#the au is so fucking sad but um (gestures)

[barawrah]

modern au 💜 commission for @neurodivernon

#hes taking over my brain . i cannot stop thinking about him #modern au jc u are the world #the au is so fucking sad but um (gestures) #boy gets fucked over in every universe....one day he will be so so happy but for now #he holds his nephew and weeps #and so on . u know #anyway . purple hair three colour eyes jc i am speaking your happiness into the universe sooner than later #itll be ok babygirl #sorry i keep taking canon events and making ur modern version go through them i just think your sopping wet cat energy is glorious #art tag #mdzs #jiang cheng #commission

[moni-logues]

Kintsugi 11

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, tiny bit of eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 5.7k

Content: literally nothing to warn for; this is pretty much just one extremely fucking long scene lmao

A/N: thanks to @quarter-life-crisis2 for beta-ing and letting this therapy-less bitch know what a therapist does (not) say 😂😂

Chapter Ten | Masterlist | Chapter Twelve

Chapter Eleven - The mountain 

It had been your therapist’s idea and you had been so surprised that you had agreed to it without protest. Which is why you were now standing outside his building, working up the courage to press the buzzer. You knew the codes, of course, but it didn’t feel appropriate to let yourself in like this was casual, everyday. So you stood, flexing your fingers, counting down from three, and then doing it again, and then once more, promising yourself you really were going to hit the buzzer this time. 

“Hello?” 

His voice, even fuzzy and cracked through the speaker, hit you like a bolt. 

“Um, hi. It’s me,” you answered, and then you corrected yourself and gave your name; it had been a long time since you had just been ‘me’. “Um, I... I wanted to talk, if that’s ok?” 

There was a long pause and you physically bit your tongue to stop yourself filling it, stop yourself talking unnecessarily, letting your nerves get the better of you. 

“Yeah, it’s ok,” came the eventual reply and you heard the buzz of the door, allowing you in.  

* 

You had to pause at his front door, too. You knew you couldn’t take long over this because he was expecting you now but you needed to steel yourself a little; you weren’t sure what you would be greeted with. The fact that he had said yes and let you in was a good sign, but it had been such a long time and there was so much between you... 

You raised a hand and knocked. The door swung open.  

“Hi, San,” you said meekly.  

“Hey, you.” 

His hair was darker now – it was always darker after winter – and longer than it had been, swooping back and over his left eye. You’d managed to forget just how handsome he was. He smiled at you and it was timid, it was cute, it was a little unsure and you remembered that you were the one who came here and asked to talk, but now you were just standing on his doorstep, staring at him.  

“I hope it’s ok for me to just show up like this.” 

“It’s ok. Are you ok? Are you hurt? Or in... trouble?” 

You shook your head. 

“Ok, good.” 

Then he stood back and gestured for you to come in. Walking into your old apartment was like walking into a dream—somewhere that you should have known, but didn’t, somewhere that should have been familiar but wasn’t. It was uncanny, almost, that things looked so much the same but felt so different. The layout and furniture was every bit as you had left it, but it wasn’t home anymore; it didn’t feel like yours. It wasn’t yours. You felt suddenly so glad that you had been the one to move out; you didn’t know if you’d have been able to cope with living alone in the place you had lived together, seeing the spaces that you both used to occupy. A wave of sadness rolled over you, sadness for San, who did stay, who was there alone. 

“Is it weird if I ask for a hug?” you whispered, your voice already choked with emotion. You didn’t know how you were going to get through this conversation if you were already close to tears. 

You saw San hesitate, his eyes flicking away quickly and then back to you. He nodded and opened his arms. Tears stung in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him, having forgotten this: how warm he was, how his arms felt when they came around you, how he smelt, how your face tucked into his neck just so. It was a rush of comfort so strong it almost made you sob. 

“Are you sure you’re ok?” he asked, not letting you go. 

“I’m ok,” you confirmed, your voice wobbling. “Just a bit longer, please.” 

“Ok.” 

He held you a little tighter and tucked his head against yours in the way he always used to and you hiccupped, stifling the cry as best you could while your tears spilt, running down your cheeks and wetting San’s neck. You pulled back so you could wipe your eyes with your sleeve. 

“Sorry. I’m not here to make it weird or try to get back together or anything,” you said, unable to look at him as you cried, feeling embarrassed and awkward and like there was no possible right thing to say. You tried to laugh the tears away but it came out more like a stuttering gasp. “I think I just forgot how much I missed you and there’s-… there’s other stuff—there's stuff I want to talk to you about but it’s been so long and being in this apartment again and you, and-” you scrubbed roughly at your face “- it’s a lot more than I was expecting.” 

San did as he ever did: he told you it was ok and he pulled you back into his arms; he rubbed your back and he waited for you to stop crying.  

“Sorry,” you repeated with a shuddering inhale as you stepped back from him a second time. “Sorry, I really didn’t come here to cry.” 

“It’s ok; you always cry,” he replied with a shrug and a tentative grin.  

You punched the air just in front of his arm and pouted. 

“I don’t always cry.” 

“You can’t lie to me; I know you.”  

If your face hadn’t already been hot and blotchy from the crying, it would’ve been reddening from embarrassment. He did know you; you did, alas, always cry. You had forgotten what it felt like to be seen by anyone who wasn’t Yoongi or Taehyung. 

“Do you want something to drink?” San asked. 

“Tea?” 

He moved into the kitchen and you followed behind him, watching as he moved about the space in the same way he always did. It was a little like déjà vu; it was also a little like it was your first time there. There was something so familiar and so unfamiliar about it all, something just not quite right; like a doppelgängland or a dreamscape or... or like being in your ex-apartment with your ex-boyfriend whom you’ve not spoken to in a year. 

“I’m sorry for just showing up like this. I didn’t really know I was going to come; I kind of just grabbed the impulse.” 

He turned to look at you as the kettle boiled, his face calm but watchful. 

“Like I keep saying, it’s ok. And I know I’ve asked and you’ve told me you are but, really, are you ok? … We haven’t exactly kept in touch so I feel like it would have to be something big to bring you here.” 

You shrugged.  

“I am ok, I promise. I... My therapist said I should come.” 

He seemed surprised but took it in stride. 

“Is it still Nina you’re seeing?” 

“Yeah.” 

He nodded. The kettle clicked off and he turned his attention back to the tea. You waited in the silence, rehearsing the things you had talked about with Nina, rehashing the ever-changing list of things you’d been wanting to ask him and talk to him about, since he broke up with you. 

“Ok,” he said when the tea was made. “Is this going to be a chocolate conversation, or do we need ice-cream? I have both.” 

“Chocolate will be fine.” 

You couldn’t suppress your smile. You had been afraid he wouldn’t want to speak to you, or that he would let you in but he would be angry, dismissive, uninterested. You hadn’t expected him to be... him. To be the San that you remembered, that you had loved so much. Part of you felt like it should hurt, that he was the same man who broke your heart, who remembered all your habits and routines, who still knew the name of your therapist, who teased you affectionately about how much you cried, that he was still here and no longer yours. But it didn’t hurt. It soothed. You were reminded of every good thing about him, everything you loved and everything that made you happy; you remembered the comfort and security of being with him. You felt reassured by it: he was still the man you had known which meant he was still kind, still sweet, still safe. It made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could do this. 

You moved to the sofa and San broke the chocolate bar into pieces, laying it out on the coffee table. You took a piece to delay the moment you had to start talking.  

“So,” he began, “what can I do for you?” 

“I actually don’t really know where to start.” 

“Anywhere is fine.” 

You took another piece of chocolate. It suddenly felt insensitive to be here and tell him that you had met someone else but that was really what it was all about. That is why you were there. 

You went around in circles with everyone (well, Taehyung and Nina, the only people you spoke to about it); you wanted to move forward with Yoongi but you couldn’t. You wanted to see if there really was something between you but your brain was screaming at you that you shouldn’t because, even if he felt the same now, he wouldn’t for very long. It would all go wrong. He would get sick of you. You knew that. How did you know that?  

Because that’s what happened with San. He had been with you for years; you lived together; you had a life together; and none of that was enough to stop him leaving you. You and Yoongi didn’t have that much yet. Yoongi didn’t even know you in the before times. There was simply no way that you could sustain a relationship, that anyone could sustain a relationship with you. It couldn’t be done.  

That was your argument. Nina and Taehyung saw things slightly differently but you didn’t want to hear it because they didn’t really know. The only people who knew what happened in your relationship were you and San because it was your relationship.  

Nina told you it sounded like you needed closure. As if you didn’t know that already. Didn’t everyone? Needing it wasn’t the issue; getting it was. So there you were. 

You cleared your throat and took a sip of the still too hot tea. 

“There is... someone... Someone that I... Someone I want to be with... Is that weird? Sorry, I don’t know if- I-. God, sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have come.”  

It hit you as you said it out loud. Maybe you shouldn’t have. You were coming for yourself, to fix something for yourself, not for him, not even for the both of you. You were letting your anxieties make you selfish. You had just shown up, out of the blue, no warning, to tell your ex-boyfriend that you’ve met someone else, to make him carry out an autopsy on your long dead relationship. He didn’t need this; he didn’t ask for this.  

San smiled. 

“It’s ok. It’s all a bit... weird, yeah, but I’m... I’m kind of glad you’re here actually. I’ve missed you.” 

“You... have?” 

He frowned, his head tipping to the side. 

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I have?” 

“Well, I just... B-” 

“Because I broke up with you?” 

You shrugged, feeling too shame-faced to say it out loud even though, yes, that’s exactly what you had been thinking. San sighed. 

“You know I care about you, right? I know it was my decision; I was the one who did the breaking up but I loved you. Obviously I missed you. And I still care. I want you to be healthy and happy and all the rest... And I would’ve understood if I never saw you again or you didn’t ever want to speak to me but... it took a lot of getting used to not having you around, not having you to speak to.” 

That was an understatement if ever you’d heard one. You hummed. 

“Did you not miss me?” he asked and you checked his face to make sure he was joking because he had to be. 

You lifted your leg in a gesture of kicking without actually making physical contact. 

“Hey, you’re not allowed to tease me about that; you broke my heart. Of course I missed you.” 

His smile fell. 

“I’m sorry, you’re right. And I am sorry fo- well, I'm not sorry for breaking up because I still think it was the right thing to do but I am sorry I hurt you. That... It wasn’t what I wanted; there was just no other way.” 

You shrugged. 

“It’s fine,” you said and you really did mean it. “I mean, I get it; I would have broken up with me too.” 

San frowned, then tilted his head to the side again, confusion plain on his face. 

“What?” 

“What? I just mean, yeah, like, if I had been you, I’d have broken up with me, too.” 

San took a minute, chewing over what you had said, taking a piece of chocolate and chewing over that, too. Then he turned and looked at you seriously. 

“Why do you think I broke up with you?” 

And there it was: one of the very things you had come here to talk about, to ask him, to make sure of. This was what you were here for but, now, you weren’t sure you could bring yourself to say it. It had been easier saying it to Nina, acting it out, rehearsing your words. The real thing was different.  

“Because... I was... I was a burden to you. I wasn’t a good girlfriend; I wasn’t fun. I didn’t make you happy.” 

Then you shoved two pieces of chocolate in your mouth to stop you saying anything more.  

San sat back against the sofa and sighed, looking towards the ceiling for guidance.  

“All this time,” he said, turning his face towards you again, “that’s what you’ve thought? You think that’s the reason?” 

You shrugged, still chewing. 

He exhaled a soft ‘fuck’ and ran his fingers through his hair. He rubbed his hand over his mouth and paused there. You let him pause, still not wanting to say more.  

“I am really, really sorry. I obviously did a very bad job of communicating at the time, so I can only apologise for that now, but let me be fucking clear: I did not break up with you because of you. You were not, ever, a burden to me. Tell me,” he demanded, like he always used to.  

You curled your toes in your socks and looked down at your tea. You didn’t want to say it.  

“Hey.”  

San nudged you. 

“Tell me,” he repeated, but it was soft this time. 

“I wasn’t a burden to you,” you told him, mumbling, almost unintelligible. 

“And how about once more with feeling?”  

It was so embarrassing to feel like the past year hadn’t happened, that everything you thought you had achieved had just eroded in an instant and you were still as sad and pathetic and incapable as you had ever been. Because, somehow, almost a year on from your break-up, San was still trying to coach you through being nice to yourself. Somehow, you had ended up back on the same sofa with the same man, trying to get you to learn the same things.  

You channelled that embarrassment into frustration. You were better than this. You had grown. Even if it had been true at the time, it didn’t have to be now. You mentally corrected yourself; it hadn’t been true at the time. That was what San had always told you and what he was telling you still. You had worked on this. 

“I was not a burden to you,” you repeated, stronger this time. “But I felt like it. I know that there was unequal pressure in our relationship; you bore the brunt of all your own difficulties as well as mine. I wasn’t capable of pulling my own weight.”  You used your therapy voice, slow and sure, laying out your rationalisations of what went wrong, listing the reasons that you failed him, that you failed the both of you. “I didn’t contribute to our happiness; I didn’t contribute to yours and I didn’t have any of my own. That is why I was not a good girlfriend. So I understand why you broke up with me.” 

He considered your words for some time. Then he took the last piece of chocolate and ate it before turning back to you. 

“You’re wrong and I need you to understand that. I loved you. I loved you more than I have ever loved anyone and everything I ever did was because I wanted to. I was grateful every single day for your continued existence on the planet and in my life. You absolutely contributed to my happiness. Ok?” 

He waited, eyebrows raised, expectant. You nodded. 

“And I think if that is truly what you think, if you really believe you didn’t contribute to my or our happiness, that you were a bad girlfriend and all the rest, you need to fire Nina and get a new therapist.” 

You gave a shocked gasp of laughter. 

“No, it’s not her fault. We actually haven’t talked much about why we broke up; she said it would be better to focus on the ‘now’ and work on getting better rather than getting hung up on the past and why we broke up.” 

San narrowed his eyes, peering at you, trying to decide if he believed you. He relented. 

“Fine... I’m sorry you felt like that, feel like that; I hope I didn’t do or say anything that made you-” 

“No! You didn’t! You never did, I swear. You never made me feel bad; I just did. And I feel like I dragged you down, too, until you just couldn’t be happy anymore.” 

He shook his head.  

“I really must have fucked up this break-up and I’m sorry. I can’t believe you’ve been walking around thinking that I thought that about you, or think that, or whatever. Did I really explain myself that badly to you?” 

You shrugged. You had tried to forget it—everything about the break-up, really; it hadn’t worked entirely but the minute details of the conversation had been lost. You didn’t want to remember anything about him telling you he was leaving you. 

“You said we weren’t in love anymore but I thought it was just an excuse.” 

“Thought? What do you think now?” 

“I guess I haven’t really thought about it. I told myself that that’s what happened, that’s what you thought and then I guess just didn’t examine it. I thought you were lying to spare my feelings-” 

“Do you think I would have lied to you? Really?”  

“Sorry.” 

San slid down the sofa, more lying than sitting now, and ran a hand through his hair again.  

“You know we weren’t in love anymore, right?”  

It was hard to look back at the last months of your relationship with anything approaching objectivity. You had been depressed and then you had been depressed and heartbroken. You had said dozens, hundreds of times, that you loved him; you had cried it and sobbed it and whispered it and shouted it—to him, to Taehyung, to yourself, to no one at all. But had you still been in love with him?  

You shook your head. 

“I don’t know.”  

“And it wasn’t because of you, either. These things happen, I guess, sometimes. I don’t know. I don’t know why or how, but I felt it come and I fought it for a long time because I still loved you and I still liked you and I didn’t want to leave you. In the end, I just... couldn’t fight it anymore. I wanted us both to have... more.” 

“More than each other?” 

“More than... familiarity? Comfort? Habit? More than just that. I know how I used to feel about you and I know how I felt when we split and it wasn’t the same. We both deserve to be with someone who is in love with us... I feel like I’m making this sound weird, but you know what I mean?” 

It was hard for you to swallow, that it just ‘happened’, that it wasn’t you. Things don’t just ‘happen’, do they? 

You thought about it and San let you. You tried to remember how you felt, how you felt about him, at the end of your relationship but all you could feel was, first, safety and then despair. He was your safe space, your comfort, your relief and then it was all taken away from you. You supposed that wasn’t being in love, no, but you must have been, surely? It must have been there, too. If not, where had it gone?  

You flopped backwards onto the sofa, copying San’s slouched position.  

“I don’t understand,” you said. 

“Understand what?” 

“If we weren’t in love anymore... I don’t understand how that happened.” 

“I don’t either.” 

“How are you supposed to stop it if you don’t know where it came from?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe you don’t stop it.” 

“So it just comes along, somehow, and fucks up your relationship and you can’t do anything to stop it?” 

He shrugged.  

“Do you think we could have stopped it?” you asked and your voice was smaller, careful, unsure. “Do you think we could have got it back?” 

When San didn’t answer, you turned to look at him. He was looking at you, sweet and kind and a little bit sad. He shrugged.   

“Yeah, I know it doesn’t really matter now...” you replied. 

San put his hand in yours and squeezed. You squeezed back and he let go. 

“Is that what you wanted to talk about?” he asked. “Why we broke up?” 

“Kind of. Yes, but-, well, yes, that is it really. I … I guess I just needed you to tell me that I’m not unlovable because I had convinced myself that I am, because we broke up. I thought, think? I thought that if you couldn’t love me anymore, then no one else would be able to. I feel like I can’t... I can’t try to have a relationship because there’s no point. There’s no point because no one can love me forever, so why bother?” 

“Why can’t anyone love you forever?” 

You didn’t answer but you didn’t need to because he got there himself. 

“Right,” he said. “Ok, yes, because I didn’t. Sorry, I’m getting it now. I get it. Ok.” 

He stood and walked into the kitchen and you thought he was abandoning the conversation (abandoning you), thought he was giving up. You couldn’t see what he was doing from where you were sitting and you didn’t know what to do so you stayed, sitting a little more upright, a feeling of panic starting to rise.  

He hadn’t sounded annoyed but was he? Was he tired of you, tired of talking about this? Was he hurt? Angry? You worried that maybe you really didn’t know him any longer, that he was a different person, that he had, all this time, just been trying to be nice to get rid of you. Maybe he- 

He came back and sat on the sofa, a tub of ice-cream in one hand and two spoons in the other. He handed one to you and dug the other into the ice-cream, taking a big scoop for himself.  

“Chocolate conversation,” he muttered, under his breath but designed for you to hear. He rolled his eyes and grinned. “This is an ice-cream conversation and you know it.” 

He gestured for you to take some, too, but you didn’t; you stayed still. You waited for him to speak next, your nerve all gone and mouth dry and hands shaky. 

“I think I understand now,” he began. “There’s someone, you said? Someone you want to be with. But you don’t want to go there because, when I broke up with you, you thought that I was doing it because of you, because you were a burden, you were a bad girlfriend, you didn’t make me happy, I didn’t love you. Right? You’re worried those things are true because, if they are true, then this person won’t want to be with you.”  

You flopped again, covering your face with your hands. Yes, that was true; yes, that was right. Yes, he had got straight to the heart of the matter even though it had been so long since you’d last spoken; he still saw you. It was overwhelming. It was embarrassing to hear your thoughts said out loud, to realise how foolish they sounded and how unlikely you would be to accept them from anyone else. If Taehyung had tried to say those things about himself after Hyunjin left, would you have let him? No. If Yoongi tried to say those things about himself, would you have let him? No. But they still felt true when they were about you.  

“Yes,” you said first. Then, “are you going to tell me those things aren’t true?” 

“I’ve already told you: they are not true. They are not true. They never have been. Never will be. You are lovable; I know that- I can prove that because I loved you. You were not a bad girlfriend; I know that because I loved you and I loved being with you and I enjoyed your company and you made me happy. Those things were true and they can be true of someone else.  

“Think of it this way,” he said, sitting up, turning his body towards you, changing tack. “All of those things were true—I mean, the good things! The good things were true. I had all these enormous, loving feelings for you, but we didn’t work out. Which means that there’s someone out there who’s better for you than I was. It can be better than what we had; it can be more than what we had. Don’t you want to try and find out?” 

You hadn’t thought about it like that before. You hadn’t really thought about what you might gain because you could only see what you had to lose. You thought about Yoongi—being with Yoongi, kissing Yoongi, going to sleep and waking up with Yoongi—you thought about that all the time but only ever as a fantasy, never as something that you thought could be really real because you knew you couldn’t go through with it, couldn’t make that leap. The loss of him if things went wrong was too great a risk. 

But the reward... Those fantasies made real... Was San right? Could it be better with Yoongi? 

The thought made you feel a little sick. Too good to be true. Not possible, not for the likes of you. 

“Ok, I can see you thinking. Let’s put a stop to that. Why don’t you tell me about him?” 

You started. 

“Uh, reallly?” 

“Yeah! I’ve got to know if he’s good enough for you, haven’t I?” 

“Oh yeah like you’d get a say in it.” 

And just like that you were right back there. Comfortable in his familiar presence. You rolled your eyes playfully at him and he grinned. Then he rolled his hand, gesturing for you to start talking. 

“Ok, his name is Yoongi...” 

* 

You told him everything: the baking, the ex-girlfriend, the sex, Sungbin, the beach, the hook-ups, the Hallowe’en party, Daegu, his birthday, everything up to you sitting on San’s sofa. You delighted in it, revelled in the joy you felt at talking about him, getting to say everything you’d already told Taehyung too many times. You didn’t have room in your head for consideration once you started talking; it was all Yoongi. You had forgotten that San was your ex, that this might be too much detail, your happiness too effusive. You were too swept away by your own tale. 

Laid out all at once, it seemed obvious. You felt like you had been missing it this whole time, but, recounted as a story, of course it was Yoongi. From the night you met, it was going to be Yoongi. When you talked about him like this, enumerating his virtues, explaining what he meant to you, telling the tale of your friendship from its very inception, you couldn’t believe it had taken so long to see it. You had to admit (again, reluctantly) that Taehyung had been right; you didn’t want to be his friend. You just needed time to get there.  

And Yoongi had given you that time.  

When you finally finished speaking, you fell back with a satisfied sigh, not even trying to stop the smile that split your face in half. 

“So yeah, that’s him. That’s Yoongi.” 

San was smiling, too. 

“So you’re going to tell him, right?” 

And it felt so real at that moment. Of course you were. You had to. You couldn’t deny that you wanted to, that something about you and Yoongi felt meant.  

“I do want to,” you replied, trying desperately to hold back the ‘but’ on the tip of your tongue. 

“He’d be crazy to let you pass by.” 

You shrugged. 

“He might, though. Just because I feel this way doesn’t mean he does.”  

You took a scoop of ice-cream to give yourself something to do with your hands, something to do with your mouth to stop it talking you out of it. 

“Don’t talk yourself out of it,” San said, knowing you all too well. “He obviously makes you very, very happy and I, for one, am probably at least 95% happy for you about it.” 

“What’s the five?” 

He raised his eyebrows, palms, and shoulders in a silly shrug. 

“Ehh, I’m a little jealous. I know I shouldn’t be; I have no right to be and it doesn’t really mean anything. But it’s there.” 

“To be honest, that makes me about 5% happier. I know it shouldn’t but...” 

You grinned; you wanted to tease him because you felt like you could. You were comfortable with him, satisfied that he still knew you and knew you would never mean any harm. 

He poked you in the leg, grinning back at you. 

“I take it back; I’m only 90% happy for you.” 

“That’s fine because every percentage point less happy you are is a percentage point happier I am!” 

“You stay winning, babe.” 

The surprise of the pet name gave you a jolt.  

“Sorry... In all seriousness, I do know that it is kind of rude of me to come to my ex’s house, unannounced, and ask you listen to me talk about this new person I want to be with-” 

“I promise, it’s fine. I genuinely am happy for you; this is what I wanted, right? I said we both deserved more and we do. Now you can have it.” 

“What about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“Do you have it? More?” 

He shook his head. 

“No, work is crazy at the moment and I don’t really have the time.” 

You gestured to his otherwise empty apartment and then to yourself, who showed up with no notice and found him free as a bird. He laughed. 

“Ok, ok, I’m not really trying either. It’s just not a priority right now.” 

“But you’re ok? Happy? I realise I’ve been here for ages and I haven’t even asked anything about you.” 

“I’m good. I’m doing good.”  

“Good.” 

* 

You hugged him goodbye when you left and he squeezed you as hard as he could. 

“Hey!” you wheezed, staggering back as he let you go. “Thank you. For everything. Like, including breaking up with me.” 

“Sure!” He laughed. “What are friends for? I will break up with you any time.” 

“I’m serious!” 

“So am I! I’m here for you, y’know? Don’t be a stranger. I want to know how it works out.” 

“Even though you’re 5% jealous? What if it all works out? 10% jealous?” 

“Maybe even 15.” 

“Ooh, steep.” 

“Please do try, though; please tell him. I’ll give you free pep talks if you need them. Or, if you want, I can threaten to beat him up if he rejects you.” 

You poked him in the chest. 

“No beating him up, but I can’t say no to a pep talk. Or six.” 

“Well, you know where I am.” 

You nodded and couldn’t help yourself going back in for another final hug. 

* 

You walked a lot of the way back to your apartment, needing the time to think things through, needing the fresh air and the lengthening evening to help you see things a little clearer. 

It wasn’t as simple as San telling you you weren’t the problem; that didn’t automatically change how you felt, or what you had spent the past year believing. But it did help. It helped you shift the perspective of your break-up a little. It gave you arguments to use against yourself when you talked yourself down. San had been insistent that it wasn’t you and that he liked you and cared for you. Sitting with him had been surprisingly comfortable after its initial awkwardness. He was still so familiar, just exactly the man you had known, and you felt something click inside you, something solid and warm moving into place like a hollow spot being filled.  

San was right; he had broken up with you for a reason and it had been some time since you resented that or felt any bitterness about it. He had been right to do it. You were a different—better—person now than you had been then. You knew that; you felt sure of that. You had forgiven San for the break-up a long time ago and now perhaps it was time to forgive yourself for it, too. If you agreed with it, why were you letting it give you excuses not to tell Yoongi how you felt? If you agreed that you were a better person now, why were you so scared that he would reject you? If you wanted all the rich rewards of Yoongi as your boyfriend, why were you so unprepared to risk yourself for it? 

Chapter Ten | Masterlist | Chapter Twelve

Taglist: @chimmisbae, @idkjustlovingbts @miriamxsworld, @quarter-life-crisis2, @tarahardcore, @simp47koreancrackheads, @xyahrinx, @olyd, @diorh0seokie, @thelilbutifulthings, @acquiescence804

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic

[seungkw1]

untitled (hoshi oneshot)

pairing: kwon soonyoung x reader (gender not explicity mentioned)

word count: 1.3k

genre: exes to lovers, non-idol au

warnings: drinking, cursing, implied sex

author's note: hi this is literally the very first fic i've ever written in my life!! it's just a short one but any constructive feedback is appreciated :)

What an annoying fucking day. 

Missing the bus and being late for work, coworkers getting on your nerves, and to top it all off you completely forgot to do that important task that was due today, so you ended up staying late. It was only Tuesday, but you needed a goddamn drink.

It was already dark by the time you stepped out into the freezing cold air, and you huddled up in your coat as you made your way to the mediocre dive bar down the block. Not your top choice, but it was close. You ordered a vodka soda and zoned out as you listened to whatever depressing ass Smiths song was playing - shitty vibe, but you were too tired to care. 

So when the man you had vaguely noticed was staring at you from your peripheral vision got up and headed towards you, you sighed as you turned to immediately shut that shit down. 

“Sorry but I am really not in the mood for a conversation right n-“ your stomach dropped as you made eye contact with the all-too-familiar face. 

“I thought that was you,” your ex-fiancé said sheepishly. 

Frozen in shock, it took you a good five seconds for you to utter a response. 

“Soonyoung?”

What the FUCK was he doing here?

As if he read your mind, he explained, “I’m in town this week for a work conference, but I didn’t expect to run into… anybody I knew.” He paused, waiting for your reaction. More silence. After what felt like an eternity you finally snapped out of it.  

“Um… me neither.” 

Jesus Christ, pull yourself together. 

It had been nearly two years since you last saw him. The breakup had felt like a relief then - he was moving across the country and you never planned to see or hear from him again. Especially not in some random fucking bar on a Tuesday. 

Your heart raced as you noted that he looked good. Like, really good. 

“Mind if I join?” he gestures to the vacant seat next to you. 

“Yeah, definitely. I mean- no I don’t mind. Sorry yeah go ahead, sure” you tripped over your words. Why the hell are you so nervous? It’s just your ex. 

Yeah, just the person I very nearly married. Just the person I had once considered my soulmate…

You shove that thought to the back of your mind. 

Soonyoung sits down and awkwardly begins to make small talk - something neither of you are that great at. You chat politely for a few minutes, asking each other the usual generic questions.  There’s clearly so much you want to say to each other, but you both hold back. 

“Soooo… how’s the…” he pauses. Shaking his head, he abandons whatever he was going to say. He turns and makes eye contact with you, giving you a questioning look. You feel your heart rate spiking. You try not to think about how handsome he looks right now. 

“Do you still like playing pool?” He nods his head over to the open pool table in the corner. A smile involuntarily creeps onto your face and you see his eyes light up in response. The tension suddenly melts away. 

“Only if I can still kick your ass.”

—

A few drinks and several rounds of pool later, you and Soonyoung are laughing it up as if you hadn’t spent a single day apart. 

“Tired of losing yet?” you taunt sarcastically. You are both terrible at pool and neither of you even know how to play properly. But neither of you care about the game at this point anyway - you’re lost in old stories and inside jokes. 

And god, he looks REALLY good. 

Soonyoung pulls out his phone and laughs as he checks the time. 

“Uh-ohhh, it’s gotten prettttty late. We better get you home before you turn into a pumpkin!” You roll your eyes but feel a sudden tinge of sadness. You were truly enjoying yourself - more than you had in a long time - and you weren’t ready for the night to end. But it was getting a bit late. 

“Ugh let me check the train, who knows how long until the next one.” You go to put your coat on but he’s already holding it up for you, not realizing his old habit. 

“Fuck the train, I’m driving you home! It’s toooo cold,” he insists. You let out a short laugh - he only had one more drink but he was clearly drunk. 

“No, dummy, you are in no condition to operate a vehicle. I’ll drive for you.” 

—

You park Soonyoung’s car near your apartment building. He’s mostly sobered up by this point, but he’s clearly a little embarrassed about the fact that he had spent a good chunk of the ride crying as he apologized and confessed that he really missed you. But honestly, you realize that you had really missed him too. 

“Welp, here we are… guess I’d better get going,” he says, trying to hide his mopiness at the thought of leaving you. He slowly starts to open the passenger door but you catch his sleeve to hold him back. As you pull him back into his seat you find your hand subtly sliding up around his bicep. Fuck, he was even more muscular than you remembered. 

“Excuse me but I am not letting you behind this wheel until you are fully sobered up, which you clearly are not,” you tell him firmly. “Come on babe, we’re going inside and getting you something to eat.” The affectionate name rolled off your tongue so naturally that you didn’t even notice you’d said it. 

His eyes light up again. He had always been stunning, but in this moment he was insanely hot. Still holding onto his bicep, memories of his toned body flash through your mind as you feel the heat rising inside you. 

Is this really happening? Fuck, I want him so bad. 

And the way he looks back at you, you know he wants you too.

—

“What do you want, leftover pizza? A sandwich? Ramen?” 

“Ooooh RAMEN!” Soonyoung exclaims eagerly as he comes running into the kitchen. “Pretty please,” he adds with a goofy grin. It all felt so natural. You didn’t realize how much you had missed this, missed him. 

“Drink this,” you force a cup of water into his hands. Your hands brush and you instantly get butterflies. 

Jesus what is this, a middle school crush?? 

He locks eyes with you. Huge pang in your stomach. 

Okay, yeah. You need him. Badly. Right now. 

Overwhelmed, you panic and turn back to busy yourself with the ramen, but you find yourself too distracted to even continue that. 

Soonyoung can’t wait any longer. He grabs you by the hips and turns you around, pulling your body into his. He’s already excited, and you feel his excitement grow even more as he wraps his arms around you and kisses you with more intensity than you’ve ever felt before. 

Fireworks. Electricity. All the things. In that moment, nothing in the world mattered but you and Soonyoung.

God damn. 

He breaks the kiss so he can take a look at you. “You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that right?” He gently grabs your chin and tilts your face up toward him, going in for another kiss. 

You suddenly become aware of the ramen packet that’s still in your hand. You giggle and he ends up kissing you on the teeth. You both burst out laughing and Soonyoung pulls you even tighter into his arms. You feel both of your hearts pounding in your chests. 

He places his forehead against yours. “Soooo…”

“Soooo what?” You give him a tiny peck on the lips. He gives you a tiny peck back. 

“Soooo aren’t you gonna invite me into your room?”

“What for?” you ask coyly. 

“Mmmm I think I have a few things in mind,” he says in a low voice. 

“Like whaaaat,” you tease. 

You feel the both of you becoming even more excited as he mutters into your ear. 

“Mmm I like the sound of that,” you say softly. Then jokingly, “but what about your ramen?”

“I think I have an appetite for something else now…” 

[end]

—

find me on ao3 as well ♡

#kwon soonyoung #kwon soonyoung x reader #hoshi #hoshi x reader #hoshi x you #hoshi x y/n #seventeen #seventeen x reader #svt #svt x reader #hoshi oneshot #svt oneshot #hoshi fic #hoshi imagines #ren's fics ੈ♡₊˚•.

[possibilistfanfiction]

fuck dude i spent the past two days reading the entirety of girls against god and catching up on we lived happily during the war and i s2g it’s the most i’ve cried in YEARS what the fuck bea’s trans niece?? it all must mean so much to bea?? what the FUCK oh my god i am so emotional i have so many feeling ily tysm for your service 🥹 (also BIG fan of footy au. big big fan. you are incredible) THANK YOU

[bea's niece! love her! here u go]

//

you’re thrilled that your parents have decided to spend a few days away in ojai at some winery aunt bea recommended, because as much as you love them, unlimited and mostly unsupervised time with your aunts is pretty much the best thing in the world.

they’d planned to take you to a cool, nice dinner at this trendy place asaad had seen on tiktok, which honestly sounded fun. plus, it’s mexican food, which is basically your favorite other than your nani’s lamb biryani. and it had seemed exciting and fun but then you had looked through your entire suitcase and didn’t love any of the tops you packed, and you want to do your makeup but you’re not that good at it yet, and usually your mama helps you, and —

you sniffle and take a calming breath, wipe the tears from under your eyes. it’s okay, you tell yourself. you can ask for help. your aunts love you, and your big brother loves you, and sometimes, of course, he teases you but not about this. never about this. if you felt bad enough you didn’t want to go out, no one would be mad at you.

you take another big breath and then put on one of aunt bea’s old t-shirts she’d accidentally left in london last year and then had laughed and told you to keep it. you walk down the stairs to your aunts’ bedroom. asaad and aunt bea are tending to the herb garden outside, and you’re not surprised to see aunt ava seemingly emptying a quarter of their closet onto their big bed. you linger in the doorway, your heart caught a little in your throat, but then aunt ava looks up and stills, then offers you a smile that always feels warm, and calm, and you don’t ever wonder why aunt bea fell in love with them.

‘what’s up, kiddo?’

you take a second to compose yourself because you really don’t want to cry; you’ve spent enough time around the both of them that you know aunt ava understands how to be patient and let you arrive at what you need to say in your own time. ‘my mama usually helps with my makeup.’

‘ah,’ aunt ava says, already excited. ‘what’s the vibe your feeling? also, what are you wearing? i can’t decide.’ she gestures to the bed with her cane. ‘as you can see.’

it gets you to laugh, a knot in your chest loosening. ‘um, maybe i can borrow one of your crops? my camo cargo pants, i think, and my new cdg converse.’

‘ooh,’ ava says, ‘love. and yes, of course you can borrow anything you want. i’m still mad you’re big enough they fit you, but i’ll forgive you. growing up is better than the alternative.’

you frown at that but aunt ava doesn’t seem bothered, or sad or upset.

‘hmm. morbid. my bad.’

‘you good?’

‘i’m awesome.’ she smiles and gestures for you to actually come into the room. her hair falls in easy waves past her shoulders, longer than when you’d last seen her for eid, and it’s easy to hug her tightly, to settle into her gentle embrace, to smell the detergent that reminds you of aunt bea, and aunt ava’s subtle light perfume, and the lavender lotion you get to use every time you’re here. you know he understands, in a different way than aunt bea but in a way that matters too, that flows like water and makes you feel like you’re lifting your face to the sun, what it feels like to be bigger than what the world expects of you and your body.

your parents are the best; they’d gotten you hormone blockers immediately when you asked, and your mama and auntie had taken you shopping for pretty bras in the fanciest shops in london last month, and your dad practices your drag routines with you after football practice.

but still: people who feel it, people who know — your family, in the deepest way. you pray five times a day, in thanks, usually. blessings, you know, even now.

‘the vibe is, like, i don’t know. subtle but glitter?’

aunt ava squeezes you. ‘incredible. i’m obsessed already. maybe a glitter eyeliner?’

you relax: aunt ava loves you.

‘do you have your makeup here? i have, like, enough fun shit — uh, stuff — to cover us for any look you want, but obviously not foundation or concealer for you. but if you don’t have any, we can send your aunt and brother.’ she laughs. ‘asaad can be your skin tone match.’

'i have some makeup.' you let yourself take a deep breath, because aunt ava is happy; she wants to do makeup with you, and let you borrow clothes, and go out to a cool restaurant. it's not a duty, or because you're family — when your aunts get to help you be yourself, it makes them happy. 'but it's mostly boring.'

'the basics are very important, though.' she smiles. 'well, go grab any of yours that you want to use, then come meet me back down here. you can look through mine and use any you want. and i'm the prettiest person i know, so i can help.'

'number one?'

'way too like beatrice,' she says, 'mean. for no reason! but i'll humor you.' ava bites their bottom lip in contemplation. 'well, i met janelle monae last year. and shangela comes into my bar often.'

'you live a wild life,' you say, and aunt ava laughs. 'so, third?'

'yeah,' she confirms. 'well, fourth, maybe.'

'who's third on the list, then?'

'you, of course.'

it makes you blush, but you turn quickly so aunt ava can't really see. you know she knows, but, like, it's fine. whatever. maybe she's the prettiest person you've ever seen and she's kind and funny and smart and owns her own bar, but she's also your aunt, who you've watched throw up in a bush after she drank too much champagne at brunch one time, and she always falls asleep on aunt bea's shoulder when you go to a movie. there's no reason to be embarrassed, and there's also no reason, you remind yourself, to not want to feel pretty.

you get your setting spray and foundation and concealer and their respective brushes, and then aunt ava shows you through a lot of makeup. you don't think you'll ever want to own this much makeup in your entire life, and it's kind of funny because aunt ava doesn't really wear much most days, but she just — she loves it. she loves sharing with you, and explaining why she got stuff that doesn't really make sense, and eventually you pick out a gold eyeliner to use. aunt ava makes sure not to cover your freckles completely when she helps with your foundation, and then, when you try to do the eyeliner yourself and mess it up, she hands you a makeup wipe without any judgement or impatience.

you finish with some mascara, and you sit and talk and listen to music in the background while aunt ava does her own makeup. she lets you pick out any crop you want, and she decides, after a fair amount of deliberation, on a sundress that you know is aunt bea's favorite on her. gay, you think, and then say aloud because you're sure aunt ava will appreciate it. and she does: she laughs, and aunt bea kisses her after she knocks on the doorframe and then smiles softly when she sees the two of you.

'you both look amazing,' she says. 'asaad has already freshened up, so i just need to change, and then we can go. i'm confident it we leave in ten minutes, we'll make our reservation time.'

'what if we left in twelve minutes?' aunt ava asks.

aunt bea just ignores her and walks to their closet and lightly closes the door, which seems to delight aunt ava. she snorts.

'love her.'

'you guys are weird.'

'just wait until you have a partner or partners. if you're doing it right, which i'm sure you eventually will, because you're the best, it's all just the best kind of weird.'

they're right, you know. you get to be surrounded by all kinds of love and you've always gotten to see it every day. but still, when aunt bea walks out in tailored slacks and loafers and a loose linen button up with intricate stitching, a little mascara on her face, her hair with a few strands of silver in it now, less than your dad's but mostly the same — you can breathe in another way. you have the careful way your mama helps you wash your hair every week when you told her you wanted to grow it out, and how she always takes you with her to get your threading done together; you have your dad's genuine joy whenever he takes you to women's football matches, and the way he cries at shows with queer storylines that end happily; you have your brother and the way he always, always, makes sure his group of friends never misgenders you — ever since you came out, none of them have treated you any differently at all; you have aunt ava, whose identities are as big and open and exuberant as she is.

and you have your aunt beatrice, you smiles sincerely and, of course, notices your eyeliner. she taught you how to shave your legs when you were too nervous to ask your mama, for whatever reason that seemed confusing at the time in your head. she plays tennis with you and she's never mean but she also never lets you win; if you ever beat her one day, it will be on your own merit. you're pretty sure she could literally kill someone twice her size with one hand, but she has never been anything but gentle toward you, your entire life.

she tucks a pair of sunglasses in the V of her shirt and puts on one of her fancy watches with a thick band. she smiles at you. 'ready to go?'

'mhm. i'm hungry.'

she kisses aunt ava's temple and then puts a gentle hand to the small of your back, ushers you out of their room and to the foyer where asaad is waiting on the couch. it's still warm and sunny and gorgeous. aunt bea makes sure the front door is locked and then takes one last look in the mirror. this smile is all for herself, one you've had so many times, one that, on her, lights you up from the inside. she fluffs her hair and then nods, and you get it, unspoken: she must like who she sees looking back at her.

when she sits on your bed later that night, after you've all eaten more than your fair share and aunt ava had done a lot of moaning over some shishito peppers, after she'd driven everyone home and you had all changed into pajamas and watched half of a movie while she and aunt ava had a glass of wine — you curl into her hip and put your head on her lap.

you want to thank her — for being who she is, for being part of your family, for loving you — and everyone she cares for — in this quiet, stoic, unrelentingly gentle way. but you're sleepy, and you don't want to cry. she runs a gentle hand up and down your spine.

'did you have a good day?'

'yeah, aunt bea.' you think of the beach and aunt ava's laugh and your brother's gentle insistence that he hold every door open for the three of you; how good the food was and how you'd seen bella ramsey at a table and asaad had blushed so hard you had laughed. you think of the quiet way aunt bea had gotten aunt ava her medications in the morning at breakfast, a kiss to the top of her head. a long, long life together. a home, with you included, in any way you want. 'i had the best day.'

#she's little!!!! #butch bea 🥺🫡 #wn #avatrice fic #avatrice #prompts #ava!!!!!! she loves being an aunt!!!!! she loves those babies!!!!!!! #her family!!!!!!!! #i KNOW ava uses mixed pronouns i K n o w #i am just being lazy & not writing all of them #bc it requires so much context in sentences to use more than two lol & i just... didn't have it in me #but i will!! one day! #i know. in spirit. i'm using all the pronouns for ava. one day in practice lol

[paranormal-potatoes]

Here is a sad prompt with the old man, Gherman:

"....You were... My sunshine, My only.. S-sun... Shine, You made me happy... When skies... We-were gray... You'll ne-never.... Know, Dear, How much I loved you...."

*His voice becomes shakier, Tears begin to fall*

"....So please... Oh please don't take.... M-my sunshine away...."

"....Gehrman, Are you....crying?"

okay i swear i meant for this to be angstier but uhh idk, not as much crying, could be more but i need to just post what i have before i overthink and then never do it bc ~anxiety~ also this hasn't been betaed or edited that much so. also ended up longer than i thought so under readmore. also ended up only having like 1 line of the song being said/sang bc i feel weird about including songs in stories unless its like. karaoke or a song playing on the radio

takes place in my time travel au. anyways have this before i chicken out

given im posting this from my phone, i hope the formatting doesnt fuck up.

=====

“...my sunshine, my only sunshine...”

 

“... are you singing?”

 

Taylor startles, spinning around and knocking their Saw Cleaver to the ground, fortunately missing the bottles by the work table.

 

Hm, I should probably move those, it’ll be quite a mess if they break.

 

“Fuck! How are you so quiet? You’re in a wheelchair!”

They’ve been here some time, their mask hanging around their neck instead of pulled up to their nose. A new scar marks their neck, likely a fatal one from its placing.

 

They retrieve their weapon, placing it back on the table.

 

He should probably ask how they’re handling the constant dying.

 

“Were you singing?” he repeats instead.

 

To his amusement, their cheeks immediately redden.

 

Good gods, they need more sunlight, they’re paler than Maria was.

 

They rub the back of their neck, embarrassed.

 

“No? I’m not that good at singing.”

 

And some self-confidence. Are they this nervous in combat?

 

“I was just humming, I’m sorry if–”

 

He interrupts, “Why are you apologizing?”

 

They shrink a bit and he can hear Ludwig lamenting his people skills, already poor before his confinement. He prefers teaching over reassurance.

 

Gehrman tries a different approach.

 

“What can you hear?”

 

They blink, tilting their head to listen, the burnt feather edges of their cap making them even more birdlike.

 

Hm, I wonder if Eileen is still the Hunter of Hunters.

 

“Wind. The fire. Messengers chittering,” they frown, focusing.

 

“And what does Yharnam sound like?”

 

Their expression blanks for a moment.

 

“Before nightfall,” he clarifies.

 

“Um. Dogs, people moving inside their homes. Quiet talking, birds. Water in the canal. Wind, fire crackling. Huntsmen walking around,” they list.

 

He lifts an eyebrow.

 

“Oh,” they realize what he’s getting at. “It’s a lot quieter here. There’s less, uh, life.”

 

“I might prefer quiet over dozens of talking people, but that’s a preference, not–” he gestures around them.

 

“That’s a choice.”

 

Well, this was a choice, too, but not one he knew the extent of.

 

Their expression suggests they’re familiar with choices being taken from them.

 

“Your humming, or singing, isn’t a problem. You’re welcome to continue.”

 

They nod hesitantly.

 

He leaves.

 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

 

After that, he hears Taylor humming in the Dream, sometimes singing softly enough he can only catch some of the words.

 

(“...my sunshine, my only sunshine...”)

 

They always turn to humming or simply stop when they notice him.

 

They’ll come looking for him at times, if only to say hello, sometimes asking questions or showing him something they’ve found.

 

He almost starts laughing when they show him a Reiterpallasch and Chikage they recovered from Cainhurst. He’s less amused when they explain they found an unopened summons addressed to them, even less so when they admit they accepted a covenant with the Vileblood Queen.

 

They grudgingly tell him what happened in Cainhurst, about Logarius and the Vileblood slaughter, how the grounds are overrun with bloodlickers and dead women roam the halls.

 

He doesn’t know how to feel about that.

 

Maria’s mother came to the funeral to see her daughter again, refusing to look at any of the hunters. Her cousin, Cole, spent ten minutes glaring at Gehrman, blaming him for his cousin’s death.

 

He doesn’t disagree.

 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

 

Taylor brings more weapons to show him, ones they found in Yharnam or the dungeons.

 

They’re extremely delighted to show him ones recovered from the dungeons, enamored with the Beast Cutter and Boom Hammer.

 

He shows them a picture of the Whirligig Saw, telling them it was designed by the Powder Kegs, who also made their Rifle Spear and the Boom Hammer.

 

Their eyes glitter in excitement.

 

Perhaps telling them about it was a mistake.

 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

 

They find some of Teague’s old writing from before he shortened his name. He would be delighted someone else who rejected gender would take his name.

 

Teagan looks far livelier than when they first arrived.

 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

 

He finds himself humming as he puts them back together, stitching their chest closed.

 

A beast didn’t do this. This was done by a knife, someone was careful and deliberate. Someone with experience carved them open.

 

(“H–help...”)

 

He shouldn’t have let himself become this attached. Once the hunt ends, they’ll be gone, forgetting all of this. He and Plain Doll will be alone once more.

 

He keeps humming and putting them back together.

 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

 

He finds himself humming the tune again while working on a Saw Cleaver.

 

He’s accepted this isn’t a dream, which leaves him with time travel. Somehow he’s in the past, before the first Blood Moon, before his contract.

 

Before Maria’s suicide and Teague’s death.

 

Before Teagan.

 

He’s sure they had something to do with this. If it were a dream, he’d say Flora was responsible but it isn’t.

 

Are they somewhere in the past? Or did they take his place?

 

No. Why would he have been pushed into the past if they had? So where are they? What happened to them?

 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

 

Teague, unsurprisingly, comes to find him, leans against the doorframe in silence.

 

“Still having too realistic dreams?”

 

He doesn’t answer.

 

“Or, uh, are you just not sleeping to avoid them?”

 

“Like you’re one to talk.”

 

Teague and Maria carried the most guilt over the hamlet. Maria threw herself into caring for her patients and Teague tried to run from it for a long time.

 

They all did. Sooner or later, it caught up to them. He hopes they at least found peace in death, but he doubts it.

 

Sometimes he thinks he got lucky, undying as he was. Other times he envies them for finding release from the guilt.

 

He wonders how Teague would react if he told him everything. Probably think he went mad. Perhaps he has. He has no proof anything he remembers happened at all.

 

Even his right leg is back, which keeps taking him by surprise. He keeps expecting pain when he walks for too long but it never comes. His memory isn’t failing him constantly and the world is no longer foggy.

 

It feels like a gift. It feels like a curse.

 

He shouldn’t have gotten so attached to Teagan, he shouldn’t have let them get so attached.

 

He has nothing of the dream but memories, a song he doesn’t even know the words to and the knowledge Teagan likely sacrificed something to give him a sunrise.

 

“... Gehrman, are you crying?” Teague asked.

 

He reaches up and finds tears.

 

“It would seem so.”

 

“Want to talk about it?”

 

“No.”

 

Teague snorts.

 

“Yeah, figured. It’s like pulling teeth with you. Between you and Maria, I’m about ready to get Ludwig involved. Let you two get motherhenned.”

 

“I’ll tell him you’re the one who broke his bedroom door.”

 

Teague holds his hands up in surrender, alarmed.

 

“Geez, alright, alright! No need to go that far, damn!”

 

He wipes the tears away.

 

“But, uh, seriously. I’m willing to listen.”

 

“I know. Go to sleep, if I have to wake you up in the morning, I’m using a bucket of water.”

 

“Only if you stop for the night and get some sleep yourself. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your shitty sleeping habits.”

 

He sighs but lays his tools down.

 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

 

“So!” Ludwig claps his hands, grinning brightly. “Someone from the south brought word of a village that had a three day long storm.”

 

Maria’s expression tightens. If he didn’t know what to look for now, Gehrman would have missed it. He kicks himself for missing it last time.

 

“And? Storms can be fucked up,” Teague said, picking at his nails.

 

“They aren’t normally preceded by a light burning through the woods and the waters rising several feet before the storm. It happened a month ago. They’ve requested assistance, the wildlife has turned aggressive and avoids the deep woods.”

 

“What is the village’s name?” Maria looks as she always had, but Gehrman can see the guilt and shame weighing on her now.

 

“Aramore. I thought us five could go investigate.”

 

“No, originally you wanted to take some new Hunters and I vetoed it because they wouldn’t be able to convince you not to adopt twenty children,” Laurence said, amused.

 

Ludwig waves him off.

 

“Bet we’re still coming home with a kid,” Teague jokes.

 

“Don’t jinx us, Amelia’s enough,” Gehrman said.

 

“Yes, my daughter is wonderful,” said Laurence, deliberately ignoring the two’s meaning. “She’d probably like a sibling. Or maybe one of you two will bring home a child.”

 

“Hell no, I’m not having kids ever.”

 

“I can barely tolerate adults, what makes you think I want a child?”

 

Teagan comes to mind. He doesn’t know when they were born or even their birth name but he thinks they would be the only child he’d choose to care for. Although, with his luck, he’d traumatize them more than they already were.

 

He turns his attention back to Ludwig, pushing the thoughts aside. The chances of him being able to find them again are low, especially without a birth year and family name. And even if he could find them again, he wouldn’t be able to do anything. They mentioned a mother once, clearly living and he’s not kidnapping a child.

 

It's pointless to consider.

 

He has nothing from the dream but memories and a song he doesn’t know the words to.

#potato answers #wyrms-bitch #potato writes fic #my writing #fic: old man hunter and his eldritch child #its been uhhhh ages since ive posted anything not wip so literally just take this before i chicken out and delete everything ever #oh fuck do i want this in the main bb tag #hhhhhhnnnnnggggg #do it do it do it just do it #bloodborne #literally cant express how rusty i am in writing #yes i know its mostly dialogue and introspection #im bad at description #wait no its deliberate. totally #totally deliberate #okay im just stalling at this poitn so fuck ig #ANYWAYS TAKE THIS #the actual au fic this is part of (not that this will be in it‚ this is just a one shot) is primarily a comedy so just #be aware #potato rambles in tags #<- BIG TIME RAMBLING #IM GONNA GO PLAY AND PRETEND IM NOT HORRIBLY ANXIOUS NOW HAHAHA #im deeply attached to this old man alright #WAIT HANG ON IF YOU'RE STILL READING THESE TAGS‚ EVERY RELATIONSHIP MENTIONED IS PLATONIC #INCLUDING MARIA AND GEHRMAN #I EXTREMELY READ HER AS GAY AND HIM AS AROACE #i also can read him as gay but mostly aroace #okay bye now #potatoes finished fics

[taestefully-in-luv]

Always You | JJK (Four)

Summary: you and Jungkook have been best friends since freshmen year of college, there’s a lot of unsaid feelings and tension but neither make a move. what happens when his friend Taehyung (also your crush) needs a fake girlfriend?

Pairing: Jungkook x Female reader, slight Taehyung x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slight slow burn, roommate au, college au, SMUT (starting ch2), fluff, angst (in later chapters) slight crack, lots of drama

Word Count: 12k

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, sexual tension (?), jealous Tae (?), rough blowjob, hair pulling, slight degradation (like 1 line), swallowing, vaginal fingering, vaginal intercourse, coming on breasts lol, doggy style, coming on ass, crying, confrontation, drama and sadness lol

Notes: Okay, SO much happens in this chapter!! honestly this chapter is really the beginning! I hope you guys look forward to more:) remember to send me an ask or whatevs if you want to be added to the taglist! Or even if you just want to chat about the story!

Taglist: @mooniyooni @thisartemisnevermisses @giadalin @kookiebunny097 @cosmosjk @moonchild1 @just-jeon @anpanman-sonyeondan @starlight-night0 @yessii-i @apollukee @mikasaredscarf1 @kaye-rosales @bunnyjeonjk @dyriddle @seagulljk @hass-mich-los

© tastefully-in-luv

Previous ---Next ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your dress gets dragged past your hips and falls to the floor, pooling at your ankles. Your panties are next…it’s a black lacey thong and they are snug against your skin. They get dragged down leg by leg, thrown off to the side. Your skin feels hot and tingly…this bra needs off too. It unclasps from the front, freeing your breasts…they bounce as they’re released, you groan in satisfaction. You’re left completely naked and… wait, this sounds oddly sexual, doesn’t it? Yeah, you’re not getting any, sorry. You’re just trying on different clothes.

Taehyung is taking you to a party tonight and you want to look your best, you want to choose everything carefully. From your bra, to your panties to which dress you wear. You have this dress you’ve been saving but it might be too sexy…it’s black and sleek and falls off the shoulders. You might just wear it though…you’re wanting to give Taehyung some steamy thoughts tonight, even if they’re just in his head. A win is a win, right?

You choose another thong, so there’s no panty lines and a strapless bra. You slip the black dress on and it falls deliciously over your curves. You hum in approval as you eye yourself over in the mirror.

“Lookin’ good babe.” You whisper to yourself, nodding your head with a grin.

Jin is hosting a little party at his place tonight, you know when they say ‘little’ it’s more than you know, a little.So you’re looking your best. Taehyung is wearing dark dress pants and a button up shirt so you know it’s going to be at least a little nice, so you are putting some effort.

Speak of the devil, he’s waiting for you in the living room so you need to hurry.

You slide on your heels, grab your phone and your purse and make your way out your room. You see Taehyung leaning against the couch on his phone when you clear your throat to announce your presence.

“Woah.”

But it’s not coming from Taehyung, no. Coming from your side exiting his own bedroom is Jungkook.

He awkwardly clears his own throat and coughs into his fist. “Uh, you look nice.”

You snap your head to the side to get a look at the man, he’s dressed in his dark jeans with a dark button up shirt tucked into his pants…his hair is wild and he looks…breathtaking.

“What are you doing?” you eye him up and down suspiciously.

“Uh. Taehyung said I could ride with you guys…”

Taehyung slips his phone into his pocket and walks over to you guys,

“Yeah, I thought since we are all going to the same place…also, wow. y/n…you look…” Taehyung gestures towards your body and brings his hand to his mouth, “Just incredible.”

You blush at his compliment, your plan already working. Hehe.

“Thanks Tae.”

“I mean, I complimented you too but aight.”

You hit Jungkook’s shoulder and roll your eyes, “Thanks JK.”

Taehyung looks between you two and smiles softly, he runs a hand through his hair and sighs out.

“Should we get going?”

~~~

Usually during car rides Taehyung holds your hand but tonight he’s holding back, you can tell. Jungkook seems to be in a good mood though, he’s talking up a storm in the backseat, going on and on about how he reached a new goal at the gym. He even playfully flexes his muscles, making Taehyung chuckle from beside you. Jungkook leans forward until he’s in the middle of the console between your seat and Taehyungs seat, showing his phone to the both of you at some meme he found.

“y/n, y/n. LOOK.” Jungkook is shoving the phone in your face. “It’s our favorite meme!”

You take his phone from him, setting it down in your lap, “Before I look…is it The PeePee PooPoo Man?” you stifle a laugh.

Jungkook is already cracking the fuck up, “Damn, I can’t even look at it…”

“Me either…I’ll explode.” You start laughing already, the thought of the meme already killing you.

“What? I wanna see!” Taehyung whines.

You and Jungkook are already laughing your asses off, just thinking of the meme and thinking of Taehyungs reaction. When he gets to a stop light, you hesitantly hand him the phone while you cover your mouth.

“Okay…” Taehyung takes the phone.

“Read it out loud!” Jungkook practically yells, his excitement incredibly evident.

“Yeah, read it out loud!” you and Jungkook look at each other and start laughing again,

“Okay…” Taehyung looks at the meme and starts reading, “Say his name…you won’t be laughing when he kills you…” he scrolls down, “The PeePee PooPoo Man…..”

You and Jungkook DIE. Your laughter filling the car so loudly that Taehyung winces and covers his ears.

“Please tell me this isn’t really your guys’ favorite meme….” Taehyung chuckles awkwardly.

“What do you mean? OF COURSE it is!” You say, trying not to cry.

“Shit, I can’t…I can’t.” Jungkook has his hand on your shoulder. The two of you start to relax, your laughter finally dying down.

“I mean, really? PeePee PooPoo Man?” Taehyung just doesn’t get it. You guys really think this is funny?

You start cackling again at the mention of the name,

“Oh my god, stop. Don’t say his name.” You look at Jungkook who is already looking at you with a wide grin, his own eyes watering from laughing so hard.

“You guys are something else…” Taehyung drives through the green light, his eyes watching the two of you. He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

~~~~

“Friends!” Jin opens his arms wide as if inviting all 3 of you in for a hug, “Welcome to my humble abode!”

“Yes, yes. Very humble.” Jungkook takes the invitation and quickly hugs his friend.

“Taehyung, y/n. Don’t be shy, come come.” He gestures towards his body.

The two of you laugh and embrace your friend, Jungkook stands off to the side looking all around the place.

“Small get together my ass.” Jungkook huffs.

The house is packed with people, lots of faces you don’t recognize but a few faces you do.

“JIMIN!!! TRINA!!!” You leave the boys sides to meet your friends.

“Hello beautiful.” Trina pulls you in for a hug, her laugh ringing in your ears. Jimin embraces you next, his arms wrapping lovingly around your body.

“What’s up sexy.” Jimin winks as he pulls back. Jimin looks gorgeous as usual, his hair pushed back so the world can see that beautiful god damn forehead.

Jungkook and Taehyung jog up to you guys, greeting your friends one by one. “Trina.” Jungkook nods in her direction.

“Jeon.” She nods back. “And hello Taehyung.” She links arms with the boy, “have you been treating our y/n well?”

Taehyung makes awkward eye contact with Jimin, panic written all over his face.

“Yeah Tae Tae,” Jimin says smoothly, his eyes narrowing. “How have you been treating our y/n?”

“Jimin can I talk to you?” Jungkook cuts in.

“I don’t give a shit about our promises from 3 fucking years ago. Get over it.” Jimin spits out, “y/n is my friend. I’m telling her.”

“Wait, Taehyung says he’s going to tell her.” Jungkook rushes to say, he’s got his hands on Jimin’s shoulders but Jimin shoves him off.

“I’m disappointed in you Jungkook. You’re keeping this from her all because you’re scared she’s going to find out about that stupid new years eve party. That was 3 fucking years ago dude, get over it.” Then Jimin quirks a brow, “Unless…you’re not over it? Not over h—”

“Shut up dude, it’s not fucking like that.” Jungkook tries defending.

“One week. That’s all he has before I tell her myself. You fucking idiots.”

“Hey, is everything okay?” You walk between the boys, your hands on both of their shoulders, “things looked heated for a second…” you say awkwardly, “are you guys okay?”

Jungkook gives Jimin a look that you decide you can’t decipher. Jimin rolls his eyes and releases a long breath before turning to face you.

“Everything’s fine, babe.” Jimin gives you a small smile and turns around heading towards your friends, “Trina!” he calls out, “Let’s get fucking drunk!”

You face Jungkook, “Is he alright?” you can’t help but feel concerned, Jimin is acting really strange. Jungkook stares into your eyes for a while, nibbling on his lips deciding what to say.

“He said everything’s fine, didn’t he?” His hand reaches forward to rub your arm, his way of comforting you. Taehyung watches the two of you from the corner of his eye.

“Should we get fucking drunk too?” you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

“You know it, baby.”

~~~~

Once inside, you find Taehyung’s side. His long arm wraps around your waist and pulls you in close to his frame. You two find the kitchen to fetch some drinks, Jungkook follows closely behind you two.

“How about we start the night taking some shots?” You hear Jungkook suggest from your side.

“I like your thinking Mr.Jeon.” your playful tone makes him smile.

“You know I like being called that,” he winks. Taehyung’s grip tightens around your waist and you remember you’re in his embrace.

“Um, what do you think Tae?”

“Sure. Sounds good.” He says quietly, almost detached.

The 3 of you take shot after shot, Taehyungs hand never leaves your body. He keeps you steady as the world becomes just a bit more hazy. You drunkenly laugh into his chest anytime anyone says anything remotely funny. Taehyung enjoys that you’re leaning on him, that you are feeling comfortable.

He watches as you soak in the world in front of you, your wide eyes observing your surroundings. He laughs when you stumble forward every now and then but he always catches you. He kisses your head every few minutes to remind you that he’s here and he has you.

You feel like you’re floating, the alcohol running through your veins and causing the world to be so much more fucking awesome, hell yeah.

You scan the crowd and see a bunch of people dancing and you decide you want to dance too! You take Taehyung’s hand and move your head around looking for Jungkook, but you don’t see him.

“He went his own way a little while ago,” Taehyung reminds you, as if reading your mind.

“Oh.” You don’t mean to sound so disappointed, but you do. You fucking do.

You turn to face Taehyung and smile brightly anyway, “Let’s go dance!”

The music is so loud it’s all your body can register. Every note swims through your ears and every thump of the bass makes you move. Your arms are wrapped loosely around Taehyungs neck, your bodies swaying to the beat of the music. You’re having so much fun until you see it. A few feet in front of you, you see his tattooed hands on some random girls ass. You shouldn’t be feeling the drop in your stomach but you do. You fucking do.

Your eyes trail up his arms until you meet his eyes when you see he’s already staring at you. His dark gaze makes you fucking shudder, you hate that can he do this to you. Even after all this time.

You watch him carefully as you inch closer to Taehyung, you grab a hold of him more tightly. Taehyung grunts when he feels you grind your hips into his. Jungkook watches you as you dance with Taehyung, his gaze somehow becoming more and more dangerous. He leans down into the girls neck and begins sucking bruises, his eyes never leaving yours. He kisses her and she throws her head back, you can see her smile in approval of his attention. He fucking smirks when you roll your eyes. Two can play that game. Taehyung watches you watching him but you don’t notice. But you wish you did. You pull Taehyungs face down to meet you for a kiss, your lips moving against his hotly, though your eyes remain on Jungkook the entire time. Jungkook just glares at you, turning the girl around so she can grind her ass into his crotch.

You sway your hips into Taehyung, his hands go to hold your hips moving them to the beat of the song. He groans when he feels your ass backing into him, he feels himself getting hard at the contact. You feel it too. You break eye contact with Jungkook to look up at Taehyung, his dick catching your attention.

“Oh don’t mind me.” Taehyung throws his hands up, whispering bitterly.

“I’m gonna go get another drink.”

And Taehyung is slipping away, disappearing in the crowd. You watch as he fades from your drunken vision.

You stand there feeling completely abandoned and puzzled when you feel a hand on your arm. You turn your head to see Jungkook standing there, breathless.

“Can we talk? Are we…okay?” He looks strange. Confused even.

“No, I gotta find Tae.” You say, “Plus, you’re busy, aren’t you?” you point your head in the direction of the girl.

“Does that bother you?” Jungkook whispers somewhat defeated, “Because I think…” he shakes his head, “No, I’m drunk.”

“We’re all drunk, Jungkook.” You release his hold on you, “I gotta find Tae.”

Jungkook feels…like he recalls this feeling. He doesn’t want you to go and find Tae. He wants you to stay with him. He recalls these familiar feelings and internally deflates, he doesn’t want to feel this. Not again.

You weave through the crowd until you make your way into the kitchen, you scan the area but see no Taehyung. Frustrated, you smooth down your tangled hair and take a minute to think. Where did he go? Where could he have gone? This house is huge! You recall just trying to find the bathroom that one time. You decide to try the backyard, you walk out the door and notice only a few people occupying the place. But still no Taehyung.

You head back inside the house and try out each random door. Well, he’s definitely not in the kitchens pantry. Damn, you’re drunk. You head down the hall and try out those rooms, your fingers slide against the wall as you walk. The first room is empty, the second room has a small group of people playing some game, the third room—you definitely interrupted something sexy going on. And finally, the fourth room has one Kim Taehyung. He’s sitting quietly on the edge of a bed, he doesn’t even look up to see who entered the room.

“Tae…” you walk inside, closing the door behind you. It softly clicks and you walk towards him.

“What’s wrong?” You ask but obviously you know what’s wrong, but your dumb ass has to make sure.

Taehyung stares down at his hands, his fingers playing with the sleeve of his shirt. He doesn’t look up at you when he breathes out through his nose.

“What’s wrong? Seriously? My girlfriend was dancing with me but playing some fucking eye fuck game with another guy.” He slurs.

Well, you knew. But it still stings to hear. Also, he must be really drunk if he called you his girlfriend and didn’t correct himself.

“I wasn’t…we weren’t…”

“When will you two just…” Taehyung stops to breathe, collecting his thoughts. “Fuck, I think I…no, I just…” he runs a frustrated hand through his hair, “I’m so confused.” He admits.

“About what?” you go to sit next to him, you leave a few inches of space between you. But still close enough for him to exhale deeply and lay his head on your shoulder.

“About you.” He says so quietly you don’t really hear.

“I meant what I said earlier.” Taehyung changes the subject. “You look so incredible tonight.” His hand falls to your knee, he starts rubbing it soothingly. You know this would feel nice sober but it feels indescribable drunk. His touch is soft and light that you fall into a trance.

“You think so?” you breathe out pathetically.

Taehyung lifts his head and turns to face you, “I’ve thought about kissing you all night.” He admits softly, “Then you really…” he glances down at his crotch, “Gave me quite the problem.” He drunkenly pouts. “Because you’re so beautiful.”

You can’t help but giggle, “I can take care of that if you want.” You offer, your tone light and teasing yet powerfully seductive.

“Really need to kiss you first.” He breathes out heavily, his cock twitching in his pants.

You lean forward and peck his lips, you lean back and smile but then Taehyung surges forward and plants his lips on yours in a rushed and heated kiss. His lips move against yours quickly, his tongue finding its way in your mouth. You moan out loud, the sound going directly to his growing length. Your hands explore the front of his body, they travel from his hair to his chest to his stomach…all the way until you feel his cock through his pants. He groans loudly when you cup him.

“Are you gonna tease me, sweetheart?” he leans back on his forearms. “Because I wouldn’t mind that.” He smiles slyly.

“I have thought about this a million times, I don’t think there’s any time to waste quite honestly.” Wow, you are drunk because you just admitted that.

“Is it really me you think about?” he whispers under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he looks up at you.

“What? “Nothing, show me what you think about.”

“Have you ever thought about me? If so, I want you to show me.”

Taehyung stands to his feet, “Oh sweetheart,” he begins unbuckling his pants, “I can show you…if that’s what you want.” You nod your head and he smirks.

“Get on your knees for me.”

You do as Taehyung says, you fall to your knees in front of him and look up at him expectantly.

“So fucking pretty.” He lowers his pants down to his knees along with his boxers, his cock springs free, bouncing against his lower stomach. Your mouth fucking waters. His dick is gorgeous but like it’s Kim Taehyung…of course, he has a beautiful dick. It’s long, and thick and golden and you want your lips wrapped around it right fucking now.

“This is okay, right?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Then open that pretty mouth of yours for me, sweetheart.”

But he doesn’t give you time to think because he’s pulling your head back and shoving his cock between your pretty, pouting lips.

You silently gag around him, and you can hear the string of explicates push past his plump lips. He sounds so fucking hot. His grip on your hair only tightens as he begins to shallowly thrust past your lips. He loves how you seem to swallow him whole, looking so beautiful as he fucks your mouth just waiting to fill it with his cum.

Pulling out all the way, he roughly fucks his cock back where it belongs, taking you by surprise causing you to choke. You absolutely love letting him have his way with you, so you moan loudly letting the vibrations stimulate his cock even further.

“You like it when I pull your hair that hard? You like it when I make you feel that’s all you’re good for?” He grits between his teeth. He looks down at you, and you look up into his dark, piercing gaze and mutter words of mercy.

“Taking my cock so good, aren’t you sweetheart?”

“Yes Tae” you say almost inaudibly, tears pricking your eyes and falling in streams as you hollow your cheeks around his thick length. Your chest pounding as you close your eyes, allowing him to go to town on you. His grip weakens and his dick twitches in your mouth, spilling his hot seed down your throat.

“Fuck,” he curses, rubbing your cheeks tenderly. “You made me cum so fast, what a fucking good girl, my sweetheart.” He says, continuing his caress your cheek. You feel your panties become so unbelievably wet, drenched if you will. God damn.

“You let me fuck this mouth…will you also let me fuck this pussy?” his fingers on your chin guides your face to look up at him.

“Please.” God, you’re so needy its pathetic, but its god damn Kim Taehyung.

“First I gotta stretch you out, sweetheart.” He motions for you to lay on the bed, “Take off your clothes for me.”

You do as he says, you crawl on to the bed and slip your dress off, then your bra and you’re about to drag your panties down when he stops you.

“Wait…leave those on.” His dark gaze commands you.

Taehyung takes off the rest of his clothes and makes his way to the bed, crawling over you. Your breath catches in your throat, you feel like everything’s stopped.

His hand lightly drags down your stomach until his hand is hovering where you want him most.

Without warning, he moves your panties to the side and his fingers slide into your sopping, desperate cunt, curling them just right to brush against that spot in you that make your toes curl.

His long fingers slides in and out of you, the sound of your wet pussy and your loud moans filling the room.

“More. More.” you plead.

“What is it that you want?” he says still working his fingers inside of you.

You just moan loudly in response.

Taehyung clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes, “Sweetheart…” he begs.

“You. You. I want you!”

“Fuck yes.” He grits, his hand on his cock already. “Gonna fuck you now, okay?”

“Yes!”

He’s sitting on his hunches as he lines his cock up to your wet pussy. He slowly drags it up from your hole all the way up to your swollen clit, he then rubs circles over your clit with this cock, you both moan at the feeling.

He drags it back down and lines it up with your entrance, taking your legs and hanging them over his shoulders. He finally begins pushing into you with one slow drag of his cock, and as he bottoms out, you whimper his name repeatedly. He is stretching you out deliciously. He stays completely still for a moment before he starts moving his hips dangerously slow, you go to moan out his name but no sound comes out. The feeling of his dick brushing inside you leaving you speechless.

Your mind goes blank for a second, then suddenly images of Jungkook cross your mind. You think about him with that other girl, you think about him fucking her, you think about him coming inside her. You try so hard to speak but the way Taehyung rolls his hips into yours over and over lets out only loud, pleading moans. Only the sound of your whimpers and his heavy breathing fill the room.

Dropping one of your legs, Taehyung moves his hand to the soft skin of your stomach, his touch is electric.

“So close Ju-Tae…”

“Where should I come?” he asks, breathless as he continues to fuck into you.

“My tits.”

Taehyung smirks as he thrusts harder and faster until you’re coming undone on his cock, your loud moans giving away your orgasm. Jungkook’s face filling your mind again as you come…only making you come harder. Taehyung pulls out and shoots his cum all over your chest, he smiles down at you as he enjoys the view.

Taehyung falls forward, his lips meeting yours in a slow kiss.

“That was amazing y/n. You’re so good to me, sweetheart.” He kisses you again.

You look up at the ceiling, the soreness already announcing its arrival between your legs. Your orgasm is kind of sobering you up. Did you just fuck Taehyung? You kind of laugh, a bit confused. It was fun and all…wait, why are you beginning to over think? It’s just…you just had his cock filling you up yet you lay here with his arm draped around you and you feel…empty.

How did things escalate this much? But this is what you wanted, isn’t it? God, why are you being such a baby! You just fucked THE Kim Taehyung and you’re wondering why you feel disappointed…congratulations y/n, you’re the world’s most ungrateful bitch.

But then your sober thoughts come in once again, reminding you of what set you over the edge. No, you don’t want to remember.

Taehyung is already snoozing beside you, his arm loosely thrown over your body. You look down at him and feel guilt bubbling in your chest. What have you done? What are you doing?

Wait—did he really fall asleep while his cum dries on your tiddies?

~~~

The next few days you spend in and out of Taehyungs apartment, he invites you over for dinner, to watch TV, to paint—for sex. Basically, any and everything.

The sex is…good—really good, actually. He treats you super well, still the gentleman and makes you feel incredible.

You want to feel incredible. You should feel incredible. Isn’t this incredible?

But still, something makes you ache. The ache is beginning to consume you. You want it to go, to disappear to leave you forever because you should be feeling incredible. But then your mind goes back to the same damn thing—

Brrr Brrr

You are lying on your bed with a sour punch straw hanging out your mouth when your phone buzzes. You ignore it, trying to focus on your thoughts again but then you hear it go off again. You roll over on your stomach and pick up your phone, unlocking it to read your texts.

Taehyung 8:14pm

Hello beautiful!

Taehyung 8:15pm

Wanna come over for a movie? I miss your pretty face.

You read the texts to yourself over and over, nibbling on your lips like the action will somehow help you. You…this is what you wanted, right?

y/n 8:18pm

You miss me already? You just saw me :p but sure I’ll be over in 30.

You sit up in bed, the straw still dangling from your lips and you begin chewing…the straw disappearing centimeter by centimeter. The sour flavor making you scrunch up your face but you take it.

You sit there and wonder if you even really want to go…but you know you should. So, you get up and get dressed into something a little more presentable and exit your bedroom.

Jungkook is in the kitchen making something to eat when you walk out, he’s got his back to you and doesn’t notice your presence.

“Boo!” you yell out, jumping towards him and hugging his waist from behind.

Jungkook doesn’t even flinch, he just chuckles softly and slowly turns in your embrace.

“What do you think you’re doing miss not so sneaky?” his eyes narrow as he takes in your appearance.

“Wait—are you going somewhere? I…I thought we could watch Howl’s Moving Castle tonight?” he loosens your grip on him and lowers your arms down to your side.

“Oh…” you say awkwardly. “I already told Tae I would go over there for a movie…”

Jungkook blows air through his nose, and rolls his eyes to the side, “Again? Weren’t you just there?”

“It’s normal to hang out with your…friends.” Friends? You and Taehyung are friends or are you more than friends? Or? What is going on?

“Can’t you just cancel on him and hang out with me, your best friend?” he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back on the counter.

“Jungkook…”

“Fine, fine. Have fun.” He turns back around to continue making whatever it is he is making,

Since spending so much time with Taehyung the last few days, Jungkook hasn’t been getting the attention he’s used to. You decide to step forward and hug him from behind again and nuzzle your face into his back.

“Love you.” You whisper into his shirt, the scent making you feel cozy.

“I…” he clears his throat. “Yeah, me too.”

~~~~~

Taehyung collapses on top of you, hugging you from behind, out of breath and sweat sticking to his skin. His thrusts are quick and shallow as he fucks into you, your face buried in the cushion of his living rooms couch.

“Fuck, I’m about to blow, sweetheart.” His hips grind into you and you moan out from the feeling.

“Gonna come all over this pretty ass, that okay?” he grits out.

“Yes. Yes.”

Taehyung quickly pulls out, grunting your name, and comes down your lower back and ass, his hand grips his cock tightly as he shoots his load. You feel the warm, sticky goo dribble down your cheeks and you cringe.

You lay there breathless, even though you didn’t come yourself, but the fuck was still good—so you say to yourself.

“Please get me a towel.”

Taehyung is quick to roll off you and grab his t shirt and wipe your skin clean. “Better?”

“Yeah…”

Taehyung sits back down on the couch, a wide grin on his face when realization hits him… “Oh my god, you didn’t come. I can…I can eat you out.”

“No it’s okay, really.” You assure him. The mood is long gone.

“This just keeps getting better.” Taehyung pulls you to his side, he smiles into your neck as you steady your breaths.

“What does?” your hand goes into his hair and you begin massaging his scalp—you know he likes that. Unlike Jungkook, he doesn’t like his hair being pulled. Ugh… Why did you have to think that?

“God, just everything.” Taehyung pulls back and smiles at you and you try to return it whole heartily but you fall short.

“Hey, is everything okay?” He asks.

“Everything’s fine,” you lie. “Just noticing the time and I think I should head out soon.”

Taehyung pushes his head back, a confused smile makes its way on his face.

“It’s barely 11?”

“It’s just…Jungkook wanted to watch a movie tonight too…you know his horrible sleeping habits so no doubt he’s going to be up for a while, “ you begin. “so I thought…I could still make it to watch it with him.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything for a while, he only stares at you with hard eyes. He leans back on to the couch and exhales deeply.

“Have you been thinking about this the whole time? About him? Even while…” he shakes his head. “Sorry.”

“Sorry about what?”

“y/n I think…we really need to ta—”

“No!” you cut in, you feel anxiety stir within you.

“I mean, I just mean, we can talk tomorrow? You wanted to meet for brunch right? We can talk then. For now…” you lean over and pick up your shirt and throw it on. “I’m gonna head home.”

Taehyung bows his head down, his hands running through his hair as he mutters something to himself.

“What’s that?” you ask while standing to find your shorts.

“Nothing…” he lifts his head, “Actually…y/n.”

“What is it?” you laugh awkwardly, buttoning up your shorts.

“You and Jungkook…” he stands up too, “When will you two just…”

“I’m gonna go Tae.” Your guilty smile making you feel sick, but it doesn’t stop you from walking towards him and kissing his lips.

“y/n I think I like y—”

“Tomorrow?” you smile sweetly as the ache you have been feeling only grows larger and larger.

“Yeah…” Taehyung smiles back, “Tomorrow.”

~~~~~~

y/n 11:08pm

You still up?

Jungkook 11:09pm

Yeah, whats up?

y/n 11:09pm

you still up for that movie?

Jungkook 11:09pm

You coming home already? But yeah sure:)

y/n 11:10pm

yeah I’m about to head that way

Jungkook 11:11pm

Ok don’t text and drive

y/n 11:11pm

hey its 1111 make a wish

Jungkook 11:11pm

Really? What are you, 12?

You chuckle to yourself as you sit in the driver’s seat of your car, you exit your messages and open up your music app to play one of your playlists.

You put the car in reverse and exit Taehyung apartment complex parking lot, it’s kind of cramped and you’re having to put the car in drive and reverse too many times for your liking…making you feel fucking frustrated.

Your mind goes to tonight…you hate this feeling. You just want to go home. Home where its warm and safe and no one is trying to have a serious talk with you.

You’re avoiding it. You have been for a while…you’re not stupid. Taehyung…no, you don’t want to think about it.

The drive home is relaxing for you…there’s barely anyone else out and your music is at the right volume. Just loud enough that you can’t hear yourself think. Perfect.

You enter your apartment, and are welcomed with a dark, quiet place. Where’s Jungkook?

You take your phone out and shoot him a text asking where he is but several minutes pass and he doesn’t reply. Where did he go? He didn’t…cancel on you, right? He isn’t with some girl right now, right?

Anxiety stirs within you once again, the thought of Jungkook elsewhere making breathing harder. You just wanted to come home but somehow this empty apartment feels like the farthest thing from home. The blue glow of the TV making you feel like you’re in an odd, far off place. You pull your legs up on the couch and hug them close to you, you suddenly feel so lonely. So fucking lonely.

Your face contorts, and before you know it you are trying not to cry. The last few days are catching up to you and you feel like a mess. Why can’t things feel fucking incredible? Your lip quivers and you struggle to breathe in and out like a normal human being.

“Why are you sitting in the dark, weirdo?”

You didn’t notice the sound of the front door opening and the light being turned on.

Your head snaps to the side to see Jungkook at the front entrance with a bag in his hand, he looks at you with a toothy grin until he realizes you’re crying.

“Woah woah,” he rushes to set the bag down and heads your way, he makes it to the sofa and sits down next to you and is quick to pull you to his chest, his arms wrapping around you.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he whispers into your hair. “Are you okay?” He pulls back to get a look at your face, you start sniffling harder.

“Did Taehyung do something?” then Jungkook begins to panic, “Fuck, he did, right? I knew it…I’m gonna beat his fucking ass.” Jungkook lets go of you and begins to stand up when you desperately pull him back down.

“No…” you cry out quietly, “It’s your fault, dummy.”

Jungkook tilts his head innocently, “My fault?” he says, pointing to himself.

“I thought you bailed on me…” you sniff.

Jungkook breathes out and laughs softly, “I was…I went to the store to buy some beer for us.” He gestures towards the bag on the ground.

“Why didn’t you just call me?” he asks.

“I texted…but you didn’t answer.”

“Then you should have called,” His fingers brush across your cheek.

“I thought maybe you could have been with…someone…I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Jungkook looks at you incredulously, his brows pinched together so tightly.

“You think I would do something like that?” he pulls you in again, “I would never do that. I wouldn’t leave you like that.”

“You wouldn’t ever leave me in general would you?”

“Never, baby.” He kisses the top of your head and you nuzzle yourself into his chest.

Home. Your apartment finally feels like home again.

You and Jungkook are a few beers in and watching one of your favorite movies, he looks over at you every once in a while to make sure you’re okay. You smile softly towards him and he smiles back…this goes on for the entire movie. Near the end, you have the urge to be closer to Jungkook so you grab his hand and interlock your fingers. He doesn’t look at you as he weaves his fingers through yours and holds your hand tightly.

“You like holding hands, huh?” you say, slight tease in your voice.

Jungkook goes stiff, a memory sucking him in. Fucking great.

“You like holding hands, huh?” you tease as Jungkook lifts your joined hands above your head.

“Love feeling closer to you.” Jungkook leans down and plants wet kisses down the expanse of your throat, you moan as you feel his lips devouring you.

Jungkook continues to kiss and kiss until his lips meet your collarbone, until his lips drag down to your breasts, until his lips are kissing at your stomach, until his lips are where you want him most. He continues to hold your hands, lowering them to your sides.

“Love feeling closer.”

“It’s pretty late…2 in the morning…sheesh.” Jungkook untangles your fingers, “Goodnight, y/n.” he leans over and kisses the top of your head before standing from the sofa and walking towards his room for the night.

“Night Jungkook…” you whisper, feeling the emptiness dig its hole within you again.

~~~~~

You can’t really describe this hole in your chest that you feel. It leaves you empty and in pain. It leaves you wondering why and how and when this all started…

You’re meeting Taehyung for brunch at the café, you’re seated in a booth across from him and he looks quite chipper. You watch as he eyes the menu and you watch as his lips curve upward into a warm smile when he speaks to you. You watch his lips as he talks, you watch his hands as the gesture around the place, you watch—

“y/n? y/n?”

“Oh. Yeah?”

“You’re not getting pancakes?” Taehyung pouts, setting down his menu.

You chuckle softly, “Why does it matter?”

“I thought you would get one flavor and I would get another and we could like, share.” He says almost childlike.

You nibble on your lip, it wasn’t a bad idea actually.

“Fine.” You smile, “I’ll get blueberry.”

“And I’ll get chocolate.” He grins at you with all his teeth. The two of you wait for your server to arrive but she is nowhere to be found so Taehyung stands from the booth and says he is going to fetch her. You nod your head and watch him walk past a corner. You pull out of your phone and begin scrolling through twitter when a feminine voice cuts in,

“y/n, right?”

You look up from your phone to see a familiar face. Long brown hair, big bright eyes, full pouting lips. Long legs, the works. Anna.

“Um, yes?” you bite your lip, feeling anxious all the sudden. Why is Taehyung’s stalker talking to you?

“If you’re…” you try to come off more confident. “Looking for Taehyung, you should just forget about it.”

Anna looks taken aback before she’s smirking down at you, “And why is that?”

“He’s not interested Anna, you need to like, move on.”

“Oh? It’s me who needs to move on?” she laughs light heartedly. “Listen, y/n. I don’t know what you’ve heard about me but it sounds like you have it all wrong.” She taps her manicured fingers on the table.

“I don’t think so Anna.” You stand up so you’re at eye level with her, “He—”

“Tell Taehyung it’s starting to work though. I am starting to regret it.” She says, her voice so smooth. “Oh.” Her bright eyes widen, “Or I could tell him myself.” She says, looking behind you.

You turn around to see Taehyung approaching the table, his face as white as a ghost.

“A-Anna? What are you doing here?” his voice filled with panic, you’ve never seen Taehyung look so freaked out before.

“Just telling your little girlfriend I miss you.”

Taehyung visibly frowns at Anna’s words. Like they hold depth for him. What the hell is going on? What’s starting to work? What is she regretting? Your head snaps to face Taehyung,

“Taehyung, what’s happening?”

“Yeah, Taehyungie, what’s happening?” Anna copies with a coy smile.

Taehyung looks between the two of you, panic written all over his face. Anna’s hand softly clutches onto Taehyungs forearm and he very clearly relaxes at her touch, making you feel even more confused.

“Do you know her? Like know her know her?” you finally ask.

“Does he know me?” Anna lightly chuckles, a hand coming to cover her mouth, “Do you know me Tae?” she continues to giggle. Then her large eyes meet yours, “It looks like you’re the one who doesn’t know him.” then she’s looking at Taehyung again, “I’ll be waiting for your call.” And she steps to the side, smiles at you and walks away. You watch as she disappears through the door of the restaurant and your eyes never leave the door. Your mind trying to process what just happened.

“Y/n, I can explain.” You finally hear Taehyung speak up. His hand reaches for yours but you yank it back.

“Don’t touch me. Just talk.” You demand, sitting back down in the booth.

Taehyung sits across from you and exhales a long breath.

“Anna is my ex-girlfriend.” He lets out. Pausing, waiting for a reaction from you but it never comes. He continues,

“I might of not been completely honest—”

“No shit.” You cut in, “But please,” you gesture your hand for him to go on.

“She left me for another guy…” Taehyung doesn’t expect you to feel sorry for him, he folds his hands in his lap and he thinks about what to say next.

“I just…wanted her to feel what I felt. Like I moved on, I wanted her to want me back.”

“Because you want her back…” you finish for him. Your eyes darting all around the café. “You lied to me…” then you look at him, “Why me? Why did you ask me?

Taehyung looks down at his hands, “I knew you liked me, so I thought you would agree to it.” He admits.

You breathe out a long breath, your eyes beginning to gloss over,

“You knew I…? So all of this was truly just fake?”

Taehyung shakes his head frantically, “No. No. Well, maybe in the beginning.” He admits, his voice starting to crack. “Anna—“

“And how didn’t I know you had a girlfriend?”

“Listen, please just listen. Anna and I were dating, yes. But she wanted to keep quiet about it…” he notices you quirk a brow, “She had her reasons.” He defends. “but then she came to me, telling me all this shit about how she met someone else and I…I panicked.” He looks down at the table, his voice wavering.

“Am I supposed to feel bad for you?” you point out, “You fucking used me.”

“I know, I know.” Taehyung chokes on his words, “And I feel awful about it,”

“How awful Taehyung? You fucked me.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen, he shakes his head again. “Please let me continue….I…I am really confused right now. I thought I wanted Anna back but you…you make me feel…but…”

“But what?” you cross your arms over your chest, you raise your head, trying your best not to fucking cry.

“I’m just so confused.” He says again.

“You used me.” You whisper, your tears finally fleeing from your eyes.

“Yes…but I think you used me too.”

Excuse you? The fucking audacity this fucker has!

“Used you? Please tell me how I used you!”

Taehyung meets your eyes, they’re soft and warm. “Please don’t play dumb,” he says.

“Aren’t I just your little distraction from Jung—"

“Stop.” Your eyes grow twice their size, you push your shoulders all the way up to your ears. You’re fuming. “I don’t know what you think you—”

“y/n.”

He looks at you softly, you stare into his eyes and your lip begins to quiver. What does Taehyung think he knows? What does Taehyung know that you’re too afraid to say out loud yourself? Your eyes refill with tears and he reaches for your hand across the table, this time you don’t pull back.

“It’s okay y/n, I know.” He says so gently it feels like someone’s hugging you.

You stare at him in disbelief while the tears begin to fall. Fuck. Years of pent up emotions finally break free, you quietly sob like a baby in the booth of the café. His hand never leaves yours.

You cry like this for several minutes, letting years of unrequited feelings get washed away. Taehyung eventually moves to your side of the booth and holds you, you cry pathetically into his chest. Why couldn’t this work? You made a wish in the bubble bath and everything…why couldn’t you get your way? You sacrificed so much…you put Jungkook’s friendship on the line for this…why?

“How did you figure it out?” your shy tone makes Taehyung smile fondly towards you.

“You’re pretty obvious. I always thought you guys had a thing going to be honest…but he always denied it.”

You feel your stomach drop, it’s not like you’re surprised that Jungkook would deny something like this but for some reason it still hurts.

“Makes sense.” You sniffle into your elbow. “We aren’t like that.”

Taehyung looks at you with so much fucking pity it kills you.

“y/n…he could feel the same way…”

“He doesn’t.” you rush to say, “Trust me.”

Taehyung looks down at his hands, he feels more guilt surface. He’s kept so much from you…now he’s keeping another secret.

“Don’t give up.” He smiles towards you, “I hope that with time you can be my friend again…I understand if you want some space.”

“Wait.” You feel anger begin to bubble over, “Jungkook…he fucking knew about you, didn’t he?” you ball your hands into fists. “He didn’t fucking tell me?” you turn your head to face Taehyung, your eyes filling with tears once again. Your best friend didn’t tell you about this?

“Wait wait y/n. That’s my fault not his, I swear. A few years ago I told him and Jimin about Anna and they had to swear not to say anything and they told me stuff in return…so the 3 of us swore to each other…” he begins losing his train of thought, “It’s just…it’s not his fault.”

“Jimin…too?” Your brows pinch together, you feel so fucking betrayed. You feel like an idiot.

“Jimin only just found out and he only didn’t tell you because Jungkook said he was going to tell him that I planned on telling you…”

“Were you going—”

“Yes!” Taehyung exclaims loudly, the people in the next booth over look over. “I promise, I just—I needed to figure out how. But then my feelings got so confusing and we slept together and I thought I could pretend…”

“Okay okay…” you pat his back, “I believe you.” And you do. You recall every moment he was going to tell you but you stopped him…because deep down you knew this was all too good to be true.

“y/n please forgive me.” He chokes up, “I really don’t want to lose you.”

You chew on your bottom lip, contemplating what to say. Yes, you feel hurt and betrayed but are you any better? You were so desperate for Taehyung to like you because…because you wanted to forget about Jungkook. You used him too. He’s right. And no matter how hard you tried and how much you forced yourself…Jungkook is still the only one you can think about.

Wait a fucking minute. No. He lied to you. He used you. And yes, maybe you were maybe trying to use him too but his is much worse. And you shouldn’t forgive that so easily. Right?

“I think you’re right about needing space Taehyung…you…you did me really wrong.”

Taehyung exhales deeply, looking into your eyes.

“I know y/n. I’m…I’m so sorry.” he looks down at his hands, they’re cold and clammy.

“y/n…please believe me, I’m so confused. I think I like—”

“Don’t.” you hold up your hand in front of him. “Don’t do that.”

Taehyung’s shoulders slump as he nods his head un understanding. “Sorry.”

You’re hurt. You feel used and betrayed. You should direct all your anger towards Taehyung, the one who did this to you but somehow the feeling of hurt and betrayal is coming from someone else. Jungkook. He kept this from you. Why? Why the hell would he keep this from you? You guys are supposed to tell each other everything but then you scoff at your own thought. He won’t even open up about his home life, why are you surprised he keeps things from you?

You decide to walk home from the café, rejecting Taehyungs offer to give you a ride. You need the fresh air, let’s be honest. You finally see your apartment in view and you sigh.

You reach the front door as you unzip your bag to reach for your keys to unlock the door. The keys are cold between your fingers as you search for the right one, but much to your frustration you can’t fucking find it. Obviously, it’s here. But why is it hiding from you?

You very irritatingly rattle the knob just for shits and giggles. You even pound the door with your fists just letting out all your anger, the feeling of betrayal catching up to you. You hit your head against the wooden door repeatedly wincing at the pain but not letting that stop the movement.

Much to your surprise, the door swings open and your head falls forward into Jungkook’s warm hand. You look up with shocked, watery eyes. He studies your face for a few seconds before exhaling deeply.

“What’s wro—"

“You knew. About Anna.” You spit out, standing tall.

Jungkook’s lips form a small ‘o’ before his face is hardening. “I tried to warn you.” Is all he says.

“Warn me?” you scoff in disbelief. “You should of told me.”

“You should of just listened to me, and trust me.” He scoffs back, his lips turning downwards.

“You let me go around pretending to be his girlfriend when you knew how much I liked him??”

“You’re not my responsibility. And it wasn’t my business,” he eyes you up and down. “Are you going to come inside or not?” he gestures towards inside the apartment. You are quiet for a moment before breezing past him and settling in the kitchen.

“Why are you always keeping things from me Jungkook?” you feel so tired, just so fucking tired.

“y/n…” he shuts the front door and walks towards you, his head hanging low. “I wanted to tell you but I couldn’t.”

“Yeah, you guys have your fucking weird ass secrets or whatever. Probably another thing I don’t know about you.”

Jungkook’s eyes grow in size, his eyebrows rising towards his hairline. “He didn’t tell you…”

“No Jungkook.”

He sighs in relief. He walks closer to you until he’s reaching his hands to grab yours.

“I’m sorry…he—”

“We…” you feel your eyes bubble over with tears again, “We slept together.” You sniffle, “He fucking used me.” You stare at Jungkook with a pained expression, “All this time I—I thought I was making progress…” your head falls into your hands and you begin to cry.

. “That asshole fucked you?” Jungkook’s voice is dangerously low.

“I told him…he couldn’t…that fucking dick.” Jungkook turns towards the counter and grabs his keys.

“W-What are you doing?” You lift your head, panic written all over your face.

“Gonna beat his ass.” Jungkook is walking towards the front door to find his shoes.

“No!” you rush towards him, grabbing onto his arm, “I-I’m fine. Me and Taehyung are done, it’s over. No need to do anything el—”

“Fine? How are you fine?! You’re not fine, y/n!” he looks at you, exasperated.

“I—"

“This is my fault.” He bows his head, “I should of told you.” “Well…yes. You should have Jungkook.” You let go of his arm and turn around, you run your fingers through your hair. You feel frustrated as fuck.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“How can I make this up to you?” Jungkook doesn’t know how to feel right now. Guilty? Horrible? Okay? Happy that you and Taehyung are finally fucking done? Furious that his friend fucked you? You of all people? He should beat Taehyungs ass just for that alone.

“I said… why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

Jungkook’s eyes leave yours, they move all around the place as he mind races. What can he say?

“Don’t worry about it.” He whispers.

Your eyes go wide as hell, biggest they’ve ever been. “No. No.” You quickly walk towards him, you shove his chest. Jungkook pinches his brows together as he stumbles back.

“You will not give me that bullshit, Jungkook.” You cry out.

“Just tell me how I can make this up to you so we can move on…” Jungkook crosses his arms over his chest.

“So we can move on? How dare you? You fucked up, Jeon Jungkook!” You struggle to find a breath as you cry, “tell me why!”

Jungkook frowns as he watches you, his heart breaking, He can’t tell you why. His mind takes him back to 3 years ago when he made a promise with himself, he would never tell you why.

“You’re going to lose me Jungkook.” You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, “Do you want that?”

Jungkook feels his heart pounding. Lose you? No, he can’t…

3 years ago

You haven’t talked to him in weeks…and it’s pure torture. He is feeling the same pain he felt when his mom left him. Not the exact same pain…but the feeling of loss is there and it hurts.

You are without a doubt the most important lady in his life and he fucked it all up. He should of never... Why did things have to escalate like that? Why did he have to brush it off like it was nothing? Because now you aren’t talking to him. Is this going to…ruin your friendship?

Jungkook doesn’t think he could handle that. Could he handle another loss like that? No. He needs you in his life, he needs you. He thought…you wanted it. Wanted him. But he was wrong. And he is willing to do anything to go back to how things were before…he wants nothing more than to have your friendship. He swears he will never, never jeopardize your friendship again, no matter how empty it might make him feel.

One month. It took one month for you to finally respond to his texts and agree to meet up. You showed up at his apartment wearing your sweet smile and he broke down crying in front of you for the first time. You sat him down and rubbed his back, whispering words of comfort.

“Let’s just…never talk about it.” You continue to pat his back. Jungkook lifts his head and nods slowly.

“Okay…” he agrees,

“We don’t want to risk our friendship.” You rub the center of his back and he flutters his eyes shut. “Promise?”

Jungkook nods his head again. He promises he will never bring it up, bring up his…his…he promises he will never bring it up. He has to bury this. Because he won’t risk anything with you. He won’t lose you. He won’t make you uncomfortable again, he won’t cause damage to this friendship. He will be best friend Jungkook and that’s it. Because that’s what you want.

The flashbacks are too overwhelming for Jungkook, his memories flooding his body and he’s beginning to drown. His breathing becomes harsher, the loud breaths filling your ears.

“J-Jungkook?”

Jungkook stares at you with his mouth wide open, he tries to speak but no words come out.

“Hey?” you walk closer to him but he takes a clumsy step back.

“Lose you?” he finally manages to stutter out, his eyes wet with unfallen tears.

“Just tell me why, Jungkook.” Your voice is soft this time and he chokes on a quiet sob, his tears beginning to spill.

You walk closer and Jungkook steps back until his back is against the front door, he wipes his sweaty palms on his sweats. These feelings…he doesn’t want to taste their familiarity. He breathes deeply and screws his eyes shut.

“y/n…” he whimpers.

“Just tell me, Jungkook.” You’re standing just in front of him, your chest almost touching his. You tilt your head up and your hands travel up his arms until they’re cupping the back of his head.

Jungkook hesitantly opens his eyes and stares down into your eyes.

He stares down at your face and he admires all your features…he observes how creamy your skin looks, how your eyes crinkle at the edges, how your eyebrows crease slightly as you frown and how pretty and pouty your lips look. His eyes never leave your face as he takes you in. Cute. That’s how he usually views you. But today, right now, you look absolutely beautiful.

Jungkook feels his heart starting to thump wildly in his chest and he grows anxious. He can’t view you that way. He won’t. But his eyes linger on your lips and you look at him with such a cute, confused expression and he can’t help but lean a little closer. He can’t do this. He won’t do this. The anxiety grows and grows but he gets closer and closer. Your eyes begin to flutter shut and before he knows it, his lips find yours. His mouth slants over your own in a long, hot and maybe even a little sloppy kiss. His lips are plush against your own, they move in desperation at first but come to a slower pace. He begins savoring you. But you don’t move. You are in a state of shock.

Before you know it, Jungkook is unfortunately moving away from you. His lips disconnecting from yours and a look of horror is plastered on his face.

“Sorry I—”

You stare at him in shock, not able to speak.

“y/n… I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry—”

And then you’re snorting. A light hearted giggle escapes your lips and you go to cover your mouth from the slip.

Jungkook continues to look horrified, totally and completely terrified of your reaction.

“Sorry, it’s just…” you continue to laugh, “This reminds me of the first time we kissed.” You say softly, a small smile decorating your face.

Jungkook frowns at your words, taking a moment to think.

“It does?” he says, but then he remembers how it went and a soft smile begins to make an appearance.

“Yeah.”

“I dare you to kiss y/n” Jimin says with an evil smirk. You choke on the drink you have in hand once you process his words, eyes wide in terror. Kiss you? Jungkook? Your best friend?

Everyone in the room starts whooping and hollering at the idea but you shake your hands in front on you in denial.

“No, no. We can’t do that!” you slur, your eyes squeezing shut at the idea.

“Yeah, no way in hell am I kissing her.” You hear Jungkook say harshly from beside you.

You don’t know why but that kind of sucks to hear. You feel a pang in your chest, why did he have to say it like that? You mean, it’s just a kiss. It’s not like you were disgusting right?

“Uh yeah.” You say, your mood obviously shifting.

“That’s literally the last thing I want to do!” You hear Jungkook cackle. “someone else can do the honors” he continues to bark loudly, his laughter filling the room.

Jimin frowns, his hands clasping together. “Fine, I dare you to kiss Amber instead.”

“That, I can do.” Jungkook smirks.

How is your best friend making you feel so rejected? You feel your heart drop to your stomach and your stomach drop to the floor. Amber is pretty…probably Jungkook’s type. Although you thought Jungkook didn’t have a type. But whatever it is, it isn’t you.

“I’m gonna go get something more to drink,” you say to no one as you stand to your feet and begin heading out the door. But you feel a body behind you and you know it’s Jungkook. You roll your eyes, feeling annoyed.

The party is still going hard when you make your way downstairs again, you weave through the crowd to get to the kitchen to fetch yourself another beer.

“y/n! Wait up!” you hear Jungkook call from behind you but you decide to ignore him.

You find the cooler of beers and grab yourself one, the chilling beer freezing against your fingertips. You crack it open and begin chugging it back, enjoying the carbonation that sizzled down your throat.

“Slow down Lightning McQueen.” Jungkook chuckles next to you.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you snap.

“What’s with you?” he quirks a brow, looking adorable while doing so.

“What are you doing here?” you snap again, “Shouldn’t you be like, making out with Selena or whatever her name is.”

Jungkook tilts his head to the side, his doe eyes big and bright, “Selena? Oh! You mean Amber? Nah, I saw you leaving so I came with you.” He smiles, “I told you no girls tonight. I am spending new year with you.”

You blink at him in surprise, but you shouldn’t be surprised. Jungkook always keeps his word to you.

“Want to go outside?” he asks, heading nodding towards the back door.

“It’s cold, Jungkook!”

“I’ll keep you warm.” He winks then transitions into a soft smile, “Promise.”

The two of you walk outside, it is pretty damn cold, your skirt and crop top barely doing enough to keep you warm.

“Here.” Jungkook is shrugging off his jacket and handing it you.

“Thanks” you shiver, slipping on the warm, fuzzy coat. “Will you be fine?” you question.

“Only if you come snuggle with me.”

“Do these lines work on most girls?”

“Usually all of them.” He smirks, rubbing his hands together for warmth.

You giggle and move closer to him, wrapping your arms around his middle. Even though it’s like 20 degrees outside, Jungkook is unbelievably warm.

Jungkook pulls his phone out to check the time, huffing when he sees there’s still a few more minutes until midnight

“So how many girls did you have to reject tonight?” You ask with a snicker. Jungkook raises a brow in question, “Like, ‘oohh Jungkook please be my new years kiss??’ ya know, shit like that.” You mock.

“Oh that? No girls lining up tonight.”

“Why’s that? You shut em all down early?”

Jungkook sways back and forth, your body clinging on to his, “I think they all see me with you tonight and are laying off.”

You scoff at his words, “Right, because I have stopped them before.” You roll your eyes.

“Ha, you never know.” Jungkook takes another look at his phone, “Oh less than a minute.” He says with the shrug of his broad shoulders.

“Wanna be my kiss Jeon?” the words slip out of your mouth almost killing you in the process. You can’t believe you just asked that, “Just kidding, you would rather have someone else kiss me, right?” you huff, saving yourself.

Jungkook chokes on his spit as he tries to swallow down your words, “W-What?”

“Nothing.”

Jungkook obviously heard you loud and clear. Did you actually want to be kissed by him?

5

4

3

2

1

Cheers of your classmates erupt besides you and you cannot help but smile at everyone’s happiness.

“It’s nice right? Every—”

You didn’t get to finish what you were saying before Jungkook’s chapped lips were on yours. His mouth is warm and inviting but you don’t make yourself at home. Instead, you stand absolutely still as Jungkook innocently moves his lips over yours. Before you can really react, Jungkook is pulling away: absolutely horrified.

“y/n…I shouldn’t have done that…I’m sorry,” Jungkook is quick to stutter out.

You are frozen. You wish you could blame something, anything, wish you could blame the flurries that floated down to the earths ground, wish you could blame the below freezing weather and your short mini skirt, wish you could blame anything for why you are standing absolutely frozen.

You wish you could move, but the universe just won’t allow it.

“Oh my god, y/n…I really am sorry…fuck…” Jungkook’s wide eyes are focused on his feet as he threads his fingers through his thick, black hair. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Please forget about th—”

Jungkook’s lips may be a bit chapped but they are as soft and fluffy as you have once imagined. With your lips back on his, you take charge. You quickly move them over his, he hums in satisfaction. Your fingers find themselves in his dark locks, pushing up into his soft hair as his hand moves to cup your jaw.

You gasp when you feel his teeth nibble at your bottom lip, and moan into his mouth when you feel him jerk his hips into yours.

“Let’s go to your place.” You heavily breathe out, your fingers dragging down the side of his face.

Jungkook disconnects himself from you, stepping back a good foot, inspecting your face,

“You sure?” he asks.

“I’m sure.”

“Are you thinking about that night?” You ask, your voice low.

“No.” he lies, “We promised we would never talk about it y/n. We don’t want to risk our friendship…” he pushes you back by the shoulders—gently, of course. “We need to forget about this kiss too. I fucked up. You’re in a bad place right now—”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. The guy you had feelings for was fucking using you y/n, of course you’re not fine.”

“Would if I want to kiss you Jungkook?”

You don’t believe your own ears as you ask that, but god, you have been holding all this in for 3 years. And he kissed you.

“You don’t. You’re throwing yourself at me because you’re in a bad place.”

You scoff, not believing his choice of words, “Throwing myself?”

“You—you know what I mean.”

“We agreed, didn’t we?” you take a step towards him. “We would never talk about that night, ya know, to save our friendship or whatever.” Another step. “But would If I don’t care anymore?”

Jungkook narrows his eyes at you, “You don’t care about our friendship anymore?” his tone soft and almost sad.

“I just mean, I wonder what more…no, forget it.”

“Yeah, forget it. You’re just sad about Taehyung.” He says more seriously. He backs himself into the wall, he continues to wipe his sweaty palms on his pants.

He…he isn’t wrong. You know what? You are sad. You’re sad Taehyung thought to use you the way he did…you’re sad your best friend didn’t tell you about it. And for what? Because he apparently has a secret of his own? Great, just another thing you don’t know about him. You don’t want to cry and you don’t think you will but that tightness in your throat is apparent and warning you of oncoming tears.

Jungkook lets out a frustrated breath as he pulls you back in to his chest…and you’re too weak to resist. You wrap your arms around him and breathe him in, his scent filling you up and making you feel more at home over and over again.

Jungkook’s hand trails up from your waist to the back of your head, he hated seeing you like this.

The first time Jungkook saw you cry was a couple of years ago in an abandoned parking lot in his old beat up car. Your boyfriend had just broken up with you and you let all the emotions build to the point that when the seatbelt wouldn’t god damn buckle, you lost it. You sat there struggling with the seatbelt trying to click it in the stupid hole thing and it just wouldn’t. Jungkook just watched you with pity as you continued to curse at it for not clicking. You finally gave up, letting the seatbelt crash against the side of the car as the water works began.

You cried like a baby, the tears falling helplessly and Jungkook didn’t know what to do. He knew not to ask why your boyfriend broke up with you but he had a hunch and he was eaten alive by guilt. It was probably the same reason the boyfriend before that broke up with you. Him.

You are obviously growing frustrated but you never, not once, took it out on Jungkook. Instead, you would say it’s fine that you hardly liked them anyway. But he also knew that was almost always a lie. You had this boyfriend that was more serious than the others—he felt it, he knew that this boyfriend would become priority and Jungkook had to be okay with that. But before things could deepen and become more serious…he dumped you.

This was the first time you actually cried over one of your breakups and Jungkook felt heartbroken, he felt lost and confused. This was his fault for being so close to you? But he chooses to be selfish again and again. Because he never distances himself from you, no, instead he somehow always becomes closer. He’s selfish and he knows why.

“Maybe you should take a nap…” Jungkook doesn’t want you to go to sleep. He just doesn’t want you to go. But he has to let you go…in more ways than one.

“Sleepover?” You don’t want to be alone right now.

“Not right now…” he gently pulls you off his body, his head tilted down to get a good look at you.

“I think we need some space y/n.” He almost regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, your face falls into a deep frown and he wants to take it back but he can’t.

“What do you mean?” You reach up to caress his face but he pushes his head back.

“I need time.” He states.

You begin shaking your head as you start to panic.

“Time for what?” you ask desperately.

“We just…don’t…” his words fall ill on his tongue, they’re on the verge of death but he pushes them out regardless.

“We aren’t working right now…I don’t know how else to say it.”

You shake your head more frantically.

“No Jungkook…” the tears that wouldn’t fall earlier begin to slide down your cheeks as you realize what he is saying.

“I’ll stay at Jimin’s for a while.”

“Jungkook please…I cannot be without you…” you wipe your face with the back of your hand.

“You can.” His hand reaches up to wipe away a few stray tears and you lean into his touch, loving the warmth his hand provides.

“I can’t.” you whimper into your shoulder, trying to hide your face. “What happened to ‘never leaving you’ huh?” you spit out.

“I’ll always be here for you y/n but right now I just need some time to think.” He says quietly, almost ashamed.

“Think about what Jungkook?!” you raise your voice at him and you wince at your own volume. What the hell does Jungkook even need to think about?

Jungkook knows that this is selfish but he has to…he has to put some distance until he can handle things again.

“y/n.” his tone warning you to be careful. Jungkook wants nothing more than to hold you and be here for you but for his own god damn sake he needs to get out of here, for his own fucking heart.

“I’ll be back in a few days, I promise…” he pleads, holding on to your waist again. “Just please give me a few days.”

You look into his giant doe eyes and you melt. You exhale through your nose and give him a troubled smile.

“Just a few days?” you look down at your feet, finding your shoes to be fascinating.

“I promise.”

Little did you know this was going to be the first promise Jungkook ever broke.

#bts #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader

[emonaculate]

Streamer Eren Headcanon pt 2

`❥ AU: Modern!AU

`❥ Genre: Fluff

`❥ Pairing: Streamer!Eren x Black!Reader

`❥ Warnings Include: Profanity, Established relationship, Eren is a dork

`❥ Author Note: You guys loved the first one so much I decided to do it again. Sorry if it isn't as good as the first one, I'm working on other projects at the same time

Eren met you during college and was instantly smitten

You were a foreign student studying abroad

He spent months trying to learn English just to properly talk to you

You finally cave in and go on dates with him because slfkssrlw how could you not when he's that sweet

Having said that, when you're frustrated whilst he streams, to check on you he'll switch over to English.

"Hey pretty girl whats wrong?"

"I can't find the letters for my cross word."

"....Aha lemme see."

He is trying his hardest not to laugh at your cute little scrunched up face as he helps you find the word.

During his charity streams, by popular vote, he lets you do his make up

Despite the stream being 24 hrs long people continue to watch because the interactions are too cute.

" 'Ren stay still."

"It feels moist."

"Never say that again."

"Wait. Babe. I want the thingy on my eyes."

"Thingy?"

"Yeah the sharp shit and the stuff on my lashes."

"Its called wing liner and mascara, Eren."

"Yeah that shit."

"Don't swear. Kids are watching."

"Man fuck them-"

"Yeager."

"....Ahem... sorry."

He is definitely the baddest bitch after you finish <3

Kept the make up on even after the stream finished

He may be a COD player but he does not have toxic masculinity

LOVES how he looks when pampered and whilst he'll never go out of his way to do make up or use your products; if you ever offer he's down

"What that's shit on your face?"

"It's an Indian face mask."

"It looks like throw up."

"Do you wanna try it?"

"Yes."

Once talked shit about braids not hurting that bad.

So the only natural solution was to make a bet

You styled his beautiful long hair into nice and neat cornrows (if you can't braid, take him to the africans)

He couldn't even sit through the procedure, literally got up and left midway through

"Fuck no. I like pain as much as the next guy but hell no."

"Aw baby what wrong? I thought it wasn't that bad."

Went on stream the next day to talk about the experience and why he wouldn't wish that on anyone.

Everyone can tell that your relationship is serious when you accidentally broke his PS5

Like he gets absolutely livid and wants to do nothing more than yell at you

But after seeing your teary eyed expression and your broken apologies in German

He just accepts it and steps completely out of the room to keep from blowing up on you.

It takes a few days and even though you feel completely like shit, you dont bother him

He finally comes around and just holds you tightly

No words or anything

His gesture is enough to let you know he forgives you.

He gets a new one immediately and is more careful when it comes to letting you mess with alone though lmao

Decides to do the little draw my life video and moves people to tears without trying

He thought his trauma was normal pfft

While that gets to people, what really affects his audience is when he get to how you make him feel

"If I can describe Y/n with one word, I'd have to say sunshine. You know that feeling when you've seen nothing but depressing rainstorms for months at a time but just that one day, the sun pokes out and shows that the world isn't so gloomy and bad. It's actually quite beautiful. The sun manages to make those sad raindrops look like diamonds. Thats Y/n to me. She makes the days where I feel at my worst better in every way. "

Eren suffers from a couple mental illnesses which is why he donates to their respected charities

He suffers from ADHD, Depression, and Anger issues.

Now you can't just magically make all of his issues go away but you being around does soothe him in a special way

Not many people can do that and LOTS have tried

But you just manage to get him in ways he cant explain

Even the videos with all of his friends involved, his focus on you

Fans can tell when you guys are not together during streams

Eren's temper is a lot shorter and he pops off quickly.

And of course he just so happens to play "getting over it"

This is one of those times he gets cancelled

Coochie-manz63: wow ur trash

"You're literally someone who hides behind a fucking screen to talk shit but I know if I was in front of you; there would be no exchange because if you so much looked at me wrong, I would have beaten your ass into fucking next year, you dyslexic fucking waste of space. Learn how to goddamn spell before you try to talk shit again."

IloveYEAGGGGER23: Damn..

You ended up being the one to clean up his mess, yet again

"Eren is very sorry for his actions, He understands how his words can be hurtful to others.. Right babe?"

"Huh? Oh um yeah.. My bad ig."

After the apology video, you give Eren one of your famous lectures.

"Eren you can't treat others like that just because you get a little upset. Remember what your therapist said about controlling your temper. You can't just do it when I'm around, you have to do it all the time.

Now Eren loves you to pieces but your lectures just do not help his ADHD mind.

So to shut you up, he does the only thing he knows how

Takes your breath and thoughts away with his passionate kisses.

His pattern is always the same

He pretends to listen, nodding occasionally, stands up and moves closer to you.

Grabs your jaw gently and tips your head back before capturing your lips into a sheering kiss that always leaves you breathless

"What were we talking about?"

"We were just going to get some food."

You're just as weak for Eren as he is for you <3

#eren x black reader #eren jaeger #eren aot #snk #aot headcanons #eren headcanons #eren yeager x black reader #black reader #eren has anger issues but is still sweet

[hansolmates]

me time (m)

summary; the first time virgin!mc meets her mans (but she doesn’t know it yet) pairing; jungkook x virgin!mc genre/warnings; fluff, college!au, boarding house!au, based on the virgin!oc discourse, female masturbation (thanks to the pretty bridgertons), a lil sad and longing at the end w/c; 1.3k a/n; y’all really brought manhater!mc and virgin!mc to life! this couldn’t be done without all of your fabulous input and support. obviously the virginverse is freeform at this point—think of this more as a prequel for these two. set in freshman year of college, when they’re just acquaintances. (do you guys think of cher from clueless when u think virgin!mc? very outgoing n’cute but also very innocent?) anyway, happy valentine’s day i hope you and your boo (whether digital or in-person) get your me/we time💖

Your wooden lap desk is toppled to the side. Good thing the space between the mattress and floor is small, your pink monstera-shaped rug softening the blow when your water bottle, pencils and laptop fall to the floor. In the back of your head you know everything is fine because the last episode of Bridgerton is still playing, an orchestral version of Ariana Grande’s Thank U, Next continuing on as if nothing’s astray. 

Yet you’re nothing but astray, forgotten about the episode and writhing against your too-small twin as you let yourself cum for the umpeeth time. 

You’ve lost track at this point (how couldn't you? Bridgerton is hot) but from the way your hair mats to your face like a second skin and your pussy feels spent and battered, it’s been awhile. This should be your new Valentine’s Day tradition, fucking yourself until you pass out on your vibrator. 

“Ah, ah fu—uck, yyyes!” 

The sheets are sopping. The grey cotton fabric does nothing to hide your juices that seep from your bare cunt to the mattress. Flinging your silicone toy to the side, you pull your hair up and out of your face. 

Water, you need water. Maybe a cup of green tea with a dollop of honey. Sugar always helps the immediate low after a good couple of rounds. 

However, you’ll never get used to the feeling of cleaning up yourself. The feeling that you’ve done something completely lewd all on your own, no one to assure you the things you’re doing are weird. It’s okay though. You love to be alone, it takes a lot for you to feel lonely. 

You slip on a pair of dolphin-cut shorts, too tiny that they are drowned beneath your emerald green slip dress. Quickly opening the door to your room, you’re met with absolute silence. White walls containing empty rooms and a living room without a soul. Just like you’re expecting in a college boardhouse on Valentine’s Day. 

What you’re not expecting however, is Jeon Jungkook staring at you the second you crack your door open. 

“If you’re screaming that loud, your partner must be doing a good job.” 

Jungkook lives on the other side of the boarding house, therefore you’ve never really interacted with him. Excluding the landlord there’s only five other tenants, a group large enough that you’ve never had to have one-on-one with him. 

You really didn’t think anyone would be in the house on Valentine’s, especially Jungkook. He’s an absolute cutie pie, even though you don’t know anything about him. The only thing you really know is that his sparkly brown eyes are to die for, they remind you of coffee milk tea, a craving you only indulge in at the end of finals season. 

To your surprise, Jungkook looks like he hasn’t gone out all weekend. Him, single? As if! Yet you can’t justify any reasoning behind him being home if did have a girlfriend or boyfriend. His dark hair is fluffy and freshly showered, and you can’t ignore the smell of linens from his soft sweats and long navy hoodie. 

Normally, you’d be quiet during Me Time. You’ve perfected the art, stuffing your mouth with your pillow or playing action movies to muffle out the sound. You thought you were in the clear. The thought of Jungkook overhearing you turns you on a little, makes the dampness between your panties even more evident, but you keep that self-indulgent secret to yourself. 

“Oh, well,” you curl your lips in a smirk, closing the door behind you so he doesn’t see that your room is actually very much devoid of life, “she’s very powerful.” 

She, meaning your favorite vibrator in your entire world. It has ten settings and a heating mechanism. More importantly, it’s rechargeable. You don’t know how you’d survive freshman year otherwise. 

“Okay, TMI,” despite the fact Jungkook’s blushing he’s chuckling, holding a hand out for you in the narrow hallway, “after you.” 

You quickly slip past him, walking into the shared kitchenette. Bare feet slapping against the hardwood, your eyes immediately gravitate toward the upper cabinet. Jungkook is following you, presumably to get his own late night snack. When you lift your arms to reach your mug, you feel a little bit of cool air brush against the uppers of your thighs. It’s a nightgown, a pretty satin slip  that falls over your curves and leaves much to the imagination. A couple more centimeters to get your mug and you’ll be definitely flashing Jungkook. 

“Um,” you practically hear the twisted face he’s making. 

“Sorry—I’m sorry!” you blurt, waving your fingers to catch the handle of your mug, “I’m really not trying to flash you—please don’t fill a harassment report! I just can’t reach my mug.” 

“No, that’s my mug.” 

“What, no! I’ve been drinking from this mug all year!” 

“You’ve been drinking from my mug?” Jungkook is affronted, walking past you to easily grab the mug you’ve been struggling to reach for the past minute. He flexes the bottom part of the mug in your face, where his initials are painted in black. “This is my mug, my parents put my handprint on it when I was a year old.”  

It’s then you notice on the lower shelf, there’s an identical mug. This mug has been buried all the way in the back, dust collecting on the rim. It also has a baby handprint on it, although upon closer inspection it’s smaller and in a more faded shade of black. That’s your mug. 

“Oh, Jungkook,” you feel your heart fall all the way to your ass, feeling guilty, “I’m so sorry. I’ve washed it and everything, if it makes you feel any better.” 

He frowns, holding the white porcelain between his hands. A litany of ideas run through your brain. Is he disgusted by using the same mug as you? Have you potentially ruined a prized family treasure? 

Thrusting the mug into your chest he says, “Make me a hot chocolate and we’re even.” 

You smile a little, eager to please. You quickly get to work, simmering the pan with warm milk and melting chopped chocolate. You rinse your mug with some hot water, letting it sit next to his awaiting mug. For a bit of flair you add a capful of vanilla extract, all while Jungkook watches you with mild awe. The smell of sweet late night confections fill the kitchen, a fitting theme for a Valentine’s night. 

“You’re not burning the milk,” Jungkook murmurs more to himself than you, watching as you pour the hot chocolate in cups without spilling a drop. 

Jungkook is known to burn things in the house. The only thing he doesn’t burn is ramen, and that’s purely due to survival skills. 

“What can I say, I’m an expert,” you wink, handing him his mug and you holding yours. 

With matching mugs, the two of you take your first sips of the melty beverage. You lean against the stove facing him, while he faces you against the marble island. Jungkook smiles and a bit of cocoa touches his petal pink lips. He says it’s perfect and you smile into your cup, absolutely swelling with pride. 

Jungkook’s probably working on his photos. He always says his editing bug is itchy at night. While in passing you’ve said you’d love to see his work, however that gesture of kindness never really amounted to anything. Maybe tonight’s the night. You like art, you’d love to be a little more educated with it. Just as you’re about to ask and strike up some conversation, Jungkook beats you to it. 

“Well, hope you and your partner have a good Valentine’s,” Jungkook holds his cup in salute, walking back into his room, “just keep it down.” 

Oh well. You sigh to yourself, letting Jungkook walk away without a fight or a retort. After all, it was you who implied you were sneaking in a bed partner tonight. Sinking your eyes into the brown liquid, you fall into a lull. The creamy liquid swirls in your grasp, making your muddied reflection ripple away. 

You love to be alone, but it takes someone like Jeon Jungkook to remind you that life gets a little lonely. 

#ficswithluv #kwritersworldnet #btsghostie #btsguild #btswritingcafe #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts fluff #bts smut

[insufferablelust]

Little Butterfly I (Sugar Daddy Mob Boss!Spencer Reid x Reader AU)

Warnings: Part 1 of an ongoing series (that i hopefully won’t abandon), Upcoming heavy violence, Mafia and Crime related fic, Spencer is a soft dom but is dangerous, HEAVY SMUT, upcoming dark kinks (Gun,Knife,Bondage etc), daddy kink for sure, Manipulation kink, Degradation, Humiliation (yknow the drill with me) spoiling kink?, upcoming murders etc, heavy topic regarding mental illness, College legal age!Reader, Age gap, older!Spencer, Mean!Spencer, BDSM themed, Indication of Subspace, Just heavily dark smutty series (yet again lmao) 

Hello, my wonderful readers, i want to thank you all for the patience you all have for this series, hopefully i can stick to schedule an update this once a week like Thrilled. This will be a new territory for me since all i know about mafia and such are from the movies and countless books my father has inherited me with, so i deeply apologize if there’re some mistakes, this is an AU that means its only a story and fantasy. If you are uncomfortable to violence and sex then PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS. Thank you, and Happy Reading. 

This series will set around the 80′s New York.

MASTERLIST HERE

There is no hiding from the absolute luxury you indulge in, in fact you love showing it to whoever might want to pry deep enough into your life. You caused no harm by it, and it certainly isn’t anybody’s business but yours and his.

The pair of arms around your waist is a certain remainder of who you belong to, and you loved it. He looked good tonight, almost too good with the suit adorning his perfection like an absolute genius adonis— your genius adonis. You feel your cheeks heats up slightly as he glanced at you, knowing just how shy you get around so many people— his little girl is sensitive after all.

Spencer Reid knows every little thing about you, what makes you tick, what makes you snap, what makes you bow in submission to him, and what makes you feel heavenly. He knows it all, he knows the way you trembled slightly whenever he wrapped his arms around your neck as he leaned down to kiss you, or how squirmy you get whenever he tug your hair, said your name calmly whilst shoving his fingers into your mouth— he knows everything.

—

It was a mutual agreement at first, living on 80’s New York has never been so stressful during your 20’s, all the student loans, the bartending you do sometimes, even the couple of scandalous photoshoots you sacrificed yourself doing to keep your bank account afloat. Your family never really cared much, and the only person that you truly have is Emily, your roommate.The whole ordeal was strange when you found out Emily’s ties to the mafia, being the daughter of one of the strongest mafia’s capo on America during that time. You wondered how on earth she has managed to doesn’t want to get on her father’s good side, and just except the riches that comes along with being a mob, but then again you were a stranger to it too...or so you thought.

The night she asked you to accompany her to meet her father and his boss, you shrugged and said yes, having nothing to do in the apartment other than wallowing in your own debts and sadness— you immediately agrees which put a smile on her cute face.

“I thought you didn’t want nothing to do with your father.” You asked as you raked through the closet to find something... ‘elegant’ but not too much, it’s going to be in a lavish restaurant after all. Your eyes darted to Emily’s who has been staring at her phone, smiling to whoever is texting her— you could only assumed it was one of her secret girlfriend-hookup for the week.

“Well i didn’t but money is tight, fucking inflation.” She looked up for once, lips hanging open at the sight of you standing there in a black dress, short with a slit on the thigh area— looking absolutely ravenous. “Holy fucking shit.” Emily whispered.

“What? is this enough? god i feel like such a prude.” You bit your lip as you await her comments, “You look fucking gorgeous you idiot, i mean are you sure you aren’t gay by any chance?” She laughed, which caused you to giggle, “I never said i’m not gay.. just that i’m not—

“Interested in dating, yeah yeah but we can at least fuck or something.” She jokingly raised her eyebrows as you throw your bra her way and laughed, “I just don’t want to get distracted em, especially that we live together.” You pouted before giving her a kiss on the cheek, which made her roll her eyes and smile.

Only if you knew what this meeting will entails.

—

The wine tasted exquisite on your tongue, the sweet burn of merlot was pleasant on the base of your throat which shocked you at first— maybe you should stop buying cheap wines, because the real ones are heavenly. You looked around nervously, it has been a long time since you’ve gone out to have dinner, let alone one as expensive as this.

“Stop looking like you’re about to die.” Emily whispers as she took the seat next to you, which you humorously giggle and swat her shoulder, “I’m not. It’s just.. new to me is all.” You nervously chuckled, before sipping on your wine some more. It was clear that her dad and his so called mob boss were late— which you rolled your eyes since Emily was basically rushing your make up, you just hoped that you looked decent enough, not that you want to impress anyone, its just good to feel like you’ve fit yourself to the occasion.

“Oh, you’ll get used to it.” Emily chuckled, before you could even process what she meant by that the sound of a soft elderly timbre rang through your ears, “Cara mia! Jesus, you’ve grown!” Emily slapped your thigh softly, gesturing for you to stand up.

Dear heaven, lord save your knees from buckling.

You watched as Emily greeted her father as you stood by her side, she kisses him on both cheeks as they made a small conversation that you pay no mind to since you were distracted, distracted by the pair of eyes that caught yours from the moment he walked in.

A soft yet stern eyes that held yours captive at this very moment, a presence that demands every single person for its attention, and intimidating like no other. A man, a finely sculpted man, standing in front of you in an attire that you were sure was more expensive than your whole closet, His soft looking curls marvelously falls fo his side, his plump lips were begging to be kissed— to be listened, to be heard, his tall lean figure towers over you which has you gulping down nervously— so much so that you failed to acknowledged the presence of Emily’s father calling your name.

“Y/N!” You let out a gasp before turning to shake Emily’s father’s hand, trying your best to smile as you glanced over the towering man, “So this is the Y/N i’ve heard so much about huh?” The old man snickered, looking gentle whilst maintaining a facade still. You giggled softly, “I hope there are all good things, nice to meet you Mr.Prentiss.”

“Oh please, Robert is fine. Oh Emily, Y/N this is don Reid.” He stepped back in.. what looks like an utter fear, you gasped as you realized that this is.. the mob boss Emily talked about, the masochistically handsome man you’ve been staring at— you thought a mafia boss would be someone older, but this is certainly not the case.

“Pleased to meet you both, Spencer Reid.” He extended his hand which Emily gladly took before she nudges your side whilst you were still gawking at the man, the soft yet deep timbre of his voice soothes and intimidate you at the same time, not to mention how he carries himself— practically saying he’s a god.

“Oh— um yes hello, pleased to meet you, i’m Y/N.” You bit your lip as you feel your cheeks hurt from the embarrassment, shaking his hand quickly— before you could even imagine pulling away, he gives you an amused chuckle and squeeze your hand tightly before releasing you.

“Well, let’s take a seat shall we?”

You are so fucking fucked.

--

“So, Y/N, Emily told me you’re majoring in art department, how’re you liking it?” Robert spoke as you eat your pasta slowly, trying not to show how you were trembling under the very same gaze that held you captive from the moment it arrives here. You gulped down a delicious bite of pancetta, before answering, “Oh i love it, always been my passion— well painting is, but i do love everything about art and literature.” You chuckled.

“I would love to see your art sometimes.” The voice could strangle you and you’d die happily, it really could— you glanced at the man whose been looking at you like a wolf to its prey, fingers skimming over the feet of the wine glass as a soft yet eloquent smile strikes over his face.

“Oh um, it’s not— it’s not that good, i wouldn’t want to waste your time.” You choked on your wine, feeling the burn on your throat as he let out a humorous-less laugh, shaking his head, before bringing his lean fingers to his lips. “Nothing is wasteful, not if it comes to such art like you.”

What?

“Huh?” You felt small, your cheeks heated at the reference as you tried so hard not to squirm and praised yourself by hearing what you thought you heard. Your eyes darted to his in a shy manner as he kept his composure well, licking the rim of his glass before sipping his wine gently.

“Anyways! dad, shall we talk a bit more private? i’m sure Y/N can keep the don company.” You gasped at Emily’s words, still barely grasping the previous encounter— the bottom of your heel jab at her left foot, as you glared at her, “Of course of course, don?” Robert spoke up, eyes lowering as his body turned to look at the smirking masterpiece that still stares at you with the same intensity.

“Go. We’ll be fine, won’t we angel?” You gulped down as much wine as you could without burning your throat before smiling nervously, eyes glancing back and forth to The Don and Emily.

“Y-Yes um sure.” You offered a gentle smile, even though your heels jabbed Emily’s which yet again resulted in her tiny laugh before she walks away to the back area of the restaurant.

The area was thick with intensity and glamorous lights, adding to the headache that already starts due to you being a lightweight around alcohol. Suddenly you realized, that you’re practically alone— with the don of the biggest mafia ring in America. “Go ahead and ask me the question.” He murmured sternly, causing your ears to perk at the sudden thrill that made your goosebumps rose and thrived under the shimmering lights.

“Pardon?” Your fingers fiddled with the hem of your dress as you tried so hard not to stare at the huge man, feeling as if you’re being cornered by a lion, and you his prey.

“Your cheeks are warm aren’t they? you keep biting your lips every time i muttered a word, you can’t even look at me because you know that the second you do, you wouldn’t be able to stop. Emily is right, you’re a pure little thing, its fucking cute really. If this table weren’t here separating us, you’d be across my lap already— for wearing something so slutty like that.” By the time he finishes taunting you, you stopped breathing, thigh squeezing against each other so tightly that you could feel how damp your panties are getting.

“Go ahead and ask, doll. Surely you can’t be dumb enough to think i would just allow anyone to meet me let alone a little college student like you.” His eyebrow lifted, as you nervous squirmed on your seat and breathed out.

“Why did you asked her to bring me?”

“Nicely. You know better, Y/N.”

“Sir...”

—

And the rest was history, the pair of arms around your waist tighten as the owner’s lips caress and nip at the very sensitive part of your neck, causing you to shudder and mewls. “mmh.. t-too early.” You complained, fully knowing that would only amuse him even more.

He chuckled as you had predicted, nimble fingers grazing up and down your front like feathers, delicately worshipping every inch of your skin. The blaring sound of New York’s traffic was prominent, but somehow that adds a thrilling aspect for you, months ago— you were picking up morning shifts by now, working your ass off just to gain enough cash to pay this month’s rent. But now, here you are, in the arms of the most feared yet young powerful don in the entirety of the mob community, Heck if everyone knows who he is and how much power he holds— they’d all fear him, but not you, not his fiery little butterfly.

“Shh, let me love on you a little.” Your heart warmed, familiar feeling of a thousand butterflies swarming on your belly caused your cheeks to warmed at the gesture. He said things like those often, though he made it perfectly clear that you were, you are only here for business arrangements, you knew he likes to toy over affection like this— one you aren’t supposed to get attached to. But how couldn’t you? when his hand so softly glides down the curve of your godly features, warm breath fanning across your skin from behind, whispering sweet words.

“Look so pretty for me, butterfly.” He whispered, causing you to yet again whimpers, hand clutching the sheets tightly as he moves down down down until he turned you over and settle between your legs, smiling at you. “If heaven is real, you’re definitely it.” He nipped and bit the exposed skin of your thighs, last night and the night before and before still there but like he said,

“If you agree to the terms, i’ll give you every damn thing you fucking want. Your bills, rents, loans, plus each and every single thing you wished to buy.”

“And in retur—“

“In return, you will be mine, mine to have whenever wherever i want, you won’t be my chained slave or nothing, but you’ll be mine.”

So marked you again and again he did, tearing your satin panties he did, panties that cost more than a week worth of luxury meal that he only grunted with “I’ll buy the whole fucking store, now shut up and let daddy eat his breakfast.”

You swore you’re in god’s heaven then and there, even if you aren’t sure that you believe in one, you can’t help but to think that this is some kind of miracle, your life is, here you have a perfect adonis, suckling on your clit as his fingers pump your delectable cunt in and out with such a fast pace that made you feel all floaty and flustered. The same man that commands the room whenever he walks in, the same man who pay all your bills, the same man who bought you a new lavish apartment and hands you gifts every damn day.

“Oh! oh please daddy right there..” You moaned out loud as your fingers latched onto his hair, softly tug on them as he moaned against your drippy cunt and suck your clit even harder,earning a particularly loud and lewd moan from you. “mmh! a-ah! i’m gonna—“ He held his finger up then, eyes finding yours as his mouth continues to work on your now sensitive clit. Spencer wasn’t too strict or nothing about your rules but if there’s two that he’s strict about is for you to cum only if he gives you permission— no matter the place or time, if he wants you to cum, you’ll cum— not that it’s hard, with someone as skilled as him.

When you begged and begged, he slapped your thigh only to grunt darkly, “If you can’t shut up and let daddy enjoys this, i’ll fucking take you on the balcony and fuck you for all Manhattan to see. Do you want that, Butterfly? want everyone to see what a filthy college girl you are getting fucked by someone as dangerous as me?” He slapped your cunt then, over and over again as you pant, and mewls.. Body jolts and pulsed at his ministration.

“You’re going to cum like this—“ He paused to spit directly onto your swollen clit, watching it wet the sensitive nub, “Going to cum with daddy slapping your greedy little cunt. Or you are not getting an orgasm.”

“Yes, daddy— oh!” True to his words, he spank you, over and over again, leaving you quivering and brokenly cried at the burning pleasure, “Cum princess, come on, you surely know how to thank daddy don’t you?” Your hole clenched around nothing as you arch your back and sobbed,

“Can’t— daddy please i-“

“You were so fucking desperate to cum, why not now huh? your sensitive cunt surely looks wrecked enough.” He scoffed before he spank your clit so hard you jumped at the sensation before he licked his fingers and caress your clit in fast fanning motion, not giving you enough time to even breathe as your cunt pulses and throb with overwhelming need of release, building up up up, up until you finally trembled and cum all over the bed— an orgasm so intense that you blacked out for few seconds straight.

“Shh.. shh good girl, that’s it— fuck you look so ethereal like this, butterfly.” He muses as he settle his head on your lap and admire your pulsing body, “T-Thank- y-you.. daddy.” You gathered all the strength you have left as he smiled proudly.

Your head laid on his chest as you both cuddle in silence, trying to enjoy the serenity and calm environment around you as the city below you buzzed all round. It was calming for awhile before his phone rang and you involuntarily sighs, “I know pretty girl, i know.” He muttered, before smiling apologetically- Not that he needs to.. Business arrangements, not like you’re his girlfriend or nothing.

love on you,

love on you,

let me love on you,

You forced your fuzzy subby mind to get the thoughts out, as you watched his figure put on his robe, and leaned down, “I’ll be back later okay, don’t forget to check your phone.” He kissed your forehead for a bit, letting it linger as you held back your tears, wishing he could stay with you, you need your daddy, you really really do need him now. Feeling all small and fuzzy like this. But with the blaring noise of his ringtone, you knew the don has business to take care of and of course you’re not important enough to held such important task to be left.

So you smiled all nicely and kissed all the rings finger on his fingers before bidding a tiny whimper of, “Best of luck, don.” Your head bowed a little in respect as he noticed the true and true sadness flashed across your eyes, but paid it no mind as his other burner phone blared.

“Thank you, Butterfly. Get dressed soon, and i’ll have Morgan bringing you that sandwich from the deli you love so much. I’ll see you soon.”

Oh how nice would it be if this is your life, but life doesn’t always have a happy ending after all.

——

Comment or send me a message if you want to be added to this series taglist!

#spencer reid smut #littlebutterfly #mob!spencer #daddy!spencer #matthew gray gubler smut #mgg smut #insufferableblurb

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding XIX

Part I - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Part XVI - - - - Part XVII - - - - XVIII

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Author’s Note: This chapter may contain triggering material. Depicts canon-typical violence and deals heavily with themes concerning the aftermath of attempted suicide. 

“Commander- Cody- CODY! Would you wait up.”

Someone was calling his name, but now that the briefing was over Cody was having trouble focusing past the faint ringing in his ears. He worked furiously to move past the white noise and marshal his sluggish thoughts towards overseeing the shuttling of the remaining on-planet 212th back to the Negotiator, and finishing crew complement reports for General Krell and-

He had barely gotten his train of thought back on track when it was derailed by someone grabbing his shoulder. He barely managed to restrain himself from punching the irritant in the visor.

“What is it, Waxer?” he asked impatiently.

“Can we talk? Alone?”

“Fine.” Cody grunted.

Waxer dragged him into the closest small armament room. At a sharp gesture from Waxer, the few milling clones inside quickly shuffled out.

Waxer pulled off his helmet, eyes wide and sad.

“Cody-” he said hesitantly. “I’m not going to pretend that I completely understand what’s going on, but I’m here for you, whatever you need, if you ever want to talk. I never even told Boil about the- the trip to the temple, or any of it, ok? But I’m really worried about you and I want you to know that you can trust me- even if you just need a shoulder to lean on.”

The ringing in Cody’s head got louder.  A beat passed.

“Is that all?” Cody finally asked. “I have work to do.”

“...yeah, that was all.”

Cody made for the door but was stopped by a frantic cry.

“I’m Sorry!” Waxer half-shouted. “I’m sorry- you told us something was wrong and we just laughed and I’m so sorry Commander. And then when you started getting weird and the General wasn’t answering comms I just assumed things were good, but then we found he was sick and I was making jokes about bedrest while he was in sickbay- and then I was remembering the surveillance you put on the Cantina and I made jokes about that at the time but I was right next to him at the bar while you over at the table and now I can stop thinking that he got poisoned while I was right next to him at the bar. And then General Skywalker stepped down from Command this morning and I don’t even want to imagine what would make him do that. And I don’t know what the kark all that was with Krell but I’m so sorry Commander- I feel like everything I say is making things worse but I- I’m sorry.”

It took a while for Cody’s sluggish mind to process all that. He stared blankly at Waxer as he quivered at attention.

“Waxer...” The ringing had stopped, and was now replaced with a growing headache. “None of the General’s injuries or anything are your fault, ok? I- its classified and I don’t- I don’t know what happened this morning but...nothing actually happened in the Cantina. You have to keep this secret- but...” Cody hesitated over how much to say.

His voice dropped to a low whisper. “Practically the only thing I do know for sure is that he wasn’t poisoned. It was just regular alcohol and at most it made him slightly vulnerable... Anyway nothing was your fault so just- focus on the mission. Ok?”

Waxer stared at Cody. He cleared his throat. “You said Injuries.”

“What?” No I- what are you talking about?” Cody asked weakly.

“Commander. You said injuries. Not illness. Are you telling me that the General was attacked?” Waxer asked, voice growing quiet and angry. “Are you telling me that the General was attacked and High Command lied to us about it?”

Cody responded with similar hushed irritation, “No! Waxer- look. I can’t talk about this, it’s-”

“I swear to the force if you say classified I don’t care if you are my commanding officer I will slug you.” Waxer took in a shaky breath, clenching his fists. “Is this why you’ve been wearing your bucket? Because you can’t look your troopers in the face while you lie to us about a threat to the 212th?”

“That’s enough lieutenant- there are things you don’t know-”

“Yeah, because I’m being lied to- I’m supposed to be your lieutenant and even if you couldn’t tell me everything I at least trusted that you wouldn’t lie-”

“We didn’t lie- illness is the best description because even if we don’t understand what caused it, that’s what caused the injuries, and the troops needed to know this isn’t going to be fixed even once he’s technically out of the Bacta tank.”

“What the kriff kind of illness causes injuries you treat with a Bacta tank-”

“Fuck. Waxer, please. I can’t do this-”

Waxer stepped forward as Cody shifted back.

“Cody. Seriously. What kind of illness causes injuries you treat with a Bacta tank? That- that doesn’t even make sense.”

"It’s class-”

“What do you mean the alcohol made him ‘vulnerable’?”

“Lieutenant, I’ve got to back to work-”

Waxer grabbed his arm before he could pull away.

“Commander, was this an attack or not?”

“We- we don’t know. There’s Jedi bantha fodder involved...and, Waxer you can’t discuss this with anyone, I can’t-”

“What the kriff do you mean you don’t know- how could it not be clear if his injuries were caused by an attack or an illness?”

Cody yanked his arm away and shoved Waxer back with his shoulder. The lieutenant quickly regained his balance and charged forward, tackling the commander to the ground, helmet make a hard thud as it made contact with the duracrete floor. They rolled around, each trying to gain leverage over the other.

 Cody managed to get on top, knee driving harshly into Waxer’s back, pinning him down. After that, it only took a few more seconds to twist one of Waxer’s arm behind his back.

“Fine!” Cody sneered, pressing hard on his Lieutenant’s neck with one hand while yanking the trapped arm painfully. “You really want to know?!”

“Obviously, asshole” Waxer grit out.

“The general tried to karking kill himself and we have no idea why.”

“no-”

“Or rather we have too many ideas why. Did you know Jedi can take psychic damage from being around too many violent thoughts? Or that the General got abandoned in a fucking planetary civil war when he was a cadet?”

“that-”

Of course, he could have just had a vision that melted his brain and actually he wanted to wake up by killing himself. And if that’s true than it means he vividly remembers the nightmare shit from the hovercar ride. Remember that stuff? Temple burning? Us firing at him while mind controlled? Yeah, could be he just thinks that’s more real than reality, and he’s never going to be able to move on from stuff we didn’t even do. And he might never believe anything we say or do is real ever again.”

“I-”

“Of course, it could be some sort of crazy dark forbidden Jedi attack from Dooku or Ventress because they’re still running around despite all the times we’ve almost captured them, and if it is that then there’s not a karking thing we can do to defend him!”

“Cody, please-”

Cody breathed heavily for a second, staring uncomprehendingly at the trooper pinned beneath him. After a moment, everything clicked into place and he scrambled back, stopping when his back hit a sealed munitions rack. Waxer gasped for breath.

“Fuck- Waxer, I am so sorry, that was, kriff, you shouldn’t have found out that way- I shouldn’t have told you like that, I’m so sorry. I- are you ok?

"Oh yes, I’m doing great,” Waxer wheezed. “How about you?”

“I’m fine.” Cody replied automatically, wincing immediately at the absurdity of the sentence.

“Wizard, so glad we had this conversation.” Waxer coughed, voice starting to get back to normal. 

The door clicked open and a trooper Cody didn’t recognize stepped in, looked between Cody, who was braced defensively with his knees up, and Waxer who was panting face down, a small distance away. He immediately stepped back into the hall, not saying a word, door clicking swiftly closed again, lock audibly activating. 

Waxer flopped over to lay on his back, head turned to the side to pin his Commander in place. 

“...Thanks for telling me, Cody.” Waxer said quietly.

Cody thunked his head back. “You wish you never asked, fuck off.”

Waxer sat up with a groan, “No...Cody you shouldn’t have to go through this by yourself.”

“...Rex knows. Not- not everything I just said. But the basics.” 

“Good.” Waxer crawled over to sit next to his Commander, sitting back heavily.

“...I’m sorry, Cody. If Boil ever- I’m just...really sorry.”

Cody dropped his head to his knees. “I can’t let myself feel like that, Waxer,” he rasped. “I was already hanging by a thread and then- I thought he was there at the meeting for a second, and I- the men need me, I can’t focus on stuff that’s going to make me go nuts.”

“Um... you mean you thought he was there, when the Jedi were ‘sensing’ him?” the lieutenant asked tentatively.

“...yeah,” Cody sighed.

“That sounds like force stuff.”

Cody hummed in response.

Waxer took a deep breath. “Did- did it seem like he died?”

“I don’t...know,” Cody answered softly. “He- was there. And then he wasn’t.”

There was a long pause before the Lieutenant spoke, deliberately cheerful.

“Well then, I bet he’s alive. He’s obviously not very good at dying.”

Cody choked on a harsh breath, coughing heavily enough that he finally yanked off his helmet to suck in air.

“For- for force sake, Waxer-”

“You said you couldn’t go nuts,” Waxer said, shoving him with his shoulder. “We’re soldiers, right? This is how we deal with horrific shit that no one should ever have to think about, let alone have to keep to himself for fear of demoralizing an entire army, eh?”

“Waxer...”

The trooper climbed to his feet with a groan, ignoring his commanding officer.

“Come on, let’s get those kriffing manifests completed for Master Krell. I’ll make sure you keep going. For our Vode.” He offered a hand down to Cody, who tentatively accepted it. Waxer yanked him to his feet, drawing his Commander in for a quick, crushing hug, before ducking down to pick up the discarded buckets.

They both pulled on their helmets, puffy eyes and swollen lips hidden neatly.

“For our Vode,” Cody repeated.

They unlocked the door, joining the throng, all company marching to the familiar rhythm of a quickly ticking deployment countdown.

Next (Part XX)

#star wars #my au #suicidal misunderstanding au #star wars au no 27 #potentially triggering #violence #suicide references #star wars fanfiction #star wars au

[tellmenauineo]

colored by you

pairing: mingyu x reader, vernon x reader

genre: soulmate!au, angst, fluff, smut, comedy (at some points)

warnings: mentions of alcholol and weed, language, unprotected sex   

summary: eventually, we fall in love with people who the universe destined us to. but there are complications sometimes. 

word count: 11k (i refuse to comment) 

a/n: tell me what you think even if you found it bad 🤧🤧 i’m in NEED of feedback,, stay safe during the pandemic and feel free to talk to me!! i’m sorta back 🤠🤠

“I'd prefer if you showed more enthusiasm about it. Success is never an accident,” your mother reads you a lesson, a reproach can be heard in her voice. Your sigh, wishing this conversation to be over so you’ll finally be able to hang up your phone. 

“Some people aren't built happy, or cheerful, or forever excited, you know,” you mumble. “I'm satisfied with my academical success – but maybe it isn't a thing I want to achieve now. I don't know.”

“Of course, people aren't built happy – that’s why the Universe made a soulmate for each of us. To make us happy. That's how it works.”

“Uh-huh.”

“One day you’ll understand,” your mother continues. “And you will be happier, happier than ever. Your time will come.”

You won't understand.

The Universe made a soulmate for each of us. The Universe made sure we’ll be aware who is the one, the one, as your mother says, who’ll make you happier and complete, too. It's pretty simple. First words addressing you that you would hear from your soulmate get imprinted on the skin of your ribcage. Close to your heart.

The mechanism of The Universe is perfect. But, sometimes, even perfect-made things get broken.

You won't understand because you already have words tattooed on your skin.

“I guess, we can say love is an accident, isn't it?” you say. “Anyway, I gotta go, mom. I'll call you tomorrow?”

“Sure. Take care of yourself. And don't stay up late.”

“We both know I'm gonna stay up late,” you smile. “Bye!”

It happened in cold January, four months ago.

“Shrimp Pad Thai?” Chan asks you.

“Mm, yes,” you say, fluttering your eyelashes innocently. Chan gasps and raises his eyebrows in a fake disbelief, but you don't let him open his mouth to say something very sarcastic about you and your habits in eating. “I'm your customer, where are your manners? What if I leave?”

“Then you'll leave and won't have our Shrimp Pad Thai which you order five days a week,” he shrugs.

“I'm older than you – pay me respect!”

“I do? Always? Our very important customer who always eats the same,” he playfully sing-songs and you roll your eyes, trying your best not to give him a smile.

“Go and get us food already,” Momo says. “Both of you better not play on my nerves when I'm hungry.”

When the orders are made and Chan leaves to the kitchen, you get up from your seat.

“I'm going to wash my hands,” you announce, and your friend nods at it.

On your way to the restrooms you recognize a bunch of boys sitting at the window booth. Kim Mingyu, Wen Junhui and Jeon Wonwoo – all of them are in Soonyoung’s group of friends. Wonwoo smiles and waves his hand and you return the gesture. You nod at Junhui and Mingyu – who looks incredibly soft and cute in his light-gray hoodie with his rose cheeks – seems that the ramen he is eating is too spicy for him. He gives you a little “hey”, smiling at you, and you immediately feel how your own cheeks turn blushy. To prevent your embarrassment in front of them, you try to speed up, but, suddenly, collide with someone.

“Uh, I can feel my chilli sauce dripping.”

You look up at the source of the voice, Chwe Hansol, the new Soonyoung’s roommate you heard a lot about (and you’re aware that Soonyoung not just can’t stop telling embarrassing stories about you to his roommate, but also shows him your pictures, because yes, in Soonyoung’s words, it’s a crime if you don’t put on display your best friend and your wonderful, a movie-worthy, friendship) and, apparently, there is no bottle of chilli sauce in his hands. A smug smile is playing on his lips and his chocolate eyes are glistening with a mischief.

“Nice try,” you don't hide a hint of a wipe in your voice as you start moving towards the restrooms – you swear a trip to them never took that long.

You catch Hansol's gaze on you on the way back to your and Momo’s booth and you have nothing to do but narrow your eyes at him, making him smile even wider.

“He's cute, though. The Hansol guy I mean,” Momo concludes after you finished your dinner. “But no shit they're loud.”

You cast an eye at their boost. Mingyu is the loudest and the most talkative among them – but, somehow, looking at him telling something, wildly gesticulating, makes your heart melt a little.

Stupid, you think, it's almost close to feeling happy. 

You spot the tattoo when you go to take a shower that night.

Your heart sinks at the sight of the words.

“Uh, I can feel my chilli sauce dripping.”

You don't tell anyone.

“I can take it as an offend, you know,” Soonyoung whines. “You've been turning down my home party offers for more than a month!”

“Um, you haven’t had any,” you say.

It’s true – you try your best to avoid Hansol, and it works even despite the fact he lives with your best friend (sometimes you’re wondering how Soonyoung and Hansol, the pair of complete opposites, rub along okay together, but maybe opposites indeed attract?). You’re not fond of the idea you reduced all your social interactions, but at least you do your huge amount of homework in time – that’s why Soonyoung once called you a homework-doing machine.

Yes, that’s lame.

“It’s because you didn’t come!”

You’re clearly under pressure. You can crack under it a little bit.

Just a little bit.

“Because I-” you forget what you want to say to explain yourself. Or, rather, to fudge up an excuse to trick Soonyoung and keep staying from Hansol as long as possible. “It’s complicated. Besides, your roommate sticks at home for days on end, and if I want to spend time with you I want us to be alone,” you point at him with your pen.

His eyes are getting wider and wider with each millisecond and finally he gasps,

“Are you in love with me?!”

Well.

“What if I am?” you challenge. At the end of the day, that’s the words of the woman who has nothing to lose.

“I-” it’s Soonyoung, who is under pressure right now. “I love you, you know it-”

“But, there’s always a but,” you sigh in a fake manner. “I understand. Maybe I haven’t yearned it yet,” you place your hand over his, and his eyes are glued to your hands. “But, Soonyoung, I want to hear ‘horanghae’ from you someday. Will my dream come true?”

He lifts up his eyes to you. Soonyoung’s known you for over a decade and he clearly can say you’re on the verge of bursting into a hearty laugh despite your dying attempts to keep your face straight. He snaps his hand away and stands up.

“Yah! You betrayed me!” he points a finger at you. “Yah!” he continues in a voice that is a few octaves higher than his usual. “You are gonna pay for your betrayal!”

“Sure thing,” you manage to say through your laugh. You’re well aware that almost all eyes in the campus cafeteria are on you, but it was quite common when the two of you were together. “I’ll see you in court, horangi.” 

You wish you were in court.

Instead, you’re in Soonyoung and Hansol’s kitchen, mixing the sickest possible cocktail ever – and you’re not proud of yourself.

“Why it looks like wiper fluid but tastes like lab alcohol?” Seungkwan asks, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Your mirror his expression.

“Um, the creator would like to take to his own grave the secret receipt of this… shit,” you say.

By the creator you mean Soonyoung. You’re on duty tonight – it’s Hansol and Seokmin’s double birthday party and you’re in charge of everything – your best friend had no mercy for the cafeteria joke.

“Don’t tell me the upcoming birthday cakes have the same creator,” the boy says, patting his blond locks back into place. You assume he was dancing, or, more likely, slamming in the living room, while you hide in the kitchen, still avoiding Seokmin co-star of this night, Hansol.

“Nah, I ordered them in the bakery. Customized ones!”

“You should’ve asked me to bake the cakes,” the third person enters the room, and your heart skips a bit. Mingyu walks towards you and Seungkwan and leans on the counter, still having his eyes on you. “I need to improve my baking skills.”

You feel how your cheeks flushing up. Shit, you curse in your head, he just made an appearance and you’re already turning into mush.

“Next time maybe?” you ask, your voice is much more gentle than usual. “Whose birthday is next?”

“Mine,” smiles Mingyu. “But I don’t want to hold a party this year – wanna share a dinner tete-a-tete with someone.”

“Such a great plan! Except for one thing – you don’t have ‘someone’,” Seungkwan rolls his eyes.

“I’ll find one,” Mingyu’s words are steady but his movements are not. His right elbow slips off the counter, and the boy hisses. “I’m already working on this.”

“Sure thing, tiger,” you smile despite feeling that something is scratching your guts in your belly – disappointment? jealousy? sadness? Maybe all of them and maybe none.

You have a soulmate for fuck’s sake and it’s not Mingyu.

“Whatever,” Seungkwan mutters. “I’m going back to the party and I strongly recommend you to stop hiding here,” he says, looking you right in the eyes. “He won’t bite you, you know?”

“What are you talking about?!” you exclaim, but Seungkwan only shrugs.

“Have no idea.”

You want to follow him, take him by the shoulders and ask about everything he knows about – did Hansol tell him about you? Seems so. Has he, Seungkwan, launched the making of the two of you a couple campaign? If yes, you’re doomed.

Mingyu stops you from storming out of the kitchen – you’re back to the reality with his warm hand wrapped around your wrist and you turn to him in surprise, your cheeks already flushed.

“Yes?” you manage to mumble.

“Who are you hiding from?” he asks, and you almost hear concern in his voice. Or maybe you imagine it all.

“Um- no one? He’s being delusional like always, you know?”

“You sure?’ his hand is getting lower, and unexpectedly you find your fingers intertwining with his. Mingyu’s hand is much larger and warmer than yours, his hold isn’t tight, but it magically makes you forget about the whole the soulmate and his wingman thing.

It makes you forget about everything except for this particular moment – Mingyu’s dark eyes on you, your hand in his and the echo of the music playing in the living room. His bronze skin’s glowing in the dim kitchen light (one of the bulbs is dead and neither Soonyoung or Hansol wants to do something about it), his face is innocent and the only thing you can think about – your uncontrollable desire to kiss off two worry lines between his perfect eyebrows.

You don’t even notice that you’re holding your breath, too afraid to interrupt the moment.

“I’m sure,” you whisper and he nods. Mingyu probably can hear the beating of your racing heart, and you don’t mind at all – you would eagerly tell him how he makes you feel if he wants to know.

He leans closer to you, his breath is tickling the soft skin of your cheek and you hear him ask,

“May I?”

But before you can nod, Seokmin’s piercing voice, like a bolt out of the blue, is calling your name,

“Soonyoung’s trying to kiss me!”

He is louder than any bomb, you think, and that’s enough to take you out of the trance. You slowly turn to him, letting go of Mingyu’s hold on your wrist.

“It’s his way to wish you a happy birthday,” you negotiate, but Seokmin’s gaze is wandering between your and Mingyu’s bodies. His hand follows his eyes, gesturing at the two of you.

“Are you-”

“No, no, no,” you cut him off.

“Man, you need me to get the thing squared away?” Mingyu sounds irritated. You turn your head to steal a look of him. You never saw him like that – at least, not with his friends. Even when his team was defeated at the bowling a month or so ago he seemed worn out, but no hint of irritation on his face – just an exhausted smile combined with a self-mockery behavior. That night you almost regretted saying your wrist was injured so you spent the whole game sipping bubble teas instead of helping your team from sinking to the bottom.

(Jeonghan didn’t buy that spectacular performance, by the way)

“I came to complain?” he looks at you, the eyes so innocent, calling for help, so you smile in response – it’s always like this with Seokmin – the boy can melt even stone hearts.

“Let me check on him,” you say to Seokmin, and he eagerly nods. You pat on Mingyu’s right forearm, your fingers stay on his hard bicep for a little too long, and it makes you lick your lips. “And if he needs to get into bed, I expect some help from you, Mingyu.”

His face softens, and he chuckles, closing his eyes for a second.

“Let’s get it then.”

“I ain’t leaving till I help you with this,” Mingyu says, referring to the apartment that looks like a battlefield (of beer pong). “You already look tired.”

“I’m tired,” you admit. “But you have classes like in…” you check your watch. “…four hours.”

“I’ll sit in the back of the classroom,” seeing the question in your eyes, he adds. “I’ll catch some sleep, don’t worry.”

“Sounds stupid, but I guess nothing would change your mind,” you give up, and a proud smile appears on his face. “The living room is yours then,” you give him an evil smile, your hand lands on his firm chest, patting it twice. “Have fun!”

When you step into the kitchen, a sigh of disappointment leaves your lips, despite your vain attempt to suppress it.

Hansol sits in the white plastic chair, mindlessly scrolling through whichever app is it’s feed. He looks up at you, but he next second his eyes are back on the screen.

Your body feels stiff, like you’re made of wood, but you force yourself to approach the counter. The desire to disappear is so strong that you find yourself not breathing at all – like if you make less noises, the more Hansol is unaware you’re in the same room with him.

You grab a handful of orange peels to throw in the trash can under the sink when you hear Hansol voice, “Why didn’t you throw out all of them?” You turn to the boy, cheeks already red, and anger is bubbling in your stomach. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and he lets a hoarse laugh.

“I’m joking, jeez. No need to sulk.”

You don’t return his smile, instead turning away from him to take the leftovers, and say,

“It couldn’t fit in my hand.”

He coos at your words, and you feel stupid.

“Soonyoung was right. You’re an absolute doll.”

“Not impressed,” you roll your eyes, but you feel no confidence in your voice. You face Hansol again, a mischievous glint in his big eyes can be spotted even from across the kitchen. “Your eyes are red,” you notice. “Are you stoned?”

“Maybe so,” he yawns, stretching out in the chair that is about to crack under his weight at any minute. “I don’t mind you tucking me in, though. You seem to be a pro.”

“Well, don’t overdo it,” you say. “The scientists say weed makes people stupid.”

“And affects their memory,” he adds. “But it makes me copy.”

“With what?”

Hansol shrugs and his gaze falls to his knees. He radiates hesitation, and you gulp the pulse in your throat, afraid to hear the truth.

“With me being avoided by my own soulmate like I’m sorta of a plague? Sorta.”

A wave of pure heat that feels like a fever, a bad fever, runs through your body. The whole soulmate thing was supposed to be a blessing, but it feels like a curse. Without thinking, you pathetically mumble,

“I thought you don’t care.”

You really did. For the last few weeks you’ve been living in the bubble made of your own sorrows, disappointments, and self-pity, and the thought of what Hansol feels and thinks about it never crossed your mind.

“Whatever,” he says. “I got your point.”

Hansol doesn’t wait for the unspoken words that are stuck in the back of your throat, ringing in your ears over and over as you watch him leaving the kitchen. He stops at the doorframe with his hand in his dark locks – it’s so odd to see him not wearing a beanie – and slowly turns to you.

“Leave this shit to Soonyoung,” he says.

“Okay,” you mutter.

He calls your name, shooting the arrow of guilt right into your heart.

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

When Mingyu returns to ask where he can find another bag for trash, you cling to the boy’s chest, and skipping all the questions on the tip of his tongue, Mingyu clasps his arms around you. His chin is snuggling upon your head and you feel pressure inside of the bubble reducing a little.

But a tremendous guilt envelops you with each minute.

Momo stares at your figure as you sit across her – your hair cascading down onto your hunched shoulders, your face is covered with your hands, and the girl only huffs.

“Should I expect some fake sobs?”

You spare a fiery glance at her, but she just waves you off in dismisal. Momo doesn’t even trying to hide her irritation with you – the first thing she asked you after you finally had decided to spill the whole situation to her was ‘Could you have taken any longer to tell me?” and you can’t blame her.

“Yah, leave these tricks for your future sweetheart Sollie. I’m not buying it.”

“He is not my future sweetheart,” you argue. “It doesn’t work!”

“Because you never gave it a chance,” she isn’t convinced, and her stern tone makes you consider the words more carefully.

“He hates me now!”

“First, you deserved it. No offense. Second, he seems like a crackhead, such people don’t hate other people, they just don’t care about them.”

“Don’t talk about him like that!” you exclaim, and her face breaks into a triumphant smile. “What?”

“Look at you, already defending your soulmate,” she says in a saccharine voice. “Ask him out and fall in love. Choose life. Choose a loveseat coach.”

“Isn’t it from Trainspotting movie?” you question, narrowing your eyes.

“And what about it?” she huffs once again. “It doesn’t make me wrong. It always starts with a crush. Just let it happen.”

A crush, huh? A crush that makes your heart beats harder; that sends you floating in your daydreams; that makes you the happiest person in the whole universe, but at the same time has the power to make you sadder than the most distant and loneliest star from the Sun?

Just like the one you have on Mingyu?

Momo still doesn’t know how you feel about the tall, black-haired boy, and you aren’t ready to tell her the truth. Partly because you want to protect this thing from the outer world, make it special, make it a secret that can be kept by the two only, and, partly because you’ll face the wall of misunderstanding. You could fool around with the boys before, but now you’re certain with the one who is destined for you. And you can’t – you shouldn’t – seek for another lover. It’s wrong.

The ability to make all your problems yourself will never fail to amaze you.

“Fine,” you say through gritted teeth. “If you’re so smart.”

“I could’ve been your mother, though. You should follow my every word.”

“Momo, we literally were born in the same decade,” you sigh, but the girl has no intention to follow any of your words.

[mingyyuu 17:13] it’s so cold today!! stay inside  🖤

[you 17:14] too late :// plans!!

[mingyyuu 17:16] any plans for tomorrow?

[you 17:16] not yet

[mingyyuu 17:17] now you have some!

 The boy continues to type, but you have to put the phone in the back pocket of your jeans – you’re awkwardly shifting your weight from one foot to the other at the doorstep, not able to say anything – even a small ‘hello’.

“Soonyoung’s at the dance practice,” Hansol breaks the silence.

“I know his schedule better than he does,” you can’t help but roll your eyes. “I came for your soul.”

Hansol raises his brows, his eyes never leave yours as he steps aside to let you in. The boy helps you with your jacket, and you mutter a small ‘thank you’, hoping he’ll take the initiative, even despite the fact it’s you who came to talk.

“How are you doin’?” maybe it’s a soulmate thing to read each other’s mind? You look at Hansol and you have a feeling that you’ll never be able to go through the guard around him and straight to his head. His expression is neutral, and you admit that he doesn’t even need to try look beautiful.

“Nothing much,” you response. “What ‘bout you?”

“Okay. Wanna drink something?”

“A pepsi please?”

“We only have a few cans of coke, do you wanna?”

You already feel strange of that crazy amount of questions for the beginning – the situation becomes more and more awkward that you’re able to feel the pressure of the air in the room. Your temples pulse a little, threating a headache.

“Nah, I’m fine then,” you say, taking a deep breath. “I came here to say I’m sorry and-”

“And?”

“Do you think we should be together?”

“It how it works,” he lets out a dry laugh. Hansol looks down to your face, his hand reaches out to stroke your shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

The grip on your temples is too tight to bear, and you let out a heavy pant.

“My head hurts,” you explain, squeezing your eyes shut – the light is too bright.

“You need to lie down,” Hansol says. “It’s probably because the temperature difference between inside and outside. I’ll bring painkillers to Soonyoung’s bedroom.”

You nod, heading off to the bedroom. What a great wat to talk - show up at someone’s doorstep just to say you have a headache. Great. Not bothering yourself with discarding your clothes, you collapse stomach-down onto the bed without removing the cover, your face is buried in the soft material.

“Shit, you’ll suffocate if you stay like this,” Hansol’s deep voice wafts on your ears. You slowly lean on your elbows to steal a glance at him. After placing the glass of water and the blister of painkillers at the night stand, he gets down on his haunches, his eyes at the same level as yours. You stay like this for some time, not saying a word, mesmerized by his face.

“What did you do before I came?” you ask out of sudden. Hansol seems to be taken aback with your question.

“Tried to make some music,” he gawks, blinking at you.

“Really?” you ask in a low voice.

“Mostly checked the mic with some ‘yeah’s’ and ‘yo’s’”, he admits, an amusing laugh escapes his mouth. “I’ll try to do something while you’re resting, good?”

You nod you head and smile at him. He gently squeezes your shoulder and stands up. Before he disappears out of the bedroom, you say,

“Do you have any siblings?”

He turns to you, leaning back against the wall.

“Yeah. I have a little sister. You?”

You shake your head no and he nods.

“But it was easy to guess you’re not the only child, though,” it’s difficult to see his face in the darkness, but your eyes never leave him.

“How so?”

“You offer a compromise when it's unnecessarily,” you sniggle. “A man of settled habits.”

You see his wide smile in the dark.

 You force your eyes open and sit up in the bed, your hair disheveled and slightly damp at the back of your neck. Headache has gone, at least for now, but your throat feels dry. When you come to the kitchen, you see the note in Hansol’s infamous unsteady handwriting left on the counter:

you can find pepsi in the fridge!

You smile at the gesture and inside you sense warmth.

 You knock at Hansol’s bedroom door twice and after the boy calls out for your entry, you slip through the door.

Hansol sits at the table, bobbing his head in time with the song that hums from the speakers. His eyes are glued to his laptop, the headphones rest above his ears.

“Does the work go smoothly?” you ask, sitting at the corner of his bed. He turns to face you; a soft smile is playing on his lips.

“Yeah, it’s okay. There are many things that I think I’m lacking in, but I work on them,” he says in a serious tone. “But I’ve finally finished the song that had been haunting me for weeks.”

“Oh, that’s great!” you beam at him.

“Your snoring from the next room inspired me,” he places his hand over his heart. “I’ll be forever grateful for that.”

You lightly kick his calf, and the boy laughs. Rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes, he draws his attention back to you.

“Feel better?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer. Nodding, Hansol notices your gaze focusing on the screen of his laptop. There’re the unknown for you tools placed on his table, except for the microphone, of course, and you’re wondering what kind of music he’s into.

“Wanna hear it?” he asks, once again showing his amazing ability to read your mind.

“Yes!” you hearty nod. “Want my headache to be back.”

Hansol rolls his eyes, muttering a small ‘sure’ under his breath, and places the mouse cursor over the play button. The speakers are small, but even despite it you sense the music vibrate through your body. The beat is harsh, his voice is piercing, and it feels like the most Hansol’s thing he could’ve ever done, but at the same time you’ve got an inkling that the tune and the lyrics were created by his mysterious twin.

“You really made this?” your eyes are wide and your hand clutches hold of his wrist.

“Yeah,” he hums nervously, bringing his free hand to rub at the back of his head.

“It’s good! I can’t believe you haven’t signed a ten-million dollars contract yet!”

“You heard just one song,” he smiles in a protest. “Thanks anyway.”

“I’m right, though,” you say, your hand leaving his as you smile at him. “You should be a star! I can’t say what I liked about it ‘cause I don’t know anything about music, but the whole thing is perfect!”

He looks up to you, your cheeks flushed with passion and your eyes glisten as candles burn bright, and it brings a proud smile on his lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he blurts.

“You’re beautiful too,” your words are sincere, filled with pure appreciation you have for this melted chocolate eyed boy. The idea of you frightened of meeting him a few hours ago seems like a pure absurd right now – when the two of you sit that close to each other, you having a string of questions to ask him about his life, interests, hopes and dreams, and on your tongue the whole story of your life is tingling to be uttered at the same time.

“It was unexpected,” he chuckles. “Thanks again.”

“Thanks for the pepsi,” you return. “I thought you had only coke?”

“Um, I went to the convenience store across the street while you were asleep,” he says, his eyes are wandering on the wall. You can hardly take a breath.

“You shouldn’t have,” you say.

“It’s not a big deal,” he shrugs. Nodding, you slip off his bed and go toward the window. Leaning your forehead against the cool glass, you take a deep breath.

“Is Soonyoung still at the practice?” you ask, your voice is low.

“I guess,” Hansol perches at the windowsill. “I kinda lost track of time.”

You feel the heat his body radiates. Theoretically, you think, you find him somewhat sexy, really manly. His long scraggy neck, broad shoulders, a spectacular torso you can notice even under his oversized t-shirts, and athletic thighs. A month ago, your informant told you that Hansol barely shows up in the gym, and you wonder if the boy was gifted with capability of being perfect without even trying.

And still, he isn’t Mingyu, who makes you feel being in love.

You want to tell Mingyu the truth about your wrong destiny, your aching heart that can be healed with his smile only, and the feeling of your stomach filled with butterflies. You want him to hold your hand, pushing all the doubts and fears away, and make you his. His, despite the cruel joke The Universe played on you.

You think, you have a feeling, he would understand it, because he believes in strength of choice. Mingyu is in a constant state of moving forward, overcoming all obstacles he might face.

Would it be the first time when he stops?

 You and Hansol both stay silent till the whole apartment echoes with Soonyoung’s ringing voice.

“Woah, I like the pictures!” Mingyu approves with a hum, adjusting something on his camera. “They’re perfect.”

“Because they’re pictures of me or because it’s you who took them?” you smile, a playful glint in your eyes as you nudge him.

“Let me think,” the boy stops in his tracks, his brows furrow in a fake manner, indicating he is absorbed in his thoughts. “Both.”

“Wow,” you play along, shaking your head and pressing your lips together. “Groundbreaking.”

He giggles and slides his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Wish I could tickle you right now, bit your jacket doesn’t give a chance.”

You shove off his hand and see a small pout forming on his plush lips.

“It’s my protection from pervs like you, Mingyu,” you smile innocently, casting sheeps eyes on him.

“Pervs don’t ask for a permission,” he opposes matter-of-factly. You raise your brows at him in question, and it doesn’t take long for him to explain. “Let me kiss you.”

You raise your head at Mingyu to see him smiling down at you with shining eyes, his cheeks are glowing from the frosty air.

“Go ahead,” you smile, and he leans down and kiss you. His lips are warm and sweet, and you never expect to feel care through a kiss as his mouth is covering yours. His hand cups your cheek while the other is placed tightly at the base of your neck. You trace your tongue against his lower lip, his tongue is eager to meet yours. You tease the inside of his mouth, and Mingyu lets out a small groan, which is enough to bring you to senses, and you break the kiss.

“We’re outside, Guy,” you softly remind him, your grip at his forearms is loosen.

“And so?” he whines, tugging at your sleeves to keep you body close to him.

“And we’re late,” you try to reason, but frankly speaking, you better would have stayed in the previous position you shared with Mingyu than going anywhere. “Let’s go. The sooner we start, the sooner we leave.”

The idea of karaoke night seemed promising, to say at least, but with Seungkwan occupying the microphone and Seokmin taking the guise of being his bodyguard, preventing any attempt of borrowing the tool out of his hands, ebullience faded into despair.

Jun is scrolling through his phone, and you find it okay; Soonyoung is busying himself with fourth bowl of ramen in a row, and it begins to worry you; Jihoon is yawning in thirsty eight second intervals, and the fact of you really counting begins to worry you; Mingyu’s playing with your hands, his head rests against your shoulder, you find it normal too.

You toy with his dark hair and lower yourself to whisper in his ear.

“Take me out.”

“Your wish is my command,” Mingyu smiles with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He straightens up off the sofa and extends his hand to you. You stretch out your own hand and place it in Mingyu’s warm palm.  

After wrapping everyone, except for Seungkwan who is too absorbed in the singing and waves the two of you off in dismissal, for a goodbye hug, you go downstairs to put the clothes on.

“Stop staring,” you say to Mingyu, catching his gaze in the mirror, a smile parts your lips. You pull up the hood of your jacket and turn to the boy.

“Can’t help it,” he admits, reaching out and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb is stroking your cheek gently, and he leans to steal a kiss from your lips.

“Oh, shit,” Seungkwan says, puckering his face into a frown. “Came to say my goodbye, but this,” he gestures at the two of you.

“Grow up,” Mingyu shrugs his shoulders. Seungkwan’s glare bores a hole right through your head, and you can only silently pray for him to not allow his anger  upstage his reason.

“Seungkwan, please,” you say. “Let’s talk about it later.”

“Sure,” the younger boy rolls his eyes. “It’s not me who you should talk to, though.”

“What’s the problem?” Mingyu groans in frustration.

“I don’t know. What’s your problem?” Seungkwan scoffs, shifting his gaze from Mingyu to you and back to Mingyu again.

“It’s none of your business,” you snap. “I’m not in the mood for one of your soap operas.”

You storm out of the building, your blood is boiling with the mixture of anger, fear, and realization of all things you used to have fell to pieces in a matter of seconds.

“Hey, wait,” Mingyu grabs your hand, and you stop, too afraid to look at him. “What’s the matter?”

You’re struck by an incredible sense of fear, of confusion, of vulnerability, but you finally have to face the reality.

“The problem is,” you sigh. “Hansol is my soulmate.”

“Don’t cry,” Soonyoung tries to conciliate you, his hand is rubbing against your back, and he tightens the embrace. “I’m here for you.”

At this point, you even hate yourself for the damp spot on his sweatshirt made with your tears. You want to concentrate on Soonyoung’s words uttered in a small voice, almost whispering, but as you think about Mingyu, about how on his face thoughts and feelings seemed connate – his pained stare said everything, – standing in front of you, you feel a sharp pain in your heart.  

“Do you despise me?” your voice sounds desperate.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t ask such a shitty question to my best friend,” he says. “You’re the best.”

You laugh bitterly. Soonyoung treats you too nicely – without asking why you’d been keeping so many secrets from him till this night, rebuking Seungkwan for standing guard over Hansol’s feelings, promising Mingyu will pay dearly in the nearest future for his superior sense of morality or whatever.

“What about Hansol?” you ask him, your eyes still are full of tears and pain, but you force a small smile.

“Will kick him out,” his voice is firm, and you sink your face into the soft material of his cloth, suppressing a bigger smile that threats to appear on your lips.

“Soonyoung, I’ve made four enemies this year, and it’s only the end of February,” your voice is muffled as you keep pressing your face onto the boy’s chest. “Momo, Mingyu, Hansol, Seungkwan – all of them hate me for being stupid, for not telling the truth, for being a bitch, for-”

“Shh. It’s their problem, not yours. It’s them who won’t survive ‘cause they made enemies of us. Listen to me,” he calls your name, making a passionate appeal. “We’re undefeatable, you and me.”

You lift your head at him, finding him keeping his eyes on the ceiling in a dramatic way, and you snicker. His lips twist into a broad smile, and he looks at you.

“They don’t hate you,” he says. “Life is complicating, so are we. They know about it.”

You meet Mingyu at the library. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, and he’s surprisingly quiet.

“Seungkwan said Hansol fell for you only after Soonyoung’s countless ramblings about you. He indeed stared at your pics, I suppose.”

He’s in pain.

You feel empty inside; a terrible anguish seizes your heart.

“Do you feel the same about him?” an involuntary question slips off his tongue.

You want to say it’s him, it’s only him who made you fall, who made you feel at ease, who made you want to give and not just to take, but you can’t.

He waits for a response you’ll never be able to come up with.

This night you cry yourself to sleep.

Weeks go by.

The three of you – you, Hansol, and Soonyoung – glue your eyes to the television set placed at the wall of the boys’ living-room. Watching different tv series with them somehow has turned into therapy sessions – despite experiencing triggers at almost everything that is shown, you feel you’re not alone. The two of them act like nothing happened, and all of you are ready to meet your soulmates someday.

But, if nothing happened, why Mingyu’s name is forbidden from saying out loud because it would fill you with pain?

“You have popcorn crumbs on your shirt,” you notice, pointing at Soonyoung with the remote in your hand.

“I preferred watching tv to reading books when i was younger,” the boy says, dusting the crumbs off his torso and lap.

“And it shows,” you tease. Soonyoung gives you a light pinch on the side and straightens up with a huff.

“I’m going to bed,” he announces. “The bathroom is occupied for the next thirty minutes.”

Hansol nods and bids Soonyoung goodnight as you blow him a kiss – his laughter never fails to boost your mood.

“Resuming?” you ask Hansol. “I’m not sleepy.”

“Neither am I.”

It’s completely dark apart from the television’s dim yellow glow. Somehow, you find yourself being distracted by almost everything – the pattern of the wooden floor, the material of the couch, the streetlamp right outside the window, the plant that is going to die soon due to Soonyoung and Hansol’s lack of care.

Hansol.

His eyes flicker in your direction, catching you staring at him. You don’t look away.

“Am I more interesting than the show?” he asks, not expecting you reply with a quiet ‘yes’. A blush coloring his cheeks can be spotted even in the poorly illuminated room.

“You’re so shy sometimes,” you remark in a low voice. “You didn’t seem so when I first met you.”

“I felt some courage out of nothing,” he shakes his head, his long and slender fingers tapping his knees. “When I saw you.”

You sigh. How the Universe can be broken? Maybe you’re broken?

“I read that if you’re dealing with schizophrenia your emotions are mixed up – you feel something you shouldn’t have felt and express something you don’t feel.”

“Scientific facts again, huh? You’re referring to me?” he grins.

“To myself, I guess,” there is no smile at your features as you sigh. “Or maybe it’s – I don’t know, to be honest.”

“Hey, I know its not gonna work but I’ll say it anyway,” he reaches out his hand to yours and gently squeezes it. “Don’t think shit about yourself. Don’t say shit,” he pauses. “When the words appeared I was surprised, no shit. But as I find out more and more things about you, all of it start to make sense. I don’t want anyone’s words but yours on me. That’s it. That’s the thing I feel.”

He’s beautiful, you think, very beautiful.

Your eyes wander over his face and finally stop at his lips. The contour of his mouth is perfect – Hansol’s lips aren’t plump, but neither are thin – just perfect – and the little bruise on his lower lip makes you unable to brush your overwhelming desire to have a lick over this exact spot. You hesitate – and even now the image of Mingyu settles on you.

But when you feel Hansol’s lips on yours, you let him in. He claims your mouth passionately, and you slide your hands into his hair, pulling on his locks, and he groans in your mouth. When you pull back for a moment, your eyes flooded with haze, Hansol traces his thumb over your slick with his spit lips, sending a shiver down your spine. He leans onto you again, his lips ghosting over yours, the redolent scent of his musky cologne makes your head even more dizzy.

“I want you,” he whispers into your lips, his voice is cracking.

“You can have me,” you breathe out, closing your eyes as his lips decorate your neck in sloppy kisses.

You can have me, but can you have my heart?

The question finds lodgment in your mind.

You might lose the thing you love the most, but life goes on… and here we stand.

You’ve discovered you’re an excellent pretender.

Pretend you think nothing of going without sleep for several nights and then attend your classes. Pretend you’re not tired. Pretend you like the tasteless dish in the restaurant Momo brought you to. Pretend it’s not painful to be in the same room with Mingyu. Pretend you love Hansol back.

“My legs are killing me,” Seungkwan whines. “I just don’t know how much more of it I can take.”

Same, you think, fucking same.

“Wait a little more and I’ll buy you a hotdog,” Mingyu promises, looking over his shoulder to see you wearily stagger behind them. The combination of the three of you is weird, you find, but life goes on, isn’t it?

It’s May, and the three is you are stuck in Ikea’s mazes – Mingyu needs to buy some new furniture – this is what brings him to the mall, but also Mingyu needs someone to keep him company – and this is what brings you and Seungkwan to the same place. Mingyu calls your name, and you lift your head, furrowing your eyebrows in a question.

“You good? How ‘bout a few hotdogs after?”

“And milkshakes,” Seungkwan adds.

“Just an ice cream please,” you mumble, and he nods. Sometimes it’s so awkward – to be around him. Sometimes it’s natural. But mostly it’s painful.

 Standing in the parking lot, waiting for Mingyu and Seungkwan while they’re stuffing the things Mingyu bought into the trunk of his car, you dumbly watch the ice cream steadily dripping down your hand.

Damn.

No ice cream can help you feel good even a bit. 

You enter Hansol’s bedroom and find him at the wooden floor, lying on his back, eyes closed. With his arms and legs splayed out, he reminds you a giant starfish.

“Are you even breathing?” you chuckle, bending over him.

“I am,” Hansol smiles, his eyes stay closed, and he taps slightly on his chest. “C’mere.”

You oblige, your head nestle against his chest, and you hear his steady heartbeat. He wraps his left arm around you and inhales deeply.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes out of sudden, and you turn your head to look at him. “The first words were stupid, and you’ll have them for forever.”

“Suit us very well,” you poke, and he sniffs, reaching out to slightly pinch your cheek. “Hey! Stop!”

Hansol laughs, squeezing you tighter, and the sound of his slow and steady breathing lulls you to sleep. Your gaze is directed at the ceiling as you try to fight against sleep. “You’re so composed, but also so goofy, but also so delicate,” you sigh, thinking out loud as your fingertips trace up and down the soft skin of his wrist. Hansol’s warm. “But the first words were wacky,” you chuckle. “What’ve done to deserve them?”

“It was Russian roulette, baby,” he hums, and you can hear him smiling.

You fall asleep like that. You dream about buying the beige sofa you saw in Ikea and Mingyu’s endless attempts to change your mind – the green one is a way better, he insists. The green one would suit the interior perfectly, you agree with him, but the beige one is so classy, and maybe even a little obligatory? Every apartment should have one, but Mingyu only shakes his head in frustration.

“I'm not sure you’re one hundred percent positive about what you’re convincing me of,” he purses his lips.

Dreams that are hardly can be distinguish from reality are exhausting. You wish there was a way to put this worry to bed once and for all.

“Okay, so the concept of your birthday party is dubstep,” you verify. “And the main dish excepted for a barbeque duck is an ice cream cake?”

“I scream, you scream, gimme that ice cream,” Soonyoung’s enjoyment is evidenced by his wide smile. You playfully roll your eyes, not really hiding the excitement you share with him.

“Why do I feel that we’re constantly hanging out at birthday parties?” Hansol asks, peering at his phone screen, not bothering to straighten his head from its bending position.

“Because our friend group is too huge for people our age,” you make a point.

“It’s so expensive to have a lot of friends,” Soonyoung complains, but when he meets your questionable gaze, he adds. “But for you, my bestie, money’s no object.”

“Good to know,” you laugh, your fingers leisurely run above the rim of the empty cup of matcha latte. “I’m more upset about my dear boyfriend didn’t show any interest in volunteering at preps for the party.”

Hansol smiles, tapping on his phone, his eyes are anchored on the screen, and you narrow your expression at him, shaking your head in a scolding manner.

“And now he pretends he doesn’t hear me,” you say. “Wonderful, isn’t it?”

Hansol’s face brightens and broadens out into a beaming smile, and the sound of Soonyoung’s giggles fills the air.

“I’ll ask Seokmin to help you,” the older boy suggests, and you raise your eyebrow at him.

“I know you’re saying it for the best of reasons, but Seokmin rather is a distraction than a help,” you debate, and Soonyoung raises his small hands in surrender, his eyes becoming crescent-shaped due to his laugh.

“Okay, I’ll send backup,” he promises. “At the end of the day, Mingyu’s good at cooking and cleaning.”

It would’ve been hard for him not to realize he put his foot in his mouth mentioning Mingyu as the mood tensely shifts. You freeze, alike Hansol, his thumb is hovering over the phone screen for seconds. Soonyoung offers you an apologetic smile, and you smile at the boy back, reassuring him it’s okay – he really did nothing wrong. Hansol’s avoiding your questioning gaze, hiding his eyes behind his curly bangs, and you gently brush a section of his hair from his face, wanting to see him clearly.

“Are you jealous, Sollie?” you try to joke, a soft smile playing on your lips, your hand placed on his cheek. As he raises his eyes at you, nerves are evident in them, your heart sinks, and you feel breathless. He won’t ask you if he should be, he won’t make any scenes – but he may shut himself off, locking his feelings deep inside, and you fear it the most. You don’t mean to hurt him, but you’re still providing him a good amount of pain – he isn’t an idiot who can’t figure out that Mingyu’s never really left your heart.

“No,” he simply says. “I’ll help you with everything.”

“You’re a bigger distraction than Seokmin for me, but how can I say no to my sweet boyfriend?” you take his offer, your thumb is stroking his cheek, and the action soothes away the tension he has. Hansol smiles gently at you, and for a second, you’re wondering if he is as good at pretending as you are.

“How did you manage to rent this beach house?” Soonyoung asks in a pure awe. “Such places are always booked!”

“Nothing’s impossible when you love your friend,” you muse. “Besides, thank Hansol – he used his “music industry contacts” to make you happy.”

“Hey, you insult me using air quotes around ‘music industry contacts’,” Hansol slides his arm around your waist, tugging you closer to him, and places a quick peck on the tip of your nose. You stab him in the chest with your index finger, and he fakes a gasp.

“Eavesdropping?” you ask.

“Learning a lot about me,” he grins and draws his attention to the birthday boy. “Like the party?”

“No shit,” Soonyoung laughs. “I’ll like it better if you dance with me,” he says your name, his eyes sparkle brighter than colorful lights blasting through the house.

“Anything for a five stars rate.”

You’re out of breath, the clothes stick to your covered in sweat body, and you wince.

“I’m done,” you announce to Soonyoung, his batteries fully charged as he continues his active dance.

“Get some fresh air and come back!” he yells over the music, and you nod. Crossing the room to the back porch, you spot Hansol in the corner, talking to Joshua and showing the older boy something on his phone screen. Unnoticed, you go directly to the shore until the music of the party drowns in the sound waves, and inhale warm salty air. The water seems so tempting, calling you to step into the waves, their rhythm is hypnotizing you, and you kick your shoes off, perfectly understand the night water is too cold for swimming.

A familiar voice stops you, calling your name. You turn around, greeted with Mingyu’s tall figure, shining like a bronze statue, his tanned skin sheens magical when graced by the evening sun.

“Why do you always tend to sneak out?” he asks, once he made it up to you, a warm smile already crept onto his mouth as he saw you.

“I don’t know, maybe I just like being in crowds,” you shrug your shoulders – it’s true. You really don’t know the answer. He moves closer to you, and you finally spot a small bouquet in his hand. His eyes follow yours, and he chuckles.

“It’s for you,” he shyly passes you the flowers, his teeth press into his bottom lips. “I passed by those wildflowers on my way here and picked them for you.”

“It’s not my birthday,” you laugh. “But thank you, I love it,” you say, nuzzling your nose against the tender petals. You look up at the boy and lock your eyes with his, a tickling feeling spreading in your chest. The waves are lapping on the peaceful and quiet shore, but you feel electricity surging through your body. You stand on your tiptoes and place a delicate kiss on his soft cheek, the action is innocent, but for Mingyu it’s like hearing a starting whistle.

“You’re still in my thoughts,” he breathes. “Still here,” he reaches over to grab your hand and place it over his chest, and through your fingertips you’re able to feel his rapid heart. Tears are starting to form at the rim of your eyes, and your vision becomes blurred. Your fingers crawl into the flowers he gave you, pressing against the vulnerable stems. “It’s egoistic, I know, you’re dating my friend, your soulmate, but why does it feel like you’re mine?”

“I don’t know,” you sob. The next second you find yourself against his firm chest and you inhale his scent that feels like home. Not a place where you live, but home. He plants a kiss to the crown of your head and puts his hands on your shoulders.

“Look at me,” the golden boy suddenly says. “Please.”

You look up at him and see his eyes briefly dropping to your lips, and despite yourself you feel that familiar tingling in your gut, wanting him to kiss you. He reads you like an open book and he is kissing you, his lips softly press against yours, a tender flavor on your tongue.

“Mingyu,” you whisper in a small voice, pulling out from him. “I can’t. I can’t do this to Hansol.”

The boy looks at you with a pained expression, and in his eyes you can see that he wishes he didn’t have a heart at all.

“I’m sorry, angel,” he mutters, and you nod your head, your heart is swelling at the nickname.

“I know. I’m sorry too.”

You lock yourself up in the bathroom, hoping no one saw your state while you were hurrying upstairs. Suddenly, someone tries the handle, but it jingles with no success.

“It’s occupied!” you try your best to sound calm, but your voice is trembling.

“It’s me,” Hansol’s muffled voice leaks through the door. “Let me in.”

You turn the lock and face Hansol, your eyes are all red and watery from crying. The boy locks the door behind him and turns to face you, his piercing eyes burn right into your soul.

“You love him,” he says, too delicate to torture you with questions, and you feel even worse – if it’s possible – paralyzed with fear and regrets, guilt eating you inside out, and you swallow the lump in your throat. You let out a wet sob, not being able to look into his sad eyes.

You broke his heart.  

“I’m sorry, Sol,” you say, feeling powerless, loss for words to say to him, to explain yourself, to apologize. “I don’t know what should I do. I don’t know what should we do.”

“If he makes you happier than I could,” he looks above your head. “I’ll accept it someday.”

“You don’t deserve this,” you say, feeling so stupid, only wishing that the floor would open up and swallow you.

“Maybe soulmates aren’t bond only by romantic shit,” his deep voice comes to you through the mist. You don’t ask him to give you a chance, don’t change his mind – maybe this painful reveal of the truth will make your heart feel a little bit lighter one day, even if right now you’re sure this is never going to happen.

You don’t complain and do not want pity from anyone – you’re sick and tired of Soonyoung tiptoeing around you, trying to keep you from collapsing; of the silent treatment Seungkwan gives you, scornful looks he spares you every single time you see him get you to another level of anger; of a constant scratching sense of guilt you’ve been racked with since your break-up with Hansol, but somehow he never blames you even if he should; of Momo dragging you to the shop malls and making you keep shopping until you cheer up.

Of you can’t getting up the nerve to answer any of Mingyu’s calls, too afraid of something you can’t even describe.

Momo’s straight face catches you off guard, and you only gasp,

“He what?! No, no, no,” you shake your head in disbelief. “You’re making this up.”

“What for?” the girl rolls her eyes back deep into their sockets. “Mingyu invited you to his picnic party or whatever through me cause you’re too deaf to pick up your phone, nothing special.”

“Will you come with me?” your eyes meet hers in the bathroom mirror, your expression makes Momo give you her infamous crinkly-eyed smile.

“He didn’t ask me to come – only you,” she purrs, taking her lip gloss out of the small bag. “He’s so fucking in love with you, you little witch.”

“I-” you stutter, the crimson red blush spreads across your cheeks, and Momo laughs and gives you a playful shove.

“Don’t you dare to say no,” she warns. “You’ll deal with me.”

“What would I do without you, Momo?” you smile at her. Even if you asked playfully, you really mean it – and the warmth in your chest proves it.

Mingyu seems nervous as he clumsy steps into your apartment, his chest is tensed with the breath he holds. The boy is dressed in a loose white t-shirt and high-wasted velvety pants, and you sigh in relief – the picnic party - as Momo called it - obviously wasn’t planned as something fancy.

“Thanks for picking me up,” you smile.

“Thanks for coming. Means a world,” he says, poking his cheek with his tongue, a shy smile follows his words. You missed him. Missed everything about him – the small giggles he lets while talking with that slight lisp to you, the shake of his head when he can’t understand something, the pout appearing on his plump lips when he realizes the item he wanted to buy is out of stock, the bright smile beaming on his face while he spills out his ideas for photography, the warmth of his palm holding yours in the pocket of his woolen coat.

“Who else is gonna be there?” you ask during your drive to the beach – Mingyu found the place perfect for a picnic, especially in the hot summer.

“Um,” he hesitates for a moment, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to look at you. “It’s just the two of us.”

“Oh,” you breath. “I see. Momo didn’t tell me.”

“Blame yourself for leaving me on read,” he grins obnoxiously and you roll your eyes defensively. “Now you’re stuck with me. I forgot to mention one thing, though.”

“Which one?” you rake your eyes over him, admiring how the sun’s rays paint his skin in a golden glitter. “It’s a date.”

You dig your toes into the cool sand, glancing into the evening sky. Mingyu follows your eyeline.

“You can’t see the stars for reflected light from the city,” you notice. “But here we have a chance.”

“No way,” Mingyu protests. “And you know why?”

“Why so?” you turn your face to him, a big smile spread on his lips.

“All Seoul’s stars are in your eyes,” he is smiling so wide that his cheeks must have hurt and he pulls you closer, wrapping both arms around you, tugging you into his lap.

“Shut up,” you laugh, smacking him on the chest, your fingers touching the soft fabric of his shirt. Mingyu’s lips are ghosting over your cheek for a moment before he speaks again,

“But I have lots of things to say,” Mingyu murmurs, biting softly at your earlobe, and a very familiar feeling creeps up into the pit of your stomach.

“Like what?”

“Like, let’s swim,” he takes you aback with the suggestion and you blink at him dumbly. “I didn’t bring my swimsuit with me,” you say.

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugs. “We’re alone here. No one’ll see.”

You push up from his body and meet his eyes glossy with playfulness and challenge, and you nod at his words. Mingyu grinning at you mischievously, while he removes his clothes – his shirt and pants find their place at the sand – as you see each piece of his skin revealing itself. You inhale deeply, and he leans his head closer to yours, the warm palms rubbing up and down your arms.

“Don’t be nervous,” he whispers, and you’re surprised he can tell this just from your body language, and it makes your heart flutter, pounding even faster against your ribcage. His words encourage you, and he silently watches you removing your dress, the only pieces of clothing on your skin are your bra and panties. Mingyu gently squeezes your hand, his thumb softly strokes back and forth over your knuckles. “Catch me.”  

And within a couple of seconds, he is already pushing into the water, everything below his waist out of sight.  You slowly step onto the sparkling waves, a lazy smile playing on your lips, as you see Mingyu splashing over to you with a childish pout on his face.

“You’re supposed to catch me, but you don’t even try,” he whines and steps closer to you, pressing his hands to either sides of your neck, his thumb rubbing the hollow of your throat. He looks dreamlike with his skin stick from the water, making him glisten in the soft evening light.

“It’s not the only thing I didn’t do what I was supposed to do. I was born to live without you, remember?” you whisper against his wet lips as he leans over you.

“It doesn’t matter,” he hums, letting his fingers brush against the words inked on your side. “I don’t need to be told who I love.”

You’d been feeling like you were drowning for too long, drowning in the cool water of sorrows, doubts, and self-destruction for too long, but only now you can breathe -

“You love me?” you say in a quiet voice, almost as if it was a secret, and the soft look on his face makes your heart skip a beat, overflowing with love and affection.

“I do. So I ask you to stay with me,” he pleads. Not just for tonight, not for tomorrow morning, but-

“Take me home.”

Rattling keys, the sound of giggles stopped with the kisses, Mingyu’s hot mouth on your pulse point, your hands tugging at his black silk locks, and the heavy weight of the wall meets your back.

“Right in the corridor?” you hum, panting into his ear. “Where is your decency, Kim Mingyu? Not bringing your lady to the bedroom is-” Mingyu doesn’t let you finish, forcing his leg between yours. He is grinning at you with his bottom lip between his teeth as he guides your hips into motion against his thigh, satisfied with the garbled moan ripped from your throat. Bringing his lips to the side of your neck again, Mingyu plants wet kisses on the soft skin. He licks your ear, gently tugging the lobe between his teeth. When the boy releases the tender flesh, he hisses,

“This… you made me forget about my good manners,” Mingyu drawls and attaches his lips to your throat. His voice is sweet, but the material of his pants is rough and the combination drives you crazy, whimpering into the air between you, your clit aching.

“Please,” you whine, grinding yourself harder against him.

Suddenly, Mingyu smiles, brightly and happy, before his lips press into yours, his tongue mapping your mouth. The boy lifts you up and it gives you an opportunity to kiss his neck in return, biting red marks into his tanned skin. Then, ever so carefully, Mingyu places you on the soft surface of the bed, kissing you passionately, but slower, trying to find out what you like the most.

“Can I take your clothes off, please?” he whispers in your mouth and you moan, your hands gripping into his biceps.

“Good manners are back,” you coo. “Go ahead.”

Mingyu helps you to sit up, undoing the upper buttons of your summer dress, kissing the skin it exposes, and finally pulling it over your head.

“Don’t forget to take the rest off too,” you breathe, and his lips stretch into a smile. His arms twist behind your back and then he is sliding the fabric down your arms and tossing it away.  

“Do you want me to touch you, princess?” Mingyu murmurs, the tip of his nose traces the side of your neck as his fingers are ghosting over the wetness of your panties.

“Like you don’t know the answer already,” you hiss and he chuckles, his hands move to palm your breasts. You bite your lower lip when he rolls your nipple between his fingers before slowly circling it, a blush slowly creeps down your neck. His mouth finally covers your nipple as his warm palms are parting your thighs, his fingers firmly pressed against the skin. Without being told, you rise your hips to help him remove your soaked panties.

Mingyu sits back on his haunches and marvel at your spread thighs and the pretty wet curves, and your legs separate to make room for him beyond your control.

“You’re so pretty,” he admires, his eyes – glassy with desire and adoration – don’t leave your face. His palm slides up from your hip over your stomach and further still, gently cupping your breast.

“Gyu,” you plea, but before you can even think about the words, Mingyu tosses his shirt somewhere behind his back, already yanked his slightly ruined with your wetness pants and the underwear to the floor.

Then, he is putting his fore and middle fingers into his mouth, coating them in saliva before slowly bringing them to your pussy, the pads of his fingers ghosting over your slit. You moan and he takes it as an invitation, drawing a circle around the hood of your clit. Craving for more, you shamelessly grind your hips into his palm, your fingers grasping at the sheets.

“Baby, I want to taste you so bad,” Mingyu purrs, thrusting his fingers into your pussy down to the knuckles. You moan at the sensation of his fingertips dragging against your pulsing walls, and he increases the pace of his digits inside of you. “You smell so good.”

His words only sending you near delirious. But his tongue feels even better.

Mingyu runs the flat of his tongue up to your clit, humming happily at the moan escaped through your red and swollen lips, your fingers tangled in his hair. His grip on your thighs is firm, screaming lust in big neon letters. He sucks on your clit, focusing his hot mouth on the swollen bundle of nerves, as he is pulling and pushing his fingers through your entrance. 

The boy groans deeply, nuzzling his pretty face deeper into your core. The delightful pleasure clings to your stomach, swells at you abdomen. Your eyes screw shut and your chest heaves, the back arching off the bed with a high-pitched cry. Mingyu is leaning over your, adjusting his body on his elbows supporting him either side of your body. His breath is tickling the skin of your neck and you giggle, your hand lazily draws some patterns onto his back. The boy silently observes your features while you reach down to his cock, lubricating it with his pre-cum. Mingyu groans, but you swallow the sound with your mouth, your tongue catching on flesh of his mouth that tastes like you. He is desperately grinding against your stomach, the tip of his dick leaving a wet trail over your skin.

“I love you,” he says against your lips and, slowly and carefully, positions the reddened head to your entrance. You wrap your legs around him, heels pressing into the ample swells of his ass as Mingyu buries himself deep inside you. He presses his teeth on your collarbone as he hitting your sweet spot with every single one of his delicious thrusts.

Mingyu is here – his arms caging your face, his mouth never leaves yours, and his chest is pressed tight against yours – Mingyu is here and you love each other.

He rolls his hips against you, sinking his cock into your heat, his fingers toying with your sensitive clit. Suddenly, he speeds up, pulling an extremely loud moan from you. Feeling you clench around him, Mingyu groans and lowers himself to suck on your nipple, muffling the sounds he makes against your skin.

“Let it go,” he pants out and you oblige, a gasp tumbles from your lips as your fingers curling in his hair. Your walls spasm around his cock, enveloping it with your release. He thrusts in you, his cock twitching inside of you before he lets out a drawn moan. He stills in you as his cock milking your pussy, panting loudly. He opens his dark eyes and his face softens for you as he places a gentle kiss on the side of your jaw.

“We weren’t meant for each other,” you whisper, your hand playing with his damp locks. “But I love you more than anything.”

“We are meant for each other,” Mingyu is persistent. “Since our first meeting.”

“Okay,” you give in.

“I win,” his smile is radiant in the night, and his eyes hold the whole universe in them.

You never thought of you as a rule breaker. No one did.

With each day Mingyu helps you realize you shape the universe you live in.

And you ask him to make your nose look smaller at the portrait of you he have been painting for two weeks already. 

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[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Freak (One Shot)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Warnings: your writer being a dick about the otp

Word Count: this is the first time that I had to remind a therapist about a session. Usually it was me who would forget about sessions or even booking sessions. But that was also because I was scared. Now I know that in order to get better I need to make a few changes with my way of thinking. Bonus? I did not cry during this PMS cycle.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"...in summary, you touch any of my playthings, you will have to deal with the consequences." Kruge wants to pierce those eyeballs out but he has to stop himself in case he is taken a prisoner for harming the new king of Jotunheim on the very first night. "Understood, your grace," Helbindi gives a little bow and waits for Loki to open the door to his chamber before he lets his fangs out in pure animosity for the God.

Loki makes sure to close the door behind him before he closes his eyes and rests his head on the silver frame with a thud. At least he won't have to keep up the facade of being composed all the time in this room. Did I make the right decision? His thoughts are running at a speed that would be considered normal for Pietro. This is the last place Aellae would invade. He inhales a lungful, his mind addressing a hint of lilac in the cold air. That is if she hadn't already done that. And all the fingers are pointing at Helbindi. I am sure Helbindi has something to d-wait...Lilac?

Those computing brows are suddenly furrowing in curiosity while those eyes open to dart around the room in question. At the other end of this immaculate and massive bedroom, you walk out from the direction of the bath, your wet hair a beautiful mess, your skin glowing in the faint light reflecting off the shining frost, your dark blue pyjama shorts showing off those legs that seemed to have toned a little, thanks to the workout this deadly trip has provided. Out of nowhere, winds are blowing into the bedroom from the balcony to bring Loki more of that lilac scent you are covered in right now. Those teasing soft punches of air are doing their best to tickle your exposed skin while teasing the God with a little bit of peek of some more. He does not realise it but Loki's eyes are stuck on you, his throat trying to gulp down whatever is frozen in there, just not ready to digest the poetry unfolding in front of him. Normally he would have scolded you for putting your used towel on that chair, but right now all his brain can comprehend is you raising your leg on his bed to apply some lotion on it. Your head turns in his direction and he is suddenly finding himself running into the sole vase on his right side. He is Loki- the God of mischief- so, of course, it does not take much time to bring that vibrating vase to a standstill. But he still keeps holding for another moment or two, for the fear that it might move again. Any third person witnessing this can tell it is not exactly the vase he is trying to still. "This painting is nice," he murmurs to himself while looking at a pictureless frame decorating the wall to his side, pointing to it and pretending to appreciate it. His hands, though, cannot seem to find a comfortable position. "You're back?" you ask him, still working on your leg. "Hmm?" He pretends to notice you for the first time, still not ready to lock his eyes with you, instead, playing with his fingers. "Oh, yes. Just...had to give a couple of instruction to the...uhh...boys." "I don't like that Helbindi guy-" you screw your nose and Loki seems to lose a couple of ounces of air- "he gives off bad vibes." "Yeah, yeah he does," he agrees with you, walking slowly and calculatingly towards the bedroom part of the room. Your leg switches. "I'm glad that you have the majority though. That too considering you have been away for a looooong time." You raise your head and he busies himself in the ferns kept at the entrance of the bed-chamber before asking himself what his idiotic ass was trying to do. Finally finding the strength, he looks back up at you and nods with a smile. Walk to the other side of the bed, he is practically giving the basic instructions to his brain now. She isn't going out like this, is she? That one part of his brain clad in some dark crevices questions him. That one simple thought seems to raise multiple silent alarms in his body. "So-" he tries to point at you and the door but fails and instead takes his finger to scratch an itch at the back of his neck- "you're going to sleep in now?" That glowy leg worth months of hair growth suddenly drops on the floor. And so does your face. Loki cannot make out what you're thinking because he is busy waiting for your answer. "You want me to sleep somewhere else?" It's just a softly put question. But your eyes seem to glimmer in sadness as if he just betrayed you some way. "What?" he is more surprised by the fact that you did not think of it as a possibility. Why would she sleep somewhere else? We've been doing it the whole trip! Well, the whole trip did not have rooms like this one, balconies like this one and certainly not a view like this one. Loki breathes, opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out for a good few seconds. He is still trying to make his mind look away from all the stray water droplets falling from your hair inside your clothes. "No-" he blinks, bringing his eyes back to yours, licking his lips, he is soft in his speech- "um, you stay here." Loki, you are a God. With the sudden reminder, he clears his throat, straightens his back and brings back that dominating energy in the room. "You stay here," he orders this time. Your quick smile is already melting that robust core of his. And that quick jump on his bed catalysis the effect. "Cool!" You sit there with your legs folded under you, thighs spread, and that shirt not covering as much as it is supposed to. "Woah!" you snapped him out of his trance as you took a little jump on the bed. The sudden glow in your eyes was sending a tingling sensation down his spine. "Oh," you exclaimed, going up and down on your thighs, "we finally have a hard mattress! God, I'm old!" Loki just stood there, watching you arch your back as you went up and down, testing the bed, and at the same time testing his fortitude. Why-why is she not wearing a bra? Loki smacks his inner self. That's what concerns you right now? "Stop that," he growls. One final jump and you are falling on your back with a long sigh. That tingle seems to have subsided but as it is going back, Loki's gaze cannot seem to come off your body- you lying with your limbs spread out as you groan out loud to remove that fatigue from your lungs. That double chin of yours is quite evident when you raise your head just a little to look for the quilt and bring it closer to you with your feet. Who does she think she is? A part of Loki asks. Beautiful, his inner voice answers without a pause, all dreamy eyes for you and your double chin. "By the Norns, you have to stop," the God growled again, making you pause your leg mid-air with the quilt in between your toes. You drop that quilt just like that and turn to rest your head on your palm. "Stop and...?" that low hoarse tone of your mixed with a wicked glow in your eyes lights up a section inside the God he should not be thinking about. Especially when it has the power to take over his brain.  The next time he opens his eyes, you can witness a change in that usually brooding boy to something more...feral? Those bloody eyes of the only Jotun you know are sending you mixed reverberations. By the time you are trying to figure out what it is behind those eyes, Loki's leg is already on the bed and his body over you within two strides. Your hips are locked in by his thighs and he is looking down at you with a simmering gaze.  You are definitely questioning all your freaky actions tonight. But I thought I would tease him a little! You know, to get his mind off serious stuff going outside that door!! And here you are, lying under Loki, your hands clasped close to your chest while your eyes are trying to figure out his next move, all the while unconsciously biting your lower lip. Not gonna lie, this blue version of him kinda looks sex- Loki's hands go down, right between his legs. You are about to catch your breath and cross your legs when his hands yank out the quilt from between the two of you to lay it over you. Your lips are still apart, mouth gaping, breaths at a pause while Loki flattens the fabric out over you till your neck before tucking it on your either side to the point that you cannot escape it even if you wanted to. Your brows furrow in disappointed confusion. Your hands are making that universal gesture of 'what the fuck???' under that damned sheet whereas Loki is proudly looking at his work. "That should keep you warm." “Dude!” Is all you can let out from your lungs before letting your body struggle to get out of this cosy prison. Loki gets up and away from the bed to undo his coat, looking away from you and smiling at this little achievement. “Don’t waste your breath, darling. I learned it from my mother. You cannot get out of that  hold unless you have calmed down enough to-“ His words disappear when he turns back to witness you already deep in sleep; your lips parted, your head practically drowning in the pillow, and little snores already forming in your nostrils. “How exhausted were you to sleep within seconds?” He whispers, never taking his eyes off. I need to teach her not to sleep with her guard down in suspicious places.

.

The coat lay on the floor along with the familiar pants and shirt. Loki sits on the bed in a nightgown, letting his back rest on the bed frame while his eyes gather some much needed light sleep. The night outside is still if not for the periodic interruptions of crows here and there. The chill of this frozen land comes as a blessing for this Jotun, who is no longer regulating his temperature as per the Midgardian ways. His Jotun form too is breathing fine, even feeling better than before. A true blessing in disguise. “Mmm…no…I don’t like it…” you mumble in your sleep, opening Loki’s eyes before he knows what’s happening. His hand automatically reaches out for you, coming to rest on your forehead before realising he cannot use magic to get rid of any bad dreams. So, instead, he softly pats your head. Your sleep laden crinkled brows seem to find some peace from those soothing pats, going back to dreamless sleep and loud snores. Loki cannot help but burst into a silent laugh at those snores. How can someone so small and comparatively frail snore worse than a giant?! That laugh that crinkles the edge of his eyes seems to be slowly melting into a smile; and not any ordinary smile at that. It is bringing a sweet realisation with it; a realisation about this human. Among seven billion humans, this one seems to have brought him the comfort he never even dared to feel. The past few days spent in this human's company were far lighter and chirpier than the most extravagant days spent as a child in Asgard. There was no anxiety, no restlessness. Whenever he was not able to collect his thoughts, looking at this human used to bring everything to a standstill. Knowing that he is not alone this time brought a certain peace to his soul; brought solutions faster and escape routes quicker than his enemies could calculate.  Is this what it's like to have a friend? To have the want to protect them, fight them, tease them, make their life miserable but never let anyone else lay a finger on them? Is this what friendship means?? As if to answer his question, your snores break into a snort before you wiggle inside your duvet to crawl closer to him in your sleep. Your hand stretches out from under the warm cover, take an elongated sigh till it touches Loki's arm and wraps those toasty fingers around his cold muscle. Loki has paused his existence for a second to make sense of this moment. She feels safe with you, a soothing voice inside him resonates in his core and he is watching you in a new light. Some moisture seems to gather at the edge of his eyes before he blinks it away and slides down to rest his head on the pillow right next to yours. He does not realise it but his arm is frozen in that place for you to hold on to it and there is a slight smile on his lips while his eyes are observing every single detail on your face. The God does not seem to notice a bubble being projected out of the bed to overtake the room with a warmth that is emanating from the celestial being himself. And most of all he does not seem to notice the voice hiding in the dark corner somewhere looking at you with heart eyes. I like this human. She can stay.

#Loki #Loki x reader #loki (marvel) #loki odinson #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki fluff #loki smut #loki series #marvel #loki fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel loki #marvel fluff #marvel smut #mcu loki #mcu fic #mcu fanfiction #mcu fluff #mcu smut #loki imagine #It's The Avengers #Maladaptive Ninja Returns #mcu #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #fluff

[kpop-zone]

Déjá Vu | Yves

College AU | Meet Cute | “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck this shit. Fuck.” 

Wordcount: 1,691

“Y/N?“

Your head whipped around when you heard an unfamiliar voice calling your name, only for your jaw to drop an instant later. Was this a dream? Was this an angel nearing you right now?

“Hi! I’m Sooyoung. We agreed to meet here.”

No, no, no. You agreed to meet just another one of your university’s top athletes to write an article about her for your university’s magazine. You definitely didn’t agree to meet the most beautiful girl that you had ever seen.

“You are...Y/N, right?”

Sooyoung suddenly asked hesitantly, making you realize that you had just been staring at her with an open mouth till now. Embarrassed, you cleared your throat quickly and held out your hand.

“Yes, that’s me. Nice to meet you.”

You mumbled, waiting for Sooyoung to shake your hand. Visibly amused by your old-school gesture, she looked at your hand with a smile playing on her lips, but took it, nevertheless.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

She grinned and you suddenly felt like fainting.

How could someone’s grin look that perfect?

“So... um my coach condemned me to a spontaneous practice session five minutes ago, but we could meet afterwards, and you can ask me some questions?”

Unable to answer Sooyoung’s questions with any actual words, you simply nodded, knowing that you had to look like a complete fool right now. But Sooyoung didn’t seem to notice, or she decided not to point it out.

“Let’s meet at 6pm at the entrance of the sport complex then? Or would you like to meet somewhere else?”

She asked and you instantly agreed without thinking about your answer.

“No that sounds great.”

You blurted out, not wanting to deny this incredibly stunning girl any wish.

“Ok, see you later.”

Cheekily, Sooyoung winked at you before turning around and leaving behind a blushing mess. Either she really didn’t know what effect she had on people or she liked to torture others... For a good five minutes, you simply kept on staring into the void until your phone seemed to almost explode in your hand and the vibration managed to rip you out of your trance. Confused, you looked at the screen, causing you to gasp in shock. There were a thousand messages from your friends who asked you where you were.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck this shit. Fuck.”

Only now you remembered that you actually had to attend the class of one of the strictest professors on campus in less than five minutes, but you were still at least ten minutes away from the building; even if you ran. Not wanting to accept your fate though, you grabbed the straps of your backpack tightly and started to sprint across campus. Completely out of breath, you arrived five minutes late at the classroom, causing your professor to torture you for almost 20 minutes in front of the whole class by asking you a million questions about the last lecture. It was pure hell and when you were finally allowed to plop down next to your friends, who patted your back encouragingly, you felt like passing out. This had been too much excitement for one day. The rest of the class, you absentmindedly stared ahead, pretending that you were listening to your professor while secretly thinking about Sooyoung. The sound of her laugh still played on repeat in your head and the image of her gentle smile seemed to be branded into your retinal.

How were you supposed to survive that interview?

You hadn’t been able to form a single coherent sentence earlier and after the torture your professor had put you through just now, you were barely feeling alive anymore. Nevertheless, you didn’t want to postpone your appointment with Sooyoung. It wasn’t like you to be unreliable, so you forced yourself to the sports complex after your class had ended and tiredly plopped down on the stairs in front of the entrance. Your eyelids weighted heavily as you waited for Sooyoung, but soon an immense rush of adrenaline woke you up in a matter of seconds.

“Do you want to postpone the interview?”

You hadn’t even heard that Sooyoung had left the building behind you and her voice caused you to jump to your feet in shock. Perplexed, you looked at her and noticed the concerned look on her face. Did you really look that bad?

“Oh no, I’m fine.”

You quickly explained while flashing her a smile, but Sooyoung kept eyeing you suspiciously.

“Are you sure?”

She asked and you awkwardly gave her a thumbs up.

“Absolutely. I’m just a little tired, because I was late for Mr. Yoon’s class and he made me regret that. That’s all.”

You tried to sound nonchalant, but your words seemed to have worried Sooyoung, nevertheless.

“Oh no! Were you late because of me?”

She gasped, causing you to quickly shake your head.

“No, no, no. I was late because of my own poor time management. Please, don’t feel bad about that.”

You tried to reassure her and Sooyoung nodded hesitantly.

“Ok, but I don’t want to take up too much of your time. So let’s start?”

You were aware that she just meant well, but somehow, Sooyoung’s proposition made you sad. Yes, you were tired and her presence alone made your heart nearly jump out of your chest, but you still wouldn’t mind spending the whole evening with her. But you couldn’t exactly tell her that, so you agreed with a forced smile before starting to ask her the question that you had already asked at least a dozen other top athletes of your university already.

When did you discover your passion for sports? How often do you train? What’s your proudest moment?

The questions were incredibly trite, nevertheless, you just couldn’t stop asking them, because you knew that once you would admit that you had all the info that you needed for your article, your little meetup with Sooyoung would end. And you would probably never see her again. Except for in articles or your university’s Instagram page when she won another important championship. But after you had already filled countless pages of your notebook, you had to end the interview, so you put down your pen reluctantly.

“Well I think that’s all I need. Thank you for your time.”

You smiled at Sooyoung who mirrored your expression.

“Thank you! I can imagine that there are more interesting articles to write... I’m a big fan of your writing, so I know that this is below your level.”

She giggled sheepishly and you instantly felt a blush creeping to your cheeks. She had known about you before the interview?

“Don’t say that. It was really interesting to learn more about you... I mean about your career, not that I’m some creepy stalker or something.”

You stuttered, causing Sooyoung’s expression to become serious.

“I didn’t worry about that beforehand, but now that you mention it...”

She dragged off her words while standing up and you leaped to your feet panicked. What an idiot you were... But suddenly, Sooyoung started laughing.

“I was just kidding, Y/N. I don’t think that you’re a creepy stalker or something.”

She chuckled and you sighed in relief before starting to laugh about your own stupidity. For a moment, Sooyoung and you simply smiled at each other and you felt how your cheeks heated up again. She really knew how to make a blushing mess out of you... To save yourself from further embarrassment, you quickly cleared your throat and held out your hand.

“It was a pleasure working with you. I hope you get back home safely.”

You mumbled and Sooyoung took your hand with a smile playing on her lips.

“The pleasure was all mine.”

She grinned while holding on to your hand a little longer than necessary, giving you a feeling of déjá vu. Just like this afternoon, she winked cheekily before turning around and walking away all the while managing to make your heartbeat reach a frequency that you wouldn’t have considered possible. As soon as there was a little distance between the two of you, you let out a shaky breath and clutched your chest in an attempt to calm your heart. But to your surprise, Sooyoung suddenly turned around again, causing you to quickly hide your hands behind your back.

“You know, I really think that it was my fault that you were late to your class and I feel very bad because of that that. Maybe when we meet next time, I can pay for your coffee to make it up to you?”

She asked and you looked at her in confusion.

“But I don’t have any more questions for you?”

You answered while looking at your notes in front of you that were more than enough to write the article for the university magazine. Once again, your comment made Sooyoung laugh and you looked at her dumbfounded. What was so funny?

“I know, Y/N.”

She said softly while looking at you intently, apparently waiting for the penny to drop in your brain which happened after a few more seconds. Your eyes widened significantly, and you stared at her with an open mouth. Did she just ask you out for a date?! Visibly amused by your expression, Sooyoung giggled before meeting your eyes again.

“So...can I? Take you out for a coffee?”

She asked sheepishly, seeming to have lost a little of her confidence due to your hesitancy.

“Of course!”

You blurted out, not wanting to forego this chance. The second your response had passed your lips though, you regretted the desperate sound of it, causing a bright blush to appear on your cheeks. Once again, however, Sooyoung didn’t seem to notice your clumsy behavior. Instead, she rewarded you with yet her widest grin that made her eyes form little crescent moons. In an instant, your mood lifted, and you couldn’t stop the corners of your mouth to turn upward. You were sure that you would never stop trying to make Sooyoung smile this way.

It was a déjá vu that you would love to relive for the rest of your life.

#drabble game #drabble #sooyoung drabble #sooyoung #yves drabble #yves #loona drabble #loona #yves scenario #girl group scenario #girl group #yves imagine #sooyoung scenario #kpop scenario #kpop #girl group imagine

[ephemerlskies]

constant craving 03 | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

[other members - seokjin]

⇢ genre: drabble series, ANGST, bestfriend!au, unrequited love, the same idiocy just in a different font 

⇢ word count: 4k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption (drunk jungkook makes his first and final appearance enjoy it while you can), vehicular misdemeanor (drive the speed limit kids), an all out emotional and verbal brawling, a lack of communication on one end and a communicational vomit on the other, seokjin appearance for about .02 seconds, the entirety of this is just.... angst

⇢ summary: your dates with Seokjin had become a somewhat consistent fixture in your schedule, however, jungkook's itinerary seemed to clash with yours when he called you after a night of drinking for reasons you assumed to be him helplessly pleading for a safe return home.

♪ playlist: constant craving - k.d. lang, bad religion - frank ocean, misunderstood - lucky daye, neu roses - daniel caesar ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 (final)

a/n: whew, okay.... this was probably the most argumentative fic i have ever written so prepare yourself. i hope you all enjoy this god awfully angsty installment of the series! also, yes, jungkook is a sentimental drunk and you all know it

part three: i love you

It's true. It's always the biggest pills that are the most difficult to swallow. And if you could compare someone as elusive as Jungkook to anything, it would be the largest pill imaginable. The kind that hurts the first try, then when you drink half your body weight in water, the Jungkook-emblazoned pill forces down your esophagus no easier than the first gulp. You were still holding it in your mouth, pretending that pill wasn't about to dissolve and stain your mouth forever.

And that was the whole process, just to get over Jungkook. Because getting over him wasn't a one-step program. It was waking up everyday, training and retraining your mind not to think of him first thing in the morning. It was resisting the urge to press the send button on multiple texts and funny videos you knew would make him laugh. It was refusing his calls and every memory that would saunter in your mind and compel you to ask him to watch a movie or order takeout.

It was saying yes to Seokjin when he asked you on a date. And, it was doing your best to sever that instinct of yours to ask Jungkook for advice.

But old habits die hard, and this one still clung onto the bit of breath it wielded. That explained why your idiot of a best friend was sitting on your couch, offering half-hearted nods whenever you would walk out draped in a new outfit.

"Okay, this one?" You twirled around, as if doing so would make you any less skeptical of how you looked. And you were never one to scrutinize your appearance so closely, but this was the date. The one that might light the torch to a brighter romantic future and lead you to someone other than the man who could never be yours to begin with.

"Yeah. Cool." At this point, five outfits in, he wasn't paying any attention at all. He couldn't even bring himself to pretend, his eyes lazily fixed onto your dvd player.

"Jungkook, you didn't even look! Let me guess. You wanna play video games. Is that why you're giving fuck-me-eyes to my T.V. set?" You knew a laugh was far along, but you hoped that would get some sort of reaction out of him. Unfortunately, your words were barely registered for a good ten seconds, though, it felt much longer.

"Hm? Oh, sorry. Just tired, I guess." Jungkook said through barely parted lips. You knew when he couldn't even pronounce his words properly, something he took more seriously than others due to the hauntings of a certain speech impediment, there was definitely something wrong.

Things felt off from the moment he walked into your house. Judging from the way he avoided your hug, that alone suggested a sort of imbalance. It was a casual greeting exchanged between the two of you so often that when you lifted your arms to embrace him, it was born of reflexive association. Like Pavlov's dog, trained to hug him the moment you saw him. But the oddity of him almost discretely walking past you before any contact could be made wasn't where the tension bordered.

Following his arrival, he would have littered a few snarky remarks about how messy your kitchen was, while already scavenging through your fridge, just to get a rouse out of you. And Jungkook wouldn't call himself a connoisseur of all things fabric and fashion, but he surely would have a few thoughts consisting more than two-worded responses. But he just sat on your couch, armed with a face any poker player would commend, and gave you insincere cool's or nice's when need be.

"Okay, what's up? Is it Irene?" You sat down since taking a break to figure out what Jungkook was thinking felt better than continuing your self-absorbed fashion show.

"Kinda... We broke up. Well, she broke up with me or... I don't know. It was weird." It bothered you a bit too much that he didn't even look at you. But if he had, then you would have seen a film of red dousing his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Kook. Is there anything I can do? Anything at all? Want me to egg her house?" This time, he did laugh. You felt relieved he could at least ease slightly back into his expressive self, even if it was just a fraction of what he usually was. A fraction of Jungkook was more than enough for you.

"Nah, no need to go to jail for me. It's not like I didn't see it coming, and apparently she felt the same. Whatever." He let out a sigh that sounded trapped in for a while, then sat up. "We have more important things to worry about."

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe that. Jungkook, literally a week ago you told me she was the love of your life! And now you're just like 'yeah, whatever, I saw it coming.'" You used your notorious 'man voice', which was just yours lowered a few octaves, knowing it would crack another smile along Jungkook's lips. "Come on, I know you love her. This must hurt a lot. I wish... I wish there was something I could do."

You knew exactly what you were doing. Self-sabotage under the guise of consoling your friend. Clearly, it was selfish and regressive to use Jungkook's heartbreak as a means to avoid doing what you could never do before, what you knew deep down you probably would never be able to do: swallow that pill. And what felt even more pathetic than that was the stale, yet persisting hope that he would ask you to stay.

And that's when reality gave you the most gutting and obvious sign. Jungkook was your best friend, the man you had to lug home when he was too drunk to drive, let alone speak coherently or stand. He was the person that buys you ice cream when you're sad, but just as quick to cancel plans with you when Irene needed him. He was just a friend. You'd never be the person he chose, and it nearly made you angry at him for not seeing it all this time.

So, what he said next made everything he was most likely unaware of all too clear to you.

"No, you go have fun. I'll just... chill here?" It was his avoidant way of asking to stay the night, because you knew him to never sleep alone when he had an ache in his heart. "Maybe raid your pantry and use your Netflix account to binge some shows?"

"Fine. Only 'cause I can't say no to you when you're like this." His smile was reimbursement enough for all the food you'd have to restock and the electricity bill that would be higher than usual.

But what he did next, you could almost never forgive him for. It was so subtle, as though it could have passed as an accident or an act he was trying to perform secretly, without any intention of you even noticing. And how could you not notice? The far too temporary and entirely disarming linger of his hand on yours.

Now, you were always one to decipher his most subtle mannerisms, but this one felt beyond the reins of your perceptiveness. It could have been a small gesture of a thank you, but the gentle, and what one could even describe as sentimental, way his skin pressed against yours bore no semblance of a mere expression of gratitude. And it wasn't possible this was a caress of love, because he was already low on currency in that field, spending it completely on Irene.

So, what was it?

How would you describe the way he rested his hand on yours, as if asking you to stay without words, yet punctuating it quick enough to justify it a coincidental form of contact, that your hand just happened to be where his hand was?

"Well, I'm gonna go eat through my problems." Jungkook stood up before you could bat away the wetness in your eyes from your momentary refusal to blink, as if that would somehow help you visualize the meaning of what just happened.

"Oh- Okay. I, um... I should get going." So you did. You walked out your door, and made a decision beyond the demands of your devotion to Jungkook.

Because it probably meant nothing, and he was your best friend, after all.

---

It was easy with Seokjin. And surprisingly enough, that wasn't a bad thing.

You had come to realize everyone craves that passionate kind of love because, in the movies, that's the blueprint for what love should feel like. But that's all it is, something pretty and shiny enough to work into a film. Make believe. And it could never extend beyond the realm of silver screens, where best friends don't magically fall in love and passion awarded more broken hearts than you could count.

Besides, your heart was worn.

See, your heart is a muscle. It works itself to the bone keeping you alive, willing your lungs to breathe, administering blood to each vein and so on. To strain it for someone who was already in love was functionally inefficient. The heart, like any other muscle, grows tired. It can exhaust itself the same way your hand aches after writing for too long.

You needed a break from the gripping emotional aerobics that is and was loving Jeon Jungkook. So, it sufficed that Seokjin was easy. No more overexertion, no more aches and pains and residual soreness occupying your chest, no more of any of that. Because you knew Seokjin liked you, which was safe and easy knowing there was no point mapping out the possible meanings of every inflected word or shrug or smile. They were simply words and shrugs and smiles with him.

And yet, the thing about giving your heart a 'break' is the period succeeding it. When you were finished resting, you knew who would be waiting for you. Who you would always wait for.

"___! Hello?! I can't hear you! It's too loud!" It wasn't really that loud, your idiot of a best friend was just that drunk. You couldn't tell what concerned you more, the fact that his hearing degenerated when he was, from the sound of it, seven shots deep or that this was the third of alcohol-induced call for this week.

"Where are you?" You asked through a sigh, eyes trained on your Twitter feed and ears occupied with the urgent voice blaring through the speaker phone.

And since it was the third time this week, you were not even half-amused by the repetitive stunt he was pulling.

"I don't know... I walked out and now I'm out and I don't know." The hiccup following his messy sentence was comically textbook 'too drunk'. “Hey, we should take a trip! We should, like, go somewhere!”

“The only place you should be going is home.”

“See, I would totally do that, but I have no idea where I am. Why are these street signs so hard to read?” The end and beginning of each word blended together, rendering that sentence one long, slurred word.

By now, the step by step plan synthesized by you had been memorized. And even though you labored your brain to rewire any feelings leaving you at his beck and call, it clearly hadn't been proficient since your keys had already been gathered and his whereabouts programmed in your GPS via his location services.

"You're so annoying." It might have been rude of you to want him to feel guilty, but it was just as rude of him to interrupt your one night off, which was supposed to be spent with Seokjin, with his intoxicated antics. "I'm coming to pick you up."

"Yo- u are? I love you sooo much. You're the best friend ever, ya know that?" Overly emotional professions was your que to drive fifteen miles over the speed limit so he didn't do something stupid enough to land himself in an ICU.

"Okay, I'm almost there. I think I see you. Wave for me?"

The slumped silhouette you were squinting at began to frantically throw its arms side to side, making you both laugh and pull over so he could drag himself into your passenger seat. And, if you were being honest, he looked better as the blackened shadow of himself.

Jungkook, in all his glory, had his shirt almost fully turned backwards, hair ruffled into a mess, and face as red as the time you and him laid on the beach until your skin punished you with a second degree burn. And all those factors didn't amount to how he smelled like he bathed for hours inside a hand sanitizer bottle.

"God, you're a mess, Jungkook." You said that as jokingly as possible, but meant the sternness embedded in each word. Jungkook was a mess, physically and mentally.

"Hey! You're judging me! Stop being th-o mean, ___." Whenever he was this drunk, his lisp made more appearances in his speech than when he wasn't.

You hated how easily it reminded you of when you were in middle school and he was still navigating and rehearsing through his speech patterns. In middle school, when he was the sweet boy with his only fault being his lisp, who gave you his hoodie and a compassionate smile upon meeting you because your current bully plotted the embarrassment of a lifetime with that piece of chocolate on your seat. In middle school, when Jungkook was the only person in your grade who was kind enough to be kind and true to his word when he pledged his loyalty as your best friend. Forever.

With just one word, you were that timid little middle schooler again, helplessly and unconditionally in love with Jungkook.

Hauling Jungkook, who was more muscle than bone and flesh, over to his door was an art form you had trained, practiced, and mastered about thirty or so times before this one. He weighed about twice as much as you could normally carry, and nonetheless, he was out of your car and in his house in no time.

After you locked the door, you turned around to meet Jungkook, rendering the door frame into a crutch and effectively detaining you between his body and the solid wood behind you.

If you weren't so reminiscent in the car seconds before this, then the vodka-scented souvenir on his breath would have gagged you. However, being this close to him, feeling the warmth of his body consuming and overpowering yours, just made you want to sink into him even more and give him everything you had to offer.

His head was hung so when you looked up, you were greeted with Jungkook's lazy smile that gave his lips a boyish asymmetry and draped his eyelids halfway down his irises. And he had you spooled around him so tightly, this look just made him all the more appetizing.

"Kook, we gotta get you to bed, buddy." You tried to ward him off by weaponizing the most strictly platonic nickname you could think of, partnered with a neighborly pat on the back.

It was mostly to remind yourself that this man, who was an inch too close to your face, was your friend, and that in less than ten minutes you were expected to see Seokjin, but from the way he was looking at you, as if he reached into the depths of your heart to devour all your feelings for him and make them his own, you had to remind him of the universally accepted best friend boundaries.

No deep, romantic gazing into each other's eyes. No intimate activity that could be a precursor to anything more affectionate than a hug. No doing exactly what you two were doing as of now.

"Don't call me that." You hoped his aggression against what you said was merely his inebriated irrationally talking, and as always, his emotions were far beyond his control.

And, shamefully, you also hoped it was because he actually did feel the way you felt. What if he wanted the date that Seokjin was going to get tonight and he wanted all the hand holding and none of the back patting, a 'baby' instead of a 'buddy'?

"What? You're drunk-"

"Don't." Before you could drag him by the arm to his bed, a firm palm settled on your torso and closed the gap between you and the door while widening the gap an inch further between Jungkook and his bed, where he would fall asleep without the warmth of the only person he wanted. "___, please."

His voice was strangled with desperation and Jungkook was depleted of all resistance. He just needed to drink you up. To fill himself with the nourishments of your lips, your body, you.

"What-" He could have silenced you easily with a 'shh' or a finger to your lips. Or anything to your lips except his lips.

His lips. They were greedy and giving all at once. Making soft and intimate ministrations against yours as he kissed you before you had the chance to register what was going on. And even when you did, you let his tongue slide into your mouth. This moment was brimming with all the spontaneity you could ever be prepared for, and though it was new, there was no denying that kissing him felt like finally coming home just from the amount of times you had played this moment out in your daydreams. Plus, Jungkook seemed to ease his tongue along yours a bit too confidently for this to be the first time the idea of kissing you has ran through his mind. 

You're being stupid, you told yourself and Jungkook, but that didn't matter when you were finally allowed a taste of what it felt like to be kissed and touched and possibly even loved by Jungkook.

Your shirt was bunched halfway up your torso, his body pressed to your front a reprisal for the chill of the door against your back. Jungkook was, admittedly, a phenomenal kisser even when the lens of sobriety wasn't available to him. The way he ran his hands along the bare of your back like some desperate pilgrimage to discover the undiscovered parts of your body and took your bottom lip between his teeth like it was his to begin with was nearly enough to undress you from all your defenses, from all your clothing, from every single barrier that kept you from Jungkook for the past twelve years and let him have you. And finally have him. It was nearly enough.

Your hands divorced his body from yours before your lips and heart were ready to let go. It was painful, but the heartbroken look wringing his face into a tearful frown was even more so.

"No." You pushed him away further only to walk past him and seek refuge in the open space of his living room. "You don't get to do this."

"What? What does-"

"You don't get to drunkenly kiss me, Jungkook. You don't get to hold me and kiss me like you love me. It's not fair."

"Hey-"

"Because you don't. You don't love me..." If you weren't too busy finally permissing the hot words to boil over from pure anger, then you would have felt the even hotter tears wetting the expanse of your cheek.

"Well, how the hell would you know that?" His voice drowned out the loud pumps of blood beating in your ears like a drum.

"Because it would have happened ten years ago, Jungkook! Jesus, it would have been obvious from the beginning. So if you love me, if you really love me, then it wouldn't be happening now, like this. When you were drunk out of your mind and still vulnerable from Irene."

"You don't know anything." If that were the case, then Jungkook somehow knew even less than you.

"Yeah, clearly. I didn't know you'd stoop this low. I thought I was a lot of things to you. But I never thought I'd be some rebound."

"A rebound? You think that's what this is?" Jungkook seemed upset, but to your knowledge he had absolutely no reason to be angry with you.

He was, as always, displacing the burdens he didn't feel like dealing with on you, moderating you into an emotional punching bag. But what hurt more than those scrapes and bruises, was the aftermath of letting him fuck his worries away which would have consisted of him telling you the next morning that it meant nothing, expecting you to nod demurely, maybe even console him, and act like your chest hadn't been emptied and filled with his baggage in the most murderous way.

"Fuck you."

"Wow. You're really being like this? You really wanna talk about this now?

"You know what? Yeah I wanna talk about it. I wanna talk about the years. The years, Jungkook, that I've spent loving you! I- I wanna talk about the amount of times I've spent thinking about you when you were with her, and I probably didn't even cross your mind. Or how about the fucking thousands of times I've spent crying over you because I knew I was never going to be the one you'd want to wake up next to! And I had to watch! I had to fucking watch you fall in love over and over and probably wonder why I didn't fall in love either. It was you. It was always you, Jungkook."

"___, I-"

"No." His attempt to intervene was quickly denied. You were too angry to let him speak, too tired to carry these grievances any longer. "You don't get to talk. It's all out there. I loved you. I still love you! Fuck, I'm trying to get over you. And it's like you know. It's like you can read my mind or something and strike right when I'm about to recover from the last wound."

Your breathing was as heavy as Jungkook's was shallow. He could only stand, breathlessly, only curse himself for ever being so blind and regret taking advantage of your love even if it were entirely unknowingly, just to let his heart sink deeper until it fell completely out of his chest while his tears fell just as heavily.

"I'm done, Jungkook. I'm tired of trying to outrun you in this race that you're not even competing in. I'm tired of loving you. So, I'm done."

All the words Jungkook wanted to say, the words pleading for sound, carving deep gashes in his throat and leaving him vocally impaired, could never amount to the apology you deserved. Maybe this once, he wouldn't leave you wounded. He would gather the nobility to shut up and let you move on from him. Because you wouldn't know from his lapse of silence that he was empathizing with every bit of pain he caused you, and he hated himself more than you did right now for allowing such a pain to ever fall in your hands. But, where you knew you could someday forgive him for it, he knew he would never forgive himself.

He could scrounge for a few things to respond with, pour the weight of his emotions into the scarcity of his words, but he needed to let you leave and be selfless for once in his life.

"I should go. Drink some water before bed, okay?" You mumbled to choke back your tears, though it wouldn't matter letting a few more tears escape since you were previously sob-ranting and he'd seen you cry like this a hundred times before. He was the shoulder you never thought you'd have to miss leaning on, but walking out of his door punctured a hole in you. An empty space in your heart designed for the one person who had crushed the rest of it.

If this were a movie, with star-crossed lovers and a fiery infatuation blooming into what everyone secretly wants: true love, then Jungkook would have ran out of his door and held you close, professing his undying love for you. He would have won you back, reassembled your broken heart into fullness, kissed you beneath the brilliance of the moon, and lived happily ever after.

But this wasn't a movie, and he did none of those things.

Instead, he stumbled his way into his kitchen. He poured himself that cup of water you advised. He thought about how even when you swore to him you were done, you spared a bit of compassion to remind him to take care of himself. He wondered how deserving he was of everything you are. He touched his lips, searching for the echo of yours. He fell into his queen-sized bed meant for two, alone, and whispered the words that were ever eclipsing to the space beside him where he longed for you to lay so you could hear them for yourself.

"I love you."

a/n: sorry to put you through that, but the idea was born and i am but a humble vessel to bring it to life <3 hehe thank you all so much for reading and like i said, don't worry there will be a happy ending!!! (and possibly a longer-than-drabble final chapter to this series)

#bangtanarmynet #btsgoldnet #ficswithluv #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts angst #bts writing #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook bestfriend!au #bts drabble #jungkook drabble #constant craving #rubycoast

[socialwriter]

Circles

*Not my gif, credit to original post*

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Female Reader

Summary: You meet the blonde surfer boy you’re meant to spend the rest of your life with

TW: Cursing, my inadequate knowledge of surfing, underage drinking, smoking 

1.7K words

A/N: @kindapinkskies​ and I apparently both love soulmate AUs so I wrote this oops.

Ever since the age of thirteen, you had had the tattoo of a small circle on your hip bone that matched your soulmate's somewhere in the world. Middle school girls would gush over their dream soulmates and the beautiful tattoos that graced their bodies, whereas of course you had no godly idea what your soulmate even looked like and your tattoo was a fucking circle. How lucky were you?

You see, you aren’t able to see any other person’s soulmate tattoo until you grow to love them, whether it be platonic, familial, or romantic. Scientists thought that it was so that everyone would be more experienced in love by the time that they actually met their soulmate. You thought that it was a way to simply torture you with the what ifs and not knowing if the guy who you’d just gone on a miserable date with also had that little circle on hip. 

Recently, you and your mother had moved to the Outer Banks, and she was convinced that this would be where your so-called soulmate would find you and you would live happily ever after. You, however, were not convinced. It had already been a week and you had yet to make a friend in town. It's not like you didn’t try, it's just that everyone that you came across was either busy working or a pompous asshole that stuck their nose up at you. So here you were, day 7 of wandering aimlessly around the Outer Banks, hoping that someone would take notice of the lost puppy dog look on your face. No luck, however, so you decided to grab a bite to eat since it was a little bit before noon and your stomach had started grumbling about ten minutes ago. 

You decided to stop at a place called ‘The Wreck’. If what you’d heard from casual conversations around the island was true, then your meal here should be at least halfway decent. You enter an almost entirely empty restaurant, given it was just before the lunch rush. You ding the bell at the hostess desk, causing one of the girls in a group of teenagers around your age sitting at the back of the restaurant to stand and approach you. “Hi, welcome to The Wreck. How can I help you?”

You give the girl a small smile, she seemed pretty nice. “I, um, I was just stopping by for a bite to eat. I’m starved.” You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, suddenly aware of the fact of how sad it was that you were here to eat alone. 

“You a touron?” She questions, causing you to give her a very confused look. 

“I’m sorry, a who now?”

She chuckles, shaking her head. “That’s what we call the tourists around here. So, you visiting?” She asks. You make an ‘o’ shape with your mouth at her explanation before shaking your head. “No, me and my mom just moved here about a week ago, so I just don’t really know anyone on the island or anything about it.” You explain.

She nods, a smile beginning to grow on her lips. “Well why don’t you hang out with me and my friends.” She gestured over to three guys and a girl sitting in the back, already watching. You send them an awkward wave, which some of them reciprocate. “That would actually be really nice …” You pause, realizing that you didn’t even know this girl’s name.

  “Kiara. Carrera. But everyone just calls me Kie.” She informs you, holding out your hand for her to shake.

“Y/n L/n.”  You tell her, shaking her hand before she leads you over to her friends.

“Guys, this is Y/n L/n. Y/n, this is Pope, JJ, John B, and Sarah.” She says, introducing each one of her friends, pulling up a chair for you before quickly going to grab you a bite to eat.

You suddenly felt very awkward under the eyes of these four strangers, willing yourself to disappear before Sarah decides to start up a conversation with you. “So, Y/n, did you just move here?” She questions. You appreciate her attempt at small talk. 

Nodding, you tell her “Yeah, my mom and I just moved here like a week ago. We used to live on the mainland but she got a job offer we couldn’t refuse, so we moved to the Cut and now here I am.”

“Sweet, you’re a pogue.” One of the boys, you think his name was Pope, said. Before you could question him on what a pogue actually was (you were guessing there was more weird slang that you would have to learn), but before you could, the blonde, JJ you thought, spoke up. 

“So you surf?” He questioned, leaning forward. You had to admit, he was pretty attractive, his blonde hair tousled in a perfectly imperfect way and his blue eyes seemingly piercing into your soul. You shake your head, never having the opportunity to learn. You answer seems to disappoint JJ, causing him to deflate and mumble “disappointing” under his breath, which earns him a whack on the back of the head by the third boy, John B. “Be nice.”

Kie then returns with some french fries and a sandwich for you to munch on, and the conversation moves on to something about a boat.

---

After the not so good first impression with JJ, the blonde had apologized to you and insisted that he be the one to teach you how to surf. While his apology seemed genuine, you were still slightly terrified of surfing. However, JJ assured you that it wasn’t nearly as dangerous or terrifying as you thought, and promised to be with you every step of the way.

He taught you how to swim out to the waves, when the perfect time to get up was, and which waves were a no-go for a beginner like you. Eventually, he had convinced you to actually take a spare board that John B had and go into the water, waiting until a wave that you could ride actually came along. He yelled at you from the shore to go for it, giving you a thumbs up and cheering you on while you nervously rode the wave. At the end, you smiled to yourself, loving the pump of adrenaline that came with surfing. You swam back to shore, squealing and pulling JJ into a hug, which he reciprocated with a chuckle. “I did it!!” You exclaimed, excited by your success.

JJ pulled back from the hug, smiling. “Told ya you could, I am the best surfing instructor you’d be able to get after all,” he said with a smirk, causing you to playfully shove his shoulder and roll your eyes. Something about JJ just felt right, like the two of you meshed together. You were two pieces of the same puzzle, and this feeling only continued to grow the closer you got over the coming weeks. 

---

Sarah had insisted before your outing on the HSM Pogue the next day that you, her, and Kie have a girls night at her place. So here you were, up at 2 am, talking about nothing before the topic of soulmates inevitably comes up. Sarah tells you that her and John B had had a long love hate relationship before eventually getting together and discovering that they were soulmates. You had figured as much, if the subtle PDA and looks they’d sent each other at The Wreck earlier were anything to off of. Kie, similar to you, hadn’t found her soulmate, but told you that she was actively looking for them like you. “So what does your tatto look like Y/n? Where is it?” Sarah questioned, shifting on her bed which she was currently laying on.

“Oh, mines so stupid. Its a little circle, right here on my hipbone,” you said, pointing at the tattoo that you didn’t even know if they could see yet. At your description, however, the smiles on Kie and Sarah’s faces falter, both girls tensing and glancing at one another. “What, is that like a bad omen or something that I don’t know about?” You question, nervous by their reaction. 

Kie awkwardly laughs it off, shaking her head at you. “No,no, its nothing bad. Just, I think you might find out who your soulmate is sooner than later.” She states, causing your brows to furrow. But she drops the subject quickly, and you don’t question her on it for the rest of the night.

---

All six of you were on the HMS Pogue goofing around. After Sarah and Kie had pulled John B and Pope off to the side before getting on the boat, the four had been treating you and JJ a little odd. You just brushed it off, thinking that you were just imagining the change in attitude. You were currently sipping a beer, resting your head on JJ’s shoulder while he smoked some weed. When you had finished, you stood looking at the rest of the group. “Anyone else in the mood for a swim?” You questioned, already pulling off your t-shirt to reveal a bikini underneath. 

“Yeah, I’m just gonna dri-” JJ starts, dropping the newly opened beer in his hand when he looks at you. You look at him like he’s crazy, shuffling your feet to avoid them getting covered beer. “JJ, what the fuck!” you groan in annoyance, but he seems to not notice the mess he’s made, eyes fixated on your stomach. Everyone else looked on with knowing expressions, but no one dared say anything. 

“Is no one going to clean up this mess but me?” You question, looking at every like they’ve gone insane. JJ moves to pull his shirt off, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. “J, we are not cleaning up the beer with your shirt,” you tell him, giving him a look. 

“No, I..” he points to his hip. At the small circle tattoo that matches yours. Your eyes widen, and you look up at him, a silent conversation seemingly happening between the two of you. This boy, the one who you’d grown so close to, who you’d felt so complete with, was your soulmate. Suddenly everything became clearer, like your life had just started making sense. Knowing it was him, provided you with a sense of clarity.

You both slowly approached each other and JJ gingerly grabbed your hand, running him thumb over your knuckles. “Hi.” You said softly, a smile forming on your lips.

“Hi.”

#outer banks #outer banks x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks fluff #outerbanks x you #obx netflix #obx jj maybank #obx jj #obx x reader #obx blurb #jj x reader #jj imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #kiara carrera #john b routledge #sarah cameron #pope heyward #soulmate au

[honeypiehotchner]

i knew you (Bucky Barnes soulmate AU) -- part one

I know, I know. I just finished a story and I started another one and now I’m posting a different one...I’m insane. But I’ve had this idea for a while, just never wrote it down until last night! Enjoy xx.

Also! It’s Bucky x Reader, but it might read as Steve x Reader. I promise it’s platonic!Steve x Reader, though. Steve has no intentions of stealing Bucky’s girl. He knows Bucky would haunt his ass if he did (this is set in The Winter Soldier movie, so Steve still thinks Buck is dead).

Warnings: just some general sadness and angst, mentions of depression, it’s angst city honestly it made me cry

You watch as the old footage replays of Bucky’s wide grin. The only kind of smile that his best friend, Steve Rogers, could draw out of him with one single look or gesture. The only kind of expression that knocks the wind out of your lungs and sends chills down your spine.

“Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable both on schoolyard and battlefield. Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country.”

You hastily wipe a tear away. It’s been months since you put the pieces together. Months since your parents told you that they had known for years. Months since they told you they didn’t want to tell you because they didn’t want to see you hurt. 

Months since you’ve realized the man you keep seeing in your dreams is Bucky Barnes.

At first, you thought you were crazy. People dream of faces they’ve never seen all the time, right? 

Soulmates are said to be rare, but not nonexistent. You’ve always thought they were real, just that the world was so cynical to really talk about them. The idea that there is one person out there whose soul is connected to yours is exactly the kind of thing that would send this generation walking the other direction with their middle fingers raised and eyes rolling in disbelief.

Then you started remembering your dreams. You started to see his face more clearly. Granted, you had no idea it was Bucky that you were seeing. 

You came to the Smithsonian almost half a year ago now with your best friend. She realized you both had never been before, and she basically said fuck it one day and took you with her. Her exact words were, “How have we gone to college here for a year and a half and we’ve never been to the damn Smithsonian?”

You weren’t expecting to meet your soulmate that day. 

Of course, you use the word “meet” very loosely. Your soulmate isn’t alive, which explains the emptiness you feel on a daily. It’s been said that soulmates can feel what the other is feeling. Often times it’s muted, but recognizable. 

You got to see his face, to finally realize that it’s Bucky. The Bucky Barnes. 

It sounds ridiculous — and God, you love your best friend for not calling you pathetic that day — but when you walked up to the very exhibit you’re standing at right now and saw Bucky’s smile...you knew. Instantly, you knew. And it moved you to tears.

It was like your soul had finally found her counterpart, here, grinning like a madman next to his best friend, all the way back in the 1940s. 

Your parents knew simply because of things you would say, offhandedly, without even realizing it. 

Your interest in WWII caught their attention, but it surprisingly didn’t last long -- only from about the time that you turned thirteen to a few months before your fourteenth birthday. You would’ve found Bucky a lot sooner had your interest in the war itself lasted much longer, but it didn’t. You wonder now if you subconsciously knew it was Bucky, but steered yourself away from it in an attempt to save yourself the heartache at such a young age. 

Your taste in music has been the constant that they didn’t quite understand at first. You listen to modern tunes, sure, but you’re a sucker for the music of the 40s. Even clothes. You sometimes found yourself leaning toward the styles of the 40s in subtle ways, not realizing it. 

The true confirmation of their suspicions came, though, when your mom said she heard you say Bucky’s name. The first time was on a road trip. You had fallen asleep in the car. You were sixteen at the time. You were dreaming and you have no recollection of ever saying his name. You weren’t even aware that you said his name while you were dreaming until she confessed that day.

You haven’t told anyone about it. Your best friend doesn’t even know. She still believes you got too excited about seeing Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, that’s all. She doesn’t know the real reason, the real aching pain that you feel every day. 

The only thing that eases the ache is this. Hogging this exhibit. Watching the footage over and over again. Watching Bucky’s smile and being unable to hold back your own, despite your tears.

You know the staff must think you’re delusional. Somehow you haven’t cared enough to entertain the thought. But you have seen the security guard give you strange looks when you walk in almost every other day.

It used to not be this bad. You came every day for a few weeks, but then you were able to calm down to once a week, sometimes twice a month, if you were too busy with school to think about Bucky much.

But lately, something has changed. You don’t know what it is. You still feel the emptiness, but something is different. It’s...troubled. That’s all your mind can come up with.

It makes no sense, though. How can Bucky be troubled? He’s dead. You believe in ghosts and all -- you’ve never been given a reason not to -- but you’ve heard more stories than you can count from people whose soulmate has died. They all say the same thing. They felt it when it happened. Because it was like a switch was flipped. They were feeling everything one moment, and the next, it was all gone. Empty.

Empty. How you’ve felt since the day you were born. You’ve been to therapists and they all told you the same thing. It’s just your thinking. Change your thinking processes. You’ve never slipped or spiraled far enough for it to be classified as a depressive disorder or anything else, just...empty.

When you found out about having a soulmate, and even more so when you found out it was Bucky, you still felt empty, but not as much. It was like everything suddenly made perfect sense. The emptiness had a purpose, a reason for existing.

When you see him smile, everything makes perfect sense. You feel like you have a reason to exist.

“Excuse me, miss?”

You slowly drag your eyes away from Bucky, preparing yourself to deal with a disgruntled museum-goer or staff member complaining about how long you’ve been standing here. But that’s not who you see.

He’s wearing a hat, but the resemblance is unmistakable.

Quickly, you glance at the video before looking back to the person beside you. That’s him. Steve Rogers.

“Hi,” you say hesitantly, quietly. He’s obviously hiding, which he is right to do. If anyone got wind of Steve Rogers walking around here, there would be mass chaos.

“Hey,” he replies just as quiet. “Um...Wanna get a coffee?”

You have no idea why he’s asking, but you nod anyway. Who would say no to coffee with Captain America?

Outside the Smithsonian and down the block, you bring Steve to your favorite spot to get coffee. Your best friend turned you onto it when you first got here for college, and you’ve gone here weekly ever since.

After grabbing your coffees, you pick a table far enough away from everyone else on the patio to talk without anyone listening in.

“So, uh…” Steve exhales, shifting in his seat. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” you shrug, holding onto your cup with both hands. “Why did you ask me to get coffee?”

“You looked familiar,” Steve says, slowly. “What’s your full name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Y/N L/N. Why?”

“Y/N…” Steve mutters under his breath, a crooked smile crossing his face. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

“Huh?”

“Bucky used to talk to me about you,” Steve continues, and you swear your heart stops. “He had me draw pictures of you. He couldn’t draw for crap, but he kept describing you to me from his dreams. I’ve drawn so many I’d recognize your face anywhere.”

“He dreamt about me?” You whisper. “Really?”

“All the time,” Steve nods, smiling sadly. “So you’re his soulmate?”

“I guess,” you say. “My mom says I used to say his name in my sleep all the time. I dreamt of his face, too, but I never knew it was him. Until my friend took me to the exhibit a few months ago.” You pause. “It sounds stupid. But seeing him there makes me feel...better.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says suddenly. “It can’t be easy being born in a completely different generation.”

You smile softly. “Thank you. I’m sorry, too. I can’t imagine how hard it is to still be here after all this time. And without your best friend, too.”

“Yeah, it hasn’t been easy,” Steve admits. “But thanks. I appreciate it.”

“If it’s not too much to ask,” you begin, pausing to think about if you’re going to regret this. “Would you tell me about him? Just anything. It doesn’t have to be anything profound, just...anything you want to talk about. But if it’s too hard, don’t worry about it.” You wave your hands in front of your face, already preparing yourself for Steve to politely turn you down.

But he doesn’t.

“Bucky, he…” Steve pauses, shaking his head. “He was a lot wealthier than me back in the 40s. I had no business acting the way I did, picking fights with people three times my size, but I still did it. And Bucky was always there to pick me up off the ground and give me a ride back home.”

“Yeah?” You chuckle. “You used to be super skinny, right?”

“I was really sick, actually. Bucky had every reason to treat me like anyone else, but he never did. We grew up together -- though I used to joke that he grew up. I stayed the same size. But he never made fun of me for it.”

You can’t help but grin. “That video in the museum -- his smile. I see it in my dreams all the time.”

“Yeah, yeah that was Bucky’s signature grin. He could give any woman that smile and they were his.”

“I can see why,” you admit quietly, averting your eyes when Steve raises his eyebrows. You change subjects, not wanting to talk about how attractive you find Steve’s dead best friend -- despite him being your soulmate. “What was his favorite thing to eat for breakfast?”

Steve takes the bait, and for the next four hours, the two of you sit on the patio, talking about Bucky Barnes. 

His favorite color? Your eyes. Which you think is a little ridiculous, but Steve swears it’s the truth.

His favorite thing to do? Go dancing. Hands down.

His favorite thing to talk about? You. Again, you give Steve a stern look, and again, he swears it’s true. But when he wasn’t talking about you, Steve says Bucky talked a lot about the future. He was an optimist. Steve has no idea how, but Bucky always saw the brightest side.

Bucky was kind. Kinder than a lot of men his age, at the time. He had that blinding smile and instead of hiding it and going for the mysterious, brooding attitude, he chose to smile as much as he could, to anyone who looked like they needed it.

Realizing that the sun is beginning to go down, Steve decides to get you home.

“It’s alright, I can walk,” you tell him, feeling high on everything Bucky. “It’s just up here. I go to college here.”

“At least let me walk you to the campus,” Steve offers.

You raise an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Bucky would kill me if I let his girl walk home alone. Especially when it’s getting dark.”

“Fine,” you cave. Hearing Steve refer to you as “Bucky’s girl” sends chills down your spine -- the good kind of chills. The kind that makes you wish it was the 1940s. The kind that makes you wish Bucky was here, holding your hand, walking you home.

Once you reach campus (you decide to let Steve walk you all the way to your dorm building), you ask Steve the question you’ve been wondering about ever since you first saw Bucky in the museum.

“Hey Steve?”

Hands stuffed in his pockets, Steve turns his head toward you. “Yeah?”

“If this was the 40s...do you-- Do you think I’m the kind of girl Bucky would want?”

Steve’s steps falter. You slow your pace to match his until you’re both stopped, looking at one another.

“What is it?” You ask.

“Yes,” Steve says simply. “Yeah. I do. I know for a fact he would’ve torn down every building until he found you. Because he tried.”

Your breath hitches. Deep down, you had convinced yourself that you weren’t the kind of girl Bucky would want. Not that it’s your fault because you were born this side of the millennium. But to hear Steve tell you otherwise makes you freeze.

“What?”

“Bucky didn’t have me sketch you because he wanted me to practice my drawing. He did it because he wanted to see a picture of you. Something he could keep in his wallet and look at every night. He was a ladies man, yeah, but every single one...he wanted them to be you. But they never were.” Steve shakes his head. “It really tore him up, that he never found you. He still held out hope, though. Until the very last second.”

Tears have sprung to your eyes before you even realize it. 

“Before he fell, he--” Steve pauses. “He told me to promise that I’d find you. I guess I kept my promise after all.”

He looks up to see the tears in your eyes, streaming down your cheeks. Without a single word, Steve pulls you into his chest, and without hesitation, you let yourself cry.

He’s not Bucky. And you’ll never find your Bucky, but he’s close enough. Steve promised Bucky that he’d find you, and he kept that promise. Now he’s going to do everything in his power to keep you safe.

Because he knows for a fact Bucky would’ve wanted that, too.

#i knew you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #platonic!steve x reader #captain america: the winter soldier #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes soulmate au #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #angst city y'all #it will not have real fluff for a while #we are stuck in traffic in angst city lmao #oops