#she’s a freshman and determined to live her life out of the closet now that she’s away from home

[tyungelic]

chaewon gives me baby lesbian vibes i can imagine her learning how to flag as a femme lesbian and having her older wiser lesbian bff sakura help her get a girlfriend 🤭

#i wanna write a fic for this so bad 😭 college au where chaewon has a crush on a girl in her class #she’s a freshman and determined to live her life out of the closet now that she’s away from home #she doesn’t know anyone there other than sakura who she’s been online friends with #and then chaewon meets the reader and her breath is taken away 🥺 #brb writing an outline #tyungelic : personal 🪽

[welcome-to-sparkys]

[My] Fanon Ness

I must stress that this was helped made possible by @raglansragdoll Please give them love too!!! Also I know I have requests I'm working on them ^^;;

Full Name: Ness Wilhelm Scott

Age: 23 years old

Birthday: June 26, 1977

Gender: Genderqueer gay man (very closeted and internalized transphobia beginning of story | also period accuracy he wouldn't really state it this way, modern times he'd def have neos and such but that be an au)

Pronouns: He/Him

World building under the cut!

Ness is an absolute nerd. He's currently in college getting his master's degree in business, minor in theatre. He's been working at Sparky's since his freshman year of college to help pay student loans and such. He lives in a quaint, cramped apartment downtown near his college. He likes his coworkers, the gossipy waitresses, and his manager. He's never met the owner, though (🐇).

He loves to be in-the-know. He eavesdrops constantly at work, and it's honestly the best place to gather bits and bobs about the local townsfolk, cryptids, and other oddities. With his flamboyant nature and such a small town, he's also well-known and trusted. The grannies who come every Sunday after church services, crochet, and tip well trade tea for knowing about his personal life. Got a girlfriend yet? How's that degree going? How's your parents?

Though he's stuck his nose where it isn't supposed to be, plenty of times. Back when he was 19, him and a few buddies broke into their school's boiler room because rumor was it's haunted and had a skull of a pilgrim girl. Needless to say, that wasn't true, just a theory even, and he spent the night in the county jail. He's gotten more discreet since then, now preferring to work alone.

He heard about Freddy's soon after and became obsessed. He asked anyone and everyone who would listen about the place. Who owned it? Why did it shut down? After a few months, he started putting some details together. Five children missing so close to the place shutting down, their bodies never found? He could smell a theory brewing.

He's the reason William had to start frequently hiring security guards. Vanessa was usually enough to ensure his prized possession didn't get vandalized or broken into. Well... Until Ness got involved. At first, the gate wasn't even locked. It was just some simple chain. Then he learned how to lockpick. Once the padlock was put in place he "borrowed" the note with instructions from a late security guard.

He always wanted to snag something from the pizzeria. He brought his camera he bought through saving tips and snapped photos of literally everything. He once left with a shard of glass from a pinball machine, but he then got weird feelings about the animatronics. He took notes. After a few months he had several notebooks full of his scribbles, photos, and bits of rubble or memorabilia. His little pencil topper he actually stole from the prize counter inside the pizzeria and is his favorite find.

It got a lot more difficult once Mike got involved. Mike caught him the first night, interrogated him, and threw him out. It didn't deter Ness, and in fact it relit the spark that had started to fizzle out. He grew more determined to get to the bottom of the mystery. He started a blog, documenting his theories and thoughts online. It didn't gain much steam, but he had a few fans from around the country.

Boy was it awkward when Mike came into the diner the first time. Ness hid, for the first time ever, in the back. It worried his coworkers because he wasn't one to avoid meeting someone new. Quite the opposite. Ness did peek, once, only to be met by Mike's ragged, sleep-deprived glare.

They didn't talk the first few times, but Abby was fascinated by Ness. Her "friends" were too, telling her that they recognized the waiter. She demanded and begged Mike to take her to the run down diner again and again, and eventually he obliged.

Eventually, the two warmed up to each other.

Ness went with Mike during the Climax of the film. Vanessa still makes an appearance and gets stabbed, but she's more a background character. Ness, Mike, and Abby get out of the crumbling building by the skin of their noses.

Mike and Abby become regulars, even having "their" table. Ness knows their order by heart, and always has something new to share with Abby.

And then securitywaiter :3

My AO3 | Masterlist

#sorry the ending is a little rushed #im disabled sick and went to the doctor today #im a little drained #but i love this and finally have my ideas written down somewhat #working on ness and mike having a kid lol #divider/banner is by @cafekitsune #fnaf movie #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #securitywaiter #mike schmidt #dreamtheory #ness the waiter #mike x ness #ness the waiter fnaf #ness headcanon #fanon #ness fanon

[taste-thewaste]

ILLICIT AFFAIRS 👀👀👀👀👀

ohhh illicit affairs, i haven't worked on her in forever! my first venture in RWRB fandom was starting a taylor swift themed series of fics inspired by T Swift songs (i am that basic bitch) and this is my most recent addition to that series.

Basic concept is a college AU where Henry is a really lonely, recently out freshman and Alex is closeted and falls for Henry. they start messing around and they both fall for each other but Alex keeps lying to everyone and keeps Henry a secret. Eventual happy ending but lots of angst and complicated behavior.

here's a lil piece of it:

He had been so stupid, he thought. Two months of living in the city and going to this fancy university and he had somehow convinced himself that now was a good time to tell his family he’s gay. Watching people every day who live life on their own terms had disillusioned him. He had forgotten the potential brutality of his deeply conservative grandmother, his milquetoast mother, his eternally angry and aggressively heterosexual older brother. The only person on his side, ever, is his sister, but she can’t change the minds of everyone else.  So he had said it at the end of his brief weekend visit, and his sister had rubbed his arm consolingly and his mother had stared at her hands and his brother had looked at him like he was gum under his shoe and his grandmother had raged about embarrassment. And Henry? Well, Henry simply wants to be someone else.  So that’s what he has come to this bar to do. Tonight he’s just another student with a fake ID, determined to drink too many cheap beers and leave with his head pleasantly fuzzy. He is not the gay son of a dead father, an emotionally-distant mother. He has not disappointed his grandmother and brother so badly that they can barely look at him.

#asks #wip titles #eusuntgratie #my fic

[jhayess]

[SYDNEY PARK, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER/HERS] who’s that? oh it’s [JENNIFER “JENNY” HAYES]. i hear they’re [EIGHTEEN] and are known as [THE DADDY’S GIRL] around [THE COUNTRY CLUB]. they’re also a [FRESHMAN] at [PURDUE HCC]. they’re known to be [CHARMING & OUTSPOKEN] and [MEAN & STUBBORN]. some people say they remind them of [FOOTBALL GAMES UNDER THE LIGHTS, SUMMERS BY THE POOL, GOSSIPING IN THE GIRLS’ BATHROOM, GETTING MANI/PEDIS, & PARTIES AT THE LAKE HOUSE]. 

basics.

full name: jennifer anne hayes. nicknames: jenny, mostly. sometimes jen (though the people who call her that? generally not friends. she doesn’t go by jen as a rule.) gender/pronouns: cisfemale/she/her/hers. sexual orientation: she’s, like, super gay, dude. she’s also so deep in the closet that she’s found narnia. birthday: august 22nd. star sign: leo. charismatic, confident, determined...and a bit vain, pretentious, and arrogant. occupation: incoming freshman at purdue, on a cheer scholarship and studying hospitality or something equally boring that she doesn’t really care about. she doesn’t have to work because her dad’s a doctor. lucky her.

personality.

positive traits: outgoing, clever, charming, confident, ambitious. negative traits: confrontational, self-absorbed, vain, mean, cocky. hogwarts house: i know jkr sucks and also this isn’ a thing in the 80s but she’s a really MEAN gryffindor. the asshole kind. think james potter at his absolute WORST. that’s jenny. alignment: chaotic evil. ennegram: 3w2. personality type: esfp.

backstory.

born to the hayes family on a rainy august night, jenny arrived on the scene just like she did everything in life: early and on her terms. she was breech, supposed to be a scheduled c-section, and born in the month of september but...some things don’t go as planned. (after an emergency c-section with her youngest, mrs. hayes vowed that she was done having kids).

her father is a surgeon at hawkins general hospital, which means he’s a busy guy and not around much. her mother took care of raising her and her three older siblings. and for the most part, it was fine. her parents aren’t in love at all and should probably be divorced by now, but dr. hayes’ income supports her mom -and jenny’s- lavish lifestyle, so they’re together “for the kids”...but mostly for the cash.

the hayes family lives in the rich part of hawkins, in a housing development full of snobby people with too many cars in the driveway and lots of kids. they have a lake house on lover’s lake, a vacation home in the carolinas, and their own pool in their hawkins home, which made jenny’s house a popular place to bring the kids when they were little...and a popular party spot when they got a bit older.

jenny’s is the youngest of four and she owns it. being the baby of the family, she got pretty much whatever she wanted growing up. her dad works long hours as the hospital and her mom just didn’t seem to care outside of making sure her daughter looked good, so she was able to buy friends and popularity fairly easily throughout middle and high school.

growing up with a mostly absentee father and a mom who was exhausted and relied a little too heavily on her wine meant that jenny was free to do pretty much whatever she wanted. as a kid, she played almost every sport imaginable, but ultimately settled on a love of cheerleading because her siblings played sports and she liked cheering for them and tumbling...and, as she got older, because it opened the door to popularity. because jenny doesn’t get a ton of validation at home, she seeks it out elsewhere: from teachers, friends, and boys, mostly even though she doesn’t even like them very much.

she’s known she likes girls since she was ten. when her friends were losing their minds over tom cruise, she was obsessing over the likes of molly ringwald. when her friends were drooling over han solo, she was falling for princess leia. it’s not something she’s exactly dealt with. she’s hooked up with a few of her friends, teammates, and high school classmates since then. it’s not because she’s worried about what her parents think. they probably wouldn’t care either way...but it would  probably fuck up her reputation. it’s hawkins, indiana in the 1980s. freaks are ostracized. she knows because she was doing the ostracizing. and popularity is important to her so...she figures she’ll just wait until she leaves for college to figure that shit out. it’s not important anyway.

the first girl jenny ever kissed was taken by the mindflayer in 1985. when she started acting weird and standoffish, jenny took it as a...sign. that maybe she shouldn’t be doing that. (and that maybe she was worse at reading people than she thought.)

this still weighs on jenny a bit. the girl wasn’t just a random classmate. it was one of jenny’s best friends, cheer teammates, somebody who jenny trusted until she didn’t. it was puppy love, they were just kids but...you never forget your first, you know? and that girl’s just...gone. she’s kind of paranoid of getting too close to anybody ever again.

since she was a little girl, she’s always dreamed of the white picket fence, 2.5 kids, and a doting husband so she can keep doing the stuff she likes to do. the only problem is...she’s not sure she wants a husband if they’re not just like her dad: never present and leaving her alone. but it’s still a dream -one her mother is obsessed with- so...that’s the plan, after college.

but while she’s in college? she’s ready to mess around and figure some stuff out. marriages were never supposed to be about love anyway, right?

unbeknownst to jenny, her dad’s about to lose his license for giving out pain pill prescriptions without cause. he’s going to lose his job, probably flee town, and leave her mom to pick up the pieces...and with no access to the bank account dr. hayes is the sole proprietor of.

because of this, her partial cheer scholarship? not going to cut it. she’s gonna be stuck at HCC for the foreseeable future, much to her chagrin.

Plots n stuff

bring me ALLL the flings. i want guys she’s hooked up with to try and convince herself she’s not gay. i want all the girls she hooked up with while drunk at parties or just because she wanted to. bring me a girl she’s actually very much in love with but has convinced herself she can’t be. i want it all.

her friends are probably mostly the popular crew of the party’s time at hawkins high. she’s a cheerleader. she runs with the jocks. she probably knows some of the kids who’d have been juniors or seniors when they were freshman, too. (but she also really, really respects erica sinclair’s bite, so they’re fairly close, too.)

a beard would be fun. maybe a mutual beard, depending on the guy? idk. talk to me!

she and the party, uh, aren’t really on the same page. she was probably outright rude to most of them in middle school and pretended they didn’t exist during high school (except for you, max mayfield. you, she remembers.)

she also had a feeling about will byers. gaydar is a thing! i think part of her reaction to his death was because...she could see herself in his place if she let herself exist like she wants to once she leaves hawkins. oops. 

she does have older siblings! i’m not sure if she’s particularly close to them or if they’re relevant in her life but if you wanted to pick one up we can chat and flesh it out for sureee.

she’s completely oblivious to any and all supernatural happenings in hawkins and will probably remain that way. like you could tell her her not-girlfriend was taken by the mindflayer and she’d roll her eyes at you and ask if you were high. she simply does not really care about All of That stuff. (here for a good time, not a long time.)

#bio. #bth:intro

[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

[words-writ-in-starlight]

For the ask meme: Sarah x Jareth (I almost wrote that as David Bowie), 14, 22, and 29!

I am RIGHT NOW watching Labyrinth with my partners, EXCELLENT timing!  Cut for length.

14) When one has a cold, what does the other do?

Jareth has never been “sick” a day in his immortal life.  He’s been stabbed, poisoned, cursed, and hungover, but even the weakest goblin is rarely “sick” and Jareth hasn’t spend enough time around mortals to have a good grasp of the fact that nonfatal illnesses even exist.    

Point is, there’s an intermediary period between Sarah pointedly ignoring every owl in sight, no matter the coloring, and Sarah becoming the Goblin Queen where she forces him to visit the mortal world more than he has in living memory, including his.  (Jareth has a vague sense that he might have been here more often once--perhaps when he was young, before he was King--but he’s been King so long, and the Labyrinth has a chain-tight grip on its own.)  Toby is entranced, and also terrified--he doesn’t buy Jareth’s glamour for a second.  Sarah spends half her life running interference on Jareth’s behavior, and the other half doing a double major in political sciences and folklore.  Which she decided to get before she agreed to start talking to Jareth again, thank you, kindly fuck off.

Point is, eventually even Sarah’s suspiciously excellent immune system clocks out for the day, and she wakes up with a splitting headache, a wet and congested cough, and a sense that her skin is being abraded by even her softest sheets.  She’s not sick-sick, it’s just a nasty head cold with a fever, but she calls out of class and flops down on the couch and mumbles non-answers to the goblin who lives in the top of her closet when it scuttles out to see why she’s still home.

She doesn’t even realize Jareth is there until she feels a shadow fall over her and cracks an eye to peer up at him blearily.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks in his most forbidding Goblin King voice, and she groans and pulls her blanket over her head.

“Go away, Jareth, I’m tired.”

“I will not,” he says automatically as he jerks the blanket down to her shoulder, and then he’s crouching down in front of her, mismatched eyes dangerous and inhumanly bright in the yellow light of her little dorm apartment.  “Who did this to you, Sarah?  I will not leave without an answer.”

“No one,” she says, squinting up at him.  “It’s just a cold.”

“’Cold’,” he repeats, in the same skeptical way that he said ‘phone’ when she complained about his unannounced visits.  “I am not aware of that particular toxin.”

“I’m just sick, it’s not like I’ve been poisoned.”

“An illness?”  He pauses, pulls a glove off one hand and reaches out to touch her cheek experimentally.  His fingers are always cold compared to hers, and she shivers hard when he touches her skin, but he doesn’t flinch.  There’s something odd on his face, a locked-up hardness, and he says, “What is it?”

“A cold,” Sarah says again, pulling her blankets back up to her chin and shutting her eyes.  “I’m just going to feel like garbage for a few days.  Probably less if you let me sleep.  Come back and bother me on Saturday.”

He doesn’t leave.  Whatever, Sarah decides--that’s his problem.  She’s tired and feverish and annoyed and she’s going to sleep whether Jareth likes it or not.  She thinks he’s talking to someone--probably that snitch in the closet--about something--sounded vaguely like library and cold--but that’s Not Her Concern.  Sarah is done here.  She feels the end of the couch sink down by her feet just before she falls asleep.

When she wakes up, the Goblin King is still there, reading a book filched from one of her shelves, pen tapping idly against his lips--he’s marking up the fairy tales again, god, she hates his guts sometimes--and there’s a series of tidy piles on the rickety coffee table.  It looks like someone robbed a pharmacy and cleaned out their Cough And Cold aisle, and then sorted their booty by color, which suggests probably goblins just smart enough to recognize a word their king showed them, but not smart enough to read the labels.

Sarah smiles a little and grabs some cough drops from the top of the red pile, and condescends to drape her legs over Jareth’s lap before she goes back to sleep.

22) Where does their first kiss happen?

Sarah has a much harder time in college than she expected.  Not with being away from home, although she does miss Toby something awful and spends every second of her breaks with him.  No, the problem is that she has to share a room.  All the way through freshman year, she has a roommate, and--

And the roommate is fine, she’s a perfectly inoffensive girl from Chicago who keeps her things on her own side of the shoebox room they share and doesn’t bring anyone back to the room and never makes noise late at night, but Sarah hates it.  She can’t quite put her finger on why--is a little afraid of what she might say if pressed, if she’s honest.  She has these half-finished thoughts that involve words like territory and invader and mine.  Sarah has worked very hard not to be a selfish teenager or, possibly worse, the kind of girl who sometimes talks to a Goblin King and wonders privately if his final offer was serious.

Sarah has no plans to be the Goblin Queen, is the point, no matter what Hoggle mutters under his breath when she admits, the summer after her first year of college, that she’s talking to Jareth again.  (He just--he can come see her, there, and he can look like a person, and none of her other friends can, and people are weirdly nervous of Sarah, these days, and she was lonely, okay, so she let an owl into her room while her roommate was gone, and let them who never made a bad choice in college throw the first stone.)  And that means getting over herself and never voicing any of the thoughts that creep into her head about how her roommate, who has every right to sleep here, deserves to be thrown in an oubliette for disturbing Sarah’s peace.

Sarah is better than that, these days.

The only person who isn’t fooled is, of course, Jareth, who is very perceptive and also very persistently determined to visit regularly.  He smothers smirks when he sees Sarah force herself to be kind, and once offers, sweet as arsenic, to take Sarah’s roommate off her hands if you just say the right words, precious.  Sarah glares at him and pointedly turns her back, and he laughs as he leaves.  But he never does anything to her roommate, and Sarah doesn’t think about how Jareth never actually does anything to her space or anything in it, and doesn’t think about the rules that fairy tales handed down for millennia about places that fall under the power of a creature not to be toyed with.

She’s signed up to room with the same girl for sophomore year, because she doesn’t have a reason to claim a single and seniors always snap up the free ones.  But she shows up to get her key, and the registrar frowns and clicks a few things and then shrugs and hands Sarah a key.  He gives Sarah directions to one of the buildings up-campus, and Sarah goes, not particularly suspicious--she’s never been to the up-campus buildings, because people are nervous around Sarah and, while she’s manages to make a friend or two, no one really invites her back to their room.  Into their space.

Sarah opens her door and stands there, staring, mildly shocked.

Apparently, she is now the proud resident of a senior-only dorm room, one of the very tiny apartments that are supposed to house two people, with a kitchenette and a couch and everything.  There’s no one else’s name on the other door.  Sarah is late moving in, but there’s no sign of anyone here, except--

The Goblin King is sitting at the desk in the bedroom that gets the most sunlight, feet kicked lazily up on the wooden top and playing a pair of crystals between his fingers, and he smirks at her.

“I know, I know,” he drawls, vanishing the crystals with a twist of his fingers.  “I have no power over you.  But the school’s quartermaster--”

“Registrar,” Sarah corrects automatically.  He makes a dismissive gesture.  “Did you--do this?”

“Of course,” Jareth says.  “This...situation is apparently the height of luxury at this institution.  You did so despise that fluttering creature--”

“Molly was perfectly nice--”

“--and I see no reason for you to endure her for another year.”

Sarah--should really say that he’s an interfering, high-handed bastard who pretends that he has the divine right to arrange her life to his liking, and keeps rules-lawyering his way around her totally legitimate freedom from his interference.

Sarah really doesn’t want to share a room again.

“What do you want in return?”  She doesn’t even pretend that she’s not suspicious, and he puts on an offended face, bringing his feet down and pressing his lips together.

“It is a gift, Sarah.”

...oh.  Sarah blinks for a moment.  He sounds--geniunely annoyed.  Gifts are, in her knowledge of the Underground and the fae alike, serious business.

She acts without thinking, takes a step forward and tucks her hair behind her ear, and kisses the high point of his cheekbone above his frown.  When she pulls back, she sees a moment of transparent, raw shock before he orders his face into a self-satisfied and haughty raised eyebrow.

“Don’t say anything,” Sarah tells him, feeling her cheeks burn.  “If you can keep your mouth shut, this might resemble a nice moment.”

“If I had known that I could claim debts in kisses--”

“You can’t!” Sarah interrupts loudly.  “Don’t get any ideas!  Now get out and let me unpack!”

29) Why do they fall a little bit more in love?

Jareth is already thoroughly decided that Sarah is eventually going to agree to be his queen, one way or another, by the time she finally sighs and opens her window and tells the owl that if he’s very very good, and doesn’t talk to Toby, and looks like a regular person, she will speak to him just to get him to stop lurking.  He breaks all of those rules very quickly, of course, but she doesn’t kick him out--instead, she yells at him, and he puts on his coldest and haughtiest voice as he snaps back at her, and it’s fun.  Jareth never could turn down a challenge, and it’s been a long time since he faced a challenge he might lose, and just like the first time, it makes him ruthlessly determined to win.

It’s not news to him, therefore, that he loves her.

She manages to lie, obfuscate, and generally bullshit her way around admitting what she does at school for nearly three years.  But she starts writing her thesis and slips up, and Jareth is stretched on her bed in the apartment he arranged for her like he lives there when he idly picks up a piece of paper and skims her proposal and she sees his eyebrow rise slowly before he holds it up at her.

“What’s this, precious?”

“Homework,” she says flatly.

“‘Thesis Proposal,’” he reads aloud, drawling.  “‘Sarah Williams.  Proposed title: I’d’ve Et Thy Heart of Flesh: Fairy Tales as a Portrait of Royalty Through History.  Majors: Folklore and...’”  His mocking drawl pauses, and he can’t quite hide his transparent delight as he finishes the sentence.  “‘...and Political Science.’”  

When he looks up from the page, she has a stubborn set to her mouth and a bright spark in her eyes, almost angry.  “It’s not about you, you arrogant prick, I picked my majors years ago.  Give me that, I need the notes.”

“And what do fairy tales say about royalty, dearest?”

“That they’re prideful jerks who steal kids for armies and play favorites--the paper, Jareth.”

“And what do you plan to do with your degree in politics?”

“Regicide,” Sarah snaps, and jumps out of her chair to snatch the paper out of his fingers.  He lets her, and smiles at the way she blushes stark red across her cheekbones and down her throat, and wonders whether she would like the emerald ring he’s kept in his private chambers for the past three years.

Mortals have been doing diamonds, for betrothals, but he thinks green suits her better.

#labyrinth #sarah williams #jareth #sarah x jareth #otp: what's said is said #starlight writes stuff #this is legitimately three entire mini-fics i'm so sorry i just love them #ask meme #headcanon meme #anyway for the curious the time sarah gets sick is in junior year so these are slightly out of order #sarah and jareth probably get engaged after sarah graduates and she insists on being allowed to go to grad school before anything Else #(she knows there's a time limit on how long she can get away with lingering in the mortal world--she doesn't look quite right anymore) #(she strongly suspects that she's not aging anymore and jareth has NOT been reassuring about it) #so she gets a degree in (basically) monarchies and how they work #this time it IS actually about jareth and he's extremely smug about it #Anonymous #asked and answered #a queue we will keep and our honor someday avenge

[seostudios]

happy without me: all about luv - h.rj

ALL ABOUT LUV ‣ HAPPY WITHOUT ME

just face it, she’s happy without you. but i don’t believe it, is she really?

paring: huang renjun x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 2.5k

info: exes to lovers!au, non-idol!au, college!au, cousin!jaemin

warnings: sensitive themes, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, toxic relationship, mention of rape and sexual assault, sexual assault, explicit/vulgar language 

tag list: @jenotation @luvlyjaemin @woofie-nctzen-fanarts-320 @tzuqui @sunnyrenjunnie @nino7011 @thatanonymousgirl-as14 @minhehe @chrspychan @jimelonji @mykokorobeats4u @aminihhj @jeonjungkat @wishfulldreamss @ilymarkchan @ja3hy4n @beautifulbakerycookiegiant @jisungiepwark52 @sharamanne @commentgirl @littlefluu @chicksung​ @lixseu​ @jenosgirlllll​

a/n: i’m sorry this is so short i did renjun dirty :( i got writers block writing it but it’s ok! ill do better on the next one which is chenle or jeno (prolly jeno) i gotta chekc but yay finally part 2 to all about luv

APRIL IN JEJU

It's been 7 months since you've parted ways with your first love. You two were the supposed high school sweethearts of your year so it confused most of the other students when they found out. Renjun and you were meant for one another but the fact he decided on attending SKKU since had received a scholarship for his outstanding academic records, he couldn't turn down the offer and was determined on enrolling however you were attending Cheju Halla University which was all the way in Jeju City. That was a 55-minute plane ride away from Renjun! Avoiding the future relationship problems to come from long-distance you two would most likely face, the breakup was mutual and you two parted ways at the airport indulging in a rather pitiful hug.

Here you were, walking through the Department of Equine Science, trailing behind your friends Soomin and Mina. It was the first time you decided to skip class and it was thrilling in your opinion, "Come on, they're waiting!" Soomin whisper-yelled. They?

You make sure to ask her who 'they' were since you and Mina weren't standing dumbfounded and possibly in trouble. "The volleyball team dummy," Soomin says skipping to past the classrooms into Gym A. It brought you back to the old times, visiting Renjun during Soccer practice, making sure he's well-fed and not overworked. Quickly snapping out of it you join the girls on the bleachers to cheer on the boys. Although you are able to tell people you've moved on from your first love, you've spent restless nights looking back at your messages, pictures just reminiscing the past.

The butterflies he's caused you still flutter every now and then hoping their commotion was heard and you've finally made the big move back to Seoul but sadly you haven't gotten up and gone yet.

Tonight you were preparing for a mini-quiz, it so happened that Mina shared the class with you. Scheduling a sleepover at Soomin's place here you all are sitting in her living room stuffing your faces with whatever salty and sweet treats her mom had bought. "Oh. My. God." Mina tells you after reading your DM request on Instagram, "What?" you ask confused over what she thought was so extraordinary. She motions Soomin to look at your earning a surprised what the fuck from the girl. "Min-fucking-Ho wants to DM you... He's like one of the hottest guys in our division and has never been seen with a girl so wanting to text you definitely a what the fuck moment. You shake your head before opening the DM request..."He's asking me out for dinner?" You say which Soomin demands you to accept the offer before he moves on. "You've gotta move on from Renjun you know? He won't come by swooping you by the legs asking you for his hand in marriage. He's all the way in Seoul Y/n, I'm pretty sure he's moved on by now with someone else it's time you do too. Now hand e your phone so I can tell him you want to go on that date." Mina tells you after you attempt to reject Minho. She gave you the truth even if it hurt (a lot), you sigh in defeat handing over your phone.

"Can't believe you're going on a date with Minho," Soomin says watching Mina type away. "I know right, lucky girl" Mina replies as you nod. 

APRIL IN SEOUL

Meanwhile, at SKKU Renjun's majoring in Arts & humanities. Languages, Literature & Linguistics which has been taking up most of his time keeping his mind off his recent split. He was devastated the first week but had to obviously push it aside if he wanted extraordinary marks just like in high school, even if he wanted his thoughts to be occupied with your figure in his head he simply couldn't know his classes were paying attention to him along with the other honor students that attended on a scholarship.

"Is that your girlfriend?" Jeno, Renjun's only friend at Sungkyunkwan asked. He's got to know Renjun for who he was today but he's never really opened up about his life before University. Jeno noticed Renjun staring at your recent Instagram post for a little too long to not think you were at least flirting in direct messages. "No," He said quick and panicky before shoving his phone back into his pocket, after relaxing he turns to Jeno. "She's my ex, we broke up 7 months ago." Jeno's mouth goes agape momentarily in realization, "Why? If you don't mind me asking..." He asked the smaller boy beside him. "She went to Jeju for University when SKKU was just a 20-minute train ride from our neighborhood," Renjun replied with a scoff recollecting the memory of the day you told him you got accepted into Cheju Halla. Jeno nods understandingly deciding to continue studying instead of riling him up.

JULY IN JEJU

A full three months have passed and you were still in the first place you were in back in April, heartbroken. Although a lot of things have drastically changed since April it had only made you feel worse about yourself. For starters, you've been 'dating' Minho since April even if you realized on the first date he had only wanted you to fulfil his sexual desires. He's strung his act long enough and you've tried breaking up with the boy for a month now but he won't let you, he's always threatening you "I'll tell the school what type of whore you are."  or something about inflicting pain on someone close to you like Soomin or Mina, which is why you've kept quiet for about the last three weeks.

You were in pulled harshly by the arm by Minho as he pulled you into the supply closet of the Gymnasium, “Minho, I don’t want you to touch me there,” You politely ask the boy who’s currently taking advantage of his supposed spouse. “I don’t even want to date you! Why do you keep acting like this- Let go!” You whisper-yell to Minho who’s trailing his hands up and in between your thighs. "Shut up," He simply tells you before snaking his hand to your mouth shutting you up as you let out a choked cry.

JULY IN SEOUL

"She looks so happy with that Minho, right?” Renjun asked Jeno, scrolling through your tagged post. “I mean from what we know yeah,” He tells him. Renjun sighs, he knew he would genuinely be happy for you if you moved on but it had seemed rather quick. "It's almost been a year, she's moved on. Why don't you?" Jeno asked innocently. Renjun had a gut feeling of some sort; telling him not to move on and instead of ignoring it like you (which brought you nowhere since you're still deeply in love with him) did he's just kept a close eye on you. Shaking his head no he tells Jeno, "Something isn't right about.." He lifts the  phone to the photo of you and Minho, Mina had tagged you in, "That."

DECEMBER IN JEJU

"I promise I'll text you, I just need to get off this freaking island for winter break at least." You tell Mina and Soomin on Face-time, "Okay we will miss you! How did Minho take this? It's your first Christmas together and you leave?" She asked worriedly. You mumble a fuck before looking at the camera. "I didn't tell him," You say earning gasps from the two. "He's your boyfriend though.." Soomin said; "Who doesn't treat me like a fucking human being." Your words were strong, rippling a wave of awkwardness, "I'm fine by the way I’m staying with my cousin Jaemin, but if I don't come back it’s cause he spoilt me into staying."

DECEMBER IN SEOUL

"Merry Almost Christmas!" Renjun screeches before entering his shared apart with his new friend group, Jeno had introduced Renjun to his best pal, Jaemin and Renjun had taken in a very lonely Haechan later introducing him to the two. Today they were all celebrating their first Christmas together with a classic holiday film and cupcakes every day until Christmas.

"Guys we have a guest today!" Jaemin sings opening the door widely to show a shorter girl beside the boy with a suitcase in hand.

"What are you doing here?" Renjun and you said simultaneously as you locked eye contact. "I'm visiting Jaemin, my cousin." You tell him hands moving into the air to point towards the boy, "I am Jaemin's roommate." He responded before getting up from the couch brushing off the crumbs off his lap before walking towards the door to stand in front of you. He hadn't grown any taller still rocking his tiny 5'7 figure, but tall enough to tower over you, who hadn't grown since freshman year.

"She's here." Jeno tells Renjun who's head is under the pillow, "She's here." Jeno repeats, "She's here, She's here," Renjun whispered to himself taking it all in. He always wished for you to get off the fucking island go back into his arms, transferring to SKKU, knowing you had the skill to land a spot without hesitation, but finally seeing you after 10 months of no contact was frightening to him. Why did you seem so brittle? You looked pained, it wasn't his job to care about you anymore, but he couldn't help himself. He loved you more than himself and there's a (humongous) chunk of him that still did. Renjun gets up and sits crisscrossed on the single bed across from Jeno's bed where he was idling on his phone laying down "She's here but she's not here." He said which caught Jeno's attention, his face wrinkling in confusion. "She's not okay, something's wrong. I know it," He finishes getting up to walk out to you- who's catching up with Jaemin in the kitchen while preparing for dinner, stopping immediately as a rush of nerves came over him telling him to stop.

"Hope you boys like Hotteok!" You said facing Jeno and Haechan who were smiling in awe of your cooking skills, "I know Injun and Jaems like it so I made it tonight." You cheerfully smile towards the other two boys. “Glad to see you remembered,” It took a lot for Renjun to even say a sentence to you without having a gaze on you for a little too long afterwards.

It was his chance, he walked out of the bedroom the moment he saw you walk by his door towards the guest room. "Can I come in?" He asked. "Of course Injun," You couldn't believe yourself, being so calm and comfortable with all the tension. Had it really been ten months? He thought to himself as he sat beside you on the bed. "So," He rubbed his thighs nervously "How've you been?" Horrible. You stare down at the carpet admiring it while you figure a way to lie to the boy who knew you better than you knew yourself. "Fine,  I've been..." You sigh avoiding eye contact, "Fine." He looks at you concerned, "You can't lie to me Y/n." Grabbing your hand caressing it for a second knowing it relaxed you a bit in tough scenarios. Suddenly your phone began to ring, grabbing to read the caller id. "Oh, should I go?" Renjun asked after reading the contact name 'Minho' "No!" You shouted quickly grabbed his wrist pulling him back down before he walked out. Declining the call you spoke, "I'd talk to you over anyone any day." Damn, when did I get so smooth You mentally note that smirking to yourself slightly watching as Renjun bursted into a frenzy of laughter, "Smooth," He comments.

"So, was that Minho guy...your boyfriend?" He asked in which you replied with a strong No. "Well," You started "A boyfriend is someone who listens to me someone who values my opinions and beliefs. Someone who is truly interested in what you enjoy doing, or what you like most in life and interested in who I am as a person." You pause to see him grab you hand intertwining your hand, quickly signalling you to continue. "Someone who makes me laugh, or trusts me. But more importantly, disrespect me and force me into," Tears collected in your eyes threatening to fall, "Things." Renjun knows what to do to comfort you quickly pulling you into his embrace, melting when you wrap around him, head in the crook of his neck sobbing quietly. "He made me do things Renjun-ah. Horrible things. I hate him so much, I can't break up with him. Figured running away would've been a better option." He strokes your hair telling you it's okay and to relax. He couldn't help but smile though; he was right. He knew, he knew something was off and made it his number one priority to find out what it was, who would've known you would open up and make your first actual conversation with your ex- whom you dated for a nearly all of senior year about the toxic relationship you found yourself in after him.

JANUARY IN SEOUL

"I got to leave tomorrow." You told Renjun, whom you rekindled an old flame with over your stay. C

"Do you think about me sometimes? 'Cause I think about you sometimes" You asked Renjun looking at him from the mirror, as he watched you do your hair for an outing with your cousin. After that night in your bedroom, you decided on hanging out more and became close friends once more. But the butterflies in your stomach didn't leave, instead, they emitted flying more enthusiastically near him, with him. "I don't think about you sometimes 'Cause I think about you all the time," He said, which made you look down to the floor before turning around to face him. "It made me so jealous knowing you were so far away with that disgusting bastard happy without me" He grabs your hand; which you intertwine your fingers with happily a smile dancing upon your lips watching him reciprocate it.

"Stay." He tells you. You cuddle into his embrace as he caressed the top of your head. The two of your legs entangled under the sheets having one of your midnight talks. "You know I can't," You start quickly zipping your mouth not wanting to go any further, "Students who have outstanding academic records, or who have financial difficulties, who have submitted a complete scholarship application," Renjun said, which just made your jaw drop. Did he do his research?  "You can still enroll for the second semester which starts in two weeks. Have your friends send your belongings." He finished watching as you lifted yourself up resting your head in your palm. "Really?" You asked, breath taken away to say more. Could you really live here in Seoul? With Renjun? "Yes, I can kick Jeno into the guest room while we can have this room all to ourselves." He kissed the top of your hand watching the cheeky smile erupt from you with giggles. "We can be together." You said- asked to yourself, "We can be together" Renjun tells you before pulling you back. 

#nct #nct dream #nct 127 #wayv #neowriters #dreamwritersnet #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct au #nct dream au #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct renjun #nct dream renjun #renjun #huang renjun #renjun imagines #renjun scenarios #renjun au #renjun smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #renjun fluff #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct angst #nct dream angst #renjun angst #00 line smut #00 line scenarios

[captainscanadian]

Reputation | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 1)

My Masterlist

Summary: Freshman year was all about the failed friendships. Sophomore year was all about the lack of a social life. Junior year was supposed to be about focusing on school, until Bucky Barnes came along.

Word Count: 3245

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), FUCKBOI BUCKY, MINORS FUCK OFF!

A/N: Reputation, as a title, was heavily inspired by Taylor Swift’s iconic album of the same name. This is my entry for @buckysmischief​‘s 1K Writing Challenge. I know I’m a few days late but I started a fic with smut in the first chapter so... it took some time to perfect it. I’d like to thank my boo @baezen​ for being a good beta and for the constant love. Lastly, the reason why this whole fic (and my blog itself) exists in the first place was because I was reading @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend​‘s College AUs and wanted to write one of my own. It’s been 11 months since then and I finally did it. This fic is an unofficial AU of my own fic, Better, but you don’t have to have read it to read this fic. Same characters, but they meet in a completely different time of their lives, under completely different circumstances. Better!Bucky is back, but he’s at NYU now. I DON’T OWN THE GIF & I DON’T DO TAGLISTS.

Whoever made the claim that college was the place where one would meet their lifelong friends was most definitely the biggest moron on this planet. You firmly believed that when you first arrived at NYU two years ago. Leaving your small town just outside of Philadelphia for the Big Apple, you had so many hopes and dreams when you got here. Education was your priority, but you had been so eager to meet new people and try new things just as much. After all, it’s all anyone who knew had told you. College is the place where you would meet your lifelong friends. 

Bullshit. It was all bullshit. 

Freshman year was all about newfound friendships. New kids huddled together in an unfamiliar environment, leaning on each other because being on your own for the first time in your lives was not easy. It was inevitable. It was human nature. A new environment meant the search for a sense of belonging. You had found that for yourself too.

A large group of friends, all ten of you being freshmen, you would claim one of the large round tables in the dining hall after your late afternoon biology lab. You ate, you talked, and you walked back to your dorms together. It became a ritual. But expecting that this kind of ritual would last until the end of your undergrad was a naive judgement to make.

By the end of that year, half of your friends had managed to switch to a different program and found another group of people to hang out with. The ones that remained in your group had managed to join their preferred extra-curricular activities and made more friends who shared the same interests. While you did manage to find the time to volunteer with the UNICEF chapter on campus, you hadn’t managed to make any close friends from that.

Sophomore year was to be the loneliest of years. The one friend you thought you would have for life had managed to ditch you for her sorority sisters – not that you had a problem with that. Your friendship had been hanging on a loose thread for a while before it came to a rather abrupt end. People grew up within the first two years of college, and people who grew up also grew apart from each other. It was inevitable. Margaret Sykes was also a complete fucking moron as she was, but that’s a story for another time.

Now in your junior year, you were starting to get back into the swing of things. After landing an on-campus job as an office assistant, you were hoping to keep yourself busy with your full-time course load. No time for fake friends, or real ones at that. You were finally moving on with your life, leaving behind those who had left you behind for good. After all, college was also supposed to be the best time of your life even without those lifelong friends. You might as well make the most out of the experience and build yourself a career.

It was the weekend before classes were to begin, and you found yourself sitting alone in the dining hall with a slice of pizza that was now getting cold. Having picked up your textbooks from the campus bookstore earlier that day, you decided to grab a bite before you would retreat to your dorm room for the remainder of the night. Perhaps you could get a head start on your readings.

Your lack of a social life seemed to be a blessing when it came to how you had planned ahead for the semester. When you weren’t working or volunteering, you would be studying and sleeping. One thing you had learned the hard way from your years of pulling all nighters – they did not work for you as they did to most people.  Micro-planning might just be the way to survive the next two years.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see a large group of friends sitting at the same table you used to sit at during your freshman year. You could not help but roll your eyes, an exasperated sigh escaped your lips. Naive freshmen, you assumed they were. They’d learn the harsh truth in the next few months.

You took a bite of your pizza slice as you looked out the window that you had been sitting by. The breathtaking view of Washington Square Park reminded you of your first day in New York when you had stepped out of your dorm room to take a stroll. The summery weather of New York City had brought students, tourists and locals alike to the heart of campus. You loved this city and campus for how lively it was – a true multicultural land of opportunity.

New York had become home to you in the last two years, despite the dull memories of lost friendships. Moving to New York had been the right thing to do for your education. NYU really was the place for students to be. You had no concerns about the academics here as you did the social aspects of your life. But you wondered if you really wanted to stay in the city after graduation. You had no reason to stay, no one to hold you down in the Big Apple. Moving back to your parents’ house in Philadelphia was an option for you. Your father had been hoping that you would return home after graduation and take over the family business from him, but you wanted to do more than just blindly follow in your parents’ footsteps.  

Speaking of footsteps, the sound of someone approaching your corner table made you turn back from the window. Your eyes landed on a familiar pair of blue ones, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you recognized the dark haired man who was walking up to you. He donned black skinny jeans and a red Henley, his long brown hair parted down the middle. It was a few inches longer than the last time you had seen him. A part of you had often wondered how hard it must have been to maintain those luscious locks of his. The shine and volume alone put the ladies to shame.

 “James.”

James Barnes, or Bucky as he was referred as by his closest friends, had been your neurobiology tutor during your freshman year. After failing your first quiz on the effects of dopamine, serotonin and oxytocin on the brain, you had approached your professor in desperate need of help. You needed to pass that class in order to complete your degree and failing your first quiz was not a great start to your freshman year. But you had been so determined back then to succeed academically. You still were.

Professor Van Dyne had been gracious enough to assign one of her best upper year students to help you get your grades back up. According to her, James was the teacher’s pet in the biology department and the best person to study with. His photographic memory had allowed him to maintain a consistent 4.0 GPA since his freshman year. As impressive as that sounded, his reputation precedes him. He was known around campus, or at least within the biology students, as the Casanova of New York University.

Rumours across the Greek life circuit on campus – Bucky was the resident fuckboy. It was an untold truth around NYU that he had slept with at least one person in every sorority. According to Margaret, one of the sororities even included having a one-night stand with Bucky as part of their initiation. He was apparently the best night anyone could ever have, and even if he never called any one of his flings back, he would still be found lurking around the next party and leaving with someone else later that night. It was apparently a rite of passage - a rite of passage that you had managed to avoid for as long as you had.

“Hey, doll.” He pulled the chair across from you before sitting down at the table. “Long time, no see...”

You raised your eyebrow at him as you set your pizza slice back down on your plate. Picking up a napkin to wipe your mouth and hands, you shrugged your shoulders at him. “What do you want, James?” You asked him, holding up your hand before he could answer the question. You had known him along enough to know what he was going to say. “I know, it’s been two years since I took my first year neurobiology class. And no, you don’t have to show me how oxytocin affects the human brain.”

“You’re really going to break my heart like that, Y/N?” He asked, feigning hurt with a dramatic sigh as he bought his hand up to his chest.

You rolled your eyes at him, laughing softly before shaking your head. He’ll never learn. “Why are you even here right now? I thought you graduated last year.”  

“Hey, just because I’ve graduated... summa cum laude, by the way, it doesn’t mean that I’m not welcome here.” Bucky remarked with a smirk plastered across his lips. “I have my own reasons for being here. You don’t own this campus, you know?”

You crossed your arms against your chest, still not breaking eye contact with him. There was no way you would fall for his charm. You had not done so in freshman year or sophomore year and you were not planning on doing it now. “Enlighten me.”

“Did Steve not mention that I got into NYU Med?” He asked you, his smirk not leaving his face.

Steve Rogers was Bucky’s best friend since childhood and the former president of the UNICEF chapter on campus. You had volunteered together for a few charity fundraisers over the years, but you were not as close to him as Bucky was. “Why would he have a reason to mention it?” You asked him as you leaned forward in your seat. “I would have placed my bets on you going to Columbia with him, if I’m being honest. You two seemed to be so inseparable. I can’t believe you just ditched him like that and let him take off.” 

It was true. Bucky and Steve were inseparable. After all, they had grown up together since they were young kids. They were always together on campus, having taken a majority of their classes together. It was so rare to see one of them without the other. 

“And did you really think that would impress me so much that I would actually end up sleeping with you?”

“Why?” He asked, almost in a whisper as he leaned forward in his seat. “Is it working?”

As the sun was finally setting over the New York City skyline, you found yourself perched up naked against a penthouse window in Brooklyn. The view from up here was much more breathtaking than the view of Washington Square Park from the dining hall window. But that was not the reason why you were so out of breath now. You were panting for air as you stared at the reflection of the man who stood behind you. After a heated make out session from Greenwich Village to Brooklyn, you wound up undressed in his bedroom that had a view like no other. 

“I can’t believe that actually worked on me... you obnoxious asshole.” Your heart was pounding out of your bare chest as you felt the moisture trickle down your inner thighs, and you tilted your head back.

Bucky had a smug look on his face, one that was filled with just as much lust as it was filled with pure satisfaction. You had finally fallen for his charm, after two years of fighting it. He had seen the way you glanced at him every time he volunteered with you and Steve. He knew that you must have felt attracted towards him, even though you denied it every time he had brought it up.

 He licked his lips as he gently pulled you towards him, turning you around so that he could kiss you on the lips rather roughly. “Playing hard to get doesn't suit you, doll.” His hands grasped your bare ass before his fingers slipped between your folds slick with your arousal. “You want me so badly, don’t you, Y/N? Don’t lie to me now. Your soaking pussy speaks the truth.”

You bit down on your bottom lip as you trembled to find the right words to say, your cheeks growing hot as did the rest of your body. A soft moan slipped out of you as you felt his cold fingers slide right into your entrance, sending shivers up your spine as you forgot how to stand still. You felt defeated by your own desires, having given in to his advances after fighting it for so long. You really thought you could get through your entire undergrad without being yet another one-night stand on James Barnes’ tally. But tonight, your strike was added to the drawing board with the rest of them. 

“Are you going to keep talking or are you going to fuck me like you fucked every fucking sorority sister on campus?” You gasped. “They all say that you’re the best night they’ve ever had, Barnes. I won’t believe it until I have proof.” You asked him as you began to unbutton his Henley.

“Getting desperate, are we? You made me wait a few years for this, doll. I’d have to make you wait a little longer now than a few minutes.” He was such a tease. “I didn’t fuck Margaret Sykes though.” He pointed out, a teasing look on his face as he pulled his fingers out of you and motioned you towards his bed. “You two were close in freshman year, weren’t you? And then last year, you purged your Instagram of any photos of her. I noticed.”

You rolled your eyes at his mention of your former best friend, lying back in his bed as you still tugged on his Henley. He was fully clothed while you were naked and exposed – the power that he had over you now, it was astonishing. But you could not deny how desperate you were for him. After all, your own body had lost that fight against your attraction towards this man. 

“Don’t bring up that bitch when I’m lying naked on your bed, James.” You told him, shaking your head at him. “If I could purge my own brain of any memories of her, I would.”

He chuckled as he sat down at the edge of his bed, his large hands firmly holding your thighs apart. “You act as though Margaret was the Antonio to your Bassanio, Y/N. It’s not like she would have cut out a pound of her flesh for you if you were ever in debt.” His bright eyes glanced down at your soaking core, his tongue peaking through his parted lips at the sight of just how aroused you were. He liked that he had such an effect on your body, knowing that you were attracted to him as he was attracted to you despite having known each other for years now. He pulled at your folds to get a glimpse of your throbbing clit, brushing his thumb over it in a quick teasing manner as he watched for your reaction.  

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a guy who reads Shakespeare.” You told him, giggling softly as you placed your arms above your head. It was a sign of you giving him full control of this ordeal; let him do what he was known to do best. After all, he did have a reputation. “But I think it’s so fucking hot that you do.” 

Another moan as you felt his thumb over your clit; you bit down on your lips not to make any noise. Bucky had warned you that Steve’s bedroom was just down the hall from his and the last thing you wanted was to have an awkward run-in with the blonde haired man who had taught you all about volunteering for charitable organizations for the duration of your undergrad.

“I can recite Hamlet’s soliloquy in its entirety while I fuck you, if you would like me to.” He joked, his fingers now drenched with your wetness as he slipped them through your entrance once again. His thumb rubbing circles on your clit as his eyes watched eagerly for your reaction.

“To fuck or not to fuck... that is the question.” You laughed at your own joke before looking up at him, rather seductively, your left hand pinching your swollen nipples as you began to feel the pain between your thighs relieve with his touch. Moaning once again as he slipped another finger inside of you. “Oh fuck, James... you really want to waste your time reciting Shakespeare with me when you could be putting that mouth to better use? What even happened... to your so called reputation of... being the best night everyone’s ever had?”

Bucky chuckled softly as he continued to finger you for another moment, pulling them out only to remove his Henley. “Desperate.” He pointed out with a wink, unbuttoning his jeans and taking them off as well. “Is that what they’ve all been saying about me now?”

“Are you telling me.... that you’re unaware of your own reputation, James?” You asked him as you sat up against his headboard, feeling the moisture between your legs now seeping through the clear white sheets on his bed as you gasped for air. “Your reputation... precedes you.”

He walked to his nightstand to retrieve a condom, hand slipping below the waistband of his boxers to slowly stroke his cock. A tantalising smirk played on his lips. “Well then, why... don’t we... put an end to it?” He asked you, pulling down his boxers to reveal his half-hard cock.

Your eyes perked up at his length. “Damn...” You gasped. “They really weren’t lying.”

James Barnes raised his eyebrow at you before tossing the condom at you. “Do the honors, doll?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” You giggled, rolling over in bed so that you could reach him. Your hand wrapped around his manhood before stroking him until he was fully erect.

Bucky hissed at the feel of your touch against his length, shaking his head at you. “Desperate.”

Removing the condom from the package, you put it on him before you looked up to meet his lusty eyes. “Are you saying that you’re not desperate for me at all, Barnes?” You asked him before you pulled yourself on all fours, moving your hair out of the way.

“Two years was a long time, doll.” He admitted, his hands caressing your ass before he let himself slip though your entrance. He took his time to position himself, not wanting to hurt you in any way. “Let me know if you feel like I’m going too fast or you need me to stop, okay? I don’t want to hurt you.”

You nodded, eagerly. “Just fuck me already, James!”

“Desperate.”

Whoever made the claim that college was the place where one would meet their lifelong friends was most definitely the biggest moron on this planet. College was the place where one would have the best sex they ever had, and Bucky Barnes really did live up to his reputation that night.

#gabs1kwritingchallenge #reputation #aj writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes smut #Better!Bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

[cupcakemolotov]

New York, New York

So I finally finished a thing, and its not what I thought I was going to wrap up first but that is life! It is completely SFW, and very much “Canon, what Canon?” And its been more years than I willing to admin since I applied for colleges, I just glossed over those details. :)

Also, formatting, why are you like this.

-

Caroline rolled her eyes. “Bon. I don’t want to say I told you so but…”

The groan was loud in her ear. “I know, I know. But who would have thought it would be this bad?”

“Me. I thought it would be that bad,” Caroline said with a laugh. “And then I told you about it so you could avoid it. And then you didn’t.”

Bonnie muttered something so low, even Caroline’s vampire gearing couldn’t quite catch it. “Well, we're going to put down rules. As I’ve already told Elena, I might not be a vampire but I have a perfectly good set of ears and there are some things I do not need to hear.” Bonnie huffed out the last sentence. “And I refuse to have to spell my own bedroom to sleep.”

Caroline bit down on the side of her tongue to keep from commenting, knowing it would do little good. Somehow Damon and Bonnie had become friends, and while she would never understand it, she and Bonnie had come to an agreement. Caroline wouldn’t be automatically negative about Damon as long as Bonnie managed to do the same for some of Caroline’s friendships. 

It was a work in progress. 

“Well, if you need some breathing space, you are welcome to come hang out with me for a weekend. I’ve been melting my credit card, and I might as well use those points for something instead of shoes.” She glanced towards her bedroom and grudgingly admitted the next sentence. “I really don’t have the closet space for more shoes.”

Bonnie seemed to consider that. “Shoe collection aside, it can’t be that small…”

Caroline laughed. The apartment was a small one bedroom and technically outside of her budget, her dad’s insurance money only went so far, but she hadn’t felt a lot of guilt over her teeny tiny use of compulsion. Not when the renting market was so high and her textbooks were so expensive. And while hardly microscopic, her bed barely fit into the space designated as her bedroom. She did have walls that separate her bedroom from their living room, her couch, TV, and small table were tucked pretty close to her tiny kitchenette. The big selling point had been the claw-foot bathtub. She’d given up having a real shower, the  shower-head had been rigged above the tub and the shower curtain she’d bought was super cute but if she’d still been human the breeziness of the space would have been murder. Overall, the space she had carved out for herself was cute but cramped. 

And she wouldn’t change it for the world.

“It really can be. You should have seen Mom’s face when she agreed to co-sign, which is another really weird thing about this city. My credit check was stellar, I had the cash for the down payments and still they wanted a co-sign, but whatever. The good news is my obsession with HGTV has taught me plenty about hiding organizers, and thankfully, I don’t really need the kitchen.” She wrinkled her nose and looked down. “Though carpet is new but seriously ugly, so I am going to have to invest in a rug, I think.”

“The lack of needing a kitchen thing is kind of ideal for New York, but I personally am going to miss your stress brownies, though my hips wont,” Bonnie said with a sigh. “And your note taking. I already miss you in Physical Science, and why are Gen Eds so terrible?”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “It cannot be that bad.”

“Says you,” Bonnie retorted. “And anyway, Elena just stuck her head in to remind me that I promised to go to some Freshman Orientation event, so I guess I gotta go. Stay out of trouble, will you?”

“You first,” Caroline retorted. Bonnie laughed and disconnected the call. For a moment, she held onto her phone before sighing and setting it on the coffee table and flopping onto her couch. If she closed her eyes and listened she could hear everyone in her apartment building, which was something she hadn’t really thought about when deciding on an apartment.

Not that she’d had much time to figure things out. Weeks instead of months, but Forbes women were nothing but resourceful. And very, very determined.

Caroline just hadn’t expected her mom to get stubborn about her college experience. She’d expected Liz to be fine with Caroline going to Whitemore and sticking close to home, and it’s been a shock when things had gone sideways. When Caroline had marked down NYU on her SAT application form, it’d been on a whim. She’d been required to pick three schools and some part of her just couldn’t stick to the local community colleges. 

And later, when her counselor had handed her the application packets, she’d stared at them for hours, considering. She had never thought she’d get in or that she’d get enough of a scholarship that living in the city would be manageable if she was careful. Very, very careful with a bit of compulsion thrown in at least. She’s considered it for all of thirty seconds before tucking the acceptance letter away. 

There was just too much going on that she could walk away. Even with the Originals packing up and moving on, there was still her mom to worry about. One of the perks of being a vampire was that she could always pick up those dreams later. 

Her mom had disagreed. Loudly. It’s taken three days before Caroline has finally cracked, and admitted why she had refused. And she’d learned a lot about her mom that morning that she hadn’t expected, and hadn’t had much time to contemplate with the scramble of getting into NYU. Her mom hadn’t even argued when Caroline had dragged her to NYC to check things out and to smooth over the issues her late application had caused. 

Compulsion really was quite handy if she was careful with it. But more importantly, NYU was totally close enough that if she had to she could get on a plane for an emergency, but her mom, in a bit of underhanded maneuvering that Caroline had admired, had made a very specific list of what could be considered an emergency. And then she’d invited Elena and Bonnie over for dinner, and her mom had also explained it to them too. It’d been weird to have someone else fight that battle, but good. 

Above her, something crashed and there was muted swearing and Caroline sighed heavily. She was really going to have to make a point to stay well fed. Going on a rampage because Courtney in 4A couldn’t keep her dog from yapping at all hours of the night was not ideal. She had been prepared to listen to her neighbors have noisy sex, well, at least until she could get Bonnie here to do some proper spell work, but the rest of it was a learning curve. So far, eating had been going okay. 

She’d been getting tips. 

And boy, would her friends freak out as soon as they learned who she’d been texting. But Caroline had always considered herself pragmatic, and her options had been limited. Stefan would rather light himself on fire than give her any kind of 101 Guide To Eating People Without Killing Them, and she would rather light herself on fire than talk to Damon. 

Klaus…

She blew out a breath. Klaus was her friend, even if her graduation ceremony had made his position on… things… perfectly clear. But weirdly, she’d found his words strangely boundary defining and a relief. Last love was definitely not now, not anytime soon in fact, and his acknowledgement of that had eased the knot she always seemed to carry around in her chest. And so when she stood in the middle of the hustle and bustle of more people than she could remember really seeing in one place, like ever, she’d let herself text a number she’d refused to admit to anyone she had memorized ages ago. 

And he had responded. 

And Klaus had kept replying, no matter when she sent him a question. In between organizing her life and schedule, he’d been extremely helpful without any sort of judgement. If anything, he seemed more resigned to her lack of knowledge than anything else, providing her with Vampire Basics she’d never thought to ask Damon or Stefan about, and the knowledge had helped. Accepting the monster under her skin was not something that was going to be easy, but Klaus providing actual information about the whys and the hows helped far more than she thought she’d ever tell him. 

And his faith in her control was not something she’d ever expected to need. But he’d offered it with no prompting and the truth was she made an excellent vampire. She was good at it, thrived with the challenges of it, and she thought the next few years would be good for her. And it was nice, knowing that if she screwed it up she’d have people who’d help her fix it. Even if  some of them were just  a tiny bit more dangerous than others. 

Head tipping to the ceiling, she chewed on her lip and sighed. Putting Klaus in one category had never been easy, even when he’d been firmly in the villian bucket. She didn’t doubt he would continue to refuse any easy labels, and she thought she might be okay with that. 

For now. 

Pushing to her feet, she stretched and sighed. Classes started in two days, and while she’d already organized her books and started doing some pre-class reading, there was no harm in double checking her planners and reorganizing her books. And after, maybe she’d go for a walk. Check out some of the all night places near her place to plan for future all nighters. The kind of places you’d take broke friends to for pie.

The sudden knock on the door startled her, because she hadn’t noticed any unusual footsteps. For a moment, her pulse slammed in her ears as she recognized the slow thump of a dead heartbeat. A familiar barely their heartbeat that promised something old was outside her door, and one that should not be in New York City. Reaching for the phone she tossed on her coffee table she picked it up and typed out a quick text. No point in guessing who was there; not when it was pretty easy to check without moving any closer to the door. 

Caroline [8:30pm]: Seriously, tell me you are not standing outside my apartment. Like, right this second. 

A soft vibration, a low noise of amusement was all the confirmation she needed and Caroline stomped towards the door and yanked it open. “Are you serious right now? How do you even know where I live? I didn’t tell you that.”

Eyes gleaming, a hint of dimple curving in his cheek as he looked up from his phone, Klaus smiled at her. “Hello, Caroline.”

Arms crossed, she leaned against the door and huffed to cover the way her pulse skipped at the sight of him. He looked the same, same clothes and same hair, but she felt his presence with an awareness that did not bode well for her intentions of thinking of him as only a friend. Klaus had always straddled that line but here, outside of Mystic Falls, it somehow felt different. Better. And that was not something she could allow with her plans laid out in front of her. Plans that did not suit him. “Yeah yeah, hi. Why are you here?”

He slipped his phone back into his pocket, lips tugging upwards. “I was in town, and I thought I would stop by. See how you are settling in, perhaps come up with an idea for a house warming present, since it seems you will no longer need that mini-fridge, hmm?”

“In town,” she repeated, ignoring the rest of his words. “Doing what? Because I am attempting to avoid vampire shenanigans for the next four years, Klaus. I promised my mom.”

“Nothing like that,” he assured her. “Just a quick errand, and I head back to New Orleans tomorrow. I am quite invested in you having the experiences of your choice, sweetheart. No one will bother you while you are here.”

Caroline paused. “No one...  as in no one? Are you threatening people again? People I haven’t even met?”

“Not yet,” Klaus said mildly. 

She bit the tip of her tongue to stop the barrage of words that wanted to spill out. Slowly exhaling, she forced herself to let it go. There was a time and place for this discussion and she wasn’t sure right then was it, not when she was so surprised to see him, and she could hear some of her neighbors coming up the stairs. “Don’t think we won’t discuss this later but I suppose you can come in?”

“Thank you, and I don’t doubt it,” he murmured as he took her invitation and stepped into her home. His gaze swept her space and for a moment, she had to stop herself from fidgeting. This was her first space that was hers and Klaus was the only person besides her mom who had seen it. He walked slowly through her public space, and his words were sincere when he spoke. “You’ve done a lovely job with your home, love. “

For some reason, she had to fight down a blush. “Thanks. The carpet sucks though.”

He slid her a laughing glance. “An entirely fixable state of affairs.”

“You will not compel my landlord,” she warned him, exasperation almost hiding the hint of her own smile. “About carpet or anything else, Klaus.”

He made a low noise but no promises. “And how are you liking New York?”

She did smile then. “I love it. But we’ll see if that sticks when I have to deal with the snow this winter and pushy people and an overheated subway. I’ve been warned.”

His laugh was soft. “I think you’ll manage. And while it's a bit late in the evening, could I interest you in dinner? My treat.”

Caroline eyed him carefully. “Taking me to dinner will not get you out of explaining how you have my address or any potential yelling about it.”

Klaus slid his hands into his pockets and dimpled. “I would expect nothing else. But I do hope that’s not the only topic you wish to discuss tonight.”

Curious, she tipped her head. “Oh?”

He lifted a shoulder, gaze intent. “I assume you’ve picked out your classes? Have your semester organized down to the hour? And while I am certain you more than have the knack of feeding down, sweetheart, I’m happy to answer any remaining questions you have or even provide a demonstration or two.”

The idea of hunting with Klaus did something funny to her stomach, and she turned towards her room to cover it. “I’ll think about it. Give me ten minutes to change and then yes, you can take me to dinner. But not something fancy, I am not in the mood for multiple forks. But wine would be great.”

His laughter followed her into her bedroom and she shut the door. Taking a deep breath, she forced down her tangle of emotions. One night out with Klaus wouldn’t hurt anything, she reminded herself, and he was right. She did have questions, and lists, and she should probably take the opportunity to go over everything while he was here in person. Plus she’d be willing to bet he had an opinion or two he’d be willing to share about rugs. 

Squaring her shoulders, Caroline headed for her closet to slap together a friendly dinner date outfit that would be suitable even if he did take her somewhere with too many forks. But they were definitely going to be chatting about his business in the city, and how he would not be dropping by without warning whenever he wanted to.

No matter how nice it was to see him. 

#my fic #klaroline #klaroline fanfic #klaroline drabble #sfw

[i-want-anne-hathaway]

Analysis of “Flat 15B” from Halls

This is exactly what it sounds like. I took apart the lyrics of the song to try and figure out more about the characters. I only have the brief descriptions George and Jen gave and a six minute song, but I tried.

Jessie

Jessie (Grace Mouat) is the person who immediately tries making friends and initiates the Flat 15B group chat. She says things and criticizes herself for it afterwards like when she says “#15B? Oh my god, who even hashtags anymore” and “Oh god, not a wink face.” She questions very small things she does in regards to other people. This could be one of the things she works on throughout the show.

“I don’t know how I’ll cope with sharing a bathroom” demonstrates some of that privilege George and Jen mentioned. She probably doesn’t have any siblings because if she did, she would’ve shared a bathroom at least once. This privilege is different from the privilege they mentioned Will having. Will’s benefits are a lot clearer to see, but Jessie’s are very small things.

She mentions relationships twice with her lines, “Mom keeps on telling me that the best days of your life getting a first class degree, while finding Mr. Right” and “Did you know that 40% of people find their partners at uni” so I think she may have a romantic plot or subplot throughout the show.

She says “moving in gets nearer” as if it’s something she’s scared about. She’s obviously nervous about it, but in a very subtle way. It’s expected to be nervous and anxious, but Jessie treats her fear like something to be ashamed of. 

Zoe

Zoe (Olivia Moore) is our resident theater major. She comes off as friendly and open like Jessie, telling her “you’ve got yourself a wing-woman right here” in response to Jessie’s “Mr. Right” line. If I were to mark one definite friendship, it would be Zoe and Jessie.

The lines she has to herself are both about her clothes fitting in the car and how many shoes she’s taking. This doesn’t give much information, but people who overpack generally do it for the reassurance that everything they may need is with them.

Zoe is also nervous about this whole university experience, but she’s straightforward about it. She says “I’m feeling scared” and that fact she’s sacred doesn’t bother her like it bothers Jessie.

Natalie

Natalie (Millie O’Connell) has already made herself known as the party girl from the very first line she sings. She seems to be somebody who likes to joke around as shown in her line “Wink face? That’s a bit keen.” I’m not entirely sure that’s what she’s saying, but it’s definitely something making playful fun of what Jessie said.

She is already like, “I can’t wait for Freshers week,” which is a week long period before classes start to get Freshman settled. There are parties and drinking all the time, and Natalie wants in on that. “No one to check what time that I get home…” made me think she doesn’t want people concerning themselves with what she does. She’s kinda like “I’m just tryna have some fun, so don’t worry,” and yes, that was a SIX reference. I’m not ashamed of myself because it fit very well. 

Natalie has this one track mind of going to parties and drinking. Almost every line she says has something to do with partying or drinking, for example “I packed my tequila.” This whole party attitude reminded me of Farrah from We Are The Tigers, and if they are similar, Natalie has some issues she’s trying to run from.

Josh

Josh (Tarinn Callender) is the person you hate, but you love. He also seems like a bit of a party person, but not as much as Natalie. Almost all of his lines are about sex and appearances.

He’s cocky and confident, as seen in his line “Can’t see any girl saying no to me when I move in,” but if I’ve learned anything from school, the people who seem incredibly confident and cocky are faking it until they make it. 

Dan

Dan (Cameron Burt) starts his section off with “This has to be the thing for me” because he started university before but dropped out. He no doubt feels pressure to stick with whatever he’s doing because of the fact he��s already quit once. I can already assume he probably feels awkward being older than everybody else. 

He comes off as incredibly shy and reserved especially with Josh and Natalie coming right before him. In comparison to those two, he’s like a mouse. Dan looks very chill and relaxed to me. Everybody else texted something kind of bold, like Josh or interacted with the others, like Zoe, but Dan just said “Hey everyone. I’m Dan. Nice to meet you” and sort of left it at that. 

Sam

Sam (Sophie Isaacs) is our working class student who juggles multiple jobs throughout the show. She’s not exactly poor, but she’s having difficulties with student loans. She says she’s “packed all my life into a case,” which suggests she doesn’t have very many things to even take with her. 

She states “I can’t believe I’m going to get out of this place.” She either hasn’t been anywhere but the area she lived, or she didn’t think she’d manage to get into university anyway. There’s a chance her family didn’t go to university.

“I’m not coming back” is said with strength and confidence. She’s determined that she's getting out of that small town for good. There is no way she’s returning. 

“I’m not gonna slack, I’m gonna make my family proud,” follows that line. She certainly doesn’t slack off because it’s been confirmed that she’s always working in order to pay off her loans. She’s going to do whatever it takes to get herself through school and make her family proud. I’ve had her character for less than a day, and I would kill for her. 

Josh, Dan, and Sam all claim that they aren’t scared, which is different from the previous group, Jessie, Natalie, and Zoe. Natalie never outright says she’s scared, but I’m pretty sure she’s more nervous than she’s let on. 

Lewis

Lewis (Alex Thomas-Smith) is this confident gay character who helps the others on their road to find themselves. I’m not sure if that’s in a mom friend way of helping them, or a friend who roasts you every time you try to make bad decisions, but either way it’s great. 

He says “everything will start again when I walk through that door,” implying there’s something he wants to redo. He’s confident now, but he definitely wasn’t always like that. There’s something that happened he doesn’t want to think about.

“They’re gonna see me as who I am, not who I was before” gives off a similar idea as the previous line. These could be references to his sexuality, but it doesn’t feel that way. This makes me think he’s done/said some things he’s not proud of. Sexuality isn’t a “who I am now vs. who I was back then” type of situation because if you’re gay now, you were always gay. It’s not one of those things that starts after some event, it’s just a matter of realizing. He was somebody before that he doesn’t want to be associated with who he is now, and I doubt that the reason he’s so ashamed of this previous version of himself is because he wasn’t out of the closet.

“Cause I’ve already wasted time being scared and having to hide” does seem like a reference to Lewis’ sexuality, but I still don’t think that’s what the other two lines were about. His sexuality can be a reason he’s confident though. A lot of openly LGBTQ+ people are more confident because they’ve already accepted who they were. This is supported by the line “I won’t have to lie” because it implies he’d lied about who he was before.

Will

Will (Matteo Johnson) is also a law student and is supposed to be a parallel to Sam. They study the same thing, but because of finances, Will is much better off than Sam. Because he has rich parents, he doesn’t have to concern himself with working to afford school. 

He’s seen speaking to his mother before he starts singing, and it doesn’t appear like she’s able to support him at school. We don’t know what she’s saying, but Will responds “Yeah, no, I understand it’s your job.” Even as he’s doing what his parents want, they still aren’t able to be there for him. “I’ll see you at Christmas” implies that from when he starts school in August or September, he won’t see his parents the entire time. 

“My whole life has always gone perfectly to plan” perfectly shows that Will hasn’t been making his own choices. His major probably wasn't his choice nor was the school. “Never straying from the path that they laid out” conveys the same message. His parents planned out everything he did, and he never questioned it. “For the first time in my life, I suddenly feel unsure” shows that he’s doubting whether he wants to follow everything his parents tell him to do. He’s even doubting the fact that he’s doubting himself, “maybe I’m just scared.” After not questioning anything his whole life, now he doubts everything. A major point in Will’s story is going to be finding out what he wants and stepping away from the path his parents have for him

THAT WAS SO LONG! If anybody actually managed to read that entire thing, I must applaud you. 1511 words of character analysis based off of one song. I have way too much time on my hands, but I’m just so excited for this musical. 

#halls the musical #six the musical #six musical #grace mouat #millie o'connell #olivia moore #tarinn callender #cameron burt #sophie isaacs #alex thomas smith #matteo johnson #if you managed to read this whole thing #thank you #this is just speculation #but my english teacher says im good at analysis

[jo-kuron]

( LANA CONDOR, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER, VIRGO, 25 ) I just spotted JOSEPHINE KURON at the beach today. Don’t you know them? They live down by the TOWERS and usually hang out with the RICH KIDS cliques. From what I’ve heard, they can be CONTROLLING, but they’re also DETERMINED. I always think of them when i hear JUST LIKE MAGIC by ARIANA GRANDE and tend to associate them with parchment paper on a cookie sheet at 3AM, a worn copy of wuthering heights for annotations, sunglasses covering bags under sleep deprived eyes . ( bree, she.her, 21, est )

HI EVERYONE! So, this is one of my fave muses, Jo. She is an amazing and complex female who will constantly amaze, I PROMISE. This is mostly her backbone, there’s more headcanons to follow!

BASIC CHARACTER QUESTIONS

Full Name: Josephine Avila Kuron

nicknames: Josie, Jojo, Jo, Superstar, Dreamer

date of birth: September 20, 1995

age: Twenty Five

Star Sign: Virgo

Chinese Zodiac: Rat

PHYSICAL / APPEARANCE

hair style? Typically seen with a half-up do.

glasses or contact lenses? Black Tortoise shelled frames from time to time.

scars or birthmarks? a birthmark of a crown sits on the front of her right ankle.

tattoos? A small silhouette of her ex dancing, specifically a jump mid-air.  

physical or mental handicaps? Dyslexia.

type of clothes? Typically in Alternative clothing. Lots of ripped jeans and pleated skirts.

mannerisms? When nervous, Jo will tug at her sleeves or excessively push her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

PERSONALITY

are they more optimistic or pessimistic? Pessimistic now, the past self was optimistic.

are they introverted or extroverted? Introverted Extrovert.

do they ever put on airs? Sometimes, if she feels intimidated.

what bad habits do they have? Nail biting, and joint cracking.

what makes them laugh out loud? Silly dad jokes and situational humor.

how do they display affection? Gifting small items.

how do they want to be seen by others? Strong and put together.

how do they see themselves? Weak and a mess, irredeemable.

strongest character trait? Trusting

weakest character trait? Controlling

how competitive are they? Very, she loves a challenge.

do they make snap judgements or take time to consider? She takes time to consider the majority of the time, but she will make a quick decision from time to time.

PAST AND FUTURE

Jo was a miracle baby, she was her parents fifth time trying for a child. It wasn’t for lack of pregnancy, her mother couldn’t carry all the way through term. After Josephine took her first breath, nearly every breath after that  was in the vicinity of her mother. Although most kid would’ve hated that, Jo found it comforting. She was very nurtured. After her birth, Jo’s mother became a stay at home mom. This often led to her feeling like it would teeter on the side of helicopter parenting from time to time. However, the extra time with her mother led her to find her love of reading and writing.As a child Jo was a huge teacher's pet.  She always loved the idea of learning, no matter who or what was teaching her. Even when she hit the age of nine and learning became hard for her, she still enjoyed someone looking out for her and trying to help her be her best self.

Even though she overcame her disability, she shies away from compliments. She finds herself undeserving of them, and openly welcomes criticism. She knows that she isn’t perfect, but she wants to work on being the best version of herself she could be.

She grew up thinking she was poor, but her parents were actually well off because they never wanted her to grow up thinking that money made anyone better than anyone else.

All she wanted was to get into college to make her parents proud of her. Yes, she could’ve done anything and got their approval, but she wanted their approval to mean something. So she worked as hard as she could to get into the top education program in the nation. She wanted to pay the experience she had in school forward. She was on her way home to tell her parents that she had did something that would actually make them proud, her mother called her and told her the terrible news. Her father had a heart attack and didn’t make it to the hospital. She was ready to drop all of her plans to be with her mother and just do school at a local college. However, once her mother found out that she had gotten the scholarship she worked so hard for, her mother demanded that she went to Yates. That’s how she ended up on the green slopes of campus her freshman year of college.

TL;DR: JO WAS A MIRACLE BABY THAT WANTED TO BE A TEACHER HER WHOLE LIFE. SHE ALMOST DIDN’T GO TO COLLEGE BECAUSE SHE WANTED TO TAKE CARE OF HER MOTHER AFTER HER FATHER’S DEATH BUT HER MOM WOULDN’T LET HER GIVE UP ON ONE OF HER DREAMS.

LOVE

do they believe in love at first sight? Yes.

are they in a relationship? No.

how do they behave in a relationship? She likes to keep everyone at a distance except her significant other. She treats them like her best friend, and more often than not they are. She loves to have a friendly relationship so she doesn’t feel like she’s a totally different person in love.

has your character ever been in love? Yes.

have they ever had their heart broken? Yes.

what is their sexual orientation? Bisexual.

FAVOURITES

what is their favourite animal? Koala

what place would they most like to visit? Pasadena, California

what is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen? The sunset in New York City. Her ex-boyfriend

what is their favourite song? Heebiejeebies by Amine

music, art, reading preferred? She prefers YA novels, loves Musicals, and isn’t the biggest fan of literal art. She just likes to look at pretty things.

what is their favourite color? She loved the color black for the longest, but now her favorite color is a sky blue.

favourite food: She loves all types of Italian food.

what is their favourite day of the week? Tuesday.

POSSESSIONS

what is in their fridge: She always keeps Apple juice and water bottles in her fridge to drink and enough random snacks to make it look healthy even though she has a stash of chips in the pantry

what is on their bedside table? She keeps a candle and wireless phone charger that looks like a glowing rune when her phone is charging.

what is in their car? She always keeps back ups to all of her bathroom items in her trunk. If you think about it, she has it in there. In her center console she keeps napkins, a reusable straw set, and a few pairs of chopsticks. In her glove compartment she has an extensive rotating collection of cds. She likes the nostalgic feeling.

what is in their purse? She keeps her debit cards, an old photo of her ex, a packet of tissues, headphones, an emergency twenty dollar bill, and a few packs of salt and pepper in a small pouch.

what is in their pockets? Her phone or her headphones

what is their most treasured possession? Her locket.

DAILY LIFE

what are their eating habits? Typically whatever is easily accessed. If it takes longer than an hour to cook, she probably won’t make it.

are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? She would like to believe she’s a minimalist, but her closet would say otherwise.

what do they do first thing on a weekday morning? Make a cup of coffee and read a book on her kindle.

what do they do on a sunday afternoon? Yoga while their roommate watches.

what do they do on a friday night? Either hangout with her friends or play board games while getting drunk with her roommate.

what is the soft drink of choice? Dr. Pepper

what is their alcoholic drink of choice? Tito’s and crystal light. Old Fashioned

what does she do for work? An English Teacher to GED students. A Cam Girl.

#hqclique.intro #about-jo

[dancing-the-hellfire-rumba]

Dear Hannah,

Pairing: technically Destiel, but that’s not what this is about Word Count: 4.9k (wow wtf) Warnings: mentions of self-harm, cancer, shitty father John (as per usual), angst and angst and father-daughter love and angst. Summary: When Dean, strapped to a bed, coughing up a storm, catches sight of his newly-adopted baby girl, he decides that, if he is to leave this world, he has to leave something behind for his favorite person. So he writes a booklet, trying to tell her all the things he would’ve if he was alive. Author’s note: This was originally done for @welldonebeca​ ‘s 2019 Song Challenge but I fucked up thinking the deadline was the 31st of October instead of the 15th. Whatever the case, my prompt was movement, by Hozier, which I interpreted as Dean being fascinated by his daughter enough that he’s inspired to write a letter book to her. Of course this wouldn’t be the entire thing, but I had to keep it under wraps.

Feedback is always welcome! No beta, all mistakes are my own.

~~~~

Hannah,

Christ, it’s the third time I’m starting this. The truth is, I’m coming up with blanks as to how to actually start. This has got to be the best I’ve got.

I’ll tell you the moral of this story, my story,  from the get-go. Life’s a fucking bitch, okay? I want you to know that from now. I’d try to hold back on my swearing, but I want you to know me as the person I am, the person I’ve always been. I know what having an absent, terrible father’s like, as you’ll soon see, and I don’t want that for you. I wish I could tell you all this up close, give you advice, tell you all my crazy-ass stories as the dumbass of the teenager I was, and all the shenanigans your uncle (wow, Sam really is a friggin’ uncle!), by a campfire, while you drink your first beer.

Sadly, my odds aren’t looking so great, honey. So this is all I got. I know it’ll never be enough but something is better than nothing.

Enough with the chick flick introduction, though. Let’s start.

The pen’s heavy in his hand, and it’s equal parts the mental heaviness, the weight of the task, as it is his fatigue. Dean’s really just started this. He can’t believe it. The heaviness of uncertainty, of whether or not he’ll get enough time to finish it settles on his chest like an anvil. There’s a solid chance he doesn’t make it before his time comes.

Hannah’s sitting right there, carelessly looking at the plastic, grinning stars above her crib. She’s so innocent, skin creamy, chocolaty and bright, a young, fearsome woman that’s gonna turn out to be so incredible, he’s certain. A small baby who’s soon to walk.

Dean already knows, this kid is destined for great things.

She’s gonna grow up, past the tutus and the miniature racing-car collections, she’s gonna have a movie she’ll play on repeat for ever and ever, with a song that he’ll learn by heart after having heard it so many times. She’s gonna go to high school and she’ll be bullied but she’ll learn to kick some serious ass. She’ll develop interests, she’ll have mediocre grades but a fiery passion and a love for anything alive.

She’ll, then, go to college. She’ll fall in love, with people and life itself. She’ll do what she loves most and she’ll be so damn good at it, she’ll excel.

And Dean… Dean will be nowhere near her to see all of it.

The bitterness… it makes his eyebrows stitch together, his lip curl in clear frustration and sadness. After everything he’s been through, finally finding the person he loves most and creating a full-ass apple pie life, and it’s all gonna be gone as soon as it started. Because, as he told his favorite Hannah, life’s a fucking bitch, and there’s no denying it.

As he lays there in his bed, pale as a sheet, watching her giggle for a while, reaching for the stars, soon yawning, small eyelids shutting softly and rocking just slightly, he… he falls in love with her. This tiny, tiny happy-beyond-words creature that could ask anything of him, and he’d do it, god damn it. He really would.

A giant bubble grows in his chest, a bubble that makes him feel like he’ll protect her at absolute all costs. He’ll grab the moon and fucking move it if that’s what she needs. And all she has to do is yawn and fall asleep.

A tear appears in the corner of his eye, lingering and falling down his ashy cheek. He can’t believe he brought this bright ray of sunshine to this world, and he’s about to make her live with an absent father. That he won’t get any memories with her at all. It’s torture. All of it.

He doesn’t know what else to do, so he grabs his pen with more determination. If he’s to leave her with something, it’ll be a part of him and that is that.

~~~~~

I was born on January 24th, 1979, the first son of a, dare I say, colossally unlucky family. Your uncle, Sam, my brother, is four years younger and will ALWAYS be a wimp, don’t let the height fool you. He always had terrible, shaggy hair and was always the sharpest tool in the box. Hell, the boy went to freaking LAW SCHOOL of all places! That’s kinda crazy!

My parents, your grandparents, were Mary and John.

Mary was a sweet, incredible, fearsome blonde woman, kindest of them all. She’d cut the crusts off my toast, sing Hey, Jude to me before bed and tell me angels were watching over me. (While we’re on the topic of the Beatles, make a note to listen to them. “Hey, Jude” must be your first song, but beyond the classics [Let it Be, Hard Day’s Night, I Saw Her Standing There, I Wanna Hold your hand etc] I hope “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds” will hold a special spot in your heart, much like me.)

So, Mary. Sweet Mary. She was a real badass, you know. This one time, Sammy was hungry, so I decided to make, get this, French fries. I think I was seven. She caught me getting ready to pour oil in a very hot pan. When I say she swooped in, I mean it, quite literally. I think she saved me a hand that day.

Now, about John…You’ll have to forgive the mess that I’m about to make with this, but John was a fucking sorry excuse of a father, alright? He got piss-drunk every night after Mom died, and naturally, Sam and I were the punching bags, sometimes literally. The best nights were the ones he wasn’t home.

For years, the house was silent. Sam and I tried to keep everything clean, stock up on canned food, because at times we would only have ten bucks to hold us for over two weeks. I took him to school, fed him, made sure he studied –not that I really had to- and kept John of his hair. At sixteen I picked up a shift at Bobby Singer’s garage, a man that, at this point, deserves the Dad title significantly more than John.

Whenever Sammy was sick, it was my fault. Was anyone loud? Dean’s fault. House dirty? Dean’s fault. Did we wake him up? …Let’s just say we learned not to do that.

I tried to put myself before Sam, did anything I could to protect him. There were times when that wasn’t even enough.

I dropped out of high school at seventeen. The second I saved up enough money, I rented a hole of an apartment at the other side of town, in an attempt to help Sam have a normal life, and we hauled ass out of there.

Before I tell you about our shitty apartment, let me tell you about the highlights of my high school career. Starting off with me “unintentionally” kicking a ball at my least favorite teacher’s face (and hitting him) ((Don’t take your father’s example, kid, violence isn’t the answer.)) (Did feel pretty good at the time though), making out with Jenny in the Janitor’s closet and with Arthur at the locker rooms afterhours (I don’t know what age you’re reading this at, but I sure hope it’s over 16). Also, that one time I pulled a prank at my friend, Cole. I spray painted his entire locker. He didn’t like me very much, to be honest…

~~~~~

An important story I feel inclined to share with you, would be the fact that I was once a bully.

Kids are just mean, but also, I couldn’t understand that troubles at home, traumatic pasts and anger are not to be taken out on other people who are not at fault. Instead of finding a healthy way to deal with everything that was happening at home, I decided that every happy person that was weak enough to meddle with, didn’t deserve any happiness.

I picked on a couple of people, but I think the one I will always regret will be Kevin Tran.

Kevin was a freshman when I was in junior year. He was in the Math club, the Science club and the Robotics club. He had maybe two friends, he was skinny, short, shy as hell, he drowned himself in oversized clothes and always carried a neon green book bag around, that worked on me like red cloth to a bull.

Every time I spotted the bag in the hallway, the drill would start. Shoving the poor kid against the locker, calling him names and laughing at his face for no apparent reason. I’d steal his calculators when I found out he had chemistry tests, spray paint the door of his locker and cause rib bruises from my shoving him against walls and furniture.

I soon find out Kevin was severely depressed. In fact, I saw him in the back of the school, where I’d usually go out to smoke because I thought it was cool (it’s not, it makes you light headed, unfocused and struggle to breathe. Just an all-around terrible experience, but this is just a side-note.)

It was a Friday after school. I didn’t wanna go straight home and Sam still had one more period, so I decided to go smoke and listen to some music in the back of the school building. And that’s where I found him.

I don’t know into how much detail I should go here, but Kevin was harming himself. With a small pocket knife, he sat on an old basket and made incisions on his arms, tears running down his face like a faucet. My God, Hannah, I’ve never felt like a bigger piece of shit in my life, because I knew, and I knew very well, that at least part of those incisions were caused by me.

I called out to him, and the look on his face, as he scrambled away from me, made me feel so much worse. I was the scum of the earth at that moment. I was the biggest asshole on the planet.

My initial reaction, I’ll admit, was pretty harsh. I grabbed the pocket knife out of his hands and threw it as far as possible in the grass. I grabbed a small first aid kit I had in my bag (in case anything happens to Sam), made him sit down by force and bandaged him up. He’d been reduced to sniffles by the time I was done.

Somewhere in between, I remember, he asked me why I was doing this. I didn’t answer.

Eventually, when I was done, I sat on the ground in front of him, ripping blades of grass from the ground. I apologized. Something along the lines of “I didn’t know, not that that’s an excuse. What I’m going through is not an excuse, but I hope it makes you understand that it was nothing to do with you. I’ll stop. I’m sorry. Don’t do this to yourself, man.”

That evening, Kevin was one of the very first people who found out about John. His own dad had passed away, and things at home were rough with his mom. That, along with the whole depression thing… it wasn’t a good combo.

After a solid two hours of talking with him, making amends, apologizing profusely and getting my apology accepted (which I absolutely didn’t deserve by the way,) we made it back out front.

From then on, I stopped picking on anyone. Kevin and I actually became really good friends, though we drifted apart eventually. I think he works in Google now.

This is really important. I want you to pay attention and take heed of my words. There are a couple lessons in this story.

One, be kind. Always  be kind. To everyone. It doesn’t matter if they’re going through a rough time or not, the same way it didn’t matter that Kevin’s father was dead. You don’t know the other person. There’s never a reason to not be kind, if the person has done nothing to you. A smile can make somebody’s day, a compliment can go a long way, and being open and honest and kind will make people who are looking for help find you, it will make other’s lives better, and if you’ve helped even a single person, your life has been successful.

Two, never, and I mean never take your emotional pain out on yourself, or others. There are healthy ways to deal with ugly emotions. There are people who can help. Find a new hobby, as silly as it sounds. Start doing something creative, something that draws your attention elsewhere, like art of any kind, or, in my case, fixing cars. Something to keep you busy. If you’re in trouble, emotional or otherwise, there are people who love and support you, who will do their mightiest to be by your side, and if those aren’t your friends, they’re definitely your family.

Bottling up emotions, or dealing with them in horrible, unhealthy ways has been my go-to. Don’t be like me. Express yourself in different ways, and don’t keep your feelings shoved under the carpet, because it will, absolutely, unceremoniously explode, and you’ll take people down with you. And that’s when you’ll feel like the worst person in the world. The guilt, the residue of said ugly feelings isn’t worth it. Trust me.

If you make mistakes, if you hurt people who don’t deserve it, learn from it, grow, be better. Do not sink into yourself , don’t hate yourself. Apologize, make amends and move on, try to never do the same thing. It’s okay. We’re all human. The only thing that matters is that you try to be better.

No matter what, remember that I will always love you.              

~~~~

So. Our apartment back in Kansas was, as I told you, a real dump. It had a tiny-ass kitchen with a miniature stove, two mattresses that were creaky and lumpy and were left there by the previous owners, as well as the TINIEST bathroom you’ve ever seen. It didn’t have shower walls, it had a shower head and a drain on the floor and was not in any way separated from the toilet. The walls of the place were peeling, the floor was tiled and cracked in a bunch of places and the humidity must’ve been over 80%.

I fucking loved that place.

On our third day there, I borrowed some spray paints from Cole, carried them in a cardboard box up the claustrophobic, green stairs, and opened the door in absolute triumph. That day, Sam and I opened the two windows, scratched the paint off the walls with two spatulas and went WILD. It must’ve been the only day Sam didn’t study.

Actually, no, now that I think about it, there was another time, when little ol’ ten-year-old Sam fell off a ledge and freakin’ broke his arm. I dumped him on Cole’s bike and pedaled to the hospital like a maniac. That was the first day he didn’t study.

Anyways, that apartment wall made our crappy little living situation a home. Our own sanctuary. We finally got agency over our lives, from staying up late, to choosing which type of dish soap we’d use because it smelled better and didn’t remind us of the terror chores once were. Eventually, we got soft blankets, books, board games, decorations… Finally, after 18 years, we’d started our lives.

I think one of my favorite memories would be coming home from my first date with a guy. I was just 18 and Benny, the dude, kissed me before I left, his fists clutching at my flannel. I was driving home with a giant, dopey-ass smile, stretching from one ear straight to the other. That same night, with new-found confidence, I told Sammy to drop his book, bought ourselves some beers and snacks, and drove to my favorite clearing.

There, right under the stars, with Sammy trying out his first beer, I told him I’m bisexual, and the cute bastard hugged me and told me he loved me no matter what. That same night, he thanked me for everything I did for him while living with John. We talked until the sun was rising.

I’ll tell you this right now, kid, in case you haven’t gotten it yet. I love Sam. Love him to bits. I raised that kid all on my own and will do anything to protect him. I know he cares for me, I know it kills him to see me like this, in a bed, pale, miserable and coughing every three seconds. I just want you to know, honey, that whatever you need, anything at all that, for some reason, you don’t want to tell Dad, you go to Sam, okay? You can trust him to be supportive, loyal, to be there for you when no one else is and to love you like you’re his own daughter and best friend. I promise you, he will always, always be there when I’m not.

That night made us grow so much closer. The lesson here, I’d say, is be bold and confident in what you believe in and who you are. Be your own, unique self, be brave, and love whoever you choose to fully and with your whole heart, without shame, ever. If you are yourself, I promise, you’ll find the people that love you for you, not the person you’re pretending to be. You’ll inspire other to be themselves.

A good example of this would be my best friend, Charlie. When I came out, I was armed to the teeth to deal with whoever wanted to bully me for that part of me. To tell you the truth, my school coming out was a mishap. It takes nothing but a risky make-out session in the janitor’s closet and nosey students that rip doors open far too violently. Nevertheless, I was literally out of the closet, fists up. And that’s exactly when I met Charlie.

With her comic book stories and her books, her bubbly personality and bright smile, she wiggled her way into our lives and permanently stayed there. She was a freshman when I was a senior, but she seemed to find sanctuary by my side, as I did by hers. She was just one of those people who clicked, you know? Far too mature and interesting for her age, with an obsession with computers, even back when they were barely even a thing.

She now lives with her long-term girlfriend, Gilda, who owns the best bakery in the state. Ask for the apple pie, you will not be disappointed.

Charlie demanded of me to tell you, first off, to watch Marvel and screw DC right to hell (with which I have to agree, though Batman still remains one of the coolest Superheroes of my childhood (and Joker, the coolest villain)). She also told me that, if you read this, go ask her for her comics, She’d love to let you borrow them and she’s certain you’ll love them. Second off, she asked of me to tell you the Impala story…

It’s not as grand as she makes it out to be, honestly. However this is the part where you’ll learn all about the one and only Bobby Singer.

Bobby was my boss, an old friend of dad’s John’s and the first person who ever saw the bruises under my sleeves. He gave me a job, a family, and later on… a car.

Bobby owns a scrapyard. He taught me everything I know about cars, including driving, and for my seventeenth birthday, he brought a dusty, beat-up car in my workspace. The hood was bent, the seats were torn, and the engine needed immediate replacing. The customer never paid the price for the compartments the garage had paid, so under store policy, the car was ours.

Hannah, I can’t exactly describe to you how long it took me to repair that car. Buying the spare parts and assembling them would’ve probably taken less time. I built her from the ground up, it took me almost a month and a half of daily, eight-to-six work, but I made it. I fixed her up. She was in prime condition, and I had completely fallen in love with her.

I finished working on her early January, dreading the moment I would see her drive away. Bobby had seen all the effort, by then I’d worked at his place for over a year. So, on the day of my birthday, I opened my locker to put on my jumpsuit, when I saw a box placed on my neatly folded clothes. I’m sure you’ve guessed it by now. Yes. It was the keys to my dream car. A beautiful, sleek, black 1967 Chevrolet Impala, the one I had brought back to life. And it was all mine.

I don’t think I’ve hugged Bobby any tighter since then. Hell, I don’t think I’ve hugged him period.

That car… That car is probably the most stable thing in my life, apart from Sam, obviously. I’ve cried in that car, I’ve escaped from my terrible past, I’ve laughed, I’ve had my first time, I’ve been through breakups and I’ve spent my best days with it. I cherish it more than any other item I know. It’s not even an item, it’s my baby. I love it almost as much as I love you.

I met your dad, and kissed him for the first time in that car.

It’s actually a pretty fucking hilarious story. Cas was on a date with this guy who was completely disgusting and creepy as hell, so in true  movie fashion he decided to, get this, jump out the bathroom window and escape.

Yeah.

So just as he was running out of the bar, the guy must’ve caught wind of him or something, because he stepped outside in order to find Cas. What did your dad decide to do, I hear you ask? He ducked behind a car in the parking lot, opened the first unlocked door he found, and jumped in.

Spoiler alert. It was my car.

I was sitting in the front seat, fighting with Sam through text when the door opened. It was highly comical, watching this guy duck behind the bench seat, mumbling “oh God, oh God, oh God, please don’t see me, oh God.” I cleared my throat.

“Oh, I see you, buddy.” That’s the first thing I told him. The look on his face and the genuine yelp, made me laugh a full belly laugh, and completely forget about my fight with Sam. He apologized profusely, explained panicked what had happened and begged me to stay in my car just for a couple minutes so the guy can lose him.

Long story short, we ended up going out ourselves. I don’t know how to explain it… we just clicked immediately. Like, there was a connection. Him and his big words, his baby blue eyes, his steady, deep and rough voice… I knew right away that all I wanted was to spend time with him, learn everything he was willing to share with me.

I’m so glad to have met your Dad. He was, is and always will be one of the best, kindest, most humble and genuine people on the planet. He sees the world from such a beautiful point of view that contradicts my eternal realism (he enjoys calling me pessimistic.) He’s a genuinely great person, and I can’t wait for you to figure so out yourself, if you haven’t already.

Of course, it wasn’t all fine and dandy. Meeting his parents was hellish. Let’s just say, Chuck and Naomi aren’t… the best people. They tried really, really hard to stop us from seeing each other, and eventually, they completely disowned Cas. He doesn’t like to talk about them much. His brother, Gabriel is an asshole, but a loveable one, while his other brother, Michael, you probably don’t know about. And you shouldn’t. Let’s just leave it at that. If Cas wants to share that story with you, he’ll do it at his own time.

I’m sure there’s a lesson to be learned here. Something about, when finding your person, to keep them, fight for them, don’t stop loving them because everyone else is telling you (unless of course that person is toxic). But I don’t think I can give you solid love advice through a dumb book. Every relationship is different, and your Dad’s better at this than me anyways.

--

I don’t know exactly how long this thing is, by this point, but I’ve almost finished the pages of this booklet. I was really, really worried I wouldn’t finish it in time, but here we are. However many thousand words later, and I’m clueless as to how to wrap this up.

My life isn’t over yet, however it looks like it soon will be. I will confess to you, I’m scared, but most of all I’m angry. I’m angry at the world, at life and fate, if that’s even a thing, at God even. I’ve fought my whole life for peace and quiet, and right when I have found it, it’s being ripped from under my feet. Cancer fucking sucks.

No matter, my chin is up, and so are my fists. Winchesters don’t give up easy. I will fight this until my last breath, even if the chance of watching you grow up and being able to tell you everything I’ve written face-to-face, is nothing but a sliver. After all, impossible odds were always my favorite.

Sweetheart… I don’t know what to say. This might be the only thing you have left of me for the rest of your life, and it tears me up inside. Of course, I will not be able to write thirty five years of experience in a small book such as this, but this is a part of me, memories you can keep all to yourself. Ask Dad or Sam about any of it, I’m sure they’ll fill some gaps, tell you things I haven’t written.

I don’t want you to cry much, even though I’m not sure you will at all, given the fact that you’ve never met me. Either way, whether you feel or think anything of me or not, I want you to know that I love you so much. I’ve only known you for a couple of months, and, already, you’re the brightest ray of sunshine in my life.

I promise I will be by your side no matter what happens, through every milestone and hardship, I will love you from wherever I am.

Honey, please stay true to yourself. Never give up, no matter what curveballs life throws at you. There’s always reason to keep going, even if you can’t see it. Always keep fighting, ‘till your last breath, ‘cause you’re a Winchester and you’ve absolutely got this.

If there is something I want you to remember from the scribbly mess I’ve made, it’s this:

I love you. I’m proud of you. I believe in you.

Go get ‘em, tiger.

 Bonus:

Tears streaming down velvety soft cheeks, dainty fingers gripping the book tightly, like her life depends on it, Hannah stares at the ceiling and groans at the mess she is. It’s the second time she read that last bit, and just as she thought she’d gotten over it, here she is, crying just as hard as the first.

She gets off her bed, pulling on her sweater sleeves. Feet in slippers, she makes her way down the corridor, knocking on the door, and opening when she gets an answer. Her fingers grip the doorknob, the other clutching the book, and she stares at the bed, watching as green eyes look up from his laptop.

“Why did you give this to me, you ass, you’re not dead,” she sobs, and Dean pushes his laptop to the side, arms opening wide to invite her in them.

“Aw honey,” he coos, a gentle, loving smile on his face. Hannah climbs on the bed and slides to his side, curling up in his arms. “It’s okay.” Fingers stroking her hair gently, as sobs wrack through the poor girl’s body. Dean almost feels bad.

Just then, Cas appears in the doorway, having heard Hannah’s cries. He sees the booklet clutched in her arms, her face buried in Dean’s neck, hidden behind her spring-curly hair. He makes eye contact with his husband, a knowing half-smile on his lips, as he leans on the doorway.

“I love you,” Hannah says, nose stuffed and running. “Thank you for not giving up on a relationship with me, even when you didn’t think you’ll survive.” Tears wet Dean’s eyes, as he presses a kiss on the crown of her head.

“I love you too.”

#dean fluff #dean angst #destiel #daddy!dean #destiel dads #supernatural au #spn fanfiction #supernatural #spn angst #spn fluff #oc

[bytheangell]

Make It Right

(Read on AO3)

“I don’t need this ridiculous app,” Alec mutters, flipping through the start-up questions of the dating app. “I can just go meet someone if I want to go on a date.” 

He doesn’t need to see the ‘uh-huh, sure’ looks of clear disbelief that Jace and Izzy are giving him to know that they aren’t buying it. He doesn’t blame them - the three of them lived together for years and almost all of Alec’s current friends he made through one, or both, of his siblings. But then Izzy and Clary got engaged and Izzy moved out, leaving just him and Jace; and as entertaining as experiencing Jace’s flavor-of-the-week girlfriends first hand is, Alec just couldn’t keep up the commute to his new job and live with Jace. Barely two weeks ago Alec moved into his own place much closer to work, alone.  The decision was easy knowing it was only a matter of time before they all went their separate ways, figuring it’d be easier to start now and acclimate. 

Alec thought it’d be freeing to separate himself from his siblings. Instead, all it did was make them even more concerned that he was just going to sit alone in his apartment for the rest of his life when he wasn’t teaching. 

He wishes he could say otherwise, but less than two weeks in and all he’s done is prove them right. 

It didn’t take long for him to extend his office hours at the university and make more time to volunteer at events around campus. He also spends longer on campus, staying to support some of the sports teams at home games, but he talks to plenty of people while he’s at work. He tells his siblings - and himself - that spending more time at the University is just what he has to do as an Assistant Professor to make a good impression, and swears up and down that it isn’t just a distraction technique. 

They all almost believe it, himself included.

“Fine,” Alec agrees, hoping to humor them enough to get them off of his back about this. “One week. And if I hate it, I’m deleting it and you’re never forcing me to fill out another one of these profiles again,” he concedes. 

Jace goes to argue but Izzy cuts him off. “Deal,” she agrees quickly. “Now, let me take a photo of you for your profile.” 

“What’s wrong with the one I’m using now?” Alec asks, having planned on just using the same one from his Facebook on here. 

“If you have to ask that’s a sure sign you need my help,” Izzy sighs. “Now, smile.” 

...43 minutes later, Izzy has a photo that she’s satisfied with. It’s a ‘very casual’ picture of him sitting by the window in his apartment, in a plush armchair he got second-hand, one leg dangling over the arm while the other curls underneath him. It was horribly uncomfortable even if he manages to hide that fact from the photo itself. 

“There!” She exclaims proudly, putting some sort of filter on it before posting it so that none of the colors are the same as the original photo, something which he definitely doesn’t understand but knows better than to question.  “I’m not sure how you manage to make an exposed ankle look so attractive, but I think it’s going to work for you.” 

“...thank you?” Alec says, the question heavy in his voice over what he can only assume is meant to be a compliment, even if it is the strangest one he’s eve received. 

“Alright, so what you’re going to do is swipe left when--” Izzy starts in, though Alec is quick to stop her. 

“I said I thought it was stupid- I don’t live under a rock. I know how it works.” In all honesty, he had used one or two of them in the past. But back when he was fully closeted he always just closed it in a panic the moment he even considered swiping right on an attractive guy.  Also he never in a million years would’ve told his siblings when he had them because he knew what would happen. 

And he was right, because it’s happening now. 

 “And I’m not going to do it while you’re here. So let’s just pick a movie, and I’ll look at it later.” He turns his back to them to head into the kitchen to grab some popcorn and drinks, and doesn’t even look back to check their reactions before adding, “I promise!” 

He hears them finally move at that, shifting the sofa so it’s closer to the table in the middle and gathering all of the pillows up into one area from their respective chairs. 

They watch the movie, end the night early because they all have work in the morning, and Alec waits until Izzy and Jace are both safely miles from his apartment before he pulls his phone back out and opens up the dating app. 

He flicks through the profile for a few minutes, looking at the photo Izzy chose and wondering why he couldn’t just use something that didn’t look staged. In fact, the longer he looks at it, the more he doesn’t like it at all, and ends up closing back out of it without doing anything. 

“...well, I only promised to look at it later.” Alec mutters to himself before setting his alarm for early enough to stop by the coffee shop on campus on the way to his office. 

---

The line for coffee the following morning is twice as long as usual - something he should’ve anticipated given the fact that it’s Monday and half the campus seems to need some extra help recovering from their weekends. He’s in the process of very visibly judging a group of freshman wearing frowns full of regret as well as sunglasses indoors when a voice sounds behind him, just next to his shoulder. 

“Oh, come now, Alexander. Surely you remember those days.” 

Alec spins around to see Magnus Bane who is sporting yet another new jacket, this one with some sort of adornments on the shoulders paired with pants tailored so perfectly he looks as if someone plucked him off of a runway. Alec knows the jacket is new - Magnus’ second new jacket this week - because he’s spent the better part of the academic year making a mental note of every outfit Magnus wears, determined to experience just  one that doesn’t make Alec’s breath catch at first glance. Right now he’s 132 for 132.

Not that Alec is counting. 

“Not really,” Alec admits. “I wasn’t a big drinker.”

He shifts his gaze from the students back to Magnus to find the other Professor giving him a quick once-over as if sizing him up. “No… I suppose you weren’t.” Magnus says after a moment of consideration. 

Alec is pretty sure he should be offended by that, even though he brought it up first and Magnus is only agreeing. 

Despite his immediate crush on Dr. Bane, one which only got worse as the year went on, Alec kept (and sadly, continues to keep)  his distance. For starters, he isn’t out at the University yet, not to any of his students and certainly not to any of the faculty.  He’s new here and still warming up to them, careful to keep any talk of dating or relationships vague enough to not be a lie while also not giving too much away. Secondly, when Alec started Magnus had a girlfriend, and after 3 months of burying any hint of feelings he felt it was just easier to continue on that way even after  he got wind that they broke up. 

There’s also the small fact that every time Alec has the chance at starting something new with someone, he ends it before it can even begin. He catches  himself doing it with Magnus the past few months- every time Magnus tries to extend an olive branch and be proper friends Alec practically runs in the other direction. He’s made a fool out of himself with fumbling excuses and forced abrasiveness more times than he can count - why Dr. Bane is still so nice to him, Alec  doesn’t think he’ll ever understand. 

Normally this is where Alec would excuse himself, but unfortunately the line is crawling along at a snail’s pace as Magnus continues, forcing Alec into the first proper one-on-one conversation they’ve had in months. 

“I, on the other hand, still can’t get enough of a good club. I assume you haven’t been to any around here?” Magnus waits for the shortest pause, already knowing the answer, before going on. “I know a few secret gems just far enough out of downtown to be mostly student-free, if you’d ever like to go sometime.” 

“I’m not much of a dancer, either” Alec says with a shrug, missing the flicker of disappointment fall across Magnus’ face as he side-steps the offer. “My sister Izzy says she won’t  even dance with me at her wedding because she’s afraid I’ll end up breaking her toe or something.” 

That startles a laugh out of Magnus and Alec smiles back at the sound of it, melodic and carefree. He finds that he’s far too pleased with himself for being the reason behind it and does his best to bite back a grin of his own. 

“Sounds like you just need the right partner.” There’s something undoubtedly suggestive about the tone Magnus’ voice takes at the suggestion, but thankfully Alec’s turn to order comes about right at that moment and he doesn’t have time to overthink it. 

“Red eye with one cream,” he orders without hesitation before taking a step to the side to make way for Dr. Bane. 

“I’ll have what he’s having,” Magnus orders immediately after, and Alec raises an eyebrow at that. He should ignore it and continue his track record for suffering in stoic silence, but now that he’s finally allowed himself the start of an actual conversation with the other Professor he doesn’t want to stop, which is exactly what he knew would happen. Instead of speaking again, Alec compromises with himself and simply continues to look over at Magnus with a questioning expression. 

“What?” Magnus asks with feigned innocence, moving imperceptibly closer beside him to stand while they wait for their drinks. 

“You didn’t strike me as the type to drink red eyes,” Alec says. 

“Nothing good ever happened from playing it safe. What’s a Monday morning without a little adventure?” Magnus asks with a wink. 

“...wait, you mean you just copied me on a whim?” Alec huffs out a laugh. “Oh man, are you in for a surprise.” 

“It can’t be that bad,” Magnus says, though there’s a hint of doubt in his voice now that wasn’t there before as the barista calls out their orders and sets them on the counter. They each grab one, and despite his reluctance to meet Magnus’ gaze earlier Alec holds it steadily now, watching his reaction as he takes a sip of the coffee. 

...and nearly spits it back out into the cup. “You willingly drink this?” Magnus demands, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, face still scrunched together in disgust. 

“It’s an acquired taste,” Alec admits, already heading towards the door. “See you around, Dr. Bane.”

“Please, just call me Magnus,” Magnus says, knowing full well Alec isn’t going to listen this time as much as he hadn’t the last dozen times.  

Alec tries not to think too much about that little run-in the rest of the day, or the tone Magnus’ voice took that one moment, or the way he seemed to crowd Alec’s personal space. After all, that’s just the sort of personality Magnus has, right? Alec could’ve been any other acquaintance of Dr. Bane’s and he would’ve done the exact same thing. 

Nothing to see there, nothing at all. 

---

Alec is taking a quick break from grading when he remembers the app on his phone and decides to look through it for a bit to kill some time. He flips through a few photos, hesitating over one or two but finding himself slightly put-off by some of these profiles. A lot of them sound like they could’ve been written by Jace which is more than a little concerning, and when someone’s only selling point is half a dozen photos of their abs he knows it’ll be pointless to even attempt a conversation. 

He’s about to give up and close the app again when he sees it - or, more accurately, sees him. 

Magnus. 

The photo Dr. Bane has set on his profile is absolutely sinful - he’s sitting in the VIP lounge of a club and the lighting is dim but the people casually draped around him seem to almost frame him in the set-up rather than distract from him. Alec can see so much of Magnus’ chest that he might as well not be wearing a shirt - and Alec almost wishes he wasn’t. 

Suddenly abs as a selling point doesn't seem like such a horrible idea, though he knows for a fact that Magnus has so much more to offer than the impressive body layered in sheer fabric and dangling chains on the phone screen in his hands. Perhaps that’s what makes seeing this sort of photo that much more enticing to him. And that isn’t the only photo - there’s one of Magnus lecturing, one of him at the gym, and another of him sitting on the ground surrounded by at least half a dozen cats. Of course he’s perfect outside of work, too. 

Keeping the app open in the background Alec pulls up his contacts and, after a moment of consideration, clicks Simon’s name. 

“Hey, I have a theoretical question for you,” Alec starts. 

“I have a theoretical answer,” Simon counters without missing a beat. “Shoot.” 

“Say you come across a coworker on a dating app. And they’re attractive… but you’re not out at work. And also acting on a crush on a coworker is only going to end in awkward disaster… but you want to know if he’d swipe right on you, you know, just out of curiosity…” Alec rambles, letting his predicament to hang in the air. 

“Well they’re going to know you aren’t straight if they see you on there anyway, right? I mean, you wouldn’t show up for them at all unless you had your profile set to match guys, soooo… that cat’s already out of the bag whether he picks you or not.” Alec can practically hear Simon’s shrug punctuate his observation on the other end of the phone line.

“Shit. Right, well, that’s fine. It isn’t like I’m denying it or anything.” Alec may not parade the information around but he won’t hide it if it comes up. That isn’t the main issue anyway. “I don’t want him to think I like him, though.” Alec conveniently leaves out the part where he does like Magnus, he just doesn’t want Magnus to know.  “So swipe left, then.”  “But I want to know if he’d swipe right on me. And the only way to do that is to swipe right on him and wait to see if we match.” 

“...so swipe right, then? Dude, I’m not sure what you want me to tell you to do here. I don’t really have a lot of experience with those apps anyway, I’m probably not the best person to ask. Have you tried Izzy or Jace yet?” 

Alec groans, putting Simon on speaker so he can go back to looking at the app again while they talk. 

“I don’t know if I want you to talk me into it or out of it,” Alec admits. 

“Alright, look at it this way. If you swipe right he’ll never know unless he does, too. And that means he thinks you’re hot too, so there’s no harm done, just some mutual appreciation. And if he swipes left on you it isn’t like he’ll know you swiped right, no harm no foul.” 

The idea of Magnus Bane ever choosing him on a dating app - especially considering the sort of attention and responses Alec is certain that profile photo gets him - is almost laughable… but Alec wants to know if he would or not just the same. Even if it means he feels the need to avoid Magnus even more than usual at work afterward as a result. 

“Alright. I’m going for it. Thanks Si.” Alec resolutely ignores the tiny spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, something more might actually come from this, but it’s definitely there. 

“Let me know how it turns out!” Simon says before hanging up. Alec allows himself a moment to take a deep breath before swiping right and waiting to see if the ‘It’s a Match!’ screen pops up. A second or two pass. 

Nothing. Well then. 

He reminds himself that maybe he just got to it first -- maybe it isn’t that Magnus swiped left on him, but that Magnus didn’t see his profile to make a decision just yet. That, somehow, is even more terrifying than the obvious option of accepting he isn’t Magnus’ type. What if Magnus does the same thing, just to see what Alec did but not really interested in him? 

 Alec is already formulating a plan in his head to excuse this whole imaginary future scenario away by saying his siblings took his phone and used the app for him when there’s a knock at his propped-open door. 

Alec drops the phone out of his hands and onto the floor when he looks up and sees Dr. Bane. 

“Jumpy today, Alexander?” Magnus asks, eyebrow raised. 

“Sorry. Guess that coffee earlier kicked in too strong,” Alec lies, standing from his chair to bend over and grab the phone. When he stands back up he’s positive he catches Magnus’ looking at his-- no, absolutely not. Alec immediately dismisses it, clearing his throat. “Can I, uh, help you with something?” 

Magnus takes this as an invitation to step fully into the room, leaning back against the wall once he’s inside. “No. Just saw your light still on; I’m pretty sure you’ve been the last one here every night this week, I wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

“I’m good. I shouldn’t be here much longer,” Alec lies, eyes darting back to the pile of essays to grade in front of him. 

“Need some help? At the very least I could grab you some dinner so you don’t starve to death locked away in here.” Magnus makes the offer so casually but it sends Alec’s stomach into sweeping flips, finding the kindness behind the thought impossibly endearing before immediately wondering how pathetic he must look for Magnus to offer in the first place.  

“No,” Alec insists. “Really, I’ll be out of here in no time. Thanks, though.”  Magnus hesitates for a moment before sighing. “Alright, suit yourself,” Magnus says, and Alec swears he hears Magnus mutter something about playing hard to get under his breath as he turns and heads back into the hallway. 

Alec sinks down in his chair and lets out a sigh of relief, but when he turns back to his grading it takes twice as long to get through as he stops to check his phone every few minutes, just in case. 

---

“How is your back holding up these days?” Magnus asks, a strange glint in his eyes. 

“Why?” Alec frowns at the question. It’s only 9 am but he’s been grading for the last two hours straight, determined to finish the final pile of essays before lunch. Reaching for the cup on his desk he takes another sip of coffee to fend off the exhaustion he feels creeping in from the combination of the late night and early morning. 

“Well, I simply figured with the way you spend all of your free time reading books slung over that armchair so haphazardly, it probably does a number on your spine.” 

Alec nearly spits out his coffee. His profile photo. Of all the ways he imagined this moment of acknowledgement taking place this wasn’t even an option, and he doesn’t know if he’s more thankful or annoyed. On the one hand they can laugh this off and maybe, if he’s lucky, even act like it never happened. On the other hand, this is a bigger deal to Alec than it clearly is for Magnus who probably does stuff like this all the time. 

“I suppose I should ask how the small animal rescue league you run off your balcony is faring, then?” Alec retorts, recalling the photo with all the cats. Not the most impressive comeback but it’s the best he has after being caught off-guard. 

“All but one of them are strays, for the record. And they’re all doing lovely thank you for asking.” Magnus’ eyes never leave him no matter how much Alec averts his gaze and attempts to look too busy at his desk to have this conversation. When he looks back up Magnus is still in the doorway. 

A silence falls between them when Alec doesn’t reply. He actually has been busy all morning, buried under a pile of blue books to grade, which is why his phone is still in his bag, forgotten. There’s no longer any doubt that Magnus saw his profile, but whether he swiped right or not Alec has no idea, he hasn’t checked his alerts in hours. Honestly, after the night passed and he didn’t have a notification about Magnus on his app he just assumed Magnus didn’t match with him, which was fine, probably for the best. 

Or so he thought. 

“So, it seems like we’re a match?” Magnus continues conversationally, taking a slow step forward into the room before pausing, continuing only when Alec makes no move to stop him. “I have to admit, I’m a little surprised...” 

Alec’s heart, which is beating far too fast for his own good, now feels like it drops straight into his stomach. Of course Magnus is surprised, to imagine Alec ever thinking he could match up with someone like him-- 

“...after all, you’ve done nothing but shut down my attempts to flirt with you for months now.” 

“What?!” Alec sputters. 

“Please, Alexander, don’t play coy. I haven’t exactly been subtle.” 

“No, you were -- I thought you were just being nice because I was new,” Alec admits, which is mostly true. That’s what he convinced himself of this whole time, after all; that Magnus’ particular brand of niceness happens to border on flirty sometimes, not that he ever means  anything by it. 

“I’m not that nice to just anybody, which is probably a side-effect of being friends with Dr. Fell for too long.” Magnus points out. “Nice would’ve ended the first two or three times you shot me down. This was shameless, almost desperate at this point, flirting.”  

Alec gapes, unable to process this information. Sure, Magnus offered to grab lunch once and a while, or drinks, or-- oh. Alec just thought those were all just extended invitations so he wouldn’t feel left out as the new guy. Somehow the idea of them potentially being dates hadn’t even crossed his mind until just now. Every time Magnus joked around with him, all the teasing he now realizes very belatedly was actually flirting, Alec dismissed entirely. He wrote off the invitations Magnus extended him as pity, but now…. 

“Wait, you said we’re a match. You swiped right on me?” Alec says with clear surprise, finally realizing the implication of Magnus’ previous statement 

“What part of ‘I’ve been flirting with you for months’ didn’t register?” 

“Pretty much all of it, clearly,” Alec says, the words tumbling out before he can think twice about them. 

Just like that Magnus is laughing, the noise filling the silence between them, easing it. “So you don’t hate me, then? Because if I’m being honest I was starting to get a bit of a complex about it. I’d think all the signs were there but the next minute you’d practically sprint in the opposite direction.” 

“Do me a favor and please don’t ever let my sister hear you say that. She doesn’t need to know I’m exactly as much of a disaster as she thinks I am,” Alec groans, considering his next words carefully. This can backfire spectacularly, whether Magnus means his end of it or not. If they end up going on a date and hating each other… or if Magnus is only doing this as a bet or something, to mess with the new guy... 

But looking up at Magnus’ expression while he waits for Alec to continue, Alec doesn’t see anything there but genuine interest and curiosity in his eyes. Alec lets out his momentarily held breath and decides to take one step forward this time without the two steps back in return. “Sorry I made you think I hated you, it’s… it’s quite the opposite, actually.” 

There it is. He doesn’t know why he’s as nervous as he is even after everything Magnus just told him, but his heart is still racing in the few beats of silence that follows. 

“You have a funny way of showing it,” Magnus points out, but there’s a small smile spreading across his face now. “So if I ask you out for drinks after work today, you’re not going to turn me down again?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Alec points out, the small smirk that tugs across his face appearing much more daring than he actually feels, but the laugh Magnus gives again makes it totally worth the fear. 

“Alexander, darling, would you like to grab a drink with me after work tonight?” Magnus asks. 

“I don’t know, I do have an awful lot of grading to get through…” Alec starts, and the look of incredulity on Magnus’ face breaks the serious expression Alec tries to hold almost immediately. “...but I think I can fit you in.” 

“Perfect, it’s a date,” Magnus gins as he shifts towards the door again. “Try not to work too hard.”

“No promises,” Alec laughs. “And uh, yeah. I’ll see you later then, Dr--” he starts, a force of habit, before catching himself. “-Magnus.” 

It’s such a slight shift but it’s undeniable, and the way Magnus practically beams at Alec finally calling him by his first name at work is contagious - Alec can’t keep the smile off his face the rest of the day. 

And later, when Magnus swings by his office after classes to see when he’d like to leave, it’s the first night in weeks Alec isn’t the last one there. As it would turn out, it’s just the first of many. 

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #shfanficnexus #HAPPY BIRTHDAY BRI! #have some super not angsty Same Professions trope for your day <3 #I hope you have the most amazing day! #elle writes a few deadbeat lines

[browneyedmissy]

Someday We'll Know (Chapter One)

Pairing: Soledad x Thomas Mendez, Eventual/Slowburn Thomas Mendez x Tara Day

Summary: When Tara Day runs away from her emotionally abusive relationship, she finds herself back in the company of her best friend from college, Soledad Vargas and her new fiance and has to learn how to find confidence in herself again.

Author's Note: It's been a hot minute since I published anything in my drafts. I listen to a lot of music as inspiration for my writing so there's a list of songs below in case you want to listen as well The timeline is different than in MOTY and I wanted to write a story where we got to see more of Soledad, who I imagine Luz to get some of her personality from.

Playlist: Someday We'll Know by Mandy Moore, She Will Be Loved by Maroon Five, Piano Man by Billy Joel, Ain't No Mountain High Enough by Marvin Gaye.

-

Chapter One

-

Tara stared at the ring on her left hand intently as if it would help her make a decision.

It was a statement ring for sure. The stone in the middle was the size of her thumbnail and was surrounded by a halo of smaller diamonds. It had come from Guy's mother who spared no penny for her beloved son.

It wasn't really Tara's taste. But she was grateful, wasn't she? He had proposed with such a beautiful and expensive ring, and he knew they hadn't talked about getting married yet but with a baby on the way...

She took in a deep breath, heart pounding, subconsciously placing a hand on her stomach. She tried to drown out the sounds of Guy convincing her to quit her job, her being dependent on his income, all followed up with I love yous... and I'm only doing what's best for you...

In that moment, Tara knew what she had to do.

She pulled down her suitcase in her closet and packed all of her necessities. Her heart ached a little when she took a glance around her apartment and realized that she would have to leave most of her things.

Her gaze stopped on the stuffed lizard that her mother had given her a few years before she had passed. They had watched Magic School Bus as a kid and Tara had a fondness for the Liz. She shut her eyes tightly, letting herself mourn Rachel Day for a moment before throwing her lizard on top of her things.

She closed her suitcase and grabbed a pencil and paper, thinking about what to write. Would her letter be apologetic? No, she had allowed herself to feel that through the entirety of their relationship. She held her tongue to spare his feelings and lost her self confidence as a result.

Dear Guy,

I can't marry you. Have a good life.

Tara

She took the ring off of her finger and placed it next to the letter on the dining room table. She took a deep breath in, feeling a rush of determination in her before heading out the door.

-

As she filled up her car at the gas station, Tara frowned in thought about her next steps. She had saved up enough from her job in sales to last her two months but she needed to find somewhere to go and somewhere to stay.

She closed her eyes, cursing herself for letting her friendships by the wayside. She had been so involved with her relationship with Guy and she knew none of them liked him. She couldn't help but defend he's just nervous around other people until her excuses left her with less and less contact with her friends.

One day, it just stopped altogether.

She had met Guy the year after she graduated from college- one of the hardest years of her life. Most of her friends had moved away and she was working a job that she didn't love. She felt like she had been buying time working while she figured out what she loved and in her vulnerable state, Guy had been direct and charming and showered her with attention.

She didn't want to wallow in her own self pity, but as she heard the faint click of the gas nozzle, she realized she was out of time and needed a plan.

More than anything, she wanted to call her mom. Her mom had been hesitant about Guy, who was a little too much like her father, but she had supported Tara nonetheless. She listened to her when she had problems with Guy with an unbiased ear.

But her mother wasn't here anymore.

She heard the click of the nozzle and she bit her lip in contemplation. Taking a deep breath, she got back in her car and turned the key.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she heard the accordian of Piano Man came on. She and her mother had argued about the song. Tara had insisted that it was about people with unfilled lives and finding the bar to forget how unhappy they were.

Rachel Day had said that she believed that the men and women of the song were inspired by the piano man to find their dream. It was a sweet interpretation for a woman did not have the best circumstances in life.

"Mom, if you can hear me," Tara said out loud. "I'm trying to figure out what to do. I left Guy and I don't think I like myself that much right now. I know what you would say too. I will always love you the most. But you're not here and it's hard to figure out how to love myself like you did."

She took a deep breath and leaned back as the song finished. She squeezed the steering wheel in encouragement as she shifted gears in her car and paused as the next song's sounds filled the space of her car.

Listen baby, ain't no mountain high, ain't no valley low…

When her mother had been taken away from her, Tara wasn't sure what she believed in. Cancer had been a slow and painful death for her and she couldn't understand why it had to be her.

Despite this, she had always secretly hoped that her mother was watching out for her. She needed a sign now, more than ever and two of Rachel Day's favorite songs seemed as good as any.

-

However, by nightfall, her optimism ran out.

She had reasoned there wasn't any use stressing about it without sleep so she had found herself a cheap motel room a few cities over. Guy wasn't due to be home for another day or two, so she didn't need to worry about him trying to find her.

Although there is a chance he wouldn't think I was worth the effort, she thought wryly.

She sighed, plopping onto her bed, staring at the popcorn ceilings. A buzz interrupted her aimless thoughts and she glanced at her phone to see the name Soledad flashing across the scene.

Tara blinked at her phone. Soledad had been her best friend from college. They had roomed together freshman year and got along well enough to live with each other after that. Soledad had moved away when they graduated and Tara had found Guy and slowly the contact between them was a happy birthday post text between them once a year.

"Hello?"

"Tara? It's me, Soledad." Her friend said breathlessly on the phone. "Thomas proposed. We're engaged!"

"Oh, that's wonderful." She smiled at the excitement in her friend's voice. "You sound so happy, Sol."

"I know I haven't seen you or talked to you in forever." Soledad admitted, sounding regretful. "But you were my best friend and I think it would be nice to reconnect. Come to dinner with me and Thomas and bring Guy."

I left him. He was manipulative and I left him, Soledad. I don't know what I'm doing anymore.

"Oh, uh, he's out of town and won't be able to make it." She heard herself say instead. She winced at the lie but then cleared her throat. "I can come by though."

"Great. Friday night?"

"Yeah, I'll see you then." Tara hesitated for a moment, wondering why she was lying about her relationship and her situation. "Soledad…"

"Yeah?"

Tara took a big deep breath. "Umm. Just that I'm excited to see you and thank you for reaching out."

-

Soledad braided her hair in the mirror for the third time that night. She smiled as she caught a glimpse of the ring on her left finger. She couldn't say she was completely surprised- only because Thomas Mendez, as well spoken as he was, had been tongue tied when he met her.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Tara. She had arrived in town earlier that day and found a hotel to stay at. Soledad had offered to her to stay with her and Thomas in their second bedroom, but Tara had gotten quiet and politely declined.

On my way! Thanks for inviting me again.

The door opened behind her as her fiance walked in and she grinned, wrapping her arms around him and pressing a brief kiss to his lips.

"Mmm, you look nice." Thomas complimented as he took in the wrap dress she had donned. He took a step back to hang his jacket before giving her an appreciative glance over. His smile grew when his gaze landed on her engagement ring and he took her hand, pressing a brief kiss to it.

"I'm so glad you said yes." He murmured. "I can't wait to start the rest of my life with you."

"Well, the rest of your life starts with us having dinner with Tara."

"Of course. Let me get changed and I'll be down in a moment."

They arrived at the restaurant and Soledad waved to Tara who greeted her with a wave of her own.

"Hey, it's good to see you." Tara said as she gave Soledad a hug. She turned to Thomas, giving him a smile. "I'm Tara, nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Shall we go to the counter and order?"

She nodded and the three of them walked towards the counter of the restaurant. Thomas and Soledad were greeted by the waiters and waitresses that walked by- obviously regulars, as Tara looked up at the menu above the counter.

Taking in the list, she realized that Guy had a habit of ordering for her. He insisted that he knew what the best food on the menu was. It was a small, random realization that made her a little ill.

You have a choice now, Tara, she reminded herself.

She was so lost in thought she jumped and whirled around when Thomas placed a hand on her shoulder. He blinked, taking a step back as her heart rate slowed.

Great, he probably thinks you're an anxious mess and not happy to be here.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have surprised you." He apologized. "Let us buy you dinner since you came out to see us."

"Oh, thank you."

They stepped up to the counter and took their number to the table. Tara took a seat across Thomas and Soledad as they waited for their food.

"When was the last time you saw each other then?" Thomas asked. Tara and Soledad looked at each other as Tara racked her brain.

"Umm, it must have been what, two years ago?" Soledad mused. "I think I came to town for alumni weekend and I stayed with Tara for a few nights. Guy didn't like that I took up time with his girlfriend."

Tara winced and swallowed. "Yeah, he and I had been dating for a few months at that point and he didn't like that I ignored him for you."

"Well, time with friends is important." Soledad said. "I called him out on it and he apologized for overstepping and said that he would apologize to you too.

He never apologized to me, Tara realized bitterly.

-

Dinner was a little tense, Thomas noted. It started with Tara jumping when he placed a hand on her shoulder to get her attention. The deer in the headlights expression in combination with the look that she had when Soledad recounted the story gave him pause.

He didn't want to say anything at the table lest he scare her off, but some of the behavior patterns Tara showed were similar to the people who wanted to file restraining orders or the people who were in toxic relationships. They had that same jumpy twitch and looked almost as if they were ways ready to escape just in case.

"Tara," Thomas called her attention. "Soledad was telling me about when the two of you made a spontaneous trip to New York City."

Tara smiled and Thomas noted her relief at the change of topic. She recounted getting home from finals with a lot of pent up energy from studying and Soledad, always the impulsive one, decided they were going to go on a girl's trip.

Soledad and Tara fell into an easy rhythm, telling him about their trip to find Levain's bakery, going up to the top of the Empire State Building and their luck when the couple they passed by on Broadway offered them their extra tickets to The Lion King that their friends could not make it to.

"I haven't done anything like that for a while." Tara smiled. "Sol was always the one who came up with these ideas. She had the drive to put all of these dreams into place."

"Yeah, but you were the ones to come up with the details." Soledad argued as she looked at Thomas. "I got lucky and my fiance is the one who does that for me now. Not as well as you, Tar, but it'll do."

"Haha," Thomas said sarcastically as he took her left hand. "You agreed to marry me so I'm doing something right."

Their food came and they fell into a more comfortable rhythm, talking about where Tara was staying and what she could do while she was in town. Thomas couldn't help but notice that whenever Guy's name was brought up, Tara's hands would go to tug at the charm of her necklace and catalogued it as something he needed to ask Soledad about.

"Tara was really sweet. You two seem to get along as well as you used to." Thomas mentioned as they got into their car later.

"It was nice to see her. I forgot about how well we got along."

He nodded, still thinking about Tara's reactions earlier in the night. "Sol, what do you know about Guy?"

"Umm, not much besides that one story. They started dating after I moved out here. I know they got engaged not long ago."

Thomas looked at her, brow furrowed in concentration.

"I don't remember her wearing an engagement ring, do you?"

"Always in lawyer mode, aren't you?" Soledad took her fiance's hand and gave it a kiss. She frowned, thinking back to the restaurant. "No, I don't suppose I do. What are you saying?"

"That look that she had whenever we mentioned Guy's name… she would reach for her necklace and tug on it. Sol, I don't want to make assumptions without evidence but I think Guy was abusive in some way to her."

A pit dropped into her stomach as she closed her eyes, thinking about Tara again.

Had we really lost that much touch?

"If you're right," she finally murmured. "And I didn't catch that…"

"You didn't know, Sol. What matters is that we're here for her now." He said gently. "Do you want to go find her?"

-

They found the hotel Tara had mentioned and Soledad frowned as they arrived in the parking lot.

Thomas volunteered to stay with the car to let her talk to Tara herself. Soledad pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before getting the number for Tara's room from the front desk. She made her way to Tara's room and knocked on the door.

Please Tara, open the door, Soledad thought in earnest.

Silence greeted her knocks and she bit her lip. Her mother's voice echoed in her head as she raised her hand to knock again.

Sometimes, there are people who need help and are afraid to ask for it. You need to be patient and not as spontaneous, my love.

But she and Tara had gone almost two years without really speaking. They had gotten caught up in their own lives and forgotten each other.

She closed her eyes and thought of what Thomas had said before she went to find Tara.

Whether or not my suspicion is correct, you're the one who knows her. Go to her as her friend, not someone who wants to help her.

She stared at the number 213 on the door and knocked again. This time, she heard footsteps on the ground as the latch of the door opened.

Her friend opened the door apprehensively, visibly relaxing at the sight of Soledad.

She thought I was Guy, Soledad bit her lip. She swore at him in his head, realizing how spot on Thomas might have been.

"I, uh, wanted to make sure we got to see each other before we go." She said quickly. Tara tilted her head in confusion.

"You could have texted me, silly." She teased softly.

"Oh, uh, yeah."

There was a silence and Soledad wracked her head for ways to broach the subject.

"Can I come in?" She finally asked, deciding to be direct. Tara nodded and let her in.

Soledad stepped in, pacing back and forth. She thought about how to approach Thomas' suspicions, when she glanced at Tara's left hand and realized there was no ring on it.

"I haven't seen your ring yet." She said carefully, watching for her friend's reaction. Tara froze and blinked a couple of times.

"I, uh, it's getting resized." She mumbled back as she looked at the ground.

In that moment, Soledad realized that she was lying. No matter how long they had gone without speaking to each other, she knew that Tara always looked away when she lied.

"Tara, I knew you better than anyone else. So please, tell me what's going on."

Her friend stiffened and Soledad reached for her hand. Tara took a spot next to her on the bed and Soledad made the decision to wrap her arms around her. She seemed surprised by initial contact but relaxed into the embrace.

"Umm, Guy and I… I left him while he was gone. He wasn't nice to me and I didn't know how to tell people because I know they all saw it before me." Tara muttered. "I- I don't know what I'm doing, Soledad. I just needed to get away."

Soledad tightened her embrace around her friend as sobs began to wrack her body.

"When you came to see us that one time, you said he apologized to you and would apologize to me." She continued through her tears. "He never did. Soledad, I feel so stupid for letting him manipulate me."

That son of a-

"I'm sorry I didn't know you were hurting. Thomas noticed how anxious you were at dinner." Soledad murmured. "I should have noticed first."

Tara shook her head quickly. "No, we had dinner to celebrate you and Thomas. He seems like a really good man, Sol. And he seems to really love you."

"He makes me really happy."

"Good. That's what you deserve."

So do you, Tara.

Soledad pulled back and examined her friend's face. The girl she had known in college was much more lighthearted. Tara now- Soledad hated the word broken because her friend didn't need to be fixed. She was going through a rough patch with leaving her relationship, the death of her mother and needing to start over.

Tara Day just needed a break.

In that moment, Soledad made her decision.

"Stay with us, Tara."

-

Tags: @heauxplesslydevoted @hatescapsicum @cora-nova @princess-geek @flyawayboo

#Mother of the Year #MOTY #playchoices #Thomas Mendez #missywrites #Thomas x MC

[tabithalovesstuff]

Witchcraft Asks #1-105

I hardly ever get asks so I'm going to do this all at once, I'll also repub the original after this too, tag you're it!

1. Are you solitary or in a coven? Solitary

2. Do you consider yourself Wiccan, Pagan, witch, or other? Witch, I kind of consider myself pagan too but not as much since I don't consider my practice a religion

3. What is your zodiac sign? Libra sun sign, Sagittarius moon, Virgo Rising

4. Do you have a Patron God/dess? Nope, I don't really believe in any of the Gods lol

5. Do you work with a Pantheon? Nope

6. Do you use tarot, palmistry, or 
any other kind of divination? Tarot, and I want to get into pendulum too but I've been too broke to buy one

7. What are some of your favorite herbs to use in your practice? (if any) I don't practice with herbs 🤭 mostly cause they are hard for me to get lol

8. How would you define your craft? I generalize it by saying I'm a Eclectic Secular Witch that specializes in energy work and tarot

9. Do you curse? If not, do you accept others who do? I don't really do curses, how ever that is because I haven't had the need to do one, I think its fine to do them as long as you know what you are doing

10. How long have you been practicing? Technically I started in Middle school, but I've only truly started to get into it and truly practice for the last 2 years (but if you count when I started then 8 years)

11. Do you currently or have you ever had any familiars? I do not, i have pets they just aren't attracted to magic enough to be a familiar lol

12. Do you believe in Karma or Reincarnation? Yes to both

13. Do you have a magical name? No I don't, I feel like my real name is enough

14. Are you “out of the broom closet”? Technically, I don't try to hide it but I don't talk about it a lot so not a lot of people know I'm a witch.

15. What was the last spell you performed? I know some witches don't count these but I did an emoji spell for the coronavirus

16. Would you consider yourself knowledgeable? More or less, I feel like I'm decently knowledgeable but not enough to be a teacher or leader

17. Do you write your own spells? Yes I do

18. Do you have a book of shadows? If so, how is it written and/or set up? I do have one, its a very personal one that includes more than just magic almost like a journal. I write down information I want to be able to look back at as well as any spells and rituals I write myself and tarot readings for myself, and sometimes dreams.

19. Do you worship nature? I do

20. What is your favorite gemstone? Opal

21. Do you use feathers, claws, fur, pelt, skeletons/bones, or any other animal body part for magical work? No I don't, I wouldn't be against it though

22. Do you have an altar? Yes, kind of. Its really messy rn and doesn't really look like an altar

23. What is your preferred element? Either Earth or Air, I'm always stuck between those two

24. Do you consider yourself an Alchemist? Not at all lol I've never made any sort of potion

25. Are you any other type of magical practitioner besides a witch? Nope, though I do have an interest in cryptozoology but I don't know if that counts

26. What got you interested in witchcraft? Tbh I wanted to turn myself into a mermaid or a wolf (which is why I started in middle school lmao)

27. Have you ever performed a spell or ritual with the company of anyone who was not a witch? No I haven't, just cause I focus so much on energy work, sometime I find other people's energy distracting

28. Have you ever used ouija? Yep, nothing really happened though

29. Do you consider yourself a psychic? Not really, maybe to a certain extent.

30. Do you have a spirit guide? If so, what is it? I feel like a Deer is my spirit guide

31. What is something you wish someone had told you when you first started? I need to lower my expectations and I need to focus on feeling the magic over going through the motions

32. Do you celebrate the Sabbats? If so which one is your favorite? I try to! Doesn't always work out for me lol, I really like both Litha and Samhain

33. Would you ever teach witchcraft to your children? Yes I plan too

34. Do you meditate? Yes, but not as often as I should

35. What is your favorite season? Winter, I feel like all seasons have their perks though and living somewhere with one season would suck ass

36. What is your favorite type of magick to preform? Energy magic, as a witch that doesn't have good access to supplies (and space) it is the easiest for me (I have a post all about energy magic on my profile too)

37. How do you incorporate your spirituality into your daily life? Energy magic makes it really easy, like brushing my teeth or hair, taking a shower, even making food can all have a magical element to it

38. What is your favorite witchy movie? Honestly? Casper Meets Wendy lol, or the Halloweentown movies, or the Twitches movie

39. What is your favorite witchy book, both fiction and non-fiction. Why? I haven't really read very many witchy books ngl

40. What is the first spell you ever preformed? Successful or not. Again, this was back in middle school, I did a spell on the full moon to turn into a werewolf. Obviously not successful

41. What’s the craziest witchcraft-related thing that’s happened to you? I did a cleansing spell on my dorm room my freshman year of college once a week cause I had a toxic ass roommate and she requested a room change before the end of the semester because of a "bad smell" that no one else could smell but her.

42. What is your favourite type of candle to use? I don't use candles, because I'm not allowed to have them in my school dorms, I want to get into candles more though

43. What is your favorite witchy tool? My tarot cards lol

44. Do you or have you ever made your own witchy tools? Nope, I want to though

45. Have you ever worked with any magical creatures such as the fea or spirits? Not really, I dabble in it here and there though. I would love to work with the fae more though

46. Do you practice color magic? Yes, all the time

47. Do you or have you ever had a witchy teacher or mentor of any kind? Nope

48. What is your preferred way of shopping for witchcraft supplies? Online, I mostly use stuff I find around my house or on the ground outside though

49. Do you believe in predestination or fate? Not fully, I think every person is born with a long list of possible fates and the paths you choose in life determines where you end up

50. What do you do to reconnect when you are feeling out of touch with your practice? I try to do free tarot reading on here or meditate more, sometimes looking through my book of shadows helps too

51. Have you ever had any supernatural experiences? Yeah I've had a few

52. What is your biggest witchy pet peeve? When people try to say there is a certain way you have to practice and some forms of witchcraft "aren't real witchcraft" just cause they don't practice in that way

53. Do you like incense? If so what’s your favorite scent? I do, I don't really have a favorite, I like trying a bunch of different kinds at once

54. Do you keep a dream journal of any kind? I kind of write my dreams down in my book of shadows, I don't keep up with it very well though

55. What has been your biggest witchcraft disaster? I can't say if I've ever really had one. I did a job spell and even though I got an interview I didn't get the job, and then was unemployed for a few months until after college semester, then I got hired at my old job. In the spell I said I wanted to be hired somewhere that was as good as my old job so my spell brought me right back to it

56. What has been your biggest witchcraft success? The cleansing ritual story I mentioned above. Once that roommate was out of my life I was so much happier lol.

57. What in your practice do you do that you may feel silly or embarrassed about? Speaking incantations, sometimes I feel like I'm talking to myself lol

58. Do you believe that you can be an atheist, Christian, Muslim or some other faith and still be a witch too? Yes I do, especially because I am an atheist

59. Do you ever feel insecure, unsure or even scared of spell work? Not scared, but definitely unsure and insecure. Spell work is tricky, especially writing my own spells, I feel like I'm not doing them well enough

60. Do you ever hold yourself to a standard in your witchcraft that you feel you may never obtain? Yeah sometimes, I get so bad about actually practicing and I want to get to the point where I practice every day and I always celebrate the Sabbaths and have a wide variety of crystals and learn astrology and so much more

61. What is something witch related that you want right now? I still need to do the money spell I wrote awhile ago, but it has to do with enchanting work uniform and I'm kinda unemployed rn

62. What is your rune of choice? I don't have any experience with runes, sorry lol

63. What is your tarot card of choice? The Star

64. Do you use essential oils? If so what is your favorite? No I dont

65. Have you ever taken any kind of witchcraft or pagan courses? Nope

66. Do you wear pagan jewelry in public? I would if I had any, but I don't lol

67. Have you ever been discriminated against because of your faith or being a witch? Not really, but that's because not a lot of people know about it, I definitely feel like the people that do know don't take it seriously

68. Do you read or subscribe to any pagan magazines? Nope

69. Do you think it’s important to know the history of paganism and witchcraft? I don't think it is. I suggest it definitely but it isn't required. Its a lot if history to break down and you don't need to know the history to practice

70. What are your favorite things about being a witch? I like the feeling of all the things in the world around me, which I feel like you only get from the training you go through when learning witchcraft. I also enjoy the ability to cleanse my environment and myself

71. What are your least favorite things about being a witch? No one really takes you or your craft seriously, and because of some people taking parts of the craft, I feel like being a witch is almost seen as some joke

72. Do you listen to any pagan music? If so who is your favorite singer/band? No I don't, unless you count instrumentals that raise your vibration

73. Do you celebrate the Esbbats? If so, how? I honestly am not sure if I do or not, I don't think I've heard any of the holidays I celebrate called that? I celebrate the pagan wheel of the year holidays so if those are apart of that then yes 😂

74. Do you ever work skyclad? I do sometimes

75. Do you think witchcraft has improved your life? If so, how? Very much so, even though I still struggle with depression and anxiety, witchcraft has made it so much better than it use to be and I feel like I'm happier since I started practicing, my view of life has become more wholesome

76. Where do you draw inspiration from for your practice? Nature mostly

77. Do you believe in ‘fantasy’ creatures? (Unicorns, fairies, elves, gnomes, ghosts, etc) honestly yeah I do, for sure

78. What’s your favorite sigil/symbol? Don't have one

79. Do you use blood magick in your practice? Why or why not? I would, but I haven't in anything so far but that's just cause I haven't felt like a spell needed blood magic

80. Could you ever be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t support your practice? No I couldn't be, I don't want to hide parts of myself from someone that should know me better than anyone else

81. In what area or subject would you most like your craft to grow? I want to explore astrology more and include that more. I also want to do more spell work and ritual work

82. What’s your favorite candle scent? Do you use it in your practice? Again I don't use candles, I do have a air scenter from Bath and Body works and I had a Pumpkin Spice Cupcake scent that was soooo good

83. Do you have a pre-ritual ritual? (I.e. Something you do before rituals to prepare yourself for them). If so what is it? I don't, but that's because I don't really do rituals, I want to get more into them though

84. What real life witch most inspires your practice? I don't know any real life witches tbh

85. What is your favorite method of communicating with deity? I don't work with them so...

86. How do you like to organize all your witchy items and ingredients? I keep them all on the shelf below my altar, my organization skills lack a lot though

87. Do you have any witches in your family that you know of? Not that I know of, my family does come from Ireland though (within the last 3 generations too) so it could be possible

88. How have you created your path? What is unique about it? I created my path through growing up and becoming more aware of my surroundings, and as I matured I understand more and more what witchcraft is really about. And I did it all on my own which is what I think is unique about it

89. Do you feel you have any natural gifts or affinities (premonitions, hearing spirits, etc.) that led you toward the craft? If so what are they? I feel like I am clairvoyant to a certain degree, and I've always had above average visualization skills

90. Do you believe you can initiate yourself or do you have to be initiated by another witch or coven? I feel like you can initiate yourself

91. When you first started out in your path what was the first thing or things you bought? Nothing because I was a child with no money lol

92. What is the most spiritual or magickal place you’ve been? I live in Colorado when I'm not away at school and the entirety of the mountains are pretty magical

93. What’s one piece of advice you’d give someone who is searching for their matron and patron deities? I am definitely not the person for this question lol

94. What techniques do you use to ‘get in the zone’ for meditation? I like to sometimes put on gentle music or nature sounds, quiet every thought that comes into my head

95. Did visualization come easily to you or did you have to practice at it? It came really easily for me, I think its cause I use to read SOOOO much as a kid

96. Do you prefer day or night? Why? Night, idk why I just feel more at peace at Night

97. What do you think is the best time and place to do spell work? This depends on what the spell is, but generally sometime in the evening in my room is the best 😂

98. How did you feel when you cast your first circle? Did you stumble or did it go smoothly? I definitely stumble, I still struggle with casting circles

99. Do you believe witchcraft gets easier with time and practice? I think it does, at least I feel like it comes more naturally with time and practice

100. Do you believe in many gods or one God with many faces? None of the above

101. Do you eat meat, eggs and dairy? Yeah I do, all the time

102. What is your favorite color and why? Green, I've just always loved green since I was a kid idk why

103. What is the one question you get asked most by non-practitioners or non-pagans? How do you usually respond? "What do witches even do?" I usually just say its complicated, because it is complicated lol

104. Which of your five senses would you say is your strongest? I want to say my hearing but I feel like my taste is pretty good too

105. What is a pagan or witchcraft rule that you preach but don’t practice? Always cast a circle and ground yourself before a spell. I am really bad at it lol

#pagan witch #witches sabbat #witch #witches #witchcraft #witchythings #baby witch #witches of tumblr #paganism #pagan holidays #pagan #pagan wicca #pagancommunity #pagan altar #altar #spellwork #spells

[forallyourikemensengokuneeds]

Something every person should read.

Tonight was one of those waking moments when my daughter came to me to go over a moment she was writing about for her English class. They read a book I do not know the author, but the name of it was “Stranger in the Village.” All I could think about when she told me was the weird coincidence that I was writing a story titled the Village. Weird, I know, but this is my life.

She went on to explain the paper was a time when they, the students, felt like they were a stranger in the village. I thought how apt. She is the oldest child of a military family. She more than the others moved around, had to start new schools, had to deal with being a stranger in a new place many times. She chose to go a different route. She went to the fact she is a taxidermist. How the online people went after her for being one. How she had to deal with the masks of people calling her horrid names and even calling her a serial killer to be. This was a difficult time for her, but I do have to say she handled it with a grace that I am glad I inspired. I told her that it was a good paper and that she should be happy with it. It did meet the requirements that her teacher asked for.

I told her after she explained to me why she chose to do that instead of the cliché moments of being that military brat I, of course, laughed and said I was surprised she didn’t chose her freshmen year and the events that unfolded near the end. She looked at me and said I didn’t even think of that. She and I talked about those few months we lived in terror, and she went off to write a second essay, which included the series of events that made her an outsider in a place she should feel safe.

As we discussed the events, one thing kept coming up. The fact she didn’t want to tell me what was going on. She repeated it over and over again. The reason she didn’t want to tell me was she thought she did something wrong. It was somehow her fault any of this happened.

She went upstairs of course with the knowledge that she didn’t do anything wrong, that it wasn’t her fault, but even knowing it, it took a few years for it to finally sink in.

This is personal, and I do have permission from my daughter to share this. It has to be addressed, and I know I have many younger followers, so this needs to be said. Any of my followers should read this. It does have some touchy subjects, but here is the thing, if you don’t read this, if you don’t hear this, it will always be something that haunts you.

 *Names changed*

Alex came home from school and didn’t want to leave my side. I had a few errands to run, and they usually came with me but that day was weird. They were almost clinging. Alex never clung. It was a joke between us that she never wanted to hold my hand since she had become a teenager. I never expected her too, she was after all fourteen going on thirty. For all the differences we had we were close. Alex wanted to speak, I could see, but like me she could not be pushed. She had this tell that warned me that something big was going to be dropped on me at some point in the next few hours. Something that she thought was huge in her fourteen-year-old mind but was probably not a big deal. She had a boyfriend. She had a girlfriend, she was failing a class. These were the things that ran through my head. I was not prepared in the least for the words that came out of her mouth.

“Mom, Hypothetically…..” Alex began, and I stopped her about halfway and asked if her friend that hypothetically was really her. I told her it was more important that I had the details from the start so I could help with whatever was bothering her.

“Yes. Mom. I am scared.” She said. That was my first warning. This was not going to be a typical nor a straightforward teenage problem. The words started pouring from her mouth as we sat outside and I simply listened as I tried to piece together from the ramblings of a teenager that did focus on all the wrong things. A boy in her school, another freshman, was stalking her. She had turned down his advances repeatedly and politely, but he could not accept the words for what they were. That by itself was bad enough, but then she started to go into more detail, and things started coming up that she was glossing over. I would ask questions and pry more information out of her which lead to more questions. After hours of talking I sent her to bed. She was tired and the weeks of worry that she had dealt with this on her shoulders alone had taken their toll. Now it was on my shoulders.

The reality was my firstborn, my headstrong look-alike daughter, had stumbled headfirst into a nightmare. Now it was my nightmare as well. As a parent you are somewhat prepared to deal with bumps and bruises, cuts and scapes, broken hearts, bad grades, and a whole host of other things but never this. I sat on the front steps of my house, smoking a cigarette trying to figure out what my next step was. How was I going to fix this for her? There was no answer. I had nothing. I was now scared in a way I did not know could happen. My daughter was a target of not only a stalker but a highly delusional boy who was making death threats toward her and the school. It was not just about my kid anymore but hundreds of kids.

She had told me she had proof, but somehow I neglected to ask her for it. So I walked up to her room to find her next closest sister, putting a blanket over her as she was asleep. Her sister then told me she hadn’t been sleeping and she was glad that her sister had finally told me and she now could. I left her and went back downstairs comforted that she had told me, and she could now sleep, knowing full well I wasn’t getting any that night. Instead I made a phone call. One of my good friends was the one person in the world who could help me, and he dropped everything and raced over to my house, and we sat outside and discussed every possibility and what I had to do. Fifteen years as a cop and a child task force officer he was now a lawyer and my personal advisor on all things in the legal system. He was a blessing.

The next day I asked her to send me every screenshot, every conversation, every detail she could gather to me. As the day unfolded and the more I read, the more I knew what I had to do. By the last screenshot that was forwarded to her by a friend I was already on the phone with the school and the police in that town. After dealing with that for a few hours I waited until she got off the bus and had printed out the screenshots and we went to the police in our town. It seemed there was a disagreement on whose jurisdiction it really was though it was clear there was something very wrong. The school was also notified by me in both an email and a very long phone call from the principle and the vice principal. Two people I will be forever grateful for in the next coming weeks.

Now we had two soon to be three police districts involved, the school was actively involved, and at this point, only one police officer had seen the proof. He was also a godsend. He questioned her for over an hour, realizing this was not a he-said-she-said thing, and he began the report. He also made it so she could get a restraining order in the morning. I already had the paperwork because of my friend, who was waiting for me to say the word. I called him, and within the hour, he had a closed chamber meeting, and she was granted a special order of protection.  

Everyone saw the same thing I did. Sandy Hook happened a few years before that only thirty miles away. The idea of another tragedy like that was simply too much when there was this much evidence at hand and a mother who would fight this hard to get people to listen. The school’s part was the most critical and I was hoping that they would take it seriously. I know had the backing of a few other friends behind me who were telling me everything would be fine. Everything was going to fine. I knew everything was not going to be fine. This was my kid. My demon child. It was words people could say, but nothing can express the fear I had those days. My husband was more laid back about it. He is always laid back out things like this. It is his military training. Don’t panic. Don’t react. I had the same training. That flew out the door when I hear that my baby has a bulls-eye on her back.

The next day was nothing short of walking into hell. Alex, upon arriving at school was whisked away into the office to hand over the proof. She was then locked away in a closet while the administration had the police there, members of the school board, and her. They kept the boy micheal**Not real name** away from her. He gave his statement, and whatever he said was determined not to be the truth. His parents refused to come and get him and refused for him to be questioned by the police further.

The school then came up with a detailed plan to keep Alex safe while in the school. This was nothing short of a miracle in itself. They had a guard with her at all times for the next three weeks. She was given a map of the school with all the “Hidden” rooms students aren’t supposed to know about. They were her safe places. Micheal was suspended for the rest of the school year after a week of looking further into him, due to active threats made to the school. He was taken out yelling they all would pay.

We had the schools backing. We had the help of the PD, we had the PO, but we still lived in fear for a while. It wasn’t until after the school year ended, and that principle retired that I found out more when he called to tell me so I would be aware. Michael had been expelled from the school, but they had to wait till after the school year to do it for some reason from the school board. The police had been called in after a few days after the major breakthrough again because of threats being made online towards the school. This was his second offense for doing this, and they got a search warrant. What was found when they searched his house still send chills down my spine.

They found fourteen handguns in his room. They also found pictures of her plastered on his wall with his blood dripping down the pictures. He had taken her eyes out of most of them, and they found those next to his bed. He had an article that had been written about her for a local newspaper the year before and it had not only our address but also pictures of her sisters and brother under it. He had a notebook. It was not a manifesto it was a record of his stalking and everything about her.

EVERYTHING. Her shirt size, she dress size, her pant size, her ring size, her friends, her classes, her likes, her dislikes, my name, her fathers name, her siblings names, her birthdate, her classes, and the most disturbing thing, her period cycle “So he could make sure to get her at the right time.”

It also had the routes drawn out to her classes, when she would go, who she talked too. The days she had not spoken to him was tallied. This was all the proof they need to charge him with stalking, threats to a school, plans of discharging a weapon in a school, and the arranging online for the kidnapping and torture of a minor.

He is locked up in a juvenile facility. One that is supposed to focus on mental health as well. We are okay with that. She walked away alive, and though she has her moment, she is mostly normal though she can’t be in crowds for long. she is also hyper-aware of who is around her, and she will not go out of her way to make friends.

The point is she somehow thought this, all of this was her fault. It is not. It never was. If you or someone you know is going something even remotely like this IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT or THEIRS. Do not try to go through this alone. Find someone, anyone to tell. A teacher, a friend, your parents, a friends parents, hell me just tell someone.

That day we went to the police, the school, and everything else we did probably prevented a school shooting. He was prepared. He had a plan. He was doing everything step by step. He was only two steps away from his ultimate goal. Two steps. She prevented a school shooting. She had to live it. No one at the school knew the full extent of what was going on. No one knew what she had done for them. To this day, a lot of those kids are alive because she had the realization to tell me this was going on. She is really my hero.

Don’t be afraid. Say something.

#stalking #possibly school shooting #real life #this happened #everyone should read this #it is not your fault