane noises as he moved it towards Virgil’s mouth. Virgil tried to lean away from Patton as much as he could without falling off his lap.

Virgil whined, “Nooooo!” but Patton sounded ridiculous so he couldn’t help letting a few giggles escape. Patton giggled along with him, and gave up trying to feed him.

“Alright, kiddo. We’ll work on this tomorrow at breakfast. Just eat.”

Logan groaned, and frowned disapprovingly at Patton. Virgil smirked evilly at the logical side. Logan narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. Patton noticed this so he looked at Virgil to see what Logan was so suspicious about, but Virgil immediately turned his smirk to an innocent smile.

Patton shrugged, and let it go. Roman giggled to himself some more as he secretly observed everything.

After dinner Roman scooped Virgil up, ignoring his protests, and brought him to his room.

“Sorry, Verge, but I wanted to help you with something!”

Virgil scowled at the prince, but said nothing silently urging him to explain.

“So, Logan told me about your paint incident, and while it sounded like an adorable incident you really shouldn’t do it again. So! I’m going to teach you how to draw, and paint neatly!”

Virgil shrugged so Roman took that as an okay, and set him in his desk chair. He then went over to his closet, and pulled out his art supplies.

“Do you want to use crayons or paint first?”

Virgil paused to think then made grabby hands for the big pack of crayons.

“Cwayons.”

Roman smiled, and set the crayons down next to the mini sketchbook he gave Virgil.

“Think you can draw a cat for me, Verge?”

Virgil nodded, and immediately pulled the black crayon out then focused on his task.

Roman watched intently until he noticed Virgil shift around uncomfortably. So, to make Virgil more comfortable Roman pulled up another chair, and pulled out his own sketchbook to start drawing with him. He didn’t miss the adorable little grateful smile Virgil tried to hide.

About five minutes later Virgil set his crayon down, and hid his drawing against his chest. Roman paused his own drawing, and turned to face Virgil.

“May I see the little artist’s masterpiece?”

Virgil blushed profusely, and reluctantly shoved the sketchbook into Roman’s hands. Roman chuckled then gasped once he turned it over.

“Aw, Verge. This is amazing! I like his purple eyes, and plaid patches. Is it supposed to be you? His fur looks like your hoodie.”

Virgil shrugged as he blushed more at the compliments.

“N-No, I-I just like the design, and I th-thought it’d look cool on a cat.”

Suddenly a light bulb went off in Roman’s head.

“Give me.. one moment, Verge.”

Roman looked thoughtful for a moment, confusing Virgil, then snapped his fingers. A cat plushy that looked similar to Virgil’s drawing appeared in his hands. He smirked proudly at his little creation, and handed it to Virgil.

“There now he or she is real.”

Virgil hid his smile by quickly tackle hugging Roman, and burying his face into his chest. Roman chuckled, and held him for a little while.

The two spent the rest of the evening drawing, and painting. Roman of course making sure Virgil didn’t make a giant mess which he was surprisingly successful in doing.

Eventually Virgil started to become sleepy so Roman picked him up, and sunk down to his own room to put him down for bed.

He read him a quick bedtime story then placed the cat plushy, which he called Cat Skellington, in his arms. He left once Patton came in to tuck him in, and say good night.

Once Roman returned to his room he cleaned up the art supplies then climbed into his own bed, and fell asleep as he thought of more ways he could potentially get their normal Virgil back.

The next day Roman picked Virgil up so he could place his drawings on the fridge right next to the paintings he previously made a mess with that Patton proudly put there.

After trying to ignore Roman’s proud praises while hiding his blush Virgil let Patton help him eat his breakfast properly.

Logan smiled, feeling his heart swell with pride, as he watched all of this unfold before him. They really needed normal Virgil back before things got any worse, but in the moment this all felt okay.

~

child!Virgil will be the death of me he’s just so freakin adorably chaotic

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #lamp sanders #child!virgil #olisfics

[katbug48]

you wanted writing prompts/scenarios so I propose literally anything with the secret reveal between danny and his parents because im weak

(It’s funny because this is something that I’m actually trying to work on haha. So instead I’ll come up with something that’s different from what I’m currently trying to write. :3)

Danny stood in the living room with his head down, looking at the floor while his parents gave him yet another talking to when he came home with his report card from the end of the school year. It hadn’t exactly been stellar, with mostly C’s and D’s, which his parents weren’t too happy about, considering their straight-A daughter. They knew Danny was capable of more and Danny knew he was too, if only ghost fighting just never got in the way.

He shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably as he continued to receive an earload from his parents. “This has been going on for two years, Daniel.” His mom berated him, making sure he knew she was being absolutely serious with him as she used his full name instead of his nickname. She held up the report card Danny had given her for him to see again, ignoring that he wasn’t even looking at her, and instead the floor. “You’re a Fenton. You are very capable of much more. Do you expect to get anywhere in your future with these grades? You need to smarten up and stop whatever it is you’re doing!” Danny flinched as his mom raised her voice at him, and rubbed his arm gently, still refusing to look up at her.

“Not to mention how much you’ve been lying to us. Coming home late, skipping out on school and chores, sometimes I don’t even get to see you for days, Danny.” His mom spoke in an even stricter tone at him. She paused, letting that sink into him. “Do you know how much it hurts, that I don’t know what my baby boy is doing because he won’t talk to me anymore?” The softer, hurt tone that Maddie took made Danny finally look up. It tugged at his heart and made it hurt when he heard her sound so upset.

“Mom…” Danny said quietly as he glanced to her hurt eyes, making him look away with guilt.

“I don’t want to hear it, Danny.” His mom replied, her voice hardening again. “Until you can tell me, tell us, the truth, you are grounded and you are going to summer school. No ifs, and’s or but’s. Understood?”

“Yes…” Danny sighed, looking back down at the floor. He deserved it, really. He’d been treating his parents like crap, and it was only a matter of time before they snapped at him for it.

“Son,” His dad started. He was rather quiet the whole time Maddie was disciplining Danny, unable to get mad and raise his voice at his son like she could. “You know you can tell us anything, right? We want to help you succeed, Danny, but we can’t if you don’t let us.”

His dad was right, and he knew it. Even he was tired and upset about how many times he came home with his parents disappointed in him because he wouldn’t let them in his life. He wanted to badly to tell them what was going on, just to get rid of that disappointment, even if it means he would have to run away. He just wanted them to be proud of him again, to be proud to be called a Fenton.

“Actually, mom and dad…” Danny said quietly, rubbing his arm again as he looked up at them. “There is something I need to tell you.”

“If it’s not the truth, I don’t want to hear it Danny, and this discussion is over.” His mom declared, making Danny’s heart tug again in hurt.

“Mom, I promise it’s the truth, please just trust me.” He replied quietly, as he glanced up at both his parents, waiting for them to give him the go to continue. “I really mean it when I say that I’ve been trying as hard as I can, it’s just things happen and get in the way, and this is the best I can manage so far…” He looked pleadingly into his parent’s eyes, wishing for them to understand him to this point.

He had no idea where he was going to go with the truth he was about to tell his parents. He’d gone over it so many times in his head, thought up a million plus more outcomes of the situation, but he really wasn’t ready for the real thing. He didn’t know how he could tell them he was half ghost, the Phantom kid that they’ve hunted down for the past 2 years.

“Look,” He said, pausing for a moment, trying to get his thoughts in order. “You remember the portal accident two years ago? How I was inside when it turned on?” He asked them, watching as they nodded their heads. “Well,” He looked to the floor, wringing his hands together, playing with them, as he tried to get past this with his parents. “I..I should’ve died. That much electricity should’ve killed me. A-and why it didn’t is what I’ve been hiding from you guys…”

His mom looked to his dad confused, and a little shocked at what Danny was telling them. Of course it should’ve killed him, and they never came to that realization until now. “What do you mean?” Maddie asked, her voice shaking a little.

“Mom… The accident changed me. I-It did something to me.” Danny replied quietly, refusing to look up at his parents once again. “It’s why I should’ve died, but I didn’t.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “You know how your ghost weapons always targeted me and you thought it was a bug because I was the only one they targeted?” 

“Yes,” His dad nodded, his face scrunching up in confusion as he tried to wrap his head around the story Danny was telling them. “But what…?” He trailed off into his thoughts.

“Dad, it’s because they were right.” There, Danny finally said it. Not outright, but enough to get the point across. There was no turning back now. “From what we were able to figure out, the ectoplasm from when the portal turned on infused with my DNA, I don’t know how, some sciency stuff I don’t understand, and it turned me into a half-ghost to keep me alive.” Danny finally got it all out, got the truth out to his parents, even though he was shaking so bad with the anxiety of telling them and it took alot out of him.

“Danny…” His mom said quietly, reaching out to touch his cheek, making him look up at her when she did. He looked into her eyes that were quickly filling with tears. “We’re so sorry, we didn’t…” She trailed off as Jack had earlier. She really didn’t have any excuse to say she didn’t know, because she just didn’t pay attention. Her and Jack were much too excited about the portal working than to know what was going on with her own son.

“I-it’s okay, mom. I’m okay.” He pulled away from her again, rubbing his arm once again. “There’s just..There’s one more thing I need to tell you guys, and please don’t be mad. It’s just, this is why I’m doing horrendously in school, why I’m always missing out on curfew, it’s just… I don’t mean to be doing it, it just accidentally happens.” Taking a deep breath, he reached inside himself, feeling for the familiar ice core inside him, bringing it forward, letting the transformation fall over him. A black and white jumpsuit over clothes, green eyes over blue, snow white hair over pitch black hair. “I-I’m Danny Phantom.”

(And I’ll just leave it off there for interpretation of what happens after :3)

#danny phantom #prompt #this was so much fun to write #omg thank you #i love fanfics of dannys revealation #so it was fun writing my own :3 #fanfic #fanfiction

[unbotheredkid]

All the unspoken words

24/08/18

Actually I’m writing this 2 days after the stamp date ‘cause that was the night that we met again with a genuine smile on our faces. Well, we always meet anyway because we have the same circle of friends. I don’t know how casual that may sound but we’ve always been cool about it. I guess, that is because you already have a new relationship and you’ve already moved on. (Then there’s me, trying to figure out where am I on that phase for 6 years). I can’t express this freely to my girl friends all the time because it’s a hundred percent sure they are all too tired of hearing stories about you. They always say I should’ve forgotten you already.. guess some just never had that one great love for them to understand how hard it is to do so. Or it just so happen that I don’t really have a reason/person yet for me to help myself forget you? I don’t know. I travel a lot - wander - explore - soul search every now and then to help me find my inner peace. But all of those were temporary solutions to my wound.

However.. today.. I have accepted the situation now. And today, I am freeing myself from all of this what-ifs, regrets, hopes, and heartaches - with a smile in my heart.

[ Now let me refer to you as a third person on my next sentiments as he (my ex boyfriend) and she (his current girlfriend) ]

I know the fact that he already have a long term girlfriend and I know they both deserve each other in good ways. She has been there for him all this time, all the problems he had - she has always been there beside him. She was able to fight for him & their relationship which Im sure that is why it lasted that long. And then there I was (way back 2014) - who left him out of nowhere, who left him crying, decided to give him up when I shouldn’t. “I shouldn’t” because love shouldn’t be sacrificed at all times. Love needs courage and I lacked courage to fight for what he and I had before.

I guess having the courage to be present in all of our friends’ occasion has helped me now to accept the fact that it is over. I think I need to write it now because after a long time, this was the first time I have been true to myself. He will never be removed in my life. He will always have a place in my heart and in my life. All of our exes have space in our hearts. Even you - the one reading it - I’m pretty sure you do too. But that’s it. Im finally saying goodbye to the feelings I had for him all this time. 

The letter/blog post I wrote to you before was about letting you go, and I guess this letter was about me letting myself be freed from all of this emotions. Thank you for being there at the gatherings because that really helped me a lot on moving on and letting you go for real. You will remain as one of the best story and most heart breaking story that I will never forget.

You WERE (oh my gosh, past tense, yes) my first love and I am now finally ready to let my self meet the man that I will also share my stories with. *in the future not now lol*

[exvee]

today i was voluntold to participate in a COMBAT LIFE SAVER coarse.. in the event of a emergency i am qualified to save someones life... its from 0900- UTC... i go the good news(sarcasm), last night at 2000... I then announced i would draw anything for anyone on just about everything IF they take my place in the class.. ...well not everyone raised their hand at once. salty faced, they asked me why dont i want to go? "because in the morning i talk to my girlfriend... i would rather talk to her then be with more dudes.." didnt make a difference... I sat there for a bit watching wonder years day dreaming until i got up and went to the back.. didnt bother to shower.. i undressed and sent you a text letting you know im in bed, hoping your up to talk or w.e i then check my fb and twitter like theres anything to check or anyone sent me a msg at all.. i just really check to see your thoughts or what your doing. i then nvm it all when i see an update, deep sigh and wait till netflix to load up twilight zone... watch it for a bit, i got it minimized and your msgr up just incase you text me i would see it... i fall asleep. the time was 1040 i dreamt about my grandmother last night.. a sudden wake up to thinking it was 2 am, realizing i was only asleep for a hour.. i move the mouse to turn the screen on, checking if you  texted me yet.. i call, text... w.e we had our argument.. i fall asleep not feeling any better. its 130 in the am.. waking up at 6, move the mouse to see if you texted me... and i just lay there staring at the ceiling, "man i dont want to get out of bed today.." i close my eyes forcin myself to sleep, alot of "what ifs" going through my mind, i cant help but be awake. laying there, okay ****... its 7 now, lets just get out of bed, shower... put on a new uniform and start a healthy day.. be strong, its okay.. she'll text you when she misses you, give her time.. she will miss you; it will be okay.. just get up. i cant help but touch the mouse pad and turn the screen back on.. damnit... why did i do that? i look through your pictures saved, every one of them.. i try to touch myself maybe i just need to have sex, im sexual frustrated... didnt even work. fuck it, fuck this desert. rolling out of bed at 730.. i go shower... i must of been in the shower for an hr i thought, letting the water run... it was only 20 mins.. i shave, brush my teeth, comb my hair and go back to the room.. place the soaps and towel away, rub the mouse pad to check.. then get ready... iv had this one acu uniform which fits me just right, gives me the perfect slim shape; not to baggy.. its pressed and everything is new on it, i was saving it for leave in october when i go home in uniform i looked decent, trying to impress you i guess. im not going home in october, so i say wht the heck.. i need something to boost my moral. i look in the mirror, my eyes look a mess... like iv havnt been getting rest and stress... dark shadowed eyes. real heavy. i brush the hair out my face and go on my way. jesus comes in and says hey you going to chow? lets go, i grab my weapon and go. the walk to the chow i hall, i keep my head down as i walk; just so the same i see the same thing every day, take the same path, walk the same way.. see the same people.. give me id to the same guard, nod my head to him as a thank you for letting me in then walk through the same white double doors. the red tile, theres exactly 75 red tiles from the door to the sink where i wash hands, the same soap, it smells like hash i think to myself.. i smell my hands, smells like i just smoked bud take my plate and tray, i tell the iraqi 3 times for 3 boiled eggs.. i get 3 water melon slices and some yogurt.. jesus grabs the same thing but he replaces the watermelon for an apple. man i wish i grabbed an apple i say to myself before i sit down.. we sit there, and eat..  i just day dream as i eat, quietly just listening to jesus and his friend miguel talk, miguel tells me man from the looks of your plate, thats how you stay so skinny.. he was eating a greasy omelet and hash browns... i just look at his plate and nod and continue to peel off my boiled eggs and remove the dry yolk.. looking around at everyone, 5 tables away, i see a group of officers sitting together, there were 3 females and 4 males... sitting there, stuffing their face and laughing among eachother. i look in discus, i them mutter i fucking hate officers.. i see the females and i just get so much anger, i call them a fucking bitch in my head.. jesus says, hey are you okay? yeah im just tired. jesus states his conversation, man im so sick and tired of hearing about cheating spouses, it seems like thats the fling now and days.. wives cheating on husbands, husbands cheating on wives.. girlfriends fucking this person boyfriends fucking this person.. im tired of that shit, if your going to mess around and play the game then be single why waste someones time? noone is more professional than I, he chants as a joke of the creed we recite... i just stare at his mouth as he talks... then his nose, then his had gestures... what the fuck are you talking about jesus i say in my head. the voice in my head is very calm soft spoken toned voice. i eat the eggs, the yogurt and nvmed the watermelon, it was hard and to cold for my liking, we leave. walk back together, silent. same path, same things to see.... desert. jesus pulls out a red apple and bites it.. i look the apple in his hand, man i wish i got a apple i say again in my head. we get back to the shop... i put my weapon in the rack, the same empty spot on the rack i plce my dirty weapon i care so less about, "im never going to use it" i say out loud to my self... and walk to the back of the office. agnew is sitting there on his ipad, drew is sitting there with a flash light pretending its a gun as he shoots me john is on the computer looking at cars and says hey ese, im sorry i unplugged your ipod from the charger to charge mine.. i just stare at everyone with a blank look like dude, idc about none of yall.. i just nod my head as a morning greeting and back to the front i sit on the floor against the wall waiting to go to this CLS class... jesus is coming with me so it might not be all that bad. its 850 by then, he ask if im ready to go down to the Aid station, i tell him hold on. i need to grab something.. when really i just wanted to see if you wrote me back yet.. saying in my head, your so pathetic eric. running to the back just to see if she wrote you, disappointed.. were suppose to let her text us; my mind is talking but my body keeps on moving in disregards to the commands my mind is speaking out. i rub the mouse pad, nothing yet... damn, let me call... no answer... jesus comes, hey man are you ready?.. umm yeeeah, lets go.. i close the laptop as to signify thats it eric, stay off your laptop all day and leave her alone.. i grab my stuff and go. we get there, we sit.. he asks whats wrong, i say nothing.. he ask how we are doing i say good, he ask have i talked to eric i say yes, last night.. he ask hows he doing i say good.... he shuts up, from the tone of my voice he gets the drift.. i dont feel like talking.. he offers a cigarette, i decline and drink my water. the instructor comes out and takes our names down, theres 5 of us... 2 guys from A co. idk 1 guy named collier from Eco. i went to military school with then me and jesus from HHC co.. the instructor, SGT Anol... says well the class was not suppose to be till tomorrow so just com back tomorrow at 0900 in front of this door.. roger, SGT; walking back jesus says hes going to bed... not telling anyone we got released early... so i do the same.. i dont feel like being at work any way.. walk to the back, open the laptop... touch mouse pad.. i check twitter then fb to see if your awake.. so frustrated, i just activate my old fb, i need to talk to scuba or end or my family i say to myself.. i change my profile picture, click on your profile to see if your up again, sigh> i deactivate it again, pointless.. i dont want to talk to anymore... but her i think to myself. i go on twitter, i wonder who ****** was, so i checked his profile out to see if i knew him.. i notice his name lingers around so i just check. i see some photos.. i do recognize him from school.. he got fat from the face i tell myself.. he's ugly... w.e, brittany wont leave me for this guy.. what ifs then come along.. i just exit out and sit out on the pouch for a bit.. i come back in, sit in the same chair.. touch the mouse pad... still no msg.. i then call, then text you whatever comes to mind, i then start to email you my day, a vent of thoughts and actions of my boring dumb life.. you finally msg me..

#tbt

[oceanteeralanna]

I've been thinking about what ifs. But right now I am so tired of dealing with the aftermath of emotional abuse from my Narcissistic stbxhusband, abandonment issues and the narcissist husband who won't file for divorce- is making me suffer, it's too much. I feel raped, 2 years of no contact and I still feel broken...i cant seem to heal, I'm sorry... I just need to vent. I'm too much of a chicken to die because I'm scared but if it wasn't so scary Id do it in a heart beat so it can all to go away.. he's out there in South Korea, drinking it up, smoking, sleeping with his co-workers and civilians and making a fake life. While I'm trying to pick my life back up...and it's so hard because finding out it was all a lie, he used me and used our son as well, that he's a sadistic narcissist and makes fake personalities, lives different lives and cannot be faithful, knows how to put you down and have flying monkies attack you... financial fuck you over, etc... I'm tired of having terror nightmares... it just won't go away... I trap myself at home, I go to work, my mom is my biggest help, who is helping me during this b.s and our son, I take him to daycare, which his dad also abandoned him at 4 months and our sons now almost 3 years old. I had to get on his case for support, it took 3-5 months to get at least 200 a month, but he has never once asked nor cared..about our kid.

I'm fighting two sides, one where i hate everything he's done to me and our son and other side is wishing it wasn't real that it was a dream.

No matter how many months, my mind hurts, there's days were I can't remember what happened because of the trauma... like amnesia..

I don't want to talk to another guy or get close ... I like being alone but I hate it at the same time. Im tired of waking up crying...

I'm very lucky I was never physically assaulted. Thinking about it scares me alot.

Why do people want to hurt empathy people like us so bad??

I wish they would have listened and know he's not some innocent poor me and really he's a manipulative narcissistic sociopath who is smart and got away with abuse, he even raped his ex gf finding out and it made me upset and sick to my stomach, I even had a korean girl tell me he was sexually harassing her too..

I wish someone was there that could tell me everything will be okay because my mind feels like a war zone and I feel like I'm losing.. I'm sorry =[

[immabeliever13]

the honest truth

 i’m done. and i hate saying that. i hate giving up on someone who gave me so much to look forward to. i hate giving up on someone who made me so happy most of the time, most of the time being key words there. 

but i was holding onto and chasing after something that might not even have been there in the first place 

i hate thinking if i gave it one more shot or tried a little harder maybe it would have work out. 

but it wasnt me that needed to try harder. and thats what ill keep reminding myself. 

im done trying so hard for someone who makes me feel like im the one not good enough for you. 

im done sending my every text and keeping a conversation going. 

you were polite but i didnt need that, i needed honesty. 

but it was never me you were unsure of it was yourself. 

im done trying so hard for someone who ive built up in my head to be greater then they are. 

but from the bottom of my heart i really did believe you were everything. 

and while i wouldnt have changed a thing about you it kind of felt like i had to change who i was ti even consider being noticed by you. 

and i tried i couldnt have tried harder for someone. 

i dont know what more i could have done. i dont know what kinder words i could have said. but im tired im hurt im out of ideas of how to win you over. 

if you have to try that hard they probably arent worth it but i wanted you to be. i didnt want to look back the months and consider them wasted. 

im done trying to defend you when my friends say im wasting my time because i didnt want them to be right about you because i really did think you were different. im done going out of my way to see you or try and make you happy. im done stating at a phone wondering when youll answer. 

im done playing some game i didnt sing up for and everytime i learned the rules you simply put the game on pause. 

im done feeling like an option when all ive done is make you a priority. 

but the truth is ive never stopped believing in you. ive never stopped trying. ive built you up in moments where i was drowing under the surface and you didnt even think to ask how i was doing. im done having every conversation about you, im done putting you before myself. 

and maybe this is on me you didnt ask for this and i didnt intend for any of this to escalate as much as it did but thats relationships you fall without intending to even if you know the person wont catch you.

but im done trying because there isnt anyone i tried harder for. there wasnt anyone i tried to make happier. 

the truth is i couldnt fill whatever void you needed me to. i couldnt be the person you needed me to be. but i tried, i tried so hard to be everything i could for you but even my best wasnt enough. 

and thats the hardest thing in the entire world, your best not being good enough for someone. and you thinking you were to blame. 

its looking at your reflection and not fixating upon flaws. but when the only person you care about is the one you cant get you dont look at them you look at yourself like its everything youve done wrong. and you want to try harder you want to do more you think one day youll prove you deserve them. 

and im not one to quit but i think walking away even if it hurts will lead us to the things we both deserve and im sorry i couldnt be that person for you and in time ill master whatever strength i have to ignore you in time i wont answer. 

at first the days you dont notice we speak will seem like a marathon of life without you because you were always my favourite part of the day

but one day youll notice my absence. one day youll send a text and i wont answer back immediately or at all. one day that snap will go opened and that uncoloured blue arrow will annoy you as much as it did me so many times. one day i wont be your first like or comment and one day it will appear like i dont care. 

and on that day where we cross paths and im holding the hand of someone who wanted so badly to be you youll see an unwavering strength to my smile and a hello that would have broken me a long time ago. 

because ill always look at you at what we could have been the what ifs and maybes area tired game of make belief that i tried to play with for so long 

but eventually i will have found something more real then what i came up with in my head. 

i will have found someone who is as honest with me as i was with you. i will have found someone who meets me halfway in life where ive only known giving everyone and everything my all to a point where it made me look bad, i will have found someone who appreciates me as i did you if only you could have reciprocated it. 

and youll look at me and ill look at you and we will both know it wasnt supposed to end that way but it did and whats when ill hit you. thats when youll know the same thing i knew about us for so long.

but the honest truth is this new person didnt have to see me with someone else to realize my value and thats the difference between you two 

[yungxyari]

3am thoughts....

I wanna write how I feel because its eating me up inside and when I try to express myself I get stuck First is first I messed up I wasn’t in the wrong from the beginning my birthday was great and for once I was absolutely happy not a care in the world first time in a long time. With happiness came a funny feeling for me those are never ever good when I say never I mean never bowling didn’t sound so right not after he expressed how tired he was something was off. Tuesday night is a night I’m done reliving I kinda just wished it never happened but since it did my next step is literally acting like it didn’t. Just to let it go After that night I shouldve blocked him but I didn’t I fucking didn’t block him I wanted to talk I wanted to work shit out when you love someone unconditionally shit like this tends to happen.. you just kinda sorta feel sick to your stomach giving up And this is the part where everyone gives in their opinion Why care about him if he doesn’t care about you his actions should show how he feels They probably are right but when you get to know someone you get to know them. And him I knew better then I know myself. Moving on I flipped my anxiety sucks I can’t control it it basically controls me and thats me upmost scariest feeling I have ever felt. I loose all sense of everything and im really going to try to get medication for that it fucking sucks and it basically dragged me to where I’m at the moment. Friday was hard after asking for nothing but the truth he wanted to still protect me and he lied I left work looking for nothing I shouldve went home I shouldve showered I shouldve laid down and once again BLOCKED HIM but I didn’t once again I let the anxiety the anger get the better of me. I really don’t have a valid explanation for any of my actions I swear I don’t and I don’t know what I wanted to accomplish by showing up at publix making a scene for what to drive him away even more. That isn’t the point he tried to check on me but it was already to late I was less then 500 feet from him with my heart beating almost out my chest not knowing my next move.. publix happened shit I’m not proud of another reason to apologize to C since his thing is he wants me to take responsibility.. he did me wrong asf me out of everyone he knows how I am and how I was with him and he took advantage of me of my heart and of my love and he abused it. Here everyone goes saying how can you feel that way at such a young age but me and the kid shared everything it was more of a friendship with the amount of unconditional love I believed we was throwing around… where do I continue Friday was Friday I ended up at my cousins party Lord help me that was a movie hen ciroc and beer pong how did I wake up the next day ask the devil because I don’t know I called him that night very mad at each other he answered on the first ring and I noticed I call he answers first ring second no more after that night. We talked for 21 minutes if I remember right the conversation I can’t tell you what was said but my drunken thoughts and sober words said anything and everything you can imagine. He was a dear the him I knew but better but caring but loving but supprortive things I havent seen in a while it felt good I felt good the call ended when G called me back in and 2 more shots later a bathroom converstaion occurred s/o to my girl A the first person to tell me something that makes sense not the default message I was getting from everyone because fuck him you deserve better really gets played tf out !!!!! that was over the party continued blasé blase “I’m finally in bed” text became a “good morning its work time “ text nothing too deep happened Saturday just the usual mix of emotions and feeling “I wish you were here right now” that broke my heart to pieces was the least of my worries. Saturday wasn’t bad and Sunday either I got an “I miss you” which made me feel great because fuckkkk finally I can confirm he feels the same Side note saturday I asked to b his first kiss of the year might not count for anything but it was important to me Sunday is where it began to fall not going into detail the day was good afternoon was good 7-9 was good I was out at first ignoring him but the kid just has a damn way of hoping back into my system. Spoke about fucking donuts which I was going to get delivered to him we left it at he’s taking a nap and that was it Till I got the feeling The feeling that fucks me over and shuts the reasonable part of my brain off. After this the outcome I lost my best friend I lost my keys I lost my self respect I lost my faith and hope and gained a charge Sunday Night was an eye opener well I thought it was Monday I woke up different it was good then sucked then sucked again it was great and at the end sucked even more at the end of this I stressed my mom out more then she is  and lost his trust and everything Tuesday nothing really to say and Wednesday which is today but it isn’t considering its 3 am was a lot.

It went a little of both good and bad. More bad then good ofc “your picture is on my mirror but I’m going to have to take it off soon” As young as I may b I know, I know the feeling you get when you just know and I just know its kid having someone say they saw a future with u even at 17 maybe not now Mayb in 5 years maybe in 55 but that means a lot I lost him but I didn’t. And thats all ill say about it it ended sad and I could hear in his voice I’m not the only one hurting he just sucks at even showing this emotion do u love me….the reply was given basically then I love you it hasn’t sounded that way in never and click. The little details are out but this is basically what I can think of now it was about 30 minutes it was a lot.. The Instagram pictures are gone. And d is posted. I’m not even sure if giving an opinion on this is ok but b basically It feels empty I deleted the February picture and kept it moving… I started this at 2:58 am and its 3:40 and I’m still sitting here with a million and one things on my mind. School is in 4 days and I still need a week tomorrow I’m asking my mom I really need it. I need anxiety help and I need weight help just the month of December I lost 4 pounds shit is real its no longer a joke

Idk if I want help or I wanna give up, cutting ur self is super middle school, and pills are a game… tonight I’m feeling like I’m tired I’m tired of it all I don’t wanna deal with anything going on anymore and I say this with my eyes getting teary eyed I’m fucking tired honest to the god I don’t even know if belive In I’m fucking tired I wanna die I’m making my moms life harder and she already has her own shit I’m not happy I’m not motivated ion wanna do this shit anymore I’m fucking tired still havent blocked him yo sitting here thinking of what to do. Will writing it then reading it make it better?? Pills an option but the what ifs still sit. If I try it and nothing happens I’m forcing myself to keep it pushing but if anything at all happens then it was the right thing I’m sad I’m not alone but it feels like it I gotta work on things so many damn things I mean here goes nothing I think I got 2 benadryls Advil and other shit ill see what I pull out the bag for the record it was nobody fault but mine I’m just fucking tired drained and ready to give up I love u all so much always checking making sure I’m staright. I gone make this future happen if I don’t make this happen. And I dont know how u end this.. goodnight xo 54 minutes of pure feellings and my head is still going on at it.

update I woke up the next morning with a huge headache and disappointed 

#jan5 #depressing thoughts #feelings #heartbreak #anxitey