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joonary · 2 years

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banana clip | jhs

↳ summary: he’s your roommate and your best friend. that was enough of a reason for the heartsick feeling in your stomach at the thought of him leaving, wasn’t it?

but even so, with him in tokyo and you in los angeles, you can’t help but wonder if he looks both ways every time he crosses your mind.

↳ genre: fluff; angst; roommate au; study abroad au (is that a thing? i’m making it a thing); friends to lovers; jung hoseok x reader

↳ rating: pg-13

↳ warnings: swearing, mild alcohol consumption, pining and overthinking, timeskipping but all of it is denoted by timestamps, introvert hoseok indulgence

↳ word count: 25.1k

↳ a/n: can you believe i plotted this fic in 2019? and then it ended up being nothing like my original outline LOL. heavily inspired by hoseok being an infj and his s-tier instagram usage. unbeta’d as per usual, but dedicated to rose @kinktae for her roommate hobi dream (which i included, minus the **** ******** unfortunately). messed around a lot stylistically and characterization-wise in this fic, please feel free to hit me up and let me know what you think!

[date unknown, 2022; 1:46 AM PST]

Laundry is always best done in the presence of another.

Well, not necessarily. If you think back to the days when you lived at home, you would purposely do your own laundry in the wee hours of the night, the presence of your mother or siblings in the cramped laundry room with you being more counterproductive and energy-consuming than anything else.

Not even to mention your first year of university, where you had done your laundry in pockets of time between classes, feeling the awkwardness and dread bubbling up in the back of your throat the second you poked your head into the laundromat and saw another student doing their own chores at the same time as you.

It didn’t matter if they didn’t even try to make conversation with you; you preferred to do household chores alone–often popping a playlist on and letting your brain run on autopilot as you cleaned–and there was nothing wrong with that.

But this–this is different. Hoseok looks just as sleepy as you and twice as stubborn, refusing to hit the sack until at least all of your shared and sorted piles of clothing have made it into the dryer.

(Clothes today, sheets and blankets tomorrow. That was what your agreed-upon, riveting plans for the weekend with your roommate entailed.)

He makes for a good laundry partner though, the pair of you sitting cross-legged on the living room carpet (which was vacuumed this morning by the man himself, by the way), your shared Spotify playlist turned into white noise with the dozens of quick conversations you’ve thrown back and forth between the soft thuds of folding clothes.

“I’m gonna get some water, want something?” you ask, standing up and dusting non-existent dust off your pants.

(They’re not even your pants, actually, but a pair of Hobi’s basketball shorts that you were borrowing for the weekend alongside one of his sweatshirts. When it came to clothes, his closet outnumbered yours ten-to-one, which is exactly how borrowing his clothes while yours were in the wash for the weekend became just another part of your routine.

All of his shit was vastly more comfortable than yours was, anyways–it almost had you looking forward to weekends like this.)

“Mmm, maybe a CapriSun?” Hoseok decides, eyes lighting up like it’s the best idea he’s had all night. And it is.

“Shit, I might get one of those instead too,” you contemplate, already making your way to the refrigerator.

“Wild cherry for me!” You know by now that that was exactly what he would say next.

“You’re the only person who likes that flavor, I swear.”

“I only like it because you drink all the Pacific Cooler every time we buy.” He cranes his neck enough to make eye contact with you at your place in front of the fridge, a dramatic lilt to his voice. “It’s been so long that I don’t even remember what any non-Wild Cherry juice tastes like…”

Now he’s just fucking with you. With a roll of your eyes and a smile way too big to hide any fondness behind it, you toss the juice pouch halfway across the room towards him, which he catches effortlessly in one hand.

You’re in the middle of puncturing the thin film of where your straw is supposed to go in your own juice box when the washing machine beeps to signal yet another finished load. Your roommate is already springing to his feet before you can react, muttering a quick “I’ll get it” as he squeezes past you into the hallway, one of his hands brushing against your upper arm and making your heart leap into your throat.

The feeling doesn’t dissipate, even as you make your way back to your makeshift laundry-folding station on the floor.

Hoseok brings forth yet another basket of warm clothing from the dryer, and you fall back into your routine without addressing the incident. Like you always do–physical contact wasn’t anything amiss between you two, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t cause mild jolts of flusteredness every so often.

(Okay, sue you. It was perfectly normal to find your friends physically attractive without thinking about it any further, right? You were perfectly content with your relationship with Hoseok at the moment without wanting to take it any further.)

It’s nearly an hour later when Hoseok speaks again. There’s usually never this little chit-chat between you two for this long, but the late hour and the task at hand is mind-numbing enough for the pair of you to bask in at least a little silence. Or the effort of speaking is what’s truly exhausting–it’s not an uncomfortable lack of conversation, and the still-running playlist has you both occasionally humming along at random intervals to whatever track is playing.

(Yes, you’ve been at this for hours, and your music has yet to come to a halt. Living together for nearly two years and sharing a surprisingly large amount of taste in music from the get-go has resulted in a playlist of a whopping nine hours and forty-six minutes.)

Whatever the case, the next words out of your roommate’s mouth are ones that shouldn’t surprise you as much as they do.

“I’ve always wanted to study abroad.”

Now that’s something you’ve never heard him mention before. “Really?”

He hums in confirmation before elaborating. “Yup. Deadline just passed for Fall semester programs, so I’d be planning for Spring instead.”

“Aren’t we graduating next Spring though?”

“Yeah, I went to advising and depending on the program, I should be back before commencement in June. They don’t recommend it, but it’ll only be one semester,” he assures. The seam of his lips seals like it's a promise. “January to May, that’s it.”

Shit, he went to academic advising for this? And the way he talks makes it seem like this is something that’s been on his mind for a while now, something he’s been planning and only just now geared up enough confidence to mention to you.

“Yeah, I’ve always thought that studying abroad would be fun. But damn, six months is still a pretty long time.” You can’t even remember what you’d been up to six months ago. Off the top of your head, at least.

“Mhm, it’s just an idea though,” Hoseok says casually. But you can tell already that this is much more than that.

Months of preparation in advance before telling you or not, for you, he’d be willing to throw the entire idea down the drain and you know that. So you voice exactly what’s on your mind.

“I think it’s a great idea,” you smile. You revel in the way his eyes light up at your input. You value his input in your own turmoils just as much–it feels good to know that your friendship will always be mutually beneficial. “It’s not like you don’t have the money, especially now that Jiwoo’s out of grad school. Perfect setup for new experiences.”

“Experiences for what?” he can’t help but laugh, heart-shaped smile breaking yours in two. “The Instagram aesthetic? The chance to be humbled because I’m not really as trilingual as I put on my resume? There’s nothing I don’t have now that I could want out in Japan.”

“A girlfriend,” you joke. “You don’t have a girlfriend. But seriously, does there really have to be something in mind that you want in order for you to go? Sometimes you just gotta take the leap when you get the opportunity to, and the best experiences come that way.”

“Damn, someone’s getting existential,” he says with an expression of mock-surprise flashing across his brows, playing off your words easily. He takes another sip from his CapriSun pouch. Yours has long since been flattened and discarded to the floor. “Now it seems like you’re just trying to get rid of me.”

Brushing his snide remark aside with a playful eye-roll, you realize that he’s already got a country in mind. You shouldn’t be surprised, given the other extensive amounts of research he’s apparently done so far.

“Japan, huh?”

And for what feels like the hundredth time since this conversation began, he nods, only furthering your previous assumptions. It’s just like him to have all of his own thoughts organized before sharing them with you.

“Looked at other countries too, but their programs ran way longer than our own semesters do. Plus it just–I don’t know–caught my eye.” He elaborates even further, his interest in this endearing to you. “I went with my dad a couple times when he had business trips over in Tokyo and Osaka, but I think nine-year-olds appreciate vacationing completely different from how twenty-one-year-olds do.”

“I mean, it’s like two-thirds of a vacation, considering you still have to go to class and shit.”

He huffs out a small laugh. “Back then it was like two-thirds of a vacation too. I had a lot to learn.”

“Guess so,” you sigh. You know he’s always had this immense pressure to manage a portion of his family’s country in the near future, but from what he keeps you updated on as of late, he’s much happier to be working in marketing, amongst other projects he’s taken on.

When you first met Jung Hoseok nearly a year-and-a-half ago, he was a closed book. Not in the silent, mildly awkward mannerisms type-of-way like your neighbor Yoongi, but in the sense of where it was damn near impossible to know what he was thinking, and getting him to open up about anything about his personal life and work at all was like pulling teeth.

You’re happy to know that he’ll gladly confide in you in just about everything now, but nonetheless, it always intrigued you with how good he was at only showing people exactly what he wanted them to see. Maybe it was all the wide smiles and loud outfits.

Brushing your speculations aside, you propose another idea. “Hey, maybe now instead of being managing director of the Los Angeles branch of the company, you could be one over in Tokyo?”

Hoseok gives a narrowed eye smile. “Seriously, if you’re plotting to get rid of me, it’s not gonna be that easy.”

You smile with a wrinkle of your nose. “Damn. Back to the drawing board, then.”

Despite his words, you would never even dream of getting rid of him. Hell, even his proposed leave left something akin to loneliness to settle in the recesses of your mind.

He’s your roommate and your best friend. That was enough of a reason for the heartsick feeling in your stomach at the thought of him leaving, wasn’t it?

[January 1st, 2023; 11:46 PM PST]

“You’re not bringing the condom shirt?”

Hoseok pops his head out of the closet at your question, the strips of tin foil in his hair gleaming in the change of lighting like a shitty 5’10” disco ball.

“Should I?” he shoots right back, holding up a different button-up shirt by its hanger before laying it out on the bed beside dozens of other various articles of clothing.

“Ooh, I got a better idea. Lay it out over here and you can wear it to the airport instead, and I’ll take a shit ton of pics for you to post later.”

“You’re a genius, you know that?”

You’ve always admired Hoseok’s sense of fashion. From the brightly-colored ten pound shoes he wears to the plain white t-shirts, he manages to turn every place he goes into his own personal runway. He carries himself so coolly that he can make anything look good, honestly.

His organizational skills leave nothing to be desired, and this is no exception–for tonight, he’s just laying out all the clothes he plans on bringing with him to Tokyo, and tomorrow he’ll have that impromptu fashion show you’ve been begging him for as a secondary measure of what really should go and what should stay. Then it’s to the ironing board for all of it before hitting his suitcases.

You’d think by now that you’d have picked up on at least some of his tidiness, but a side-by-side comparison of your closet to his would easily debunk that theory.

This has been going on for hours, both of your opinions on certain outfits being thrown back-and-forth like a ping pong ball.

(Remember what you said about him having trust in your judgment? Apparently that weight becomes lessened in terms of fashion, because Hoseok is having way too much fun debating you on how good his questionable outfit combinations were.)

Eyes beginning to grow heavy with sleepiness, you check the clock. His hair should be done right about now, right?

You approach him, standing while he sits on the edge of his bed, carding your fingers through the newly dyed mouse brown strands. You unfurl the nearest strip of tinfoil, triumph creeping into your smile when the highlighted strip turns out exactly the shade you pictured it to.

“Good?” he asks, eyes wide with anticipation.

“Nah, sorry but we have to shave your head now.”

He playfully shoves at your shoulder with a laugh before letting you pull him to his feet. And he follows you to the bathroom, making an incredibly good point when he tells you that even if it looks bad, he looks good in beanies anyways.

But the backup plan isn’t even necessary–he looks a little too good, if you’re being honest. You were by no means an expert at dyeing hair, but with the way Hobi’s highlights turned out, it might as well have been done professionally. He makes goofy faces at the mirror while you undo each chunk of tinfoil, growing more and more impressed at your handiwork as you go along.

“Holy shit,” is all you can say as you ruffle your fingers through his hair.

“You like it?” he asks with a tilt of his head, meeting your eyes in the mirror. Always asking you for your input. He only laughs in disbelief when you nod your head vigorously.

“I’m serious! Like damn, I just got weak in the knees a little.”

He snorts this time. “You’re so ridiculous.”

You step beside him, inspecting his strands from a different angle. It’s seriously so unfair how pretty his side profile was.

“I can’t tell if you’re staring at me, or if you’re just tooting your own horn for how good it turned out,” Hoseok jokes pointedly, making his way back to the bedroom after you declare your answer that both were true.

Aforementioned tidiness gets abandoned after a few more hours and tens of shirts later, when the realization settles in that Hoseok has too much clothes on his bed and too little surface area for him to be sleeping.

“Fuck this, we’re gonna do laundry again before I pack anyways,” Hoseok mutters, sleepiness overpowering his usually stable judgement as he shoves aside the pile of potential pants to pack to make enough room for the both of you to fit on his mattress.

You honestly don’t even remember the exact moment that the both of you had nodded off to sleep, but you recall lying side-by-side like fish in a tightly-packed can while you chatter about all the things that are going to change in the coming months.

(Hoseok expresses disbelief, like he still can’t believe he’s actually going through with this. You flick his forehead while you reassure him that in ten years from now, he’ll be glad he went.)

You stay like that until the morning sun peeks through the blinds that he has perpetually drawn, the light scattered across the array of colored clothing that was now cast to the floor.

[January 7th, 2023; 3:33 PM PST]

The thing about California that you’ve grown to both love and hate over the years is the lack of a chill to the air, even amidst the peak of Winter.

It’s a welcome break from the sweltering heat that overtakes more than two-thirds of the year, but the lack of low temperature and wind leaves the air feeling stale. Or perhaps that was just you seeing the grass being greener on the other side where Hoseok will be going.

(In this case, the grass wouldn’t be greener, but covered in a blanket of snow like every romance drama’s winter. But you digress.)

You feel as though you’re even more jittery than he is when you look at the boy through the rear view mirror, who has his phone out and camera aiming towards the LAX sign, the setting sun reflecting off the metal and bathing them in a lazy pink glow.

Yoongi’s behind the wheel and Hoseok insisted that you should sit shotgun, leaving him in the backseat with all his bags. Jiwoo had wanted to tag along as well, but she had gotten caught up at work and compensated by inviting you both over for dinner the previous night. There isn’t much being said currently, just the three of you humming along to whatever music you allow to come up on shuffle.

You can’t really blame Hobi’s uncharacteristically quiet attitude though. He’s been running around nonstop throughout the duration of this week trying to make sure that himself and all of his belongings would reach their destination safely, and even when he wasn’t moving physically, he was on the phone or sending emails back and forth with the university to ensure that the process was going smoothly.

At least he’ll catch up on rest while he’s on the plane. Or perhaps right now too, with how (predictably) horrible LAX traffic was going.

“See, this is why we leave for the airport at least three hours early,” Yoongi says matter-of-factly. He takes his hands off the steering wheel to emphasize that your vehicle is currently at a complete stop.

“You sound like your dad,” Hoseok shoots right back, causing you to laugh.

Yoongi shakes his head. “Fuck, I am getting old, huh?”

Hoseok and Yoongi have known each other longer than you have known either of them, but the three of you get along so well that it feels like you’ve known each other your entire lives. Which is funny, honestly, considering that you and Hoseok hardly ever saw Yoongi to begin with. Not only because you have other friends and each other that you opted to hang out with more, but because Yoongi spent so much time working in his studio that even him taking a few hours off to take Hoseok to the airport–and to have lunch with you two beforehand, too–felt sentimental.

The car’s painfully slow movement leads you all to resort to classic road games to pass the time. By your sixth round of iSpy, you finally make it to the parking structure.

Airports feel like liminal spaces to those who are immersed in it, but for those who are only there for drop-off and pick-up, all you feel is the chaos. From the traffic, to the checking in of bags, to finding the correct areas to go, you’re easily growing exhausted. The security line where Hoseok’s flight has directed him to go feels like a force field, knowing that this is where you’re going to have to say your final goodbyes.

It’s a shame that Hobi can’t bring you and Yoongi all the way to the gate to wait with him. It only makes the countdown of time you have left together feel even shorter.

Even with that in mind, no more sentimentalities are left to be said, you all opting for a much more casual line of conversation.

“What are you guys gonna do now?”

“Not even gonna lie, I’m hungry again,” you throw out.

“Yeah,” Yoongi nods in agreement. “Figured you would be too, so I already planned not to be working for the rest of the evening so we can go somewhere.”

Hoseok looks just as shocked as you are at his planning ahead, but you’re the one who comments on it. “Damn, Yoongi’s just constantly playing 4D chess with himself, huh.”

Hoseok throws his head back in a laugh so hard that you feel like you don’t even deserve it for your shitty quip. But the body language of his laugh is contagious, and you find yourself snickering right along with him. Even Yoongi lets out a pained laugh at his own expense.

“I’m already hungry too,” Hoseok nods after he settles down from his laughter. “I’m so excited. I love airport food.”

He’s so strange that it’s endearing. It’s not even the airline food he was excited for (which, understandable), but the overpriced Panda Express on the other side of the security check that he was setting his stomach on. Things he says like this only contribute to the ongoing list of things about your best friend you’ll never understand.

Eventually, you know when you should leave though. Despite the fact that you almost selfishly want to stay here forever, if only to bask in the time you have left with Hobi, your excitement on his behalf reminds you that you’re stalling. The weariness you had seen in him in the car has also seemingly been replaced with the same enthusiasm you were feeling, now that he was alert and awake under the fluorescent LAX lighting.

“I’ll see you in March,” he promises. Just like what you had agreed on a few nights ago. He’ll be back for Spring Break for sure–but even with that promise in mind, there was three months separating you until then, so you hug him with enough strength for you to remember his presence for four. And he hugs you back equally tight, until you both can’t help but squeeze out a laugh at how close you are.

And then he does the same for Yoongi, and in place of where Yoongi will usually pull his tsundere act and resist Hoseok’s affection, he revels in it the same way you had instead. It’s so blatantly obvious how much the both of you are going to miss him, and how much he’s going to miss you in return.

Yoongi and you can only watch as he proceeds forward towards the escalator, bag slung over his shoulder and head of brown hair fluffing as he moves. Every few steps he casts his gaze back, shooting you a smile and a wave before he continues onward.

He faces you one more time before the walkway meets the escalators, throwing another goofy grin your way as his facial features grow less and less distinguishable the further up he goes. Be it the distance or the growing anticipation in your gut that makes it so, but he’s disappearing out of sight and he’s disappearing fast.

You wave your last goodbye, and with the next blink that may or may not have had tears accompanying it, Hoseok is out of your line of vision and onto another chapter. And so are you.

[January 7th, 2023; 7:44 PM PST]

When you leave the airport, the LAX lettering is illuminated from below by a soft hue of blue against the canvas of a pitch black sky. The excess of city lights makes seeing stars nearly impossible, and absentmindedly you wonder if Hoseok has a better view of them from seven miles in the air.

“Don’t hate me.”

Your head cocks up and towards your companion from where you had been absentmindedly staring at the road, the blur of the city passing by. Yoongi’s hands have a tight grip on the steering wheel, like he’s expecting you to sock him because of what he says next. “You know how I said I figured you’d want to go out to eat after we leave the airport?”

You wait for him to continue in lieu of a response. “I invited a friend to come to dinner with us.”

A blink. Then, “Why?”

Great. As well-meaning as Yoongi was, you couldn’t believe he would spring something–or rather, someone–on you like this. He was just as socially awkward as you were, for crying out loud! You would have at least appreciated more of a warning than this.

(Ideally four business days in advance, but you’ll take anything more than what he’s chosen to give, honestly.)

It’s not like you had any means of dodging the situation either–Yoongi was your ride home, unless you wanted to throw yourself into oncoming Los Angeles traffic instead of taking your chances with whatever friend-of-a-friend he was bringing along. You pretend you don’t actually contemplate it for a moment.

He shrugs, eyes forward and lips pursed in a slight pout. “Don’t know. He’s nice–I promise–and I thought it’d be nice. I figured we’d have more fun together than letting you just go home and mope about how much you’re gonna miss Hobi.”

You cock and eyebrow at him. “Don’t act like you don’t miss him already too.”

“I’m not pretending anything,” Yoongi pouts, raising his eyebrows and flexing his fingers against the steering wheel in self-defense. “But I know it’s hitting you five times as hard as it is me.”

“Pfft. I’d say someone is projecting a little,” you dismiss with a laugh. “And don’t say it’s a roommate thing, because if Namjoon were the one leaving instead of Hobi, do you really think you’d be as miserable as you think I am right now?”

Yoongi only wrinkles his nose in response. Cutely, you might add. “No. But that’s the difference between our households. You and Hoseok are best friends and do everything together. Namjoon is just some guy that lives in my house.”

You shake your head with a laugh. He’s unbelievable. “Yeah, whatever. And your brilliant solution to cure the loss of my best friend is to drain the life outta my social battery?”

He heaves out yet another sarcastic sigh as he puts his car in park outside of the restaurant.

“Trust me, if I wanted to kill your social battery that badly, I wouldn’t have given you a warning at all. So speak to me nicely.”

[January 7th, 2023; 9:06 PM PST]

Per his word, Yoongi’s friend is nice.

The thing that strikes you the most about Kim Seokjin is his sense of humor, or rather, how much it contrasts from your own. And Yoongi’s too, for that matter–it makes you wonder how the hell the pair of them became friends to begin with.

They play off of each other well, though. Seokjin makes self-inflating jokes and outlandish claims, and Yoongi is always ready with a dry and quick-witted comeback. If Hoseok were here, he would say that the pair of them were like their own comedy skit.

“Okay, hear me out. What’s your MBTI type?” Seokjin leans forward, as if to increase your engagement from where you sit across from him in the booth.

Yoongi lets out a groan. “Not this shit again.”

“Just shut up and let her answer, man.”

You frown, needing a second to think. It’s been ages since the last time you took the test. “An INTP, if I’m remembering correctly.”

“Perfect. Riddle me this then, Y/N,” Seokjin says, folding his hands together like he’s about to ask you a question on Who Wants to be a Millionaire?. “Do you like fishing?”

What?

“I mean, I guess so.” You can’t remember the last time you’d even thought about going fishing.

“Yes!” he cheers, like he’s a physicist who just discovered a new subatomic particle. Yoongi full-on face plants into the table. The former takes that as an opportunity to clarify: “I’m trying to convince Yoongi over here of my theory that all INTPs like fishing. We now have three pieces of evidence to go into my thesis: you, me, and him.”

“For the last time, Jin, I’m not an INTP, I’m an ISTP. ‘S’–as in you’re a fucking Sucker for thinking this is a valid theory. And besides, Y/N’s answer was half-assed and the only reason I like going fishing is because you drag me with you all the damn time.”

You laugh. “My answer was not half-assed. If you ever need funding for further research, you know where to find me.”

Yoongi looks more and more miserable the further you and Seokjin drag along the bit. He begins to regret introducing you, the biggest enabler known to man, to Jin of all people, the man who definitely does not need any more enabling outside of what he undeservedly already gives himself.

He has to admit though, he’s glad that you’re entertained by tonight’s antics–that was all part of the plan. He wasn’t kidding when he said that he didn’t want you to be sulky over Hoseok being gone.

He knows that the pair of you were just friends, and had no plans of that changing in the future. But still, you didn’t have to be in a romantic relationship for you to miss him as if he were a significant other.

The set line of concentration between Yoongi’s brow is dissolved when Seokjin nudges him to ask to maneuver through and out of the booth, telling him that he needs to use the bathroom.

As he scoots out, Yoongi wonders why the hell he didn’t sit in the deeper end of the table to begin with. Two drinks paired with Jin’s already fidgety nature made for a bad combination this early on in the night, especially before food had arrived to distract him. Bladder: 1, Seokjin: 0.

But with the new friend’s absence, you can converse with Yoongi more comfortably.

“This is so weird.”

“What is?”

“I can’t remember the last time I went out and Hoseok wasn’t there.”

You love Yoongi, you really do. But you wish he would stop looking at you from across the table like the “No Bitches?” meme of Megamind. As if he were any better.

“Don’t look at me like that! You act like I don’t know that you spend sixty-nine percent of your time cooped up in your studio.”

Yoongi sighs and shakes his head at you again, whether it be from your actual comment, or your inopportune choice of number. But either way, you’re spurred to continue your rant. “And you spend the other thirty-one percent of your time sleeping or with Hoseok and me! So don’t act like I’m the only one who misses him.”

“You know the more defensive you are, the more you’re only proving my point right?”

Before you can form a response to his dry and pointed question, Seokjin’s speaking to announce his return.

“The bathrooms are really nice here,” Seokjin says, eyes lit with approval as he sits back down across from you, as if he were commentating on the interior design and not the efficiency of their plumbing. “The toilets probably have the same sucking force of a black hole.”

And before you can even speak, Yoongi’s already shooting back his own deadpan comment. “That wouldn’t be possible because toilets have a max PSI of fifteen.”

You really do wonder if they’ve considered starting a podcast together.

Small talk has never really been your forte. Which is why you’re glad that Seokjin seems to be comfortable enough to circumvent that, aside from initial questions about what the other is studying and what you both do for work. But what catches his interest the most is when you mention that you play PC games on occasion.

“Do you play MapleStory?” he questions immediately, eyes lit with anticipation.

You think for a moment. “Haven’t in a good while, but I definitely used to play a ton in high school.”

“Oh my God,” Seokjin says. “Can we get married?”

“Jin!” Yoongi says, brows knit in concern at his friend’s sudden question. Only for the older boy to raise his hands in comical defense.

“In the game, in the game!” he assures, causing you to laugh. “If we get married, we get bonus items, plus we share all of our Mesos and materials.”

“Like a two-man guild?”

“Exactly like a two-man guild!” Seokjin smiles as he nods excitedly. “See Yoongi-chi! She gets it!”

Yoongi definitely decides that introducing the pair of you is either the best or worst decision he’s ever made in his life. He’s still unsure of which side it’s leaning more towards.

At the end of the night, Seokjin asks you for your phone number. But like Yoongi said, his intention wasn’t to set you two up. All he wanted to do was expand your friend circle now that you couldn’t spend twenty-four hours a day with your roommate.

And if that comes in the form of a guy who wants your contact information solely to help him grind in MapleStory, so be it.

When you finally arrive home and bid Yoongi goodnight before slinking into your own now-empty condo, you find a follow request from what appears to be Seokjin’s Instagram account. Moments after you accept the invitation, you find another notification telling you that you’ve been tagged in his story.

You inspect the photo to ensure you don’t look stupid (for the intents of purposes of uploading it to your own story, yes, but also because Seokjin has a hell of a lot more followers than you, and who wouldn’t get nervous over that kind of thing?), but you’re relieved to find that you admittedly look really good.

You can’t say the same for Yoongi though–the poor guy looks as though he were mid-sentence when Seokjin snapped the photo, leaving him partially blurred and cheeks puffed out. Not that it has any negative impact on his appearance; as Hoseok once said, Yoongi looks cute doing just about anything.

Swiping into Seokjin’s DMs, you type out a quick message.

[9:54 pm] jin 😗: Mentioned you in their story

[10:06 pm] you: You mentioned jin 😗 in your story

[10:06 pm] you: nice meeting you today :) also can you send me this pic?

[10:16 pm] jin 😗: yeah of course

[10:16 pm] jin 😗: IMG_298.jpg

[10:19 pm] you: thanks!

[10:19 pm] jin 😗: mhm :)

[10:20 pm] jin 😗: nice meeting you today too!

You heart his message before promptly sliding your phone into its charging port on your nightstand, commencing in your nightly routine.

Without Hoseok here, there’s no music playing throughout the entire house. There’s no loitering at the sink while you wait for your turn in the shower, no menial conversations about your day and the funny things that you overheard while you were on campus.

You twiddle your thumbs for a moment once you’re ready for bed. You contemplate calling Hoseok to check in, but he should be somewhere over the Pacific Ocean right about now. Even though it’s more likely than not that he paid for in-flight WiFi, you’d rather let him sleep to prepare for the long days ahead.

With that thought in mind, you find yourself settling into bed sooner than usual, and drifting off into a heavy sleep.

[January 8th, 2023; 8:27 AM PST]

When you awake, you habitually reach out towards your phone’s place on your nightstand. It’s part of the luxury that comes with the weekend that you awoke naturally, rather than by an alarm clock. You only have the next few days to bask in that though, with the upcoming semester starting next week already.

Fumbling to unlock your cell phone, you swipe away any notifications that could be dealt with later. But your sights focus on one bubble of an Instagram notification in particular.

[5:12 am] jung hoseok: Replied to your story: replaced me already? :(

Unplugging your cell phone from its charger before rolling back over in bed, you grin at your screen, uncaring about how silly it must look—who else was home to judge you, anyways?—as you type out your reply.

[8:29 am] you: you know i could never

[8:29 am] you: how was your flight?

You smile at the incoming call notification that greets you almost instantaneously.

[January 14th, 2023; 11:21 PM PST]

It’s not until a week later that you hear from Hoseok again. Not that that’s a bad thing, per se; you’re sure he’s had a ton of things to settle in, from his room, to his class schedule, to even just the mundanities of his day-to-day life that he’s had to adjust to accommodate living in another country.

[11:21 pm] hobi 🌱: I’M A LIAR AND A CHEATER

[11:21 pm] hobi 🌱: 😭😭😭😭💦

[11:22 pm] you: ?

[11:22 pm] you: also PLEASE do not use 💦 as a crying emoji

He’s always done this—using emojis without a single drop of irony in his tone, regardless of whatever implications it may have to the broader internet.

[11:23 pm] hobi 🌱: JUST LISTEN

[11:24 pm] hobi 🌱: i know i said i wanted to study abroad because my japanese was rusty as fuck

[11:24 pm] hobi 🌱: turns out i’m REALLY rusty

[11:24 pm] hobi 🌱: BUT MY ROOMMATES ARE BOTH KOREAN

[11:25 pm] hobi 🌱: AND THE GIRL I MET IN CLASS YESTERDAY IS FROM TEXAS

[11:26 pm] hobi 🌱: SO I’VE PRETTY MUCH ONLY BEEN SPEAKING KOREAN AND ENGLISH

[11:26 pm] hobi 🌱: I HAVE PROBABLY SAID THREE SENTENCES IN JAPANESE OVER THE PAST WEEK

Okay. Maybe he’s not quite as settled as you assumed he’d be this early on.

[11:27 pm] you: LMFAO

[11:27 pm] hobi 🌱: that’s all you have to say

[11:28 pm] hobi 🌱: your best friend is committing cardinal sins as we speak and all you have to say is “LMFAO”

Why the fuck is he so fast? Whether it be text messages, Instagram likes, Twitter replies, you name it–he responds within seconds, like he’s somehow mastered the art of telepathy with his iPhone screen.

You quickly erase your initial message in lieu of responding to his sudden accusations.

[11:29 pm] you: at least give me a minute to type 😟 goddamn

[11:29 pm] you: actually

[11:30 pm] you: are you good to call rn?

[11:30 pm] hobi 🌱: wait wait i don’t need to be roasted THAT hard

You snort, pulling yourself off your bed to make yourself look at least somewhat presentable before you hit that FaceTime button.

[11:31 pm] you: you’re an idiot

[11:31 pm] you: and you promised me a dorm tour so

[11:32 pm] you: if you say no now then you’d REALLY be a liar

[11:32 pm] hobi 🌱: fuck

[11:33 pm] hobi 🌱: Incoming FaceTime Call

When you pick up, you’re suddenly hit with a wave of something that feels like relief when you see Hoseok. It’s nice to see his face–you didn’t even realize just how badly you’d missed him, too wrapped up in your own bustling schedule, until he was right in front of you. At least, the two-dimensional version of him was in front of you, trapped on the other side of your phone screen.

“Hobi!”

“What’s up!?” His smile is so big and bright that you’re nearly certain it has healing properties.

There’s so many things that you want to ask him that you don’t even know where to start. You want to know how classes have been, how his dorm is, the people he’s met, the food he’s had–the list could go on for miles, so you settle on the first thing that comes to mind: “What are you doing right now?”

“Check it out!” he replies excitedly, lifting up his phone to show you a 360° of his dorm room behind him.

With his hand now in the frame, he points out several amenities in his new bedroom. “Bed. Desk. Window. Bathroom. Closet. Jimin.”

At the mention of his name, the boy you’ve never seen before spins around in his office chair from where he sits at the desk that runs parallel to Hobi’s. “Hi!”

“Hi!” You wave back in return.

The room looks a lot smaller than yours does at home. Hobi’s never dormed before, so you’re sure that it’s definitely a change of environment for him.

(Not like the rest of the trip wasn’t, but you digress.)

As if reading your mind, Jimin chirps in. “Sharing a room shouldn’t be too bad. We would’ve let Hoseok-hyung have the single bedroom, but Taehyung arrived three hours before both of us so he got dibs. But I promise you that he’ll be in good hands.”

Your eyes narrow playfully as you joke. “He better be, because you’ll be the first person I’m throwing under the bus if anything happens.”

Jimin throws his head back with a laugh. Hoseok turns the camera and your attention back to him, flipping the screen to continue touring you through his desk setup. True to his tidy nature, everything is clean and color-coordinated, and essentially every study aesthetic blog’s dream setup.

There’s only one thing out-of-place that you see amongst his desk, which is–

“Hey, your alarm clock is still set to PST!”

The digital alarm clock matches the exact time that sits on the corner of your phone screen. Hoseok doesn’t even bat an eye before he offers his response. “Oh, I know.”

When you tilt your head in confusion, he elaborates with a laugh. “I wanted to be able to see what time it is over there too, so I know if it’s a good time to bother you or not.”

“That’s genius.” You honestly had forgotten all about the time difference. Sure enough, you can see the bright sky behind clouds illuminating the university campus out the window in his background, when you know that the only thing out your own window is darkness and the faint twinkle of distant stars.

You lean over your phone to reset your own alarm clock time to match the one it should be in Tokyo, clicking a solid sixteen times before the hours coordinate with his time zone. You shake your head in mock annoyance when Hoseok makes a remark about you being a copycat.

“C’mon,” he says as he stands up from his desk, as if you were physically there with him and not trapped behind his phone screen to go wherever he chooses to take you.

“Where are we going?”

He places his phone on the floor so that you can see him lacing up his boots–he’s wearing rubber boots because it’s snowing over there, which was just another thing that you had forgotten about the distance between you: he might see snow frequently in Tokyo because it’s still winter, unlike Los Angeles where even in January the heat was hardly tolerable.

Shrugging his overcoat on, Hobi regards you with a grin. “You haven’t seen the rest of campus yet.”

[January 25th, 2023; 5:14 AM PST]

You absolutely detest doing laundry with other people.

But with one arm holding a basket full of sopping wet clothes, you have no choice but to knock on the solid door in front of you.

Yoongi’s puffy and sleep-ridden face greets you, but despite the dough-like quality of his features, you know that the reason that he’s even awake at this ungodly hour is not because he’s an early riser–but because he hasn’t slept at all yet.

He gives you a half-assed nod of acknowledgement as if to ask what you need from him.

“My dryer’s broken,” you state simply. You don’t elaborate and you don’t particularly need to, as Yoongi shrugs and moves to let you in.

“Stay as long as you need to,” he says as he maneuvers to the kitchen, starting up the coffee maker like it’s second nature to him. You murmur your thanks before approaching his washer and dryer system.

“Namjoon’s not home?”

“Nah, they got him working night shifts at the hospital again,” Yoongi shrugs. “Honestly, a part of me thinks that he prefers night shifts over daytime. Crazy bastard.”

You cast a gaze down the hall to where Yoongi’s studio-slash-bedroom is, and sure enough, the door is cracked open and the light is shining through, further solidifying your earlier assumptions that he was up and active before you had even arrived.

With that, you snort. “Yeah, I can’t imagine who else would willingly want to spend their night working.”

He only huffs a guilty laugh with his back turned in response.

Like in your own home, the closet containing the laundry unit faces the kitchen, causing Yoongi to resort to washing dishes to keep you company in your chores, which you appreciate. But once he’s done with that and you’re a few loads deep into your laundry, he traverses to the bathroom to get dressed for the day.

It’s at this moment that your phone rings.

It’s still early enough in the day for anyone to be calling to be pegged as unusual, but a glance to your screen shows you that it’s Hoseok.

You mentally count on your fingers how many hours ahead of you he is, before determining that it is a reasonable hour, for him at least.

As soon as you pick up the video call, he’s going off on whatever story he had to tell you, similar to how he does when he’s at home. You miss the exposition of his story as you adjust your phone volume.

“—so after the class ended I stood up, right? And then Jungkook—that’s his name—got up really fast too and then his camera bag smacked me square in the face! It was a little embarrassing because it didn’t hurt but I was just so shocked that I wasn’t sure what to say so I went ‘ow!’ and of course that made Jungkook feel bad and—wait.” Hoseok pauses his storytelling when he takes in your appearance.

For one thing, even though you’re still dressed in pajamas—one of his hoodies, actually—you already look awake and alert, which isn’t what he had been expecting at all. He was anticipating you to still be sleeping and for him to be the minor inconvenience that woke you up. He blinks.

“Good morning,” you chirp in a deadpan tone, continuing to fold the pair of pants in front of you. “Night? Afternoon?”

You start counting on your fingers again to figure out exactly what time it is in Tokyo, but Hoseok isn’t even paying any mind, still trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

At first glance, whatever residence you’re currently at resembles your own to a tee. But Hoseok knows that there’s supposed to be a crack in the ceiling above the kitchen island where you’re sat, caused by the time you threw one of your shoes up there to (in)effectively kill a spider. And also the stools at the island are a different color and shape. And it almost appears as if the entire layout of the place is inverted. What’s even more jarring is that the whole place looks vaguely familiar.

Hoseok blinks. Again.

“Mind if I ask what you’re doing at Yoongi’s place at”—He makes a show of leaning back his chair until he can see his designated Pacific Standard Time clock—“six-twenty-seven in the morning?”

You don’t miss a beat, eyes focused on folding the edges of your shirt properly rather than the phone screen when you reply: “Why, are you jealous that I found a new laundry partner already?”

The lack of response has your gaze snapping back up accusingly. “Oh my God, you are!”

Hoseok sputters, a laugh of disbelief bubbling out. “Am not! I’m just saying, it caught me off guard to see you guys together so early. Had me thinking you guys were a thing or something.”

You and Yoongi, a thing? Has he met either of you?

Laughing again, you don’t miss the opportunity of fucking around with your best friend. “Damn, that obvious? Hey Yoongi,” you begin, taking notice of the man padding back into the hallway with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. “Wanna come over and eat ramen? Do you want to come see my cat?”

The look on Yoongi’s face is one of downright horror, but what Hoseok can’t see through the screen won’t hurt him. “Okay, okay, you can stop now!” Hoseok says, waving you off to take the attention away from the redness in his face.

Hoseok is the dramatic one out of the pair of you, the one who laughs with his entire body to a point where he’s nearly falling to the floor—but right now you think his reaction is so funny that you’re about to fall out of your chair.

“It was a serious question!” He whines. “But yeah, I called to tell you that I think I made a new friend today.”

“The guy who hit you with his camera bag?” you ask with pinched brows.

“Yeah, even though I said, like, two words to him after the incident. But I have class with him again tomorrow.”

“Damn. First impressions only happen once though.”

“Don’t remind me,” Hoseok groans. “Or else I’ll just be a hermit and skip going out with Jimin tonight. In fact, I just won’t leave my room again until June. Wait, seriously though, are you guys together now?”

You wrinkle your nose with another cryptic laugh at his lingering curiosity. “Go to dinner, dummy!”

And before he can get the last word, you beat Hoseok to the punch when the sound of you hanging up the FaceTime call rings in your ears.

[February 14th, 2023; 7:58 AM PST]

You never schedule classes in the morning.

But today, you find yourself leaving for campus much earlier than you normally would choose to. According to a girl you had spoken to briefly in one of your classes, some student society is giving out free boba in favor of Valentine’s Day, and you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity in exchange for another undeserved hour of sleep.

At least, that was the plan.

When you swing your front door open, a petite package sits on your welcome mat, your own name and address staring back at you on its shipping label.

You don’t recall ordering anything lately. With pinched brows, you bring the package to your kitchen counter to assess.

Sliding the rectangular box out of the manila envelope, you turn it over in your hands. It doesn’t feel particularly heavy, and the box shape is reminiscent of the kind you would only find when you purchase jewelry.

It couldn’t be a Valentine’s gift, could it?

Biting the inside of your cheek, you do what you always do the second that you have a moment of doubt.

“Hello?”

Hoseok picks up right away, like he always does.

“Hey Hobi, look at this. I got a package addressed to me that I don’t remember ordering.” You wave the box in front of the FaceTime screen to show. You were going to mention your suspicion that it was a potential Valentine’s gift from someone you didn’t know, but you opted not to out of embarrassment of sounding vain.

(If Hoseok comes to the same conclusion as you, however, then you’d feel a lot more confident in your own suspicions. You trust his judgment a hell of a lot more than your own, honestly.)

Hoseok leans closer to the screen to observe. “Holy shit, open it!”

“Are you sure that’s okay?” you ask, as if you aren’t already prying the lid off the box with curious fingers.

And inside the box sits a bracelet. It’s gorgeous, a thin silver chain with several deep green pearls lining the rim of it. It’s prettier than anything you’d ever buy for yourself. Your eyes widen and so do Hoseok’s, although for different reasons.

“Oh.”

“Oh!” Hoseok says, an embarrassed smile on his face like he was the world’s biggest idiot.

“That’s from me!”

It was?

“Look!” He lifts up his own right wrist, which adorns a bracelet that was identical to the one in the box in front of you. “I got this in the first week after I moved to Japan. It reminded me of you the second I saw it, so I knew I had to get one for you too.”

“Oh my God, you really didn’t have to,” you say worriedly. You can’t wrap your head around how pretty the piece was. “Thank you!”

“Of course,” he beams. “I forgot that shipping all the way to L.A. would take a few weeks before it got to you. I guess I just assumed you had gotten it a few days after I sent it.”

“And you just thought I wouldn’t say anything about it?”

Hoseok laughs. “I don’t know! Maybe you didn’t like it or something!”

“Hobi, this is beautiful, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shake your head. You can’t express your thanks enough.

He smiles, satisfied at his pick and your reaction. He’s always had a good eye for jewelry, alongside his meticulous fashion taste. “When I was buying it, the lady said that green pearls are supposed to symbolize new beginnings. I thought it was fitting.”

“It really is, huh?”

“I’m glad you like it,” he says warmly. You feel like you could cry. “Hey, listen, I gotta head out now, but I’m really glad you called today. I miss you.”

“Miss you too,” you nod your agreement quietly, still at a loss for better words.

He says your name, causing you to look at his illuminated face on the phone screen one more time.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

And then he’s gone.

Even minutes after Hoseok hangs up, you still find yourself rooted to your place in front of your kitchen island. Screw the free boba. It probably sucked in comparison to whatever this was.

He got you a bracelet simply because he was thinking about you.

In your opinion, a hey-I-was-thinking-about-you-today gift from none other than your best friend had a hell of a lot more sentimentality than a secret valentine from someone random.

He got you a bracelet simply because he was thinking about you.

You turn the sentence over and over in your head, the same way you roll one of the pearl beads between your fingertips idly.

[February 17th, 2023; 12:11 PM PST]

Your phone is propped up against your book bag across from you, filling the space where Hoseok would usually be.

“Happy Birthday!”

Nobody ever looks good on a goddamn FaceTime call, but Hoseok always does. Even now, when it’s a little bit past 4AM where he’s at, even when there’s a drunken pink tinge to his cheeks and an irritable expression to match.

(You had joked once that Yoongi and Hoseok switched personalities when inebriated, which both of them had vehemently denied.)

There’s a happy little smile that decorates his face when he thanks you, dimples on full display.

You wanted to call him right when it hit midnight in Japan, but he hadn’t picked up. You tell him just as much. He tells you that his friends planned a little get-together that started with plans for birthday dinner at midnight, and ended a mere twenty minutes ago after copious amounts of drinking.

You play up how butthurt you sound. “I wanted to be the first person to wish you a happy birthday.”

“Damn, you really had nothing better to do, huh?”

“The hell is that supposed to mean? It’s your birthday!”

“I don’t know, since I’m not there, you could always hang out with different people now, try new things!” You blink, and then your eyes narrow. What was he trying to say, exactly?

“You callin’ me a loser, Seok?”

He looks flabbergasted, like you had struck a nerve. “Of course not. I’d rather spend my birthday with just you and Jiwoo, honestly. Like last year.”

Last year, your lives had been majorly different. You had been approximately a year-and-a-half into your lease with Hoseok, and in that time you had already grown close enough to own the title of being his best friend.

When you first met Jung Jiwoo, you had admittedly been jealous of Hoseok.

Not everyone had sisters like her–a constant stream of love and support, and not to mention damn good fashion taste to go with it.

But that envy that you had felt faded away easily, because Jiwoo was quick to adapt to treating you as if you were another one of her own siblings.

Like Hoseok, she just clicked with you. And even in Hobi’s absence, she still made time for you, still invited you to come to the mall with her and to take Mickey on walks. And when Hoseok was around, you had been around for all of her milestones that she allowed you to be a part of, including her wedding.

The memory makes you smile, actually.

Jiwoo and Hoseok bickered very rarely, but they had gotten into a squabble that resulted in hours of not speaking to one another over what had happened first: Hoseok asking you to be his plus one, or Jiwoo asking you to be one of her bridesmaids.

(“I asked her to be my date first!”

“Well, she won’t just be a guest anymore! This is like an upgrade!”

“But now her being my date won’t be the memorable thing!”

“Memorable? Did you forget that this was my wedding we’re talking about? Being your plus one doesn’t mean shit because I would’ve invited her anyways!”

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t even have known her if it weren’t for me!”)

Even though the memory of last year is something to be cherished, you know that how he’s spending it today will be something just as great to reminisce about. “Yeah, but when are you ever going to spend your birthday like this again?”

“You’re right,” he huffs out with a satisfied sigh.

He looks radiant as ever, like the weather in Tokyo was working wonders for his skin over the past few months. But then again, his skincare game was top notch at home in LA too. The sun shines brightly no matter where it is on the map, no?

“Check it out,” you say, chest the only thing visible on your screen as you reach over your phone’s perch to retrieve something from your bookbag.

“What’s that?” Hobi questions, eyes wide like he doesn’t already have a sneaking suspicion about the plastic container in front of you.

“You’re so mean,” he whines. You only giggle in response.

“First, Jungkook thinks the most appropriate birthday gift for me would be for us to go skydiving,” Hoseok lists miserably. “And now you’re taunting me by buying my favorite cake knowing damn well that I can’t have any.”

“What am I supposed to do? Mail it to you?” You pout.

Ignoring you, he only continues to whine. “This is so fucking foul.”

“What do you mean?” You feign ignorance, procuring a spoon to eat your cake with. “I’m just celebrating your birthday with you.”

“I can’t believe you’re torturing me even though you’re thousands of miles away.”

Smiling around the spoon in your mouth, you repeat the same words he told you before he was miles and months out of reach from you.

“Well, if you were plotting to get rid of me, it’s not gonna be that easy.”

[February 21st, 2023; 3:51 PM PST]

The first thing you see when you refresh your Instagram feed after class is a story post from none other than your best friend.

It’s a mirror selfie showing off his outfit and the iced coffee in his hand, and despite it being a simple outfit of a white t-shirt tucked into acid washed jeans, he looks good as ever. He wears a closed lip smile, dimples on display.

Pushing out the doors of your lecture hall with one hand, you don’t hesitate for a moment before throwing out your reply.

[3:52 pm] you: You replied to their story: why are you so cute? :>

“Oh my God, Y/N?”

Freezing, you pray that the voice isn’t who you thought it was.

The grin you had mustered up stays plastered to your face when you turn to face the source of the voice. “Yujin!”

You thought you’d have a mouthful to say the next time you saw the girl.

You thought you’d want to rub it in that you’ve got a great roommate now, and that you’ve even got a job lined up for you after graduation. You were so petty that you wanted to do all that just because she was such a horrible roommate to you four years ago.

But now she looks like someone else entirely.

Long hair that was once dyed in that “new city, new me” shade of brown was replaced with a sleek but trim cut in its natural color. She stands up straighter than you remember; does her makeup with more refinement than that eye-catching quality that she always had four years ago.

She looks like she’s grown so much in the years since you last crossed paths, and the way her gaze is pinned on you makes you think that she must be thinking the same about you.

“How have you been?”

“Busy,” you summarize with a soft laugh. “You?”

“Same,” she murmurs.

As you continue to talk, you come to find out that she had taken a gap year last year due to family reasons so she won’t be graduating alongside you, but now she was a RA at the same dorm building you had shared. Yujin tells you that she’s glad that you have a solid roommate now.

Your lives had branched out in such different directions, but even you can admit that it relieves you that there was no bad blood between either of you.

When she says she has to leave for her next class, you let her go, but promise that you’ll have lunch again sometime. Usually when you make plans like that, you don’t mean it, but you genuinely want another chance to catch up with her.

Exhaling a breath as she takes her leave, you spare a glance down to your new notifications and smile dumbly at your best friend’s words.

[4:09 pm] jung hoseok: why are you so cute too? :>

You grin with a shake of your head.

You had spent so many years thinking that Yujin was awful and selfish and a million other words that had negative connotations attached to them, but in reality, she was just a normal but mildly inconsiderate roommate. The childish and petty behaviors that you recalled from nearly four years ago were nothing atypical of the fresh-faced and wide-eyed college freshman that both of you were. She’s probably telling her current roommate horror stories of similar caliber about you, and honestly? You probably deserved all of it just as much.

But then again, your time with her wasn’t anything like the dynamic between Namjoon and Yoongi that you’ve come to know. The pair of them are like passing satellites, on the same wavelength, but only communicate when necessary. They know each other’s schedules, but differ so much in personality and behavior that they see the other asleep more often than they do awake. They label everything in their refrigerator with names and never cross the doorway boundaries into each other’s bedrooms. And it works for them.

But Hoseok–he was in a category of his own.

He takes care of you, and you know that you do the same for him without question. You both know when to joke around, and when to be serious. Even now, though technically living together, you still cared so much about each other.

That had to mean something, didn’t it?

[March 2nd, 2023; 1:21 AM PST]

“Man, I fucking hate this place.”

“Same.”

Your eyes are burning. You can’t remember the last time you’ve stared at a computer screen for this long for something that wasn’t academic-related, let alone a game with graphics that haven’t been improved whatsoever in the past twenty years.

You release your fingers from the keyboard and lean back in your office chair, your in-game character going stagnant.

Jin’s character does not, and you continue to watch as his caricature falls from the tree branch platforms for the nth time. He’s probably ten seconds away from tearing his hair out, but so are you.

“They don’t call it the Forest of Endurance for nothing. This has gotta be like what I imagine sitting on your own balls feels like.”

“Yeah, pretty accurate.” One thing you appreciate about your short-lived friendship with Kim Seokjin was the lack of a small talk phase; unlike a majority of the people you’ve met in university and lost contact with after the menial small talk came to an end, you and Jin jumped straight into the comfort level where vulgar jokes didn’t have any resounding tension or odd looks. “Next time, let’s just play League or something.”

You wrinkle your nose, despite the boy not even being able to see your face right now. “I’ll die before you get me to touch League of Legends.”

“Hm. Valorant?”

“Maybe.”

But like all activities where you can feel your social battery crash coming soon, you know a good cut-off point when you see one. “You gonna stay on?”

You hear the clacking of Jin’s keyboard through your earbuds. “Oh shit, are you gonna go soon?”

“Yeah,” you sigh out, concealing your yawn from the mic to avoid him hearing it on the other end. “I’m getting sleepy.”

“Oh, yeah go ahead,” Jin replies, and you watch his character continue to swing his weapon as he bounces around the screen.

“I’ll probably stay on ‘til I hit Level”–He pauses as he contemplates the level needed to enter the dungeon he was telling you about a few hours ago–“207.”

You hover over his character, confirming that his character was on Level 201. Yeah, he’s definitely going to stay online for a good while longer. “Damn. Good luck.”

Seokjin offers a small, pained laugh. “Tell me about it. Goodnight, Y/N. Sleep well.” You can practically feel his tiny, endearing smile through your headphones.

“Yeah, goodnight Jin.”

Wheeling your office chair away from your desk as soon as you hang up, you flop backwards onto your bed in record time.

Without even thinking, you find yourself with the phone app of your phone open and hovering over Hoseok’s contact information.

He picks up on the first ring.

“Hello?” There’s a pause on his end, like he’s taking notice of the odd hour for you. “Is something wrong?”

You breathe out a heavy, sleepy sigh. “Hey Hobi. Nothing’s wrong, I just felt like hearing from you.”

“Oh.”

“Man, I can’t wait for Spring Break already,” you sigh out, already daydreaming with eyes closed about the notion of sleeping in after midterms.

“Dude, same. I’m so burnt out.”

“Got plans?” You wonder if he remembers his promise. You really, really hope that he does.

“Leaving as soon as my last exam is over on Friday. I have some business to take care of with the company in Seoul, so I’ll be staying there for a few days.” A beat. A breath you didn’t even realize that you’d been holding. “And then I’m coming home.”

Home. To you.

Because you don’t know how the hell you could ever doubt your place in his life when he’s always said otherwise. His school was in Japan, his work was in Korea, and his home life? Well, that was wherever you were. If you had joined the study abroad program alongside him, he’s sure that his home would be found in that quaint dorm with the pink-glowed lighting.

“Good. You better come home–I’m sick of doing the dishes,” you smile with your lips sealed, masking your relief from eyes that can’t see you. “Anything new happening with you?”

“Yeah, actually!” He says, and you can feel rather than hear the way he bubbles with excitement. “You know how I got promoted to Project Manager a few months ago? Well, I just got approved to lead my own project from start to finish.”

That’s incredible. You’ve always admired the inner machinations of Hoseok’s mind, so to see him finally get the opportunity to express that fully makes you almost as excited as you’re sure he is. From the concept, to the name, to the packaging, Hoseok is so meticulous with every aspect of his life, and you have no doubts in your mind that this will reflect that perfectionism and hard work.

“Any ideas yet?” You question.

He pauses, like he’s contemplating telling you or not. You can feel the dimpled decisiveness on the answer he lands on. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

You sigh out both your content and discontent in the same breath before Hoseok continues. “What have you been up to?”

“Me? Not much. Just finished playing MapleStory with Jin and now I’m exhausted. Just glad I don’t have work tomorrow, to be honest.”

“Oh, that’s why you’re still up, huh?” Attentive as ever. “You should sleep then, since your social battery is probably drained as hell.”

“You’re my battery,” you let out a yawn. Hoseok laughs at your nonchalance, imitating the iPhone charging noise just for kicks.

“I’m serious,” you say. “Talking to other people exhausts me, but I never feel that way about you.”

You’re so fucking tired.

Your phone is thrown onto the pillow next to you, and with the way you roll onto your side, the muffled rasp of his voice through the pillow almost makes it feel as though you’re laying on his chest.

Your eyes drift shut, and you almost bask in wondering if he would run his fingers through your hair if he were actually here.

Wait, what?

This was Hobi you were talking about, for crying out loud! You must be more sleep deprived than you initially thought, or maybe your hormones were fucking with you or something, because there’s no rational explanation as for why you were indulging in the sheer thought of receiving such affection from your roommate.

Pumping the breaks on your own mind, you shoot straight up in your bed, stiff as a board. Your heart is racing for reasons you don’t want to think more about, and it’s at this moment that you tune back into what Hoseok is saying.

“Are you even listening?”

“...Yes.” You weren’t.

“Liar!” he accuses, knowing all too well the telltale signs that your attention span had dropped off. If only he knew that the reason wasn’t drowsiness, but something way out of left field that you hadn’t even seen coming.

If you’re not mistaken, it sounds like Hoseok is also settling into bed.

“Wait, what time is it over there?”

A pause. Shifting around, like Hoseok is checking the time himself. “Almost six. I have a group project to work on with Jungkook and some others around eight, so I have time to get a nap in.”

Hoseok never takes naps.

At least, not routinely, and judging from what he’s debriefed you on about the details of his day so far, there’s nothing in particular that would invoke him to do so.

Naturally, you question it. “A nap?”

“I’d be sleeping too if I were over there, no?”

Well, yeah. But he wasn’t here and you weren’t there, so what reason would justify syncing your sleeping schedules?

“I guess so,” you say. You wish your heart rate would slow the fuck down so you could just fall asleep already. “Doesn’t mean that this makes sense still.”

“Shh,” he giggles, and the sound beams brighter than the sun even through the receiver. “Just go to sleep.”

“Maybe I could if you weren’t so loud!” you shoot right back, pinning the blame on him rather than your own racing heart.

“Is this better, then?” he whispers. If his normal voice was enough to sufficiently scramble your thoughts, then it's a wonder that you weren’t flatlining right now at the hands of his low rasp.

Fuck.

The laughter peters out immediately, and there’s such a long pause of silence as your breath catches in your throat that it almost appears like you had fallen asleep.

More shuffling on the other end of your phone line, and you have half a mind to wonder if he was going to hang up now that you were no longer at attention. But he doesn’t. You hear him settling down comfortably once more, and with a clearing of his throat, he whispers two more words so softly you feel like you could melt: “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You can’t find your voice to respond, and you can only pray you don’t talk in your sleep. Even versus your overactive heart and mind, slumber finally wins.

He stays on the line until he too has fallen asleep and had to awake once more, but he lingers in your mind for much, much longer.

[March 27th, 2023; 9:46 AM PST]

You don’t feel like getting out of bed. You should really be using the empty schedule of your Spring Break for good rather than evil, but the storm raging outside makes wanting to be a productive member of society exceedingly difficult.

It also makes for soothing background noise to your slumber.

You really don’t have anything of importance today, save for picking up Hoseok from LAX later in the evening. You’d be on your own tonight, with Jiwoo away and visiting her husband’s family in Seoul and Yoongi claiming he was busy with work tonight.

You don’t mind, honestly. You just want to see Hoseok already.

Because he was your best friend, and because he’s been gone for three months, of course. Absolutely no other reasoning or feelings imposed any influence on your desire to see him.

But two words that light up your phone screen are enough to dampen your mood, like the rain that dampens the clouds like a wet rag outside.

[9:49am] hobi 🌱: flight’s delayed 🥲

It’s funny, how you were across the world from one another, yet the weather was just as abysmal where the both of you were. Except you were in bed–rumpled sheets that smelled like no one but yourself weighing you down into your own bubble of safety from the rain–and Hoseok was stuck at the airport for God knows how long now, wet shoes and the impatient travelers attached to them surrounding him.

It’s not funny at all.

Because you’re so similar in nature that it feels like there’s no physical distance between the two of you sometimes, and even after three months apart you find yourself waiting to exchange mundanities with Hoseok each night only to be greeted with an empty bedroom.

The bedroom that will apparently remain empty for even more hours than previously anticipated.

The only thing that can reel you back in from your negative thoughts was the notion that his bed will only be unoccupied until tomorrow, whereas the past months felt as though there was a hole in your heart and in your apartment that you simply needed to get used to.

But to be honest, you’re nervous as fuck. And you’ve never felt this way about Hobi of all people, not even when you had first met him from that stupid roommate ad he made and plastered around town.

You’ve told yourself again and again that this week together would either confirm or deny those recent blips where you felt as though you and Hoseok had the potential of becoming more. Like when he bought matching bracelets because he knew you’d like it. Like when he fell asleep with you on the phone. Like all of the sweet promises he’s made to you in between the lines of texts and through imaginary phone cords.

Fuck. The more and more you replay those memories, the deeper you fall into your own turmoil.

What if you’re imagining it? What if Hoseok has always talked and acted like that, and the distance has really gone to your head, making you think that you were more significant to him than you really were?

You don’t want to be heartbroken if you get your hopes up.

If heartbroken were even the appropriate term to be using. You weren’t sure how to interpret Hoseok’s intentions, but hell, you weren’t even sure how you felt and how you wanted this to go.

With mussed hair and an even messier mind, you drag your hands across your face, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

You shouldn’t think about this any harder than you need to. Overthinking has never done you any favors.

You draw out a response to Hoseok’s text message, typing and retyping as you figure out what it is that you want to say, before you finally resign and call him instead.

“Hey!” There’s a big grin on his face when he answers. He’s wearing a pair of yellow-tinted sunglasses that he looks ridiculously good in. He looks exhausted–and judging by his Spring Break plans that he had outlined to you a few weeks back, he had every reason to be.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired and wish I was on the plane already. Sorry.”

You blink. “What is there to be sorry for? It really isn’t your fault.”

Hoseok breathes through his nose, a laugh that you can tell through the phone line does not reach his eyes or even the corners of his lips. “I dunno. I just wish I could be on my way to see you already.”

You pretend that that simple sentence doesn’t have your heart leaping out of your throat. Your next admittance doesn’t help at all to mask that: “I wish you were here already too.”

There’s a few moments of staticy silence that you know can’t be attributed to shitty airport cell service. You wonder if your words carry as much weight to him as his do to you.

“We’ll see each other soon, okay?”

There he goes again, making promises to you at the drop of a hat. And he has still yet to break a single one.

“Okay.”

The thunderstorm doesn’t let up, but neither does the one in your heart.

[March 28th, 2023; 1:31 AM PST]

You’re awoken by a jarring noise that definitely was not thunder, but a rapt knock against your door.

Grabbing your pepper spray off your nightstand, you make your way over to the door. You feel both startled and relieved to find that the man on the other side of your door was none other than Jung Hoseok.

“I don’t have my keys,” he explains simply.

You shrug. You don’t know why you had expected him to, considering all the ways his routine has changed in the past months, likely including the tidbits of his life that he keeps on hand. Or rather, in his back pocket.

Once let in, he drops his suitcases to the side in favor of enveloping you in a vice-like hug, the kind that makes up for three months without any physical contact.

Through your sleepy haze, you follow him through the apartment like a lost puppy as he rolls his suitcase around to settle in. And when you make your way back into your own bedroom, he follows.

You flop down on your side of the bed, still warm from where you had been curled up and sleeping just half an hour ago. Hoseok sits on the opposite end, legs dangling over the side. He fishes his cell phone and wallet out of his pocket before setting them down gently on your nightstand, and that’s when you notice something else odd that he’s placed down with them that has your brows creasing.

“You smell like apples, by the way.” There’s a heart-shaped smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, revealing the same pretty teeth you’ve gotten acquainted with over the past three years. “Don’t tell me you finally caved and bought that custom shampoo you were eyeing?”

“You’d be surprised at how much I can get done without you here and constantly distracting me,” you joke with a wrinkle of your nose. There’s irony itching at the back of your throat, considering Hoseok is quite possibly all you’ve been able to think about in his absence. You wish it didn’t feel like you were lying to him.

Your friendship wasn’t built on lies. You can’t be a good roommate based on that either.

“Your keys are on my nightstand.”

At your statement, Hoseok looks caught, but not guilty. “Oh. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you the real reason I didn’t use them.”

“Bet.”

You’re not expecting much. Maybe he just didn’t want to catch you off guard if you had been sleeping? You certainly would have taken that into consideration if you were him and he were you, given Hoseok’s jumpy nature. Or maybe he just–

“I just couldn’t stand the thought of waiting another night to see your face.”

What the hell are you supposed to make of that?

You try to stop your heart from leaping into your throat, now wide awake. Keyword: try. Because friends don’t say that to each other. You’d never say that to Jiwoo, or Yoongi, or Namjoon, hell, even Seokjin.

But friends also don’t say the next words that come out of your mouth.

“Then it’s a good thing you’re sleeping in here, ‘cause you can look at me all you want.”

The sarcastic lilt to your voice makes it easy for you to pass off your own words as an empty invitation. Your eyes are already falling shut, body comfortable in your sheets and your heart content with the knowledge that Hoseok made it home okay. You hear Hoseok let out a laugh, the infectious kind that forces your eyes open to question him what the hell he thought was so funny.

“I’m sleeping in here?”

It’s at this moment that you take in the weight of your previous words. But blame it on the sleep deprivation–or the years of friendship, or the funny feeling in your chest that you’ve only just begun to acknowledge–for your refusal to withdraw the offer. “I mean, it’s not like there’s sheets on your bed.”

There’s a slight crease in Hoseok’s brow that disappears before you can even think about why it was there. “Guess so,” he tosses out casually, getting up quietly to pull back your duvet on the side where he once sat. He’s not even in pajamas, just whatever comfortable clothes he had worn on the plane, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this close to your roommate–not even the time you two got stuck in the elevator at IKEA three days into your lease could compare to the tension that you suddenly feel. But as always when it comes to this boy in particular, he finds a way to shatter it.

“Your feet are so fucking cold!” you yelp, flailing to put as much distance between you and him as possible without falling off your own end.

The laughter that fills the air eventually simmers down to a near silent chit-chat of all the things missed over the last three months, stories bridging the gaps of time between your semi-weekly phone calls.

It’s nice, the way that your lowered volume makes the lack of physical distance between you and your best friends palpable. You almost still can’t believe that he’s right in front of you and not trapped behind the glassy exterior of your phone screen.

And just like that, the contentedness in the pit of your stomach makes way for sleep to pull you under.

[March 28th, 2023; 1:31 PM PST]

Falling back into your old routine is easier than you expected it to be.

You and him sit sprawled on the couch, just like old times, as if he was never gone at all. One of his legs is tucked over yours, effectively trapping you to the fabric-lined couch prison, a water bottle tucked snugly against his lap. You don’t let your eyes linger.

You two always sit like this, partially out of the comfortable usage of your entire couch space, but also because it became something of an inside joke for you to remain trapped until you two definitively pick something to watch. Yes, even with Hoseok’s physically energetic nature, he notices that you become extra hyperactive when you find yourself indecisive over something.

Your thumb roves over the remote, scrolling past movie selections that you don’t even bother to read the descriptions of.

Biting your lower lip, you contemplate your options. You and Hoseok had opted to stay in today, courtesy of the rain showers just outside your building, and also to give him another day to recover from the jet lag. Maybe you should watch something you’ve already seen before, just in case he nods off to sleep?

(As annoying as it is to rewatch an episode when the other falls asleep, you both do it every single time the incident occurs, just because getting to see each other’s reactions to the plot happenings is half the fun of binge watching together.

At least, that was your reasoning. You’re not sure if the same applies to Hobi.)

You stop your scrolling while some new Netflix suspense film is on the screen, the trailer automatically playing. Not because the title caught your eye, but because the boy right beside you did.

His hair roots are recolored in a way that is nearly identical to how you had done it, and while you initially whined your disappointment that he hadn’t waited for you tou do a touch-up, you have to admit that you’re glad he stuck with the same style you had decided on together.

(“Like a Smucker’s Goober Jar,” you had said, reminiscing on the look of those peanut butter jars that you haven’t seen since childhood. “Which is perfect, since you’re such a goober.”

“Such an asshole,” he complained with the world’s biggest heart-shaped grin on his face, and with that he knocked the three boxes of the dye and bleach you had held up into the shopping cart.)

You had chosen his hair color together, dyed it together, but days after it was said and done he was on the other side of the globe. You hadn’t gotten to fully appreciate the look until now.

It suits him really well, but you said that already. Numerous times, but it will never really be enough. The fluffed quality of it provides the most beautiful juxtaposition to his sharp jawline and the distinguished slope of his nose.

Fuck, his side profile really is a work of art.

You catch yourself staring before he’s able to, and with a swift lick over your dried lips you resume flicking through potential shows to watch.

You can’t watch anything horror because that wasn’t exactly conducive to winding down from jet lag, especially if the person in question was Jung Hoseok. But you also aren’t in the mood to watch any romance movie, because no matter how grown and mature you become, you still get awkward seeing sex scenes in films.

Damn, your entire mouth is dry.

Indecisive and growing restless, your thumb drops from the remote scroller again. Maybe you should get up to get drinks and snacks and then come back to choose something with a fresh pair of eyes? Yeah, that could be good.

Except there’s one very burdensome barrier in the way: Hoseok’s leg.

He doesn’t even notice the way you squirm, once again caught up in whatever nondescript trailer has begun playing when you relinquished control of the remote.

You don’t even try to fight your way past him, already accepting your fate that you’re stuck here until further notice.

There’s still the water bottle sitting on his lap.

Your stupid fucking brain connects the dots of what you’ve done a second too late, too caught up in the very obvious problem (dry mouth) and the even more obvious solution (drinking water) that lay less than an arm’s length away.

It’s when Hoseok curiously turns his head towards you that you realize that the water bottle now pressed against your lips was definitely not your own. In fact, you didn’t even have your own presently, nor could you even remember the last time you drank water.

But he doesn’t react in any way to your actions, even with the wide-eyed pause that you give when you become cognizant of your actions. He just shrugs like this was regular Tuesday behavior, and you take an excessively large gulp of water, as if to challenge him.

He laughs, shaking his shoulders, before proceeding with what he wanted to say. “Just pick whatever you wanna watch. It’s already been like twenty minutes.”

“How about The Haunting of Hill House?” you ask, scrolling over to your to-be-continued list. You lower your other arm, the water bottle now settled in your own lap.

“Isn’t that scary?” Predictable. You shrug.

“I watched a couple episodes with Yoongi and Namjoon. It’s scary, sure, but it’s more like… introspective horror? If that makes sense.”

He snorts. “Of course Joon wants to watch something that can be called introspective horror. And you too.”

“It’s good, seriously!” you pout. “Yoongi’s just as much of a chicken as you are, and even he could manage to watch!”

“Put it on,” he nods, caving easily. For some reason you don’t think that using his other friends as ethos was the reason he agrees. “But if I get scared again, I’m sleeping in your room anyways.”

There it is. “Yeah? Says who?”

He smiles his dumb, heart-shaped grin. “I don’t have sheets on my bed, remember?”

When you smack his chest in annoyance, he only offers another laugh, mirroring your prior actions when he reaches his hand across you to pluck the water bottle back from where you held it in your lap and bring it to his mouth.

Letting it go with a stunned loosening of your grip, you realize that him reciprocating what you had done made you even more flustered than before.

You taking his water bottle from him was one thing, but him taking it back just meant that he didn’t mind sharing back-and-forth.

You don’t know what to do with your empty hands now–now that you know yourself far more than you’ve ever let yourself before. It feels like you’re new to this. New to this feeling in your chest, new to being human.

Clearing your throat, you proceed to hunt down your series of choice in your Netflix list. You can feel Hoseok looking at you from the corner of your eye, and you avoid it for as long as you can before you offer him a soft turn of your head.

There’s this look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before, and it’s so warm. Not in the same way that his smiles felt like sunlight filtering through an open window, or how the softness of his voice felt like a gentle summer breeze. No, this warmth felt like it was for you and could only be felt by you, the kind of warmth that seeps into your bones and stays there, the kind that couldn’t be described by any analogy in any language.

Has he always looked at you this way? How the hell could you have never noticed?

No–it didn’t matter how long this gaze of his had existed, if it even did before this very moment. What mattered was that it was there now, and where you go from here.

Hoseok only tilts his head at your gawking. He looks like there’s something else on his mind, something more that he wants to say to you, but he swallows it down alongside another sip of water he takes from the same bottle you had drank from.

Perhaps you were both guilty of the same thing.

[April 1st, 2023; 5:27 PM PST]

Hoseok pokes his head into your room the same way he always does.

He may be a good roommate who kept his boundaries, but one thing for certain was that you almost never spend a moment alone in his presence. Maybe Yoongi was right, you were attached by the hip.

But his presence was never bothersome and this time was no different, with him entering your room to sit cross-legged on your bed, a cardboard box no bigger than a loaf of bread sat on his lap.

When he asks if you’re busy, you explain that you were just restarting your computer because Seokjin finally begged hard enough to convince you to install Valorant. Hoseok tells you that he wants to meet Seokjin sometime.

“I think you and Jungkook would get along really well,” Hoseok thinks aloud.

“How come?”

“He’s afraid of microwaves.”

“Seriously?” You swivel your desk chair around to face him. You’re asking both for confirmation of Jungkook’s oddities, and how the hell that would make him similar to you.

“Dead serious.” You don’t know which of your questions Hobi’s response refers to.

“You’d like all of them, honestly,” he hums, and from what you’ve heard through the grapevine about each person, you don’t disagree. “Y’know when you were a kid and you wished that you and your friends could all live in the same neighborhood with all your houses side-by-side? That’s how I feel about all of you.”

When you laugh, Hobi throws up his hands as a soft defense. “Hey—it’s not childish! I just wished that everyone’s schedules would align and you all could finally meet.”

After hearing your PC whirr back to life, you abandon your seat at your desk to make your way over to the bed with Hobi. “I’m sure that’d be nice.”

He nods in agreement, but you don’t miss the way his nails almost nervously tap at the cardboard surface he holds.

“What’s in the box?”

His response is instantaneous, like he was anxiously waiting for the opportunity to present itself.

“Remember I told you I’ve been working on that project at work?” You nod. “Well, they just sent me a box of the lip balm samples to make sure the formula was how I wanted it to be before we start thinking about packaging.”

“Nice!” you say, interest suddenly piqued at the new information. It’s a bummer that the product in question was lip balm though; you were incredibly sensitive to particular formulas that left your lips dry and cracked and were counterproductive to the product’s purpose. But if Hobi was the one whose idea it was, you’d buy their entire stock, honestly.

Peeling back the wings of the box, Hoseok regards you.

“Here,” he says, scooting closer. “I know you said flavored lip balms were the ones that caused the most problems, so I made sure all of them are unflavored and unscented.”

What?

“What?”

Hoseok has bright lights in his eyes, clearly excited to be indulging you in his thought process. “You told me once that it’s hard to find lip balm products that don’t give you allergic reactions, so I wanted to make sure that whatever I made was something that would be good for you.”

He remembered that? You don’t even remember when you had even brought up that issue to him, unless it had just been something quick in passing. “Really?”

You hate how short your answers are, but you really are at a loss for words.

“Yeah, of course!” He takes the several small pots out of the box before unscrewing one and dipping his fingers into it. “Now come here so we can test it out–hey, don’t look at me like that! My hands are clean!”

Fascinated, you lean towards him, allowing him to swipe his fingertip across your lips. “Let me know if this one feels dry or itchy at all,” he murmurs, expression so focused on your mouth that it makes you flush with heat.

How the hell did this one already feel much smoother than any other lip balm you’ve used before? You rove your tongue over your lips, then blot them together to evenly spread the balm.

“I really like this one,” you say simply.

“Oh, already? There’s still, like, six more for you to test out!” he exclaims, making you laugh. “Also do you like lip balms in pots like this, or do you prefer the sticks?”

You have no preference, honestly. “Doesn’t really matter. I wanna see what packaging you come up with.”

Hoseok makes a disgruntled facial expression. “This is about you! Just pick one, doesn’t matter what I have planned.”

You click your tongue. “Fine. I like the chapsticks better because it’s easier to keep in my backpack and purse.”

He pulls out his phone before quickly typing what you’d said into his Notes app.

You wonder just how much time he spent thinking of you amongst the vast blueness of your lack of contact, and how that amalgamated itself into him making you something like this.

Ever interested in his work, you question, “What’re you gonna call this line?”

Hoseok gives you a small, dimpled smile, eyes soft. “Blue Side.”

You could cry.

“Hoseok.”

“Hm?” he questions, still barely a few inches from your face.

You had almost forgotten about your own gift for him. Now was as good a time as any to bring it up, not that it even compared to half of what he’d done for you. “I bought you those cookies and cream waffles that you really like. They’re next to the fruit bowl in the kitchen.”

His eyes light up instantly, and he’s pulling himself to stand even faster. He’s already making his way to the kitchen with the speed of a true cookies and cream enjoyer.

“Oh my God, can we get married?” he nearly moans, and you envy how easily the words come out without making him need to fight down ninety layers of emotional constipation to do so.

It’s because of that hindrance that you can’t bring yourself to say that you were just thinking the same thing. In a joking, lighthearted manner, of course.

You beg him to show you more pictures from his trip, and he happily obliges you between bites of his beloved waffle.

“If I ever need to go to Japan again for work or something, I’m definitely taking you with me.”

Your heart skips several beats. “Would you really?”

“Of course,” he says with a grin. “Yoongi too. There’s so many things that I want to show you guys, and these pics are definitely not enough. Unrealistic, but if I could, I’d travel the world with you guys, honestly.”

You look at him across the kitchen counter, and you can’t express how right it feels now that he was back home, that he was back by your side.

Fuck.

You never want this week to end.

[August 10th, 2020; 3:42 PM PST]

You’ve never been much of a firm believer in fate.

There’s something unsettling about the notion of putting all your trust into something like red strings and falling stars to sort out your life for you. Because if that were the case, you’d have gotten into your first-choice university, you wouldn’t have landed yourself the world’s shittiest roommate as a college freshman, and you wouldn’t have promptly given up on the entire collegiate dormitory system as a whole.

You wouldn’t be without a stable living situation a mere two weeks before the beginning of your sophomore fall semester like you were right now.

But today–today, there’s something strange about the atmosphere, and it’s not just a result of the sweltering Los Angeles heat. The summer sun doesn’t make a habit out of drawing people into one of the pricier boba tea stores on this side of downtown, especially people who are already worn down from yet another unsuccessful morning of apartment hunting.

You’re sitting at the lacquered table in the corner of the shoebox of a place, right beneath the air conditioning vent. There’s a corkboard on the wall opposite you, clusters of it tacked with polaroid photos, some of whom you recognize to be the bubble tea shop’s current staff.

There’s one of those neon pink papers tacked up as well–the kind that’s practically made of cardstock and costs a shit ton of money at any local craft store–that effectively kills the entire board’s aesthetic. If the creator’s plan was to make it stick out like a sore thumb, they’ve certainly done a good job at it. Even the font is distinct enough to be read from where you’re currently seated.

LOOKING FOR A ROOMMATE (OR FIVE)!

Hi! My name is Jung Hoseok (19M), and I was joking about the five roommates thing, but I’m sure there’s a way that we could make that work if necessary. I’m currently a college sophomore, and an avid finance major. My favorite cereal is Lucky Charms, I’m really good at folding laundry, and I have shared custody of my Shih Tzu named Mickey with my older sister.

Apartment Location: 903 Hydrangea St., Building J, Unit 26

Amenities include:

in-unit laundry

quick access to the LA Metro Rail

complex is pet-friendly, has a gym, pool, and secure package-delivery

two bedroom (one for me, one for you!), one bath

Splitting rent and utility costs 50/50 would be ideal, but I don’t mind stretching to pay 60/40, or even 70/30. Anything you can do would help!

CONTACT ME HERE ↓

It’s awful.

The graphic design makes it look like he had looked up “how to make a killer roommate advertisement” on Google, then proceeded to follow all of the WikiHow page’s instructions without even bothering to realize that the page hadn’t been updated since 2009.

There’s a mismatch of photos of the apartment in question, all either a) printed in an ink too dark to make out its features or b) taken in such abhorrent lighting to a point where no details of the photos were even salvageable to begin with.

There’s those flimsy little paper tabs at the bottom, pieces of his contact information condensed between dotted lines and fine print out for the taking. All five tabs are untouched.

It’s awfully convenient.

You try to rationalize your way around it.

What nineteen-year-old is so trusting of the world, to the point where he’s willing to put his full name, age, address, and phone number out into the public like that? Sure, it was a smart move on his part to advertise at a mostly college-aged occupied place like this, but you could never be too cautious about sharing your information publicly. Hell, your Instagram profile is still private out of that same sense of paranoia.

He’s bold and that makes you a little concerned, even if you have never once met the guy.

Besides, who even uses paper flyers to advertise things like this in this day and age? Most other students would resort to your university’s plethora of Facebook groups or even Reddit to maximize the outreach of their situation.

Well. To be fair, all of those aforementioned sources that you had contacted winded up being fruitless endeavors anyways.

It’s like the more you try to rationalize against it, the more tempting the offer becomes.

What are you even saying? You shake your head, as if to physically clear the thoughts away. It works momentarily, even if the suggestion lingers in the back of your mind as you finish your milk tea.

You stand, checking the area around your table to ensure that nothing of yours had dropped out of your flimsy tote bag. Your laptop has long since died, which is probably a good enough indicator that it’s time to return back to your hotel room.

The hotel that will only be yours to stay in for the next week. Fuck, the things you’d do to have a permanent address right now.

Your body fills itself with dread as you even think about dragging yourself back through the public transportation system in this heat. Your eyes flit back up to the corkboard, the tacky pink poster serving as a last-ditch effort at stalling before you can leave this air-conditioned paradise.

Fuck it.

Tearing off the first and only missing swatch of contact information from Jung Hoseok’s roommate ad before leaving the café, you allow the sun to warm your skin and the work of fate to warm you from the inside out.

[August 10th, 2020; 8:19PM PST]

The paper is beyond crumpled after making itself at home in the back pocket of your jean shorts all day, but the digits are still legible enough as you dial them into your phone and hit call.

[April 9th, 6:52 PM PST]

After Hoseok leaves, your apartment feels somehow emptier than before.

Nothing about your dynamic has progressed, but then again, you hadn’t made any moves for it to. No matter the way you had felt in the days approaching his arrival, nor the moments you had shared in the short time he was with you, your feelings hadn’t been made explicitly clear. So it wouldn’t be fair for you to go expecting things to change.

There was one dumb thing that you had agreed to do together once he left: to have a dinner date eating the same thing together for once, rather than him eating breakfast while you ate dinner, or vice versa.

(“Ooh, sushi would be a good idea,” Hobi had said, getting ahead of himself already. “There’s this really good sushi bar near campus, but it’s kind of pricy so if I go there, you better not half-ass your end and get fucking gas station sushi or something.”)

True to your promise, as the clock approaches seven, you find yourself trekking back to your apartment after picking up your takeout from the local sushi restaurant that you and Hoseok liked most here.

You make sure that you look decent on your FaceTime camera. This wasn’t a formal date, but still, your newfound nervousness around the boy had you feeling just about as anxious as someone who was currently being hunted for sport.

Not that it mattered though. You don’t know a single person who looks flawless when stuffing their face with sushi, so your behavior is kind of gratuitous.

Hoseok told you that he’d call you first, so when the clock hits seven, you wait.

The clock ticks. Five minutes pass. Ten. At the twenty minute mark, you cave and call instead. The phone rings once. Twice. By the fifth ring, you end the call.

You wonder if last week during Spring Break was a mistake. You let your heart do all the talking while your mouth said so little, and it was the closest you’d ever been to him. Close enough to crash and burn.

As the hour bleeds onward, your sushi becomes room temperature. You pop the styrofoam container back sealed with shaky hands and shove it into the back of your refrigerator, out of sight.

You’re not hungry anymore.

[August 12th, 2020; 6:52PM PST]

It’s only a mere two days later when you schedule to meet up with Jung Hoseok for the very first time.

Over the phone, he seemed polite enough. His voice rings loud and clear when he introduces himself; not enough to startle you with the volume, but distinct and animated enough to relax your guard from his genuinity.

His rambunctious advertisement makes sense now. If you recall the phrasing and general loudness of it, you can practically hear all of the printed words being said in the exact cadence of his voice.

Muffled sounds of a dog barking and of a woman’s voice in the background during these phone calls also helped corroborate at least some of the legitimacy of who he advertised himself to be. He tells you that his and his sister’s lease was coming to an end, and the renewal process presented itself with the opportunity for her to finally move in with her long-term boyfriend instead.

(“And leaving me to fend for myself! I’m fighting for my life out here!” he adds, overexaggerating enough for a distant “shut up!” to be heard over the receiver, most likely from the aforementioned sister.)

He also tells you that there was a slight change in plans from what he had advertised: his sister would be taking their dog, instead of splitting its time between apartments. According to Hoseok, he’s generally well-behaved and potty-trained, save for the time that he pissed in his sneakers to get his attention, but even as much as Hoseok would miss him, he’d rather not stress him out by the constant change of location.

He reminds you again and again that him saying all of this and even scheduling a meet-up with him did not mean you had to feel obligated to agree.

If the cocktail of oversharing and professionalism was his attempt to make you feel more at ease about the entire situation, it was a damn good one. Because you find yourself agreeing quickly, allowing him to choose the restaurant for you to meet at in two days time.

The restaurant that you find yourself standing outside right now, nerves being the only barrier from entering.

A sushi restaurant, to be exact. So the silver lining of the evening is that even though you could potentially not move forward with the lease, you’d at least enjoy yourself at dinner.

(You do text your mother and one of your friends from university the place’s address, just in case you wind up getting kidnapped or something. Laugh all you want, but you can never be too cautious.)

You heave out a sigh of relief when you spot Hoseok, whose presence is exactly how you’d expected him to be: radiant, bubbly, yet with an aura of seriousness to him.

He introduces himself, and the first thing that you notice is how good his fashion sense is. You’re relieved that the outfit you chose for tonight is at least somewhat presentable in comparison.

It’s a little awkward at first, but that was expected. He asks you questions about yourself, and you offer him similar questions in return. If this is how cordial he’d be as a roommate, you wouldn’t mind it though, honestly. It wasn’t like you had any other options.

The conversation picks up from its staleness when you find yourself both ordering Philly rolls, which in your opinion, were easily the best sushi roll you could order. Not to mention that they were consistent, so even across different restaurants, they didn’t vary by outrageous amounts in taste, and they generally weren’t that messy. Hoseok agrees with each one of your points, expressing relief at your words because his sister vehemently disagreed–

“Hi!”

Snapping your gaze upward, you’re greeted with who has to be the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen in your life. Not just in the way her hair was curled to perfection, or her manicured nails, but the way her eyes lit up with interest as she regarded you, the way her dimpled smile matched Hoseok’s.

“I’m Jiwoo, Hobi’s sister,” she states, punctuating this by extending her hand towards you.

“Nice to meet you!” you chirp in response. “I’m Y/N.”

“Ah, Hoseok mentioned you a few days ago! I really hope you do decide to move forward with the lease, it would make me feel a lot better about moving out and leaving him,” she says with relief creasing between her brows.

“You don’t have to worry,” Hoseok frowns. “I’m not a baby.”

Jiwoo laughs, voice melodic. “I know, but still. I’m always worried about you.”

After more idle chatter, Jiwoo tells the pair of you that she’s meeting her fiancé at another table in the restaurant, and with that, she takes her leave.

Hoseok exhales a breath. “Hope you didn’t mind my sister springing a surprise visit on us like that. I was planning on introducing you two if we moved our arrangement forward, but she was just so excited that someone actually reached out that she couldn’t help herself.”

The puzzle pieces itself together one-by-one. “Jung Jiwoo… as in Mejiwoo the clothing brand? And Base Line Cosmetics?”

“Yeah, that’s us.” There’s no hesitance in his answer like there would be if he were privy to sparing you the details of his family’s wealth, but there was also no marked cockiness, as if he were flaunting it.

At your visible sense of interest, he elaborates. “Base Line is owned by our family, but Jiwoo was always more interested in working in the fashion industry over cosmetics, so she went and started her own business off it. Technically, her company is still a subsidiary of ours, but props to her because she did pretty much all of the start-up work on her own.”

“How about you?”

He offers a shrug. “I’ve helped my sister design a couple pieces just for fun, but honestly? I’m having fun just working in marketing for Base Line.”

If you’re being completely honest, you don’t know the exact schematics of what working in a business like that would entail, but you can piece together enough. You’ve seen his Instagram feed, hell, you’ve seen his outfit as he sits at the table across from you–he seems like the kind of person who was keen on aesthetics, and marketing seemed like exactly where he belonged.

“Which reminds me–you’ve gotta meet my neighbor Yoongi,” he says, eyes lit with excitement. He covers his mouth as he swallows down his spicy tuna roll before continuing. “He’s got the prettiest lips I’ve ever seen in my life and we’re trying to work on advertising for our new lip gloss line that’s in progress right now, but he keeps turning down my offers of modeling for it. Hey–you’d make a great model for it too, actually! If you want to or if you know anyone who would, I can contact our agency about it.”

He’s grown so animated talking about the business that it makes you endeared. “Signing this lease isn’t secretly a pyramid scheme for model recruitment, is it?”

“Caught me,” he laughs, throwing his head back in amusement as he does. “Was hoping you wouldn’t read the fine print.”

It’s at this moment that you realize exactly what it was that intrigued you about Hoseok so much: He talks to you like you’ve known each other your entire life, like you’re an old friend that he can tell anything and everything to, but a new person for him to show all of his colors to and let you do the same.

And you want to. His genuine attitude is enough encouragement for you to open up about yourself with the same amount of zeal, filling your end of the conversation with stories about your own family, your plans after university, and even pulling out your own phone to show him pictures of your parents’ dog.

It’s like his presence alone is enough to make you see the world with rose-tinted glasses.

By now, you’ve long since abandoned the notion that moving in with him was merely for the sake of both of your necessities, but because you wanted to.

It’s so easy for you to fall into conversation with him that the next time he mentions the lease, it’s the easiest decision that you’ve ever made when you hold your hands out for him to give you the rest of the paperwork to look over before making your arrangement official.

[April 10th, 2023; 6:11 AM PST]

The fact of the matter is that you should’ve seen this moment coming.

No matter the title of roommates, or the late night talks, or the fact that he has a copy of your class schedule saved to your phone, or the fact that he fucking applied lip balm on you because he wanted to, you didn’t have any claims to stake over his time.

He cared for you well when you were around, but that didn’t mean you had any permanence in his mind when you weren’t. He’s Jung Hoseok for crying out loud.

[6:13 am] hobi 🌱: Incoming FaceTime Call

Unlike the butterflies that you hadn’t even consciously recognized them to be every time you saw his name flash across your phone screen, seeing it now only makes you anxious.

You brace yourself for any explanation he may have. Prepared to not let any cracks show in your smile when you answer, because technically he doesn’t owe you one.

But the face that greets you when the FaceTime call rings through isn’t your best friend–in fact, there’s barely a face visible at all. A girl’s forehead is visible, camera angle definitely one that you are familiar with from all the instances you’ve stayed on the line with Hoseok while on the move.

Multiple girls actually–you can count at least three heads who are all now crowded over the screen of Hoseok’s phone. None of them are the aforementioned boy.

“Oh my God, she’s so pretty!” The girl who says this clearly gets smacked by one of the other voices present, if the yelp she lets out immediately after was anything to go by.

“Hi! You must be Y/N! Hoseok was in such a rush to go home earlier that he left his phone in my bag! None of us realized that you called, sorry.”

You let out a breath. Fuck. Never mind the fact that he puts his phone in this girl’s bag frequently enough for him not to know when it’s missing. And for over twelve hours at that.

“Hi,” is the only small and pathetic answer that you let yourself share.

“Here, let’s stop right here,” the girl who was presumably holding his phone states, seemingly directing the rest of the group towards somewhere for them to stop walking.

There’s fumbling, more words that go over your head are exchanged, and then the camera is propped up against a café table where you can now see the three girls clearly. You recognize them individually, all three of them being girls who had made occasional cameos amongst Hobi’s social media posts of his group of friends he had made internationally.

“Okay, okay, there we go. It’s really nice to meet you! I’m Momo, and this is Mina and Sana.” She gestures to the two other girls present.

“Ah, Hoseok told me a lot about you guys! I’m really glad that he’s made such great friends over there,” you nod. There’s so much going on right now that you can’t even make good conversation.

“Yeah, Hoseok’s told us before that he really wishes you could’ve studied abroad too. He keeps going on and on about how much you’d love it here,” Mina states.

Sana’s quick to agree, adding more anecdotes atop the other girl’s words. “He’s always talking to us about you, it’s like sometimes he doesn’t even realize how much he does it. Like we went shopping a few weeks back, and he was explaining to me your lip balm allergy and he was really intent on making sure that his Blue Side lip balm would be perfect for you. It’s seriously so adorable how much he likes you–”

Clearly Sana is the one out of the three who has a knack for oversharing, because Momo gives her a swift pinch to her side before redirecting the conversation. “We’re on our way to Hoseok and Jimin’s dorm now!”

For the first time, you don’t hesitate to cut in. You barely even need to glance at your designated clock of Hobi’s time zone to know that it’s late at night already. “At this hour? Seriously, I appreciate it but you really could’ve just waited until morning.”

Sana is quick to shake her head, pink curls bobbing as she does so. “We’ll be careful, I promise! Plus we’re all together, Mina has her pepper spray, and we’re almost there already. Thank you for worrying!” Her warm smile damn near melts your heart.

“Plus we know how important this call was to Hoseok!” Momo chimes in. The other two girls nod. “If we weren’t already heading over, I guarantee that he would’ve been banging on our door ten minutes from now.”

Really? You could believe it if it were just about the fact that he had lost his phone, but you being the reason why he was sent into a goose chase to get his phone back as soon as possible was somehow hard to believe.

There’s suddenly laughter and muffled voices that you can’t decipher speaking to one another on the other side, and you see rather than hear the way Hoseok and Jimin make their way into the FaceTime camera radius.

“Y/N!”

You’d recognize the way Hoseok calls your name anywhere.

His heart-shaped grin, his fluffy head of hair, how good he looks in a simple black t-shirt. Although the FaceTime quality is fuzzy around the edges due to the poor cell reception of the area, you recognize him immediately.

“I’m so sorry,” Hoseok says, face coming close enough to the screen to make your heart pick up several paces. “Mina and I have the same phone case, so she must’ve accidentally taken my phone along with hers when we went grocery shopping this morning. Jimin and I literally turned our apartment upside down looking for it, and then Taehyung told me to retrace my steps through every lecture hall we went to today–”

“Only for him to realize that he had no classes today,” Jimin finishes, wrinkling his nose with fondness. “For someone so smart, he has the memory of a goldfish.” Hoseok slaps him on the shoulder in reply.

You laugh along with their storytelling, and then you can’t hear the pair of them as they speak to each other about what to do next.

“Since it’s late, Jimin and I are gonna walk the girls back to their dorm before we head back home. We’ll catch up later, I promise,” he fills you in, and with that you say your goodbyes.

So he didn’t miss your dinner date. Relief washes over you as his words echo in your mind.

We’ll catch up later, I promise.

Who are you to not believe him?

[April 21st, 2023; 1:17 PM PST]

You never thought you’d be doing this.

Running into Yujin that one time was something of a coincidence, and even though you had made peace with the grudge you’d previously held onto, you never thought that you’d want to see her again, much less in an effort to become friends.

But you could use a fresh face to talk to. Your free time was mostly occupied with Hoseok, Yoongi, Seokjin, Jiwoo, and occasionally Namjoon, and as much as you loved all of them, your head’s been a mess ever since Hoseok left after Spring Break ended and you have a feeling that speaking to any of them regarding the man that all of them were inevitably close to wouldn’t be the most productive idea.

(Re: Yoongi would hit you with a big fat “I told you so” hammer, Jiwoo was his sister, and Seokjin was… well, he was Seokjin. So yes, you were running low on options.)

You’re not necessarily looking for someone to vent about him to, but a distraction is nice.

It also helps that Yujin is somewhat familiar to you, but still a new person all the same considering how much her personality has changed from what you remember.

It’s nice to converse with her much easier than you had four years ago, it really is, but even Yujin begins to notice how you’re practically itching to get something off your mind. And per her usual mannerisms, she attacks the issue head-on. That much hasn’t changed about her.

“Oh my God, there’s a guy, isn’t there? That’s what’s bothering you, isn’t it?”

“Nothing’s bothering me,” you lie, but you know damn well that it’s not convincing in the slightest. Defeated after meeting Yujin’s unimpressed gaze, you continue.

“So I have this roommate now.”

“Mhm,” she recalls, sipping her drink through her straw. “The one studying abroad?”

“Yeah that’s the one.” You take a breath, your mind a mess as you continue. “He came over to visit for Spring Break, and I dunno, it just felt like something’s changed since I last saw him.”

Yujin’s brow creases. “In a good way or a bad way?”

“That’s the thing,” you say, voice laced with frustration. “Like, I started feeling like this a little bit before he came, and then some things happened during the week that made me feel unsure if I’m just reading too far into the situation.”

“Things meaning what?” Yujin cocks a brow in interest, causing you to elaborate further into your recount of the week.

“So we were on the couch and he had this water bottle on his lap, right?” Yujin nods, and you take a breath before continuing. “But like, one of his legs was kind of slung over mine so I didn’t wanna get up, and God, I don’t know what know possessed me to do this, but I reached over and—“

”Oh my God, you accidentally grabbed his dick!?”

“No!”

A pause.

”You grabbed his dick on purpose!?”

You wince, embarrassment flushing through your mind. You had been so caught up in the casual intimacy of what you had actually done to even consider where this story sounded like it was going. “No, Yujin, I did not grab his dick.”

“Damn.” You ignore the fact that she sounds almost disappointed.

“As I was saying, he had a water bottle, and I just reached over and grabbed it out of his lap and drank from it! Like, what the hell, right? We’re close, but we never share drinks or do anything like that!” You attempt to laugh off the disbelief, but you should’ve known that airing out your feelings would come with inevitable prodding.

“So why’d you do it?”

Fuck. You don’t even know the answer to that still.

But you take the first step to figuring out what the hell you’re feeling by putting all the pieces on the table so you can put the puzzle together in due time. “That’s the thing–I have no fucking idea. But I did it so easily, as if we do it all the time, or like he hasn’t been gone for three months.”

“Do you think you’re falling for him?”

And there it was. There was the question that you were dreading having to answer, not only to yourself, but apparently now you put yourself in a situation where another person’s input was involved.

At your lack of verbal response (even though your body language spoke volumes, in Yujin’s opinion), she pins you with another, slightly easier question: “What do you want to do now?”

It’s like her words open a dam, and you find yourself spilling your thoughts. “I want to talk to him about it. And about the bracelet he gave me, and the fucking lip balm formula that he made specifically because he knows my skin is sensitive. I need to know if it’s just me that’s feeling this way because I’ve never felt so comfortable around someone before and maybe the distance is what’s making me overthink–”

“Wait, he made you a what?”

You explain to Yujin Hoseok’s family brand, and his new project, and how he told you himself that he made sure that it would be specifically catered to your best interest. Her jaw only drops even further.

“That has gotta be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” You wave her off with a groan.

“I’m serious!” Yujin continues earnestly. “It’s not everyday that you hear that a guy cares about someone to a point where they’d fucking create something for them, friend or not. All I’m saying is that if you do feel something for him now, it’s pretty fucking obvious why.”

When you can only huff out a laugh, she tacks on another statement. “But I mean, talking it out would only do you good, and there’s no need to rush into starting something once he gets back home.”

Home. You feel your heart rate pick up several paces every time you get reminded of the fact that his home is where you were. That you and your quaint little place that you’ve curated to suit both of your needs and wants were his anchor amidst everything else going on in his life.

But Yujin’s right. There was no rush, and you take peace in that reminder.

“But also keep me posted, ‘cause I really want to see you guys end up together.”

You only laugh with a roll of your eyes.

[May 6th, 2023; 2:01 PM PST]

Talking it out really does help.

That much should have been obvious, really—literally every study and every piece of media shows that communication will almost always do more harm than good.

So when Yujin helps you realize that your feelings for Hoseok were much deeper than you had previously assumed them to be, it doesn’t feel like a weight sitting atop your chest anymore. If anything, it felt more like a balloon tied by a string to you now, a part of you wherever you go, not holding you back but simply an extension of your day-to-day life.

But for now, you’ll deal. Complicating your relationship with thousands of miles between you would do you no good, and besides, you had to focus on graduating soon. Yeah, you can hold off for another few months before deciding what to do.

What was another couple months when these feelings have been accumulating for who knows how long?

You heard through the grapevine (otherwise known as Min Yoongi) that Namjoon is never home because he’s a PA. And that when his day isn’t occupied by work, he often spends it out of the house anyways.

Previously you had assumed that that would mean going out with friends, or partying, but from the rare instances that you had spoken to him, you had found out that more often than not he spends those excursions alone, visiting museums and bonsai gardens and wherever the hell he was in the mood to go at the time.

He’s mastered the art of taking himself on dates, honestly.

Which is how you find yourself taking a page out of his book, sitting at a café you’ve never

been to in a part of the city that you never find yourself having a good enough reason to be at.

It’s a cat café, to be specific. You’ve always wanted to come to one of these, but your busy schedule never allowed you to even consider that you’d have the time to do so. Being here now only proves that you had only convinced yourself that you never had time to take for yourself all these years.

You snap videos of the cute felines that come your way and are hasty to publish them to your Instagram without even checking them for potential flaws. Because it doesn’t need to be perfect. You don’t need impeccable evidence of where you’ve been, you’re just happy that you’re here at all.

You hardly check your phone throughout the day, but when you do, the notification that greets you makes you smile.

[2:19 pm] jung hoseok: Replied to your story: so cute! you gotta take me here when i get back 😩

You tap out your reply promising him that you will.

And afterwards, you take a trip up to the Griffith Observatory. You hadn’t gone since you were a kid. Long before college, long before Hoseok.

Hoseok. Your best friend that you’d had no idea would ever occupy this much space in your mind.

Attraction. Fondness. Dependency. Love. All of them look similar, but they aren’t the same.

But you’ve spent so much time trying to figure out which one was closest to what you felt that you’ve come to realize that your feelings for Hoseok couldn’t all be encapsulated using a single word.

Not only does he take care of you as a roommate, but he cares for you even when he isn’t physically there. He wants you to live well, and he’s shown again and again that he’s constantly thinking of you when you’re not around.

You wonder if you’re on his mind just as much as he is on yours.

[May 15th, 2023; 11:46 PM PST]

These days, you find yourself enjoying things on simple terms.

You enjoy your sleep, so you try not to get home too late. You hate the feeling of cramming for exams, so you start studying little by little a week and half early.

You have nothing better to do on your Saturday so you do laundry. You have nothing better to do on your Sunday so you and Namjoon go to the duck pond.

You stay in and cook dinner instead of ordering in when you may have splurged a little too hard on a cute top you saw at the mall.

The only downside is that living your life day by day rather than keeping everything planned to a tee has reduced the frequency of you and Hoseok’s phone calls.

But you don’t mind, he’s busy and so are you.

You message him about his frequent adventures on his Instagram posts, and he texts you to ask what you’ve been up to every few days. When you do call, the conversations aren’t any less boisterous as usual, and the longevity of the calls aren’t any shorter.

To anyone else, things are as normal as it gets.

But you still miss him so, so badly.

[June 1st, 2023; 4:44 PM PST]

This time, you do everything right.

There’s no thunderstorms, there’s no miscommunication of landing time, there’s no surprise knocks on your door in the dead of night, there’s no bed sharing.

The drive home through LAX traffic was stale, your playlists were stale, and Hoseok opting to sleep on the sheets that had been left on his bed since he left in March felt stale too.

The problem was that there was no problem at all; a year ago, hell, two months ago, you would have pegged this as normal behavior amongst the pair of you. The problem was that you wanted things to be different, that you wanted there to be more to your relationship dynamic.

But things don’t change overnight. So why did it feel so different from how this went down back in March?

[June 13th, 2023; 10:44 PM PST]

Graduation comes and goes easily.

You and Hoseok both make a mutual agreement to take two weeks off of work after graduation, just a slow inhale and exhale of a break before you two come to terms with the fact that the rest of your life will be filled with nothing but day-in and day-out monotony.

As promised, you take Hoseok to all the places that you had grown fond of during your little escapades around Los Angeles. He tells you–”it’s silly, I know,” he had mumbled with a shake of his head–that he feels like a foreigner in a place where he’s spent four years living already, and he gives a relieved exhale when you say that until recently, you had felt the same way.

Despite the fact that you now have a degree, the crowning accomplishment of your past four years of hard work, you can’t ignore the other ways in which your life still feels unfinished.

You should’ve known that your feelings would bubble up to a precipice like an unwatched boiling pot, that there’s no planning this sort of thing–that eventually you’d spill the mess of what’s on your mind when you least expect it.

It happens like this.

It’s a surprisingly cold evening for June in Los Angeles, and like the oddball he is, Hoseok takes that as a reason to celebrate.

In favor of the occasion, he makes spicy tofu soup because in his words, “how often do you really crave soup in the middle of Summer?”

(You don’t tell him that technically the Summer solstice wasn’t for another week.)

He presents you a bowl of his hard work with a raw egg on the side, because even though he could have cracked it into the soup for you easily, he knows you take odd satisfaction in the feeling of cracking eggs perfectly. And you eat dinner together like old times, with quiet chatter and spoons clanking against bowls.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately,” you start. Hesitant.

You feel stupid already.

You contemplate chickening out when you close your eyes in a drawn-out blink, but you somehow find it in you to continue, the silence splitting like a fragile eggshell to make way for your sunny-yellow emotions to spill out.

“When I first met you, I had no idea that you’d mean this much to me.”

You want to tell him that his presence in your three years of friendship has left a mark on you in a way that no other person has. That you can’t appreciate him enough for the little things he remembers about you and the things he buys for you without a second thought. That on both high and low days, he’s the first person that you want to be around and the last person you want to see before you nod off to sleep.

You want to tell him that you hope that he can lean on you and rest just as much as you do on him. That you love when he tells you about what’s on his mind, and when he shows you pictures of moments he’s captured on film of the world through his eyes. That you love how he fills every room he enters with sunshine that reflects off every person he meets, how he always knows what to say to make others feel significant in his presence.

You want to tell him that meeting him was devastating.

What is love, if not devastating?

Was this love?

A near-silent exhale, and then you continue. “And I meant it when I said I was happy for you and I’d always be there for you when you went abroad. But the space and time apart made me realize that there’s this huge Hobi-shaped place in my heart that just wouldn’t go away.”

You’re not even sure if you’re making sense anymore, but you push onward. “What I’m trying to say is that our time apart made me realize how much I don’t want to just have you as a friend. Even when you came to visit during Spring Break and when you came back two weeks ago, I just kept having this feeling that I need you around. Not in the way that things used to be, because we always had that and it was never awkward between us, but a step further.”

“I found myself wishing that we could go to dinner and to museums and the beach and actually call them dates instead of just saying that we’re hanging out together,” you continue. You want to look away from his gaze, but you refuse to. “I want to be able to call you my boyfriend when people ask what we are, and I want to be able to hug you and hold you without feeling like I’m crossing a boundary.”

Hoseok only looks at you with those unreadable eyes again. His gaze is always full of enough light to rival the warmth of the sun on your skin, but right now it feels as though you’d burn up if you dared to let your gaze linger.

“I’m sorry if it’s just me.”

Your breath comes out shaky now. The last thing that you can do now is cry–because you really don’t want his pity. And you don’t expect him to feel the same way, despite the rest of the world telling you that he does, and the fact that you just spilled out all your wants straight to him.

Yes, that’s it–you just needed to get this off your chest. You’ll still be roommates first, friends second after this moment passes, and now that you’re graduated, your lives are just getting started and you’ll only keep moving onto bigger and better things. The world never felt so big and overwhelming and fuck, it must be the late hour that makes you feel like you need to escape.

The sound of his voice is enough to drag you back down to Earth.

“Y/N,” he says softly, scooting his chair towards you and placing his hand against your back. You think he’s gearing up to let you down easy, so the question he prompts you with catches you by surprise: “How long?”

How long have you been feeling this way?

You try to think. And then you verbalize it. “Since you bought me the bracelet.”

The bracelet that adorns both your wrist and his right now. The one that was meant to symbolize new beginnings for both of you, but now felt like the final nail in the coffin of your friendship.

You’re taken aback when he shakes his head with a smile. “Hoseok?” You ask, feeling small and vulnerable, needing him to say what’s on his mind before you combust.

“I’m an idiot,” he begins. He continues before you can question what he means by that.

“Do you remember when you were doing laundry at Yoongi’s house?”

When you nod, he looks like he’s fighting down layers of embarrassment to say what comes next. It’s rare that you ever see Hoseok expressing emotion beyond what he wants you to see.

You take an odd amount of comfort in it.

“You were right–I was jealous. But not because he was spending time with you, or because I really did think that you guys were together. It was because I realized how much I missed getting to spend every second of every day with you. Throughout the day, I find myself wanting to tell you about every place I go and everything I do, but I found myself wondering what you were up to even more.”

“What I’m trying to say is… I’ll be yours if you let me,” Hobi says, and you break. “I want to take you on dates wherever you want to go, and I want to hold your hand and come home to you after work every day. I want to share all my thoughts with you, and I hope you’ll do the same for me. I know we do a lot of these things already as friends, but I want to try to be more.”

“Yes,” you breathe out. Yes, a hundred times over. “I want that too, Hobi.”

It’s out there. Both of your feelings are out in the open air like freshly-hung laundry, and you’ve never felt so much relief. The tension in the room dissipates, even more so with what Hoseok says next.

“So… around the same time, huh?”

You cringe through your smile. “Yeah… around the same time.”

“I hope you know that no matter where I am, no matter who I’m with, nobody compares to you.” You know your face must be scrunched in such an unflattering near-sob, but Hoseok only looks at you with rose-tinted lenses for eyes.

The feelings that you had for him and he had for you was not just tested by the vast blueness of distance between you, but it was because of it.

You don’t know when Hoseok rises from his seat to encase you in a back hug, but he does. He does it tenderly and paired with a kiss to the crown of your forehead, as if to piece back together the eggshell of your heart that you’d been so afraid to break.

You think you love him, but for now you won’t say it.

[August 10th, 2024; 3:42 PM PST]

You roll your eyes when Hoseok kicks you out of your shared bedroom because he needs to pack his underwear.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” you deadpan, and you think the way Hobi’s ears flush red at your words is downright adorable.

“Still,” he pouts, before promptly shutting the door on you. You sigh.

It’s been little over a year since you and Hoseok had officially begun dating, but life moves fast.

You and Hoseok had moved out of your two-bedroom apartment once your lease had ended, in favor of buying a quaint little bungalow closer to the beach. Though initially you were unsure if that was too big a step to be making too soon, Hoseok reminds you that you had already been living together for years–that you had already been his home long before buying one of your own–so what difference did it really make?

It was a bit saddening to have to say goodbye to Yoongi and Namjoon as neighbors, but they promised to visit since you were still barely twenty minutes away from your previous home.

And visit, they did. So did Jiwoo, Yujin, Seokjin, and occasionally Hobi’s friends that he had accumulated in Japan.

(He was absolutely right, by the way. You and Jungkook had clicked immediately and stuck together like glue after he initiated an intense debate on who would win in a fight, between Tony the Tiger and the Kool-Aid Man.

For the record, you and him were Team Kool-Aid Man, while Hobi and Taehyung were Team Tony the Tiger. You’d be bitter that Hoseok disagreed with you, but the look of sheer bafflement when you explained your reasoning made the entire ordeal that much funnier, and worth it, in your opinion.)

Hoseok’s Blue Side line launched earlier in the summer. He had begged you to be the model in the commercial films, but you insisted that you could be his muse, but you couldn’t be that multitalented.

But it all worked out in the end, because you told him to outreach the modeling gig to Seokjin instead, which kickstarted his acting career internationally.

(“Why didn’t you tell me that your friend was hot? He’s perfect for the job,” Hoseok had said, baffled after meeting Seokjin over dinner for the first time.

“Why do you think I told you to ask?” you huff. “And I figured you’d already seen him from my Instagram posts while you were gone.”

“How could I, when you were the only thing I could ever focus on?”

You had smacked his chest softly to hide the way his words flustered you.)

In fact, the reason Hoseok was packing to begin with was for an international work trip in Osaka. One that he had cordially invited you to come with, once again true to the promise he had made to you all those months ago.

“Are you done yet?” you ask restlessly, not giving a shit as you push your bedroom door back open. “I really don’t care if your undies have holes in them or whatever, but at least let me in so I can pack too–”

You pause when you round to your side of the bed, taking notice of the not-so-subtly hidden square velvet box tucked under a shirt or two in his suitcase.

Hobi’s back is turned, facing your shared closet, clearly unaware that he’s done such a shitty job at hiding what was likely supposed to be a surprise. “Yeah, you can come back in now.”

Apparently he’s also unaware that you’d already reentered the room.

You and Hoseok had discussed marriage a handful of times, which had only increased in frequency over the past couple months. Despite the fact that you both concluded that you were still young, you had also pointed out to him that you didn’t ever see yourself wanting to be with someone else, so the wait wouldn’t do you any good. Hoseok also cracked a joke that it’d be good for tax purposes, but you don’t miss the relief that washed over his face that you were on the same page.

And that was where you had left it.

Approaching him and looking at him sideways now, you’re entranced as ever by his features. The sharpness of his jawline, the slope of his nose, the intensity of his eyes as he debates on what to pack.

When he catches you staring, you let him.

“Is something on my face?” he asks, eyes widening as he already starts wiping at his mouth.

“Nope,” you sigh out, uncaring of how lovesick your gaze is.

You lean up to give him a chaste peck to his cheek, which he had clearly not been expecting. “I love you,” you murmur, basking in the dimpled grin he returns.

Yeah, your life is good with him in it.

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thoughtfullyrainynightmare · 1 year

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Hey, today I got around reading your surprised by a storm series and it's so cute I loved it!

If you don't mind, id like to request Fuegoleon finding out they're having twins (one boy one girl) as his wife is in mid delivery and him holding his children for the first time please ?

Hiya!

Okay, so I love y'all for wanting soft Fue!! He really should have a family! I decided to combine these 4 requests, because I felt that they flowed together so nicely, and it means that the fic is slightly longer than... usually, but I do hope that you guys will like it!

Summary: Reader is afraid about the pain of the delivery, especially because she's having twins. Fue comforts her and offers to take her to Owen's office the next day to discuss more about the delivery. There both reader and Fue try one of Owen's spells that mimics the pain of delivery. And he's very much in pain (but there's no graphic depictions of the pain; the intended tone is slightly humorous). And at the end there's a successful delivery, and mom (reader), dad (Fue), and the kids (twins; one boy one girl), are laying in bed together, and Fue is just in awe.

Fanfic type: Oneshot Pairing: Fuegoleon x f!reader Length: ~2.6k Genre: hurt-comfort, slight comedy, family fluff (in that order) Warnings: obviously pregnancy, labour (no graphic depiction of labour though), fear of the delivery being painful, depictions of pain, I haven't actually given birth myself, so what's written here is to be taken lightly in that aspect; I don't actually know how it feels, possible typos so apologies for that

It was one of those nights where you simply lied awake and stared at the ceiling. It seemed as if the closer you came to your due date, of giving birth, the more anxious of it you grew. But it wasn’t about not wanting to be a mother, though it was scary too. You were told that nothing could quite prepare you for the task of being a mother, but it’d be a feat which you welcomed with open arms. Because you loved your children, even before they were born, and you knew that your husband would love them just the same.

It was more than clear from the way Fue stroked your stomach during the evenings, and spoke gentle nothings to them even if they couldn’t hear him. You were… almost sure, that they couldn’t hear him.

But your fear, uneasiness and anxiety had to do with the pain of giving birth. You had had horrid period cramps already, but you were told that giving birth would be much worse than that. And that… you couldn’t imagine a pain that bad. It had already been bad enough with dealing with being emotional and in pain during your periods and this just would be worse and it…

It was getting overwhelming. Especially because you knew that you’d be giving birth to twins.

So, you sat up and started crying as the emotions were just becoming too much. They were spilling over, and you just… sat there, sobbing. You hid your face into your hands and just… let it out. Because it was just too much.

“Honey…?” You heard the tired, muffled voice through the darkness. “What’s wrong..?”

There was a passing sense of guilt in you, since you knew how tired he must’ve been from work as well. And you didn’t want to bother him, burden him. But still, there was a hint of relief, of a wish to talk to him about it. And that wish soon silenced the guilt.

“I’m…” you begun, but still there was something in you holding back. Because, you also knew that despite the fear of pain childbirth would bring, it was too late to turn back now. So, the idea of grimacing over a fear that was inevitable felt… senseless? “I’m just… afraid of… how much giving birth will be…” you finally admitted while turning your face to the side and wiping tears from the corners of your eyes.

He sat up next to you, and for a moment the only sound in the room was the ruffling of sheets, as he, most likely, was thinking about what to say, what to tell you? Of course it’d hurt, he knew as much. And, if he was quite honest, he didn’t know how women could do it. Of course, he had read about giving birth and could site the stages of labour along with any other information he had managed to find, but… still, childbirth was no short of a miracle to him.

So, he placed one hand onto your shoulder, and wrapped the other around your middle, the bets he could. “I’ll be there, by your side through it all,” he assured you. “I understand that you’re afraid, and… though there are medicines and spells that can ease with the pain, I hear that it’s still quite the ordeal,” he was trying to reason with you. But he was also a problem solver. It was his love language. “Many women have gone through it, and thus there’s no reason why you couldn’t do it either,” another logical statement. “But I promise that I’ll be there with you through it, and I’ll do anything I can to assist you.”

He was trying. And he was being realistic.

The fact that he assured you that he’d be there for you, made you feel better, but it didn’t quite succeed in ridding you from all the fear you still held in your heart.

“If you wish, we may go to Owen to discuss about our options in more detail?” He suggested.

And you loved it when he said ‘we’.

“It… sounds good,” you told him, because it did sound good. It felt like you were being heard, and he really was there for you.

“Then we’ll do that as the first thing in the morning,” he told you.

“Don’t you have a meeting?”

“I can reschedule. There’ll be many more meetings, but I shall not be an absent father.”

There it was, that stubborn pride of a lion. But honestly, it made you love him even more.

“First thing in the morning,” you repeated with a subtle smile, after which he pressed a kiss onto your temple and pulled you back into the bed, holding you close.

His broad chest was pressed against your back, and you could feel it rising and falling as the sound of his breathing rang through the silence. Steady, soft, and secure. To the melody of which you drifted off to sleep.

---

The next day, as promised, you were at Owen’s office to discuss your options about pain relief during labour. And not many of the options presented were new to you. But, you supposed, you had forgotten about how many there were, while even Owen did admit that they couldn’t do miracles, and labour would still take a toll. It was a long ordeal, after all. And he was quite honest with you, when it came to admitting that it would still be painful.

He wasn’t going to lie, which… in a strange way made you feel a little better too. Because you would rather have him tell you the truth, rather than have him lull you into some idea of a painless childbirth, only to then be in agony during labour. At least you could mentally prepare yourself that it’d be like experience the worst cramps you had had, and then a little bit of extra.

But you could do it. You were sure that you could. And they would give you something for the pain to ease it. Warm baths, and walking supposedly also helped, so there were options.

“How painful will it be?”

You were a little surprised to hear Fuego ask that question, if you were honest. Because you had assumed him to focus more on the remedy. But you were even more surprised to hear Owen tell him that he had recently learned to use a spell to mimic the amount of pain a mother experiences during childbirth, in a way of allowing fathers to experience the feeling too.

“May I try?”

That was another question you certainly wouldn’t have anticipated while coming here. But as the initial, split second surprise faded, it did make sense. Fue would be the type of a person to try and understand your predicament, and this would be a good way of doing it.

But still you felt inclined to ask: “are you sure that you want to try?”

“Of course,” he replied while looking at you. “It allows me to connect with you, and understand what you’ll endure.”

“Mmm…” you uttered, first thinking about how you’d react if he went first, and it’d be horribly painful to him. Because the fact of the matter still was: he wouldn’t need to bear through it, while you did. “I’d like to try. First, if that’s okay.”

“If that’s what you wish,” he nodded to you, and then looked at Owen expectingly.

While Owen simply sat there, looking at the exchange, letting you have the discussion, before nodding to you, and instructing you to take a comfortable position before casting a spell.

“Alright, so this mimics the pain of a contraction in the early delivery,” he explained.

You took a deep breath and readied yourself the best you could. Okay, okay, I can do this… you encouraged yourself as Fue took your hand.

“It’ll be alright, my love. You’re strong,” he encouraged as the spell begun to take effect.

And it… it did hurt yes, but it wasn’t much different than a period cramp.

Your eyes shifted from side to side, expecting it to grow worse, but after a while it was gone.

“That’s… it?” You looked at Owen with a frown.

“A contraction in the early stages of labour yes. The few next ones will increase in pain level, much like they would during delivery, and the last that you’ll experience is equivalent to the pain you’d feel during delivery. But I’ll try to keep the last one brief.”

“Okay,” you said with a nod, while again readying yourself.

And Owen continued with the spell.

The next one was worse. And the one after that was even worse. Actually, it reminded you of that time you were on your period and you had had to run and do sit ups. Which had been awful. Horrible. Gut-wrenchingly painful. Just as was your expression and reaction this time.

But honestly, you had expected much, much worse.

And that came with the last stage. Your body curled around itself out of impulse, and your breathing was heavy and deep.

That was when Owen stopped the spell.

The pain faded, but you still sat there, hunched over yourself with a frown on your face.

“Are you alright, my love?” Fue asked, while still holding your hand.

“Mhm?” You hadn’t intended to hum it out as a question.

“Yes?” Owen replied with a question of his own while sitting there with slight concern on his face.

“I’m… not sure?” You said. “I was expecting something… worse?”

Owen gave you a slow nod while choosing his words. “I have to emphasize the fact that it is only a simulation, and what you’ll experience may differ drastically. And. This time the amount it took for each pain impulse to be in effect was considerably shorter than what it’ll be during actual delivery. Exhaustion and the fact that you’ll experience the pain for longer periods of time, do amplify the pain experienced in actuality.”

“Hmm…” you hummed.

“So, you still should do your best to prepare for the delivery.”

“Oh yes, of course,” you replied. Because… of course you would. But you also supposed that it was a good thing that he said it out loud.

As you fell in thought Fuegoleon asked if he could try it out now that you seemed to be alright, to which Owen agreed.

So, Fue took a comfortable position on the chair, as Owen again cast his spell.

Fue’s eyes opened wider, and his body hunched forward as he looked at you with a frown on his face, as if he was asking a question with his expression alone. During the pause, he took a few breaths, slightly deeper than usually.

“Regular… period pain?” He asked, this time managing to voice the question.

“Quite close yeah,” you replied. “Not as bad as being on your period while having to exercise,” you continued right before the second wave hit him.

This time his teeth clenched together, as he leaned forward, even if only a little again.

“This… cannot be,” he managed.

And the came the third wave.

And a fourth. And fifth.

Sweat dripped down his face, and his breathing was ragged from the pain. His face was pale, and his arms were wrapped around his stomach as he still tried to maintain his composure.

The pride of a lion.

But by the time the last wave came, he was on the floor, growling while grinding his molars, fingers trying to dig into the floor without avail.

And then the pain ceased.

But the sensation lingered. Just as with you. And again his head turned towards you with a frown and a wordless question, which this time around was mixed with a profound sense of awe.

“Does sting a bit, doesn’t it?” You smiled.

And you could have sworn that you heard Owen chuckle under his breath ever so slightly.

---

The weeks rolled past as the due date came closer. All the way until it arrived. And the delivery was without complications.

If you didn’t count Fue stressing more than you would have expected. In fact, you didn’t think that you had ever seen him so on edge than on that day. It was almost like he was angry, angry about your pain, angry about you having to endure something with which he couldn’t help you.

He was helpless. And he hated that.

But by the time the delivery was done, and you were so tired that you couldn’t lift your arms anymore, silence settled into the room. Just... silence, and awe and bliss that you couldn’t describe even if given all the time in the world.

Your first born was by your side. He had cried so much at first, but now it seemed like he had realized that it was alright.

Everything was alright. Mom was there… dad was there… and it was… alright.

Somehow you found the strength to turn onto your side and look at him… His hands were so small… his nose was so tiny and he was… just perfect.

You reached closer to him, placing your arm around him, as if to protect him, without putting the weight of your arm onto him.

“They’re perfect…” Fue whispered while cradling your daughter in his arms, without breaking his gaze from her.

“They are,” you agreed, while looking at your son again.

He placed a kiss onto your daughter’s forehead before turning to you, and placing her next to your son before climbing into the bed himself.

His movements were careful, soft, almost hesitant.

..Yes hesitant.

His eyes were looking intently to your children, as if he was afraid of looking away, as if he was afraid of something happening to them if he dared as much as look away. He might have just met his children, but it was evident that he was already filled with nothing but love, support and devotion to them. They’d be his world. Along with you.

You, and your children were his world.

As simple as that.

And as he laid in bed next to you, wrapping his arm over yours, as if to protect you and the kids now sleeping in between you two, you couldn’t see any fatigue in him, despite having been awake with you throughout the delivery. But there was also a sense of… wonder? The question of if it was real, that moment, was reflected from his eyes. The sheer disbelief if the happiness of that moment was real.

Which it was.

It was…

Your daughter let out a babble in her sleep, and you could have sworn, that even through your tired state, you could see a tear of joy collecting into his eyes.

“They’re perfect…” he whispered, with soft, tender syllables again that flowed through the tranquil silence of the room.

“They are…” you agreed again with faint amusement in your tone as your eyelids begun feeling even heavier.

“Thank you…” he still said.

But you weren’t quite sure what to say, because a ‘you’re welcome’ seemed… out of place, somehow. So, you simply nodded, and it was enough.

It was more than enough.

He was thankful of you, of your kids, of your family, and he didn’t need you to say anything.

He didn’t need you to say anything.

It was enough for you four to simply be there; exist, as a family. The little, perfect family that you couldn’t have dreamed of even in your most wonderful of daydreams.

But the thing was, you didn’t need to dream about it, because it was right there, in the waking world.

#fuegoleon x reader #fuegoleon vermillion x reader #black clover fanfiction #black clover oneshot

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shortpplfedup · 1 year

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My School President Episode 7: Rules are made to be broken

I know I'm saying this every week at this point, but this show owes so much structurally to Bad Buddy and emotionally to Love Sick, as well as just overall to the first season of Glee, that it gives me the feeling of being warmly embraced by an old friend. This week Yo (I KNOW!) is the driving force as the Hot Wave rule gets stretched to the limit, discarded and reinstated in a way that actually doesn't make me want to pull my hair out.

Verse: Dreams come true

I'm in heaven With my boyfriend My laughing boyfriend There's no beginning And there is no end Feels like I'm dreaming But I'm not sleeping

Mariah Carey | Fantasy (1995)

Man Tinn is living his best life right now, walking on sunshine. Gun might not technically be Tinn's boyfriend yet, but Tinn sure as shit is Gun's boyfriend. Now that it's clear that they like each other, Tinn is unleashed and he is flirting with both barrels, in the corniest fashion he can muster. He wants to shout to the whole world that he likes Gun and Gun likes him, but the Hot Wave rule is severely cramping his style.

Chorus: Friends to lovers

Oh, I can't be elusive with you honey 'Cause it's blatant that I'm feeling you And it's too hard for me to leave abruptly 'Cause you're the only thing I wanna do

Mariah Carey | Honey (1997)

Gunn for his part is trying his best to play things cool. Tinn's full court press is absolutely doing its job of making him feel special, loved and supported, but also...slightly panicked? Gun spends the episode adjusting to this new super-enthusiastic, forthright, ultra-open version of Tinn and trying to decide how he feels about it. The 'Just Being Friendly' runner is still very much present in this episode, which I found interesting because I'd thought the matter settled at the end of episode 6. But somewhere during that aquarium 'date', probably around the time Tinn shoved three of Gun's fingers into his mouth and bit them (listen, I can't even...), Gun decided he wanted this just as much.

Bridge: Softly softly

Sweet destiny Carried me through desperation To the one that was waiting for me

Mariah Carey | Vision of Love (1990)

Yo's insecurities taking centre stage was unexpected but instructive. It's not lost on me that he chose Tinn as his avatar, because despite Tinn's inherent weird nerd-ness, from the outside he must seem really cool. It's also not lost on Gun that his careless critique about Yo's skills sent his friend on a spiral that ended with a slap to the face. Gun does feel guilty for his part in the ensuing mess, and goes out of his way to help Yo try to make right what he did wrong. In the end, despite the club eventually voting down the rule, or at least voting to exempt Yo from the rule, the Hot Wave rule remains intact due to some adorable plot mechanics that I will totally allow.

Outro: Lay all your love on me

My every wish and every dream Somehow became reality When you brought the sunlight Completed my whole life I'm overwhelmed with gratitude 'Cause baby I'm so thankful I found you

Mariah Carey ft. Joe and 98° | Thank God I Found You (1999)

But even discussing the rule within the club stirred up a lot, as our sweet baby Por engages the hamster running his brain long enough to notice that Gun's sparkle is even sparklier than usual lately. I wrote about the positive reinforcement loop that Gun and Tinn have created propelling Gun upward, and others are starting to see it as well. Por vocalising that to Gun, and Gun seeing Yo work harder to prove himself to Yak as a worthy suitor for his sister clicks the final piece into place for him, and this time he crosses the friend zone line in a full and final acceptance of Tinn's feelings.

Ad Libs

New opening and closing credits and themes this week! The new opener is fine, but I miss 'You Got Ma Back'. At least we still have it for the interstitials.

Chinzhilla's little hero walk into the cafeteria made me tear up a little. I think about how proud my little slackers must feel and I--

I loved Tinn using ja with Gun, very flirty.

Gun's rapid fire little blinks every time Tinn gives him the flustered kilig feelings are ADORABLE.

Fun little meta moment with Tiw playing literally every character in Romeo and Juliet except the leads 🤣

Win and Sound's constant bickering would usually thoroughly irritate me but something about them is making me crazy in the good way.

I spotted you checking your hair before the date Gun.

The fashion on this show is gonna make me resurrect my gensemble/gay apparel posts.

I love Chinzhilla but I also love seeing Gun having one-on-one moments with the other boys in the band, it really just brings forward that these guys really are friends.

Win and Pat voting to keep the rule out of saltiness cracked me up so bad.

I did note that Sound didn't vote the first time around.

I never expected to see Yak in the show's main timeline, so that was fun, and it makes sense that his objection to Yo dating his sister would be the thing that made them reestablish the rule.

The dance number was just perfect. Exactly the kind of thing that would get you a high school girlfriend.

Seems like one of the scenes from last week's preview got cut?

Next week: the first performance round of Hot Wave!

#my school president #chinzhilla rocks!#bl meta series

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rjalker · 1 year

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February 12th 2023: don't donate until this part is removed! someone stole my fucking wallet.

I'm making this my pinned post because I am tired of suffering.

Here's the link to my actual About post. Read it if you're going to follow me, it has my DNI as well as tags I use for things so you can blacklist them if you want/need to.

====

Hi I'm fucking too disabled to work but have to get a fucking lawyer to get fucking disability SSI from the stupid fucking government because it's literally designed to make people give up before they get their gods damned money.

I literally don't even eat even a single meal each day.

I'm also trans and would like to fucking medically transition someday but at this point I've just fucking give up that hope because I will literally never be able to afford it unless capitalism gets smashed tomorrow. in which case none of this matters, but that's not going to happen because that's not how revolution works so fucking anyways

also we're out of ibuprophen and I have fucking menstrual cramps right and yeah I should probably get fucking tested for endomitroiosis or whatever the fuck it's called but you know what else I don't have? Health insurance. Because I'm too disabled to work, and even if I could work literlaly no one will give me a full time job that wouldn't literaly just end up killing me.

====

Here's the gofundme link.

My paypal, venmo, and cashapp are all "Rjalker".

Here's the link to my redbubble store if you'd rather buy something.

You can also tip me through tumblr.

====

I have the Redbubble prices set so that when you buy a product I actually get a decent cut instead of $2 max. If you buy a pin, for example, I get $9.

My paypal icon is the same flower design as my tumblr icon. I don't think cashapp and venmo have icons but if they do I'll make sure they're the same too.

Check out and request more pronoun pins on my sideblog @custom-pronoun-pins

This post is being made November 30th 2022 but unless they suddenly invent No Longer Disabled pills it's just not going to have a fucking "this is no longer relevant" date because this shit isn't going to get better.

Here's what your money will be going towards if you donate:

rent, $500 a month for my half

phone bill, $35 a month

water bill, around $35 a month

internet bill , $45 a month

cat food, cat litter, and vet visits

groceries

clothes

fixing the washer or just buying a new one

fixing the dryer or just buying a new one

all the fantasy and scifi books I'm going to write that I will literally be giving away for free because if it's not clear enough yet I fucking hate capitalism. You will be able to download the books for free endlessly and the only time you'll have to pay money is for the cost of the materials to make the physical book.

we literally have not had a functional washer or dryer for the last like five fucking years in a row. All our clothes have to be washed in the fucking tub and then hung up in front of a fan to dry, or put in the fucking pop-up air dryer we found that takes for fucking ever and can't hold more than a few things before it stops working almost entirely.

I'm making this my pinned post because I'm tired of suffering. I'll fucking put the other one back when capitalism ends or I get the fucking disability SSI I literally would have been getting from birth except for the fucking idiot in the government who decided to fucking remove us from the fucking disability list when we turned eighteen when they took us off the fucking survivor's benefits of our fucking dad dying.

No I am not fucking joking. My twin and I were literally born four months early. We were literally guaranteed disability SSI from the moment we were born because of all the shit that went wrong and the fact that both of us were blatantly fucking autistic and had dyslexia and all this other shit.

And some fucking government worker fucked up when we turned eighteen and not only took us off the fucking survivor's benefits SSI, which overrode the disability SSI, but also fucking took us off the list for the disabled SSI.

Literally assigned abled at eighteen.

And I still haven't even fucking been diagnosed with anything for my physical disability because again! No health insurance! Because I can't work! Because I'm disabled! And since I can't work I can't get my disability diagnosed! Which means I can't get accommodations! It's literally a fucking endless cycle that will only stop if I or capitalism die!!!

======

Update 12/11/22: The water bill for November has been paid! Thank you!

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proudfreakmetarusonniku · 1 year

Note

hey tell me about any primeboys au you can think of . smth smth free infodump card

OKOK I WANTED TO INFODUMP ABOUT C!PRIME AT THE END OF THE ALT ENDING ONESHOT FOR AGES SO I SAVED THIS UNTIL AFTER I FINISHED THAT.

i spent a lot of time designing their circumstances to be an ironic hell for the both of them, but one specifically designed by c!dream due to his extreme paranoia at this point. he fully believes that everyone but c!tommy will just betray him, even though he’s fully wrong. c!punz was still loyal but c!dream had gotten so caught up in his paranoia by the time c!tommy made the deal of giving up his freedom in exchange for the safety of everyone else on the server he couldn’t see that.

so, c!dream sees c!tommy as the only person who’s Safe, because he’s the only person he has complete leverage on. therefore, he's isolated the two of them extremely, living in a small cottage and farm in the middle of dense woods, far away from any civilisation. the outsides are so trapped there’s barely even any animals, because c!dream panics at the slightest noise at this point. moobloom henry is probably the only one in a long while, and that’s because c!tommy nursed her back to health when she managed to get through the gate.

it’s a small enough area it’s basically impossible to not get stir crazy to some degree, and while c!dream could technically go in the woods if his paranoia wasn’t so bad, if c!tommy leaves the fenced in area c!dream will take that as a sign of betrayal and escape and that’s going to go badly for both the two of them and likely the smp, so he's effectively trapped. there’s enough space to grow a few crops and flowers, and for a bench and a river, but nothing more. it’s very cramped.

same goes for the cottage they actually live in- it’s got like three rooms and they’re all pretty small. there’s a living room/kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom, all with sparse furniture, and that’s it. the most elaborate thing they have is their bunk bed, and that’s just because c!tommy got very bored and sewed some cool bedsheets. that and the impressive supply of hidden weapons in every nook and cranny because c!dream is petrified of intruders, though the only person they’ve ever actually been used against is c!tommy because it’s basically impossible to find them let alone make it through the insane defences set up outside.

c!dream is unhappy when he's alone, so he's incredibly clingy to c!tommy, only finding any sort of peace around his adoptive little brother. c!tommy is terrified and dealing with a horrific clash of emotions whenever he’s around c!dream. they’re in this sort of cycle of misery around that, and even at the best of times they’re never truly happy.

of course, it’s rarely like that, and most of the time, c!tommy is the one bearing the worst of it. c!dream puts unreasonable demands on him, but also inconsistent ones. he can flip between kind and cruel in a second, and it’s completely unpredictable. he's both severely mentally and physically abusive when even slightly provoked, and has on at least a few occasions put c!tommy into what was essentially a sensory deprivation solitary confinement cramped box for long enough to leave the poor kid instinctively clinging to him because it’s fucked with his mental state so much.

c!dream does often feel guilty about this- less because of his own actions, and more because he’s scared of losing the only family he has left- so he alternates between extreme to the point of completely patronising lovebombing and his usual cruelty, both of which c!tommy hates. c!dream genuinely doesn't understand why they make c!tommy unhappy, and it frustrates him a lot because he does genuinely care for him and want him to be happy at this point, but he's got such a warped view on things he’s only making it far worse for him, and he even lashes out at him for daring to be unhappy at essentially being held hostage and abused on occasions.

meanwhile, c!tommy is utterly convinced he deserves it, and he needs to suffer for the sake of all his friends and family, because he brings ruin to everything he loves and therefore he’s just getting what he deserves. he still despises c!dream and thinks he deserves the misery too (though he also, paradoxically, sees c!dream as wonderful and his bestest friend bc the exile conditioning part of his brain is constantly fighting the part of him that understandably hates his abuser) but he thinks they’re both as bad as each other and they deserve to be in pain.

#Primeboys (derogatory)#tw abuse #tw posessive behaviour #tw obsession #tw paranoia #tw harm to animals #Tw imprisonment #tw isolation #tw self hatred #tw emotional self harm #tw victim blaming

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digital-corruption · 2 years

Text

Unrecognisable Part 21

After an agonising hour of clinging to Jake while he drove the dirt bike through the woods at night, we finally reached the border, a measly chain link fence with barbed wire, as expected. Somehow, we had gotten there with only a few scratches. We were lucky to have had a full moon’s light and a clear night to aid us.

We stopped over a hundred paces from the fence to take in the situation.

“It doesn’t look electrified,” Jake said after a moment.

“Wait, is that an actual concern?” I turned to him in disbelief. “You’re bringing that up now!?”

“It’s a joke,” he teased with a smirk.

“A bad one,” I rolled my eyes.

“Ok, I’ll shoot those two cameras, then you cut the fence, large enough for the bike, ok?” he reminded me.

“Yeah,” I took the bolt cutters from his backpack. “Ready when you are.”

“Remember to hold it by the grips,” he warned me. “In case it is electrified.”

“Oh my God! Would you stop!?” I shoved him away.

He laughed, “But in all seriousness, once I shoot the cameras, the clock is on.”

“Got it,” I nodded. “No time to waste.”

“MC,” he paused. “I love you.”

I blushed, “I love you too, Jake. I really wish you wouldn’t say that like everything is about to go wrong.”

“Sorry, I’ll try to remember to say it other times as well,” he spoke softly. “Are you ready?”

“I am,” I shifted my attention back to the fence.

Jake readied his handgun and took aim at the first of the two cameras. He hit it with perfect accuracy, then lined up the second one and shot it in one go. I ran up to the fence and started cutting it with the bolt cutters. To my relief, the fence wasn’t electrified. Also, the bolt cutters were near new, so they cut through with relative ease. Jake brought up the dirt bike while I worked on the fence. After the tenth link, my wrist started cramping, so Jake took over and cut a section of the links while I rubbed my wrist. He pushed the fence through to check to see if he had cut enough yet, then cut a few more links to be sure. I took over pushing the fence through and held it for him so he could get the bike through, then himself. Jake turned back and held the fence open while I snuck through with our bag. Jake climbed back onto the bike and turned it on again while I climbed on behind him. I held him tight, and he took off with even more urgency than before.

The first section of forest was quiet and serene. Now though I felt like every shadow was watching us, waiting to attack us. Every hair on my body was standing on end. Jake was definitely driving more aggressively, so he must have felt it too. I had to fight the urge to squeeze him as he navigated around the trees. Instead, I closed my eyes, hoping we’d soon be on the open road soon. The forest was just endless though.

Suddenly I heard it. Even over the sound of the dirt bike engine, there was no mistaking the distinct noise of the blades spinning at great speed approaching the area.

“Jake!” I exclaimed.

“I know, I hear it!” he yelled.

He accelerated, which cause the bike to bounce more roughly as we went over the uneven ground. After a couple of rough bounces, my back cried out in pain. I gritted my teeth and braced myself for the next impact. I swear I lost an inch after that night. Then finally, mercifully, the trees opened to an open field, which meant Jake could open the throttle. He turned the headlight off on the bike to reduce the risk of us being noticed, and drove by solely moonlight. I wanted to look back, to see if we had outrun the helicopter’s search, but I was too afraid to look. Instead I looked over Jake’s shoulder just in time to see a large drop ahead.

“Fuck!” Jake yelled at the top of his lungs. “Hold on!”

I gripped Jake tightly as we went airborne over a steep mound. Jake pushed us up to standing to dampen the impact when we landed on the other side. The bike squirrelled as he struggled to maintain control. I heard him screaming in pain as his ligaments were stretched to their limits to keep both of us on bike. From there he continued on at a much-reduced speed, not wanting to risk going airborne again.

In the distance, a large barn came into view. I pointed to it over Jake’s shoulder. He nodded and changed course for it. As we got closer I noticed it was in complete disrepair. The roof had completely collapsed in one corner, the cladding slipping around the outside, and the barn doors were on their last hinges. Still, it would suffice as a shelter.

Jake slowed down beside the barn and hunched over the front of the bike in pain. I jumped off the back as the bike was stopping and ran to grab the handlebar before Jake lost his balance. He dropped his feet and turned the bike off in one move, then nearly fell over trying to get off. I caught him, letting the bike fall away from us.

“No, we need to get inside!” Jake pushed me away and leant over to pull the bike back up.

I ran around to the other side of the bike and helped him guide it into the barn cautiously past the old door that was ready to fall. As soon as we were in, Jake let go of the bike, which nearly fell on top of me. He tore off his helmet as fast as he could and cried out in pain while leaning over. I carefully leant the bike up against one of the half-rotten wood pillars, took my own helmet off, and went to check on Jake.

“What’s wrong? Are you ok?” I asked in great despair.

“No! Everything fucking hurts!” he screamed at me, then immediately regretted it. “Sorry.”

“Come on, rest over here,” I gestured to an old pile of hay, which seemed to be the only dry spot in the entire barn.

I put my arm around Jake and helped him over to sit down on the ground. Just as he reached the ground, the helicopter did a sweep over us with its search light. I instinctively threw myself to the ground beside Jake even though we weren’t directly visible to the helicopter as it went past us.

“Do they know we’re here?” I whispered.

“You know they can’t hear us, right?” he mocked me. I had to resist the urge to hit him. “If it comes back, then they do.”

We sat in silence listening to our own heartbeats waiting for the helicopter to return. After a few minutes, Jake sighed with relief and fell backwards onto the hay. I took that to mean we were safe.

“Can we never do that again?” I said only half-jokingly.

“I think you already know my answer to that,” he mused.

“I could’ve sworn you told me you had it and that I should trust you,” I frowned at him.

“Did I let you fall?” he argued.

“Can you walk?” I countered.

“Give me some time,” he groaned.

“Honestly, what if the helicopter does come back? What do we do? You can hardly move!” I stressed.

“I will protect you, no matter what it takes,” he muttered.

“Jake…” I grumbled at him.

“You think you can stop me?” he lifted his head to look at me.

“You know I won’t let you do anything stupid,” I kicked his foot.

“You let me ride a dirt bike through a forest I had never seen before at night,” he laughed. I kicked his foot again. “You’d kick a man when he’s down?”

“When he’s being an idiot,” I glared.

I could just see in the dim ambient light that he was smiling at me, “Hey, we got across, ok? That’s one painful obstacle down.”

“Now we just have to somehow get to Duskwood from here,” I sighed.

“Well, Colville. The hearing is at the prison. But I’ll work it out,” he dropped his head back down and held out his arm. “Mm, lie with me.”

I rolled my eyes, then lowered myself beside Jake, resting my head on his chest gingerly. He put his arms around me and hugged me tight against him. The old, run down barn was eerily quiet, but the gentle sound of Jake’s heart beating was so calming that even in that cold, damp barn, we drifted off to sleep together.

#duskwood #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood jake #unrecognisable fanfic

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depizan · 2 years

Text

There's a Top 3 controversial SW:TOR opinions ask going around. It hasn't come to me, but I think I'll give my answers anyway. (None of which are going to be surprises for my mutuals.)

I don't like the expansions. They're a bit like the Star Wars sequel trilogy--there are some interesting characters, maybe even a few ideas that could be good, but the execution just doesn't work for me. There's an element of the story being awkwardly stapled onto vanilla SW:TOR for all of them, the stakes and plotlines feel wrong for an MMO (as opposed to a single player game with an actual ending), and by KOFEET it's just painfully obvious that they're writing for the Jedi Knight/Sith Warrior alone. The fandom has done cool stuff with the characters and even the stories, but as far as what's there in canon, I hates it, my precious. (The game play in the expansions has also tended to be punishingly unfun as well.)

The base game should have kept the galaxy in a state of cold war. Not only was that an unusual world (galactic?) state both for a Star Wars and for an MMO, but it provided an inherent tension that it rarely exploited as it could have. Build up the danger of a return to war, damn it. Have that threat hanging over everyone's head, with NPCs both pushing for it and trying to avoid it. Use it for the stakes it had the potential to give everyone's missions. It just had so much potential that it never quite lived up to, and was more interesting than the inevitable return to open war that we got.

The base game and KOFEET make opposite but equally frustrating bad decisions regarding the companion characters. Having the companions permanently stapled to the player characters no matter what in the base game cramped the story-telling. Being able to abandon/kill companions and having them potentially abandoning your character would've kept them as more consistent characters and avoided some moments that threw a lot of people out of the story regarding what their character would have done. Conversely, KOFEET making it possible to kill characters left and right, with that meaning that content for any killable character disappears after that choice, also cramped the storytelling. If you're going to make the companion characters be as integrated with the main story as KOFEET wanted them to be, then you need to continue content for them past the point at which other people might not have them any more. In the base game, the companions and their stories were self contained enough that they could be removed at various points and have it feel organic with the story. In KOFEET, it makes the only sensible canon be one in which all killable characters are dead.

#swtor #Mac vs fandom blue #Mac has opinions

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pipernightingale · 25 days

Text

❝ if you never bleed you're never gonna grow ❞

stats:

full name / piper lenore nightingale

nicknames / none

age / 29

dob / feb. 14th

star sign / aquarius

sexuality / bisexual

hometown / new york city, ny

current residence / seattle, wa

subject / mythical creatures: the truth in the myth

demeanor:

likes ; riding dragons, flying in general except on airplanes, peaches any way she can get them, hot summer nights, swimming in the ocean, roadtrips, getting lost and having that moment where she believes she may never find her way back

dislikes ; the pacific ocean because it's ridiculously cold, when people assume she's not very bright because she teaches an "easy" course

usual temperament ; people have been known to describe her as a mystery. they always say it's something about her smile. like she's hiding something and not even torture could drag it from her. it draws people to her. they stay curious and she stays amused.

highlights:

piper was born in a cramped apartment in new york city. her parents were in the middle of a fight and she came crashing into the world before they could even get out the door to hail a taxi. they were sure she'd save the marriage. and for a while she was a really great band-aid. but eventually they realized that the love they had for her wasn't enough for them to stay together.

as young kid in the city, her parents were both busy, each of them working more than they could be home just to keep a roof over their heads. which left her to wander. to get lost endlessly. looking back she realizes just how lucky she was to survive.

her first encounter with the magical world was when she was nine. taking a wrong turn and finding herself face to face with a feeding vampire. it was strange. like the part of her that should have been scared was just too curious to actually be afraid. and the vampire seemed just as shocked as she was, even more so when she just stood there, staring, observing what was happening.

the vampire's name was rupert. his victim, as it turned out, was his very human girlfriend fiona. and they were both enamoured with this strange, lost little girl. so they folded her into their world. showed her magic. taught her things that most muggles would never know. while she herself wasn't born a witch, she did learn how to do some magic. it was always a bit chaotic and messy, but piper never minded.

the magical world kept her curious. it gripped her in a way nothing else every would. especially it's creatures. things pulled straight from the myths and fairytales she'd always loved. and despite her being a muggle, the creatures seemed to love her. maybe because she just seemed so eager to learn. to listen to any of their stories. and learn the truth of them beyond just the myths.

when she was around 15 she started writing it all down. without realizing it she was writing a book. one that would eventually become quite controversial in the wizarding world. at least over the pond. they didn't like anyone, especially a muggle with what they deemed fake magic, to try and tell them werewolves weren't monsters and that some vampires were actually kind. it never really bothered her because fuck them, they were boring anyway.

eventually her books caught the eye of uw. their magical program was lacking in any study of magical creatures at all and they were curious to see what she could come up with. they were offering her the chance to build a course from the ground up. to make something entirely her own. so she took the opportunity. rupert, and fiona who had turned a few years back, decided to join her. they couldn't let their little girl go off on her own. even if she was in fact a grown woman now. her own parents threw a small goodbye party and pretended to understand the lie she told about moving to the west coast for a college program.

the move ended up being everything she needed without realizing it. this was a new place to get lost. and to maybe be found. to finally feel like she really belonged to this world she called home.

#bio

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jungkxook · 3 years

Text

—out of the blue. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: youtuber/gamer!jungkook + fluff / smut

⟶ words: 5,204

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: catching your boyfriend bleaching and dyeing his hair for a livestream is definitely not what you expected — but it certainly has its perks.

⟶ warnings: established relationship, some attempt at humour, .2 seconds of sort of sub jungkook (you just like seeing him on his knees), you call jungkook a good boy, shower sex, hair pulling, oral sex, face riding, standing sex, breast play, cum eating, doggy style, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ note: because blue haired jungkook has me feeling all sorts of things. also dedicating this to the lovely ryen @kithtaehyung because blue haired jungkook is getting her too and i hope this helps!! and thank you to the wonderful @gamerkooks and @stanrandomthings for always giving me inspiration for gamer jungkook <3

“What the hell are you doing?”

Jungkook has less than a second to react when he hears you bursting through the door of his bedroom, a guilty expression plastered on his face as if you’ve caught him in the midst of a much worse act than what he’s already currently doing ━ but the flustered scowl deepening your countenance is enough for him to certainly feel that way, because how else is he supposed to casually explain why he’s currently sitting shirtless in front of a camera?

Admittedly, the sight is odd enough, and there’s a split moment where your incredulous look is enough to make him feel as if he’s wronged you, and your six month long relationship with him, entirely before he remembers that he didn’t actually do anything wrong like cheat on you, but is actually just trying to dye his hair.

He’s sat in his gaming chair, camera and lights set up around him, and the monitor of his desktop all recording his face to the hundreds of thousands of viewers currently watching his livestream. He had told you well in advance about his aim to do a twenty-four hour live broadcast for his subscribers to both raise money for a donation and to countdown to his next subscriber milestone with the help of his friends ━ and had even asked you to help him plan the event, discussing it animatedly with you for the past month on various occasions ━ but mainly just because Jungkook is crazy enough to sit through a twenty-four hour stream and call it fun.

You had known most of how the entirety of the day would go. Starting from noon the previous day to now, almost an hour before the stream ends, thus far he’s done various gameplays from Minecraft to Overwatch to Among Us simultaneously with his friends who had offered to marathon with him the twenty-four hour event; had a period of time in which Jimin and Taehyung were over and cramped in his room to answer questions and talk to viewers but mostly just to create absolute chaos. You had been there for most of it, though you’re still trying to figure out if it’s a blessing or a curse that you were suckered into paying rent for your three bedroom apartment by Taehyung more than a year ago, and subsequently falling madly in love with Jungkook and forcing you to aid in his antics. You’ve been in a handful of his videos before, appearing in Twitch and YouTube streams, and in the background of vlogs in his channel and the channels belonging to the other boys; and, on that day for Jungkook’s twenty-four hour event, you had joined him at the start before being dragged away for work and then tried to pull an all-nighter with him until you crashed on the couch in the living room, and checking in on him occasionally to give him food and water and to just generally make sure your boyfriend isn’t dead.

Now, with the remaining final hour dwindling down, you had been in your room trying to finish last minute essay writing for school, with your phone propped up on your desk and Jungkook’s livestream playing as background noise to your studying. One minute, he had been playing a round of Among Us, and the next, when you had glanced up, he had the bottle in hand and the detrimental blue dye coating his hair in slick globs. It wouldn’t have been so shocking, had you not seen Jungkook an hour ago when he had his natural dark hair still, and now he had somehow managed to sneak in bleaching his hair in the time you had left him. Maybe it was your fault for not catching it sooner, if only because you had sheepishly taken a small nap amidst your studying only to wake up to a nightmare.

Which is where that leaves you currently, dishevelled demeanour standing at the threshold of his door after chasing over to his room, watching as Taehyung helps Jungkook sufficiently ruin his beautiful hair which you love so much.

“Uh… Dyeing my hair?” Jungkook finally answers, dumbfounded. He’s fortunate he had pulled off his shirt to avoid getting hair dye on it, an old towel now draped around his shoulders to catch any excess mess. He adds brightly, “We asked for suggestions on how to end the stream and someone said I should dye my hair, so Tae got the stuff.”

“You bleached your own hair?” You retort, exasperated. “When the hell did all this happen? I’ve been next door to you the whole time! What if your hair falls out? You should’ve gotten a professional to do it, not Tae━”

Taehyung looks inexplicably offended by your slandering remarks on his (lack of) hair styling skills, retorting with, “Yo, what the━?”

Jungkook blinks, as if just being made aware of what he’s actually doing.

“My hair’s gonna fall out?” he gaps. “Guys, what the hell? Why’d no one tell me?”

He looks from you to Taehyung then over at the comments on his livestream which are currently flooding with the sole topic of you. His eyes snag the first few that appear to him in the frenzied influx of words:

uh oh jungkook’s sleeping on the floor tonight

oh shit run bro

f in the chat for jk’s hair

get him y/n!!!!

“Dude, she’s just being dramatic,” Taehyung waves you off. He ducks out of the way when you reach out to Jungkook’s bed for a pillow and chuck it at the older boy’s head.

“And when he’s bald, then what━”

“No!” A helpless Jungkook exclaims suddenly. He gestures wildly to the stream, “Don’t give them ideas. The edits are gonna start pouring in.”

“Jeon, look, it’s too late to go back now,” Taehyung says. “You’ve got half your head covered in dye and three minutes to go with the stream. How bad can it be?”

A groveling sigh eclipses your lips as you push yourself forward. “Then at least let me help before you ruin it completely.”

Jungkook’s fortunate, to say the least, though he’s left wondering if you’re truly upset with him.

He finishes the countdown to the end of his twenty-four hour stream with you and Taehyung putting the last remaining globs of dye on his hair, a heartfelt goodbye to his viewers who marathoned the stream with him, and a promise to update them on the status of his hair when he washes the dye out.

And, just as soon as he’s shut his camera off, the mundane world returns to him.

It’s no longer millions of anonymous and faceless viewers watching him from the other side of their screens in the tiny bubble that is his room, but just you and Taehyung and the older boy’s frisky little Pomeranian dog and the threat of a wallowing regret as Jungkook thinks to himself, what the hell did he truly just do to his hair?

At some point, Taehyung retreats to his girlfriend’s house taking Yeontan with him, leaving you alone with Jungkook and he basks in the sudden cozy quiet after twenty-four hours of madness as the adrenaline rush begins to fade and mellow out. Back aching, joints cracking and popping as he stretches and moves, and eyes burning in the similar way they do from having stared at a screen for too long, but tenfold, he craves nothing more than to find your sweet and comforting touch to end such a long day.

He finds you in the living room already scrolling through your phone and your Twitter feed to read and marvel at all the comments and memes made by his viewers during his stream and his heart threatens to burst through his chest because you’ve always been so supportive of him and his fans, and they’ve always adored you and your endless interactions with them. So, surely, you can’t be mad at him for bleaching and dyeing his hair. Right?

As his arms come to wrap around you from behind, face nuzzling in the crook of your neck, he hears you bemoan, “You look like a Smurf came on your head.”

Wrong.

Well, not entirely, he guesses. You do lean into his chest, practically melting against him. A sluggish grin tugs at his lips and, instead, he chooses to ask, “Shower with me?”

“Aren’t you tired, Koo?”

“Baby,” he deadpans, and your heart flutters just a little bit, “by this point, I’m running solely on Red Bull and coffee that I’m positive I could fight the gods with my bare hands and win. In fact, I’ve had so much caffeine that I’m fairly certain I’ve ascended to the astral plane. Besides, I need to wash this dye out, and I could use some help. Sleep can wait.”

“Help,” You snort. “You’re such a liar. I already know what you want.”

“To spend time with my beautiful girlfriend? You’re right.”

“I’m not sucking your dick.”

He pulls his head back to look at you. Though he tries to look offended, there’s the tiniest of smirks on his face. “Wasn’t gonna ask you!”

You turn to properly face him in his arms and shoot him a dubious glance. He leans down to press a chilling kiss to your jaw, then nudges his nose against you in the same spot so that you’ll move your head. You do so, despite your prior scolding, and let him kiss the underside of your jaw down to your neck.

“Okay, fine,” You huff finally.

You relent, miraculously, but Jungkook had already guessed you would the moment he had found you in the living room and he couldn’t be happier.

He cherishes the moments alone with you, has come to know them well as he falls into a comfortable routine with you away from prying eyes over the last few months. Because sometimes, as he comes to learn, it’s hard to establish a relationship when his job requires him to be in the spotlight often. What is authentic and what is simply fabricated for views is difficult to discern, and yet you’re patient with him. Not everything to him is money and views and numbers, or what his next big plan is, or how you could potentially help him in some way (despite knowing that any video featuring you seems to skyrocket his views and land his videos on the trending page of YouTube more often than not because he knows everyone loves you more than him). You know when he’s his online persona and when he’s simply just Jungkook, and while there’s hardly any difference between the two, his online personality surely has to maintain a level of privacy and happiness that may not always be true.

At least with you, he can just be himself. He can finally be at ease.

Showering together is just one of the many acts of normalcy he cherishes with you. So, he turns on the shower and lets the bathroom get all warm and balmy as you undress. He’s the first one inside, hissing in delight as he lets the water run over his sore muscles, washing out the dye in his hair firstly so as not to get it on you and fortunately not making too much of a mess of blue dye in the tub. You’ve joined him in an instant when he’s nearly done, squeezing into the space in front of him as you shut the glass door behind you, the pane already beginning to fog and slick with droplets of condensation. He pulls you into him once more, nestling his chin on your shoulder as his hands come to wrap around you. They slide across your front, all wet and soapy, briefly gliding across your breasts, palms brushing against your nipples before traveling down to your navel.

“Congrats, baby,” You coo gently. “Twenty-four hours.”

He murmurs into your hair, “Missed you loads though.”

You turn to look at him finally, and it’s hard not to stare. Your eyes land firstly on his abdomen and the toned muscles there, trailing up to his arm and the pretty tattoos that decorate every inch of his skin, to his soft pink lips and his big eyes. Then, there’s the matter of his hair. The water has done most of the work in washing out the dye from his hair, now falling across his forehead and into his eyes and cheekbones, and it’s only then that you fully register the dye has worked as you struggle to find any remnants of his once-ebony-then-blonde locks. The blue hair is an obvious stark contrast to his natural hair and, you think, it is pretty, accentuating his radiant skin and making his eyes pop.

“I didn’t think you were actually serious all those times you said you wanted to change your hair.” Your lips are pursed as you survey him now, your fingers twirling a strand of his tresses around and around as you inspect it.

He smiles, catching your hand and pressing a quick peck to your knuckles. “Neither did I,” he admits sheepishly. “It sort of just happened.”

You pout. “I’m gonna miss your natural hair.”

“Do you really hate it blue?”

“I don’t hate it. Was more scared you’d ruin your pretty hair and make it all fall out.”

At this, Jungkook flashes you a cheeky smile. He holds his head a little higher. “So you still think my hair is pretty?”

“I think you’re a dork,” You clarify. “And, aside from the fact you almost gave me a heart attack, I’d say the blue is so pretty. Beyond pretty. Kinda hot, if I’m being honest.”

Because you’re not really mad, but it’s fun just to tease Jungkook and see his reactions. At the very least, he can sense this, as it’s apparent with the way his smile stretches even wider on his face.

“Hot, huh?”

“Mhm. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

He feigns a look of mock hurt. “Oh no. You must be really mad. Want me to make it up to you?”

“How are you gonna do that?”

“Well, what do you want from me?”

You take a moment to think it over, but the answer is already obvious enough. It’s one that even he knows, and one that has won you over the moment Jungkook was freed from his stream. You hum aloud, “You, on your knees, head between my legs, like a good boy. Think I can get a better viewpoint of your hair from down there anyway before I judge it.”

“Like a good boy?” A dark smirk tugs at his face. “So now who’s the needy one?”

He lowers his head so that he’s leaving a trail of sloppy wet kisses down your neck to your collarbones. As you let yourself get carried away for a moment, you wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him backwards until you’re pressed up against the glass door. He ducks even lower, kissing just above your left breast and then catching your nipple between his teeth. You swallow thickly, rubbing your thighs together, reminding yourself to respond to him.

“It’s not my fault when you were busy for the past day,” You pout. “And the blue hair really is sexy.”

“Aha!” he straightens up in front of you suddenly, a crooked smug smile on his face. “So I’m not just hot. I’m sexy.”

“You’re literally always sexy. And beautiful too. It’s almost unfair.”

“That’s even better.”

You tug your fingers at his damp locks. When you speak, your voice is a mix between urgency and a whine. “Jungkook. I could’ve already gotten off with my hand at this point.”

“Ouch, feisty!” He pokes his fingers at your sides. Then, nipping a little more firmly on the soft skin of your breast, murmurs huskily, “Alright, alright. But only if you call me a good boy again.”

Part of him is taunting you, but there’s a small sliver of intrigue that makes the thought in his head and the pretty words on your tongue excite him to no end.

Still, you choose to entertain him, maybe a little drowsily and entirely consumed by him, “I will if you let me ride your face.”

A rumble of a chuckle resonates from him. You find him on his knees in the next moment, wedging himself between your thighs. He nudges one of your legs and you follow the wordless command, hitching one thigh over his shoulder as you settle back against the glass door of the shower. He kisses at your hips as he dips his head lower and lower to where you want him, before swiping his tongue at your cunt, tasting all of you at once.

“Mmm, Koo━” A soft whimper sounds from you, making his head swim.

He wastes no time in lapping at your folds, tongue delving into you deeper and deeper as he cranes his neck. The wetness that pools between your legs and on the tip of his tongue is a sticky mess that he basks in just a little longer.

“Fuck,” he groans into your pussy, “you taste so fucking good. Missed this so much.”

His hands are big as they come to hold you close, cradling your ass, your thighs, your hips, anything to pull you into him while simultaneously pushing your thighs further apart.

You manage to find your voice and quip weakly, “Missed me or having your head between my legs?”

“You, definitely,” he murmurs. He busies himself by reaching out with his thumb to press circles against your clit. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, hips rutting into his face. “All of you.”

“Jungkook━ Fuck━”

He burrows further into you, humming in response. His nose brushes against your clit, the muscle of his tongue a pleasant wet that makes you warm all over. You give another experimental swivel of your hips, grinding against his tongue just right. He pinches at your hips as if to probe you onward, and then you do it again, and again, desperately rocking your hips back and forth against him. Your fingers reach out to grab a fistful of his hair, clutching it so tightly he hisses. But you’re right. The blue locks look dazzling between your legs, being pulled by your hands as you push him further into you.

His eyes meet yours from below your waist, hooded and idle, enjoying the view as you squirm and writhe above him, shamelessly riding his face. Grinding against his chin, nose, and tongue, the slick wetness you leave behind glistens on his skin.

“Ah, Koo━” You cry out. “Fuck, I’m gonna━!”

Your orgasm hits you violently, sending you keeling. Your hips continue with reckless abandon, and Jungkook presses his finger against your clit a little harder, a little faster. The abrupt gushing warmth between your thighs sends your mind spinning, as the steam from the shower and your panting breaths begin to fog the bathroom. When your hips begin to slow, Jungkook laps at the rest of your leaking core before pulling away with a grin brandishing his shimmering face. He lets you pull him up eagerly, clumsy hands fumbling to hold either side of his face as you tug at him.

“God, you’re so hot, babe,” he sighs wistfully, smothering your lips with his for an all too chaste kiss, before leaning in once more to nibble at your lower lip.

“Wanna feel you, Koo,” You prompt urgently. “Want you in me.”

Jungkook hastens to comply, his hands falling to your waist. “Go on, then. Turn around for me.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You spin so that you’re facing the glass sliding door, your back to him. You watch him over your shoulder, momentarily admiring his well built stature, the tattoos that ink his body, and the water that shimmers on his skin. He has to push his wet hair up and away when it falls across his forehead and then he reaches down to grasp at his length, grip tight around his shaft so that he can pump himself sluggishly a few short times. It’s almost painful to watch him jerk himself off in front of you, the tip a burning red and glistening. He catches you staring and decides to catch you off guard when he grabs a hold of your hips with one hand. He yanks you towards him, your ass pressed firmly against his hips, making you jump from the startle, and grins when you look back at him.

Then, ever so slowly, he runs the length of his cock along your folds. Before you can brace yourself for the overwhelming rush of pleasure, he’s sliding his cock past your folds, burrowing into you deep. He curses behind you, his other hand flying out to steady himself by digging into your hip.

“Fffuck. Shit.” He dips his head so that his cheek is resting against your shoulder and sputters for air. “Jesus, fuck━ Been dying to feel you all day.”

He fits so snugly in you, so perfectly, just like always and you take him so well, coaxed by your own arousal. He ruts his hips forward into yours and you nearly fall forward before catching yourself by pressing your palms to the glass. Then, he’s grinding against you, small and precise thrusts that roll into your hips.

“Mmm, Jungkook,” you choke out. “You feel so━ So good.”

“Ah, shit,” he hisses. “Wanna wreck you so bad.”

He angles his chest a little more, pummels his dick into you in such a way that he’s hitting a different spot in you. His eyes stay fixated on the soft, round flesh of your ass and the way his cock slips so easily into you, brows screwed in concentration, jaw clenched. The slight bounce of your ass each time he rolls his hips firmly against you, the way you ricochet forward each time in tandem with his moves. You bow your head, pressing your temple against the glass door now tinted with condensation, only marked up by the imprints of your fingers grasping at anything. It’s almost sweltering hot in the shower now but you both pay no mind to it. He fucks into you with such languid, steady strides, cock beginning to throb and twitch in anticipation. You feel so wet, such a pitiless mess between your thighs already that it makes him growl.

“H-Harder,” You mewl. “Oh, Koo━”

He almost slips behind you in his eagerness to obey, awakening something animalistic in him, a yearning to just release all the tension in his core. This time, he adapts a measured pace, forceful thrusts that have you crying out in delight each time. One hand reaches up to grip at your shoulder to steady himself while his other slithers around your front to grasp at your breasts, all wet and supple, pinching at your nipples.

“So good,” he moans, pressing sloppy kisses just below your ear. His breath is hot as he pants behind you, sending tingles down your spine. “Fuck━”

His voice is cut off by a whine, hips bucking forward in an unsolicited manner as he feels his high drawing near. You lean your head onto his shoulder, stretching your arm out so that you can tug desperately at his hair. It’s a silent, simple command, but it’s one that he immediately understands even without you speaking.

“Wanna feel you━” You whimper. “Wanna see you.”

Jungkook nearly slips as he fumbles to pull out of you, hissing at the loss of warmth and friction. As soon as you’ve turned to face him, he wastes no time in closing the distance between you. He pushes his leaking cock past your folds once more and continues at the same pace as if he had never even stopped to begin with.

“Fuck,” he whines. “Not gonna last━”

You wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him even closer to you, as he presses you against the glass. He hitches one of your thighs around his waist, spreading your legs just wide enough to hit a certain spot that has both of you crying out. You’re clinging so tightly to him, fingers digging harshly into his skin in an attempt to alleviate the building pressure you feel. He knows you’ve almost reached your end when you resort to a gasping, moaning mess, writhing beneath his broad stature.

“Close, baby?” he hums.

You open your mouth to respond but can only muster a whimper. His pace treads over to heedlessly frantic, the sound of skin against skin and the lewd wetness filling the shower. Despite his hips pounding into yours so harshly, his fingers flutter so delicately under your chin, grasping it and moving your head just enough so that you’re facing him.

“Lemme see you,” he grunts. “Wanna watch you when you cum all over my cock. Always so pretty.”

“I━ I’m━ Fuck, Koo━”

But you can’t finish your thought.

You keep your gaze fixated on Jungkook’s, however exhausted and weary it may be. Your lashes flutter, brows knit together, and you suck your lower lip between your teeth, biting so hard Jungkook’s certain you’ll bruise it. Another few hard thrusts and then you’re reaching your high, overcome by such an intense burning that you can’t help but look away out of instinct. You cry his name, face contorting in pure pleasure, and chest arching to meet his. You’re clenching so tightly around him has him sputtering for air, nearly collapsing entirely against you. You’re near dripping around his cock which only means he almost slips from you with each draw of his hips that he makes. It’s why he sloppily rocks his hips into yours, desperate to reach his own high as well.

When you return to your senses, blinking away your blurry vision, you can make out Jungkook cooing into your ear, “That’s it, baby. Doing so well.”

You meet his gaze once more, only this time you’re perhaps even more tired. Hooded eyes watch him, silently probing him to his climax. He comes tumbling towards it, a few more short thrusts of his hips and, finally, he’s there. He slams his hips up into yours one final time, crying out, and then he’s releasing into you in an overwhelming abrupt gush. Only he can’t quite enjoy it because, out of genuine accident and driven by impatience to just get off, the last jerk of his hips hits you a little too hard.

It’s what causes you to slip backward and he, so lost in his own reverie, hardly has a proper grip on you or where he’s standing. When you lose your footing beneath you, slipping on the wet porcelain of the tub, and comes crashing down, he’s brought along with you. “Oh, fuck━!”

The both of you yelp from the surprise, your hands flailing out to brace yourself for the fall.

Fortunately, you land on him when you reach the bottom of the tub, courtesy of him grabbing onto you last second so that he can soften the blow upon impact.

Unfortunately, the breath is knocked out of him from the startle and from the sudden added weight of you on top of him with no warning.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he groans.

“In hindsight,” You wince as you shift your weight above him, “maybe having sex in the shower again wasn’t the greatest idea. Remember last time when we knocked the shower curtain down and I had to get stitches on my elbow? It’s why we got the glass door installed, and then we had to lie to Tae about it.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” He tilts his head back, rubbing a hand over his face. Then, he flashes you an all too charming smirk. “Was kinda worth it though.”

You giggle, sounding so sweet and angelic, even despite the way his cum still leaks from you. Somewhere in the fall, his dick had slipped from you and now lays softening on his stomach which, really, is probably the worst part of the accident to him. He already misses the warmth of you wrapped around him, your mingling cum a dirty mess around him. You prop yourself up on his chest with your palms, but before you can even think to respond, you notice something out of the corner of your eye.

A small mass of fur in the shape of little Yeontan has just poked his head through the crack in the door, oblivious to you and Jungkook’s compromising position. And then, shortly following behind him, is his equally oblivious owner who must have forgotten something in the apartment to bring him back so suddenly.

“Tannie, get back here━ We gotta go━ Oh, Jesus, what the fuck?” Taehyung appears at the door for a millisecond before noticing the situation he’s just stumbled upon. Thankfully, he acts fast, and clamps a hand over his tainted eyes, clumsily scooping up Yeontan in his other hand. “Can you guys please stop fucking all over this damn apartment? My son’s eyes are too pure for this!”

And then he’s retreating, but not before bumping blindly into the doorframe, grumbling along the way. It’s silent for a moment as you and Jungkook gawk at one another; then you hear Taehyung leave the apartment once more, and the both of you dissolve into a fit of unabashed laughter.

“Are you okay?” You ask once you’ve calmed down enough as he reaches out to shut the shower off. You plant a kiss in your boyfriend’s hair. “You hit your head coming down.”

Jungkook’s heart swells at your gentle touches and smiles. “I’m fine,” he promises brightly. “You?”

“Well, you did just thoroughly fuck me, so━” You shrug innocently. “I’m kinda still too giddy to even care.”

“I’m gonna make it up to you,” he says. “For almost giving you a heart attack with my hair and for almost putting you in the emergency room again just now.”

The mention of his hair draws your attention to it once more. It’s not as wet as before, damp azure waves falling into his eyes that you brush away gingerly.

“Yeah,” You snort, “but I’ve decided I like your hair. Like, really like it.”

“Yeah?” he grins wide. “What was the deciding factor?”

You pause, as if to think for a moment. Exhaustion riddles your body and you know sleeping curled up next to Jungkook is nearing your future, but for now you let yourself entertain the last remnants of whatever lewd thoughts are still on yours and his minds before they fizzle away completely. You can’t help yourself anyway. The blue really is nice.

“Definitely the view of you eating me out,” You say. “And can’t forget how pretty it looks when I’m pulling at your hair.”

“Say no more,” he beams. “Then I’ll make it up to you by making you cum on my tongue again and again and again.”

The last thing he hears before he grabs at your cheek to softly pull you down to him for one last kiss, slow and ardent, is a bubbly giggle from you that delights him to no end.

“That’s a good boy.”

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

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rendevousz · 3 years

Text

niagara falls of blood?

avengers x fem!teen!reader

summary: pretty much what the title is, you on your period

warnings: your moodswings ig

word count: 2765

"rise and shine, y/n!" you hear an annoying voice sing just as the lights flickered on. you grumbled something inaudible, hiding underneath your blanket to shield yourself from the brightness that steve just brought upon your room.

"y/n/n, come on. wakey-wakey!" you groan, feeling super unmotivated to train today. you even felt like punching steve in his perfect-looking face just for waking you up at the crack ass of dawn. this was unusual because you loved jogs before the sun came up and trainings before it hit noon.

"steve, if you don't shut the hell up right now, i'm gonna push you into that lake beside our usual jogging route."

"jeez, y/n, woke up on the wrong side or what?" he teases, finally leaving once he saw you were already sitting up. you groggily walked to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth before changing into your workout clothes.

"no!" you whine when you saw that you were on your period. that's why you were in a crappy mood when steve woke you up. you begrudgingly dressed up after putting on a pad, grabbing a small towel on the way out.

like you did every morning, you were gonna go on a run with steve, bucky and sam. while you loved running, you hated how steve and bucky "cheated" —as you and sam liked to call it— with their super soldier staminas. that was why you loved having sam there. not only was he great company but he was also moral support because you two would always be hilariously overtook by steve and bucky multiple times. but that didn't matter because you two would always be completely immersed in your conversations every time.

but not today though. you already knew today was going to be different. you had gotten a bad start to the day with steve's and your usual morning routine which somehow annoyed you this one time. and having to run around with your cramps definitely didn't help lighten your mood.

"kid, you okay?" sam asks from your right side. you'd been silent throughout the whole run and sam knew something was up when you didn't laugh at his jokes like how you usually would. "just cramps. they're hurting a lot so i'm probably gonna skip training today." you explain and he slowed down his pace causing you to slow down too since you always had to run side by side.

"y/n/n, you should probably stop now if you're having cramps. it might make it worse—i think? i don't know, actually. i don't know how periods work but i know cramps hurt a lot so i think you should stop. yeah, you should stop." his rambling speech made you feel a bit better now knowing he wants you to take care of yourself. "you know what? yeah, i think i'm gonna go. sorry i have to leave you with the two cheaters."

he smiled at you, telling you not to worry about it. you were touched and your mood significantly brightened but before you could reply him, rhythmic footsteps echoed from a distance from behind you two and you knew what was coming.

"on your left."

before steve and bucky could just pass by peacefully like they did the past nine times, you managed to throw a punch to steve's side, effectively slowing him down when he stumbled and then completely stopped. "what gives, y/n?!" bucky then stopped too, wanting to know what was up.

"that's for this morning." you glared at him and he looked at you in confusion, holding onto his side where you punched him. though you were significantly smaller than he was—than any of them were, really—, you could definitely throw a punch. speaking of punch, you gave him another on his other side and he flinched, giving you an incredulous look, one that resembled betrayal.

"and that's for being a cheater." you narrowed your eyes at him. "oN yOuR LeFt." you mocked him, rolling your eyes before ultimately leaving the trio to walk back to the tower. they looked at your fading figure and exchanged looks with each other in confusion. "what...what just happened?"

"y/n's on her period so we gotta be careful with her." sam explained and steve being steve, his cheeks tinted slight pink as the thought slightly embarrassed him.

"period? you mean the niagra falls of blood," bucky states, taking a long sip out his water bottle. sam rolled his eyes at this but nodded anyways. "also, she doesn't want training today so unless any of you have a death wish, don't call her down for anything other than for food, got it?"

"yes, sir."

"got it."

"you do it,"

"i don't want to, you do it."

"can one of you just do it? why don't you guys want to wake y/n up?" nat stopped bucky and steve's little argument as she turned away from the stove for a bit. "you two love waking her up and carrying her down to eat. what happened?"

"womanhood happened," steve mumbled bitterly, rubbing his sides where you hit him this morning. apparently you had hit him hard enough to bruise a little. nat rolled her eyes in realisation. "period?"

"no, no, not period. satan's montly ritual inside of y/n. you should've seen her this morning, nat. it was like she was possessed!" steve exaggerates. "okay, let's not be dramatic here," bucky rolls his eyes at his best friend. steve only looked at him with fear in his eyes and bucky sighs. "fine, i'll do it. but if i don't return, tell sam he still can't have my snacks. no one can have my snacks."

nat only shakes her head before turning back to the stove to finish cooking lunch.

meanwhile, bucky was making his way up to your room. deep down he was scared to face you after your episode in the morning. "y/n/n? doll, it's lunch." he spoke when he entered your room. he melted when he saw you all snuggled up in bed, asleep, hugging your life-sized teddy bear that tony gifted you last christmas.

"doll? time to eat," he whispered, gently shaking you awake. you slowly opened your eyes to see bucky sitting on your bed, trying to wake you up from your nap. "what time is it?" you asked, rubbing your eyes, your lips jutting out subconsciously. bucky internally cooed at how adorable you looked. "it's afternoon, you skipped breakfast so nat wants you to eat lunch." he tells you.

"tell her i'm sleepy," you said, adjusting yourself back under the blanket. "y/n/n, you gotta eat. nat's gonna kill me if i go back down there without you." he shakes you again and you look up at him with you doe eyes. "then don't go back down. cuddle me, jamesie!" you pouted, giving him your best sad puppy look.

he had a brief internal battle with himself before losing and giving in, slipping next to you and hugging you, providing you warmth that even your blanket couldn't provide. bucky knew nat would have his head but how could he say no to that adorable face? and you using his real name? ultimate weakness.

soon, you were back asleep, cuddling up to him. he smiled down at you, loving how peaceful you seemed when you were sleeping. and before he knew it, he too fell asleep.

"what's taking him so long?" nat huffed and steve's jaw dropped slightly, looking at her in worry. "who's telling sam he can't have bucky's snacks?"

"don't be ridiculous, steve. go get them or i'm telling sam he can't have your snacks too." steve sighs, getting up from the barstool and making his way up to your room.

safe to say he was expecting pretty much anything but the sight of you and bucky asleep, cuddled up to each other. steve's lips jutted out and he cooed at you both. he snapped a quick picture before approaching you two, sitting on your bed beside your sleeping figure.

"y/n/n? sweetie, you need to eat." he says softly as he shook you awake. the shaking seemed to wake bucky up too and when your eyes fluttered open, steve smiled down at you. "bubba? it's lunch," he looks over at bucky in disappointment for having fallen asleep when he had a task. bucky only shrugs his shoulders as if saying 'hey man, i had no choice'.

"stevie?" you groaned out and he smiled. "come on, let's go have lunch, nat is waiting downstairs." he tries to get you to sit up but you resist. "come sleep, stevie," you pulled the same trick you did with bucky and it's no surprise the blond super-soldier fell for it too. everyone had a soft spot for you.

steve laid next to you and you're then sandwiched between two super-soldiers, already falling back asleep in just seconds.

"you know nat's gonna kill us, right buck?"

"then let her try. we can use y/n/n to get out of it. i mean, can you even recall the last time anyone said no to that adorable face?"

"sam says no to her sometimes."

"yeah but he always ends up feeling bad so,"

"okay yeah, you're right."

"that's exactly why we're stuck in this situation, right dear ol' stevie? so i say we just sleep and if nat tries to scold us, we'll technically be under y/n/n's protection because nat won't scream in our faces in front of her."

"good call. night, buck."

"night, steve."

"i can't believe i sent two super-soldier idiots to go wake up y/n on her period. i didn't think they meant it literally when they were afraid they weren't gonna come back." nat paces around the kitchen and wanda watches in amusement. it had been almost a whole hour since bucky was sent to get you and thirty minutes since steve was sent to do so too and both men hadn't returned with you for lunch.

"do you really think y/n/n is having a temper tantrum or something and those idiots are caught in the middle of it?" nat asks and wanda shook her head. "i doubt. y/n can get a little cranky but only if provoked. y/n on her period is overall a sweetheart like she always is. maybe steve was being annoying this morning. i mean, he always is annoying during morning jogs because he always has to announce when he overtakes us." wanda rolls her eyes at the fact.

"okay, you know what? come with me to get them. i mean with our joint forces, there's no way we're going to get sucked into whatever those idiots did. let's go,"

nat didn't give the younger woman a chance to reply before she's storming upstairs to your room and wanda had no choice but to rush along.

"well? are we going to wake them up or what?" wanda asks nat, not taking her eyes off the adorable sight she was met with right as she entered your room.

"i want to get mad at steve and bucky for not waking her up because she hasn't eaten yet but somehow i can't." nat states, looking like she's having an existential crisis.

"well, no lunch for these three, i guess. they better have dinner though or i'm actually going to get mad. let's go, wands." nat closes your door, but not before snapping a pic of you three cuddled up and sending it to the group chat.

nat: [attached photo]

peter: OMG SHE LOOKS SO TINY AND ADORABLE SQUISHED IN BETWEEN THOSE TWO 🥺🥺🥺

tony: IS THAT SAFE? CAN MY BABY EVEN BREATHE PROPERLY?????? NAT WHY ARE YOU JUST LETTING IT HAPPEN

wanda: stark, she's fine

thor: aw, i hope lady y/n gets all the rest she needs. she looks peaceful 🥰

clint: wait no fair i wanna cuddle her too 🥺😭

sam: dang it does this mean i still can't have bucky's snacks

bucky: stay away from my snacks.

"look who finally decided to show." you hear tony tease when you finally came down to dinner.

after waking up an hour prior, you woke up the two super-soldiers sandwiching you by pushing them off your bed. they couldn't even be mad at you when you had burst out in contagious laughter at your own stunt, before leaving to let you wash up.

"how are you feeling, sweetie?" bruce asks you as you sat in between him and tony on the dining table. "i'm good, bruce, why do you ask?"

"we've been hearin' a lot about you today, cupcake." tony winks at you before continuing to eat his food. you pout at him. "bad things?"

"no, no, no, not bad things, never bad things. you're the sweetest little cupcake and everyone loves you. now eat your food," tony pretends to make an angry face at you and you listen to him, smiling as you do so.

after dinner, you decided to lounge in the common room for a bit to watch tv and thor, clint, wanda and sam decide to join you.

"what are we watching?" sam asks as he plops down next to you on the couch. "i don't know, i'm kinda in the mood to watch my little pony." you quipped happily. "my little pony? that stupid ponies cartoon where the purple unicorn has magic and becomes a princess?"

"it's not stupid," you muttered under your breath, suddenly getting upset that he thought my little pony was stupid. "if you guys don't want to watch, i guess we can watch whatever you want." you told the rest who were already seated, a sad expression on your face.

"bubs! of course we want to watch it! right, sam?" wanda glares at sam as she asked him through gritted teeth. "y–yes! yes, we'll watch my little pony!" he replies quickly. "okay!" you cheer, leaning back against the couch as you turned the show on.

after an episode was done, you seemed to have gotten the others hooked on it because they asked for another episode. well, except for sam because he decided one episode was enough and it was time to sleep so he left.

"okay," you giggled, happy that they liked the show. "but i'm going to go get my snacks first." you walked to the kitchen to quickly get your bag of pretzels from the pantry. you were pretty sure it was the period moodswings that were causing your emotions to be all over the place because you cried. you cried because you were so excited to go get your snacks, only to find that it had been stolen.

you trudged back into the living room with a tear-stained face and wanda immediately stands up. "bubs, what's wrong?" she held both your shoulders as she looked down at you. you hiccup. "i–i think pete took my pretzel sticks." you pouted to try keep the incoming tears at bay but they managed to drop anyways.

"i'll kill him," clint stands up, hands held out in a fighting stance. "how dare he steal y/n/n's snacks." wanda rolls her eyes at his antics and gives him a look that tells him to back down.

"lady y/n," thor calls from his spot on the couch. you turn to him. "i have a stash of poptarts if you want?" he offered and as kind as his intentions were, you only wanted your pretzel sticks. you dropped down to the floor, staring silently into nothing.

"y/n," clint places a hand on your shoulder, trying to get you to get up but you didn't. you looked up at him with a small pout and glossy eyes and he cracked. "alright, thor, come with me to the grocery store. we're getting y/n/n's snacks,"

thor immediately gets up, following clint out the door. you couldn't believe that the avengers' own archer and god of thunder were willing to go out just to buy you snacks.

twenty minutes later, they came back with bags of different snacks but most importantly, your pretzel sticks. you ran to them, giving them the biggest hug you could give, prompting chuckles and hair ruffles from them. "anything for you, kiddo."

despite having just gotten your snack, you fell asleep ten minutes into the next episode and thor goes to carry you back to your room. he sets you down gently on your bed, pulling your blanket up so that you were warm.

"sleep well, lady y/n." he kisses the side of your head before leaving. and sleep well you did because you had an awesome family take care of you.

taglist <3

@amourtentiaa

#avengers x teen!reader #avengers x reader #avengers fluff #bucky barnes x teen!reader #steve rogers x teen!reader #tony stark x teen!reader #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #wanda maximoff x teen!reader #thor odinson x teen!reader #clint barton x teen!reader #sam wilson x teen!reader #bruce banner x teen!reader #marvel x teen!reader

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mellowswriting · 3 years

Note

I saw that requests are open! would it be possible for you to write a follow up to Second Chances with javi and reader? Maybe you have another kid and this time javi is able to be there for you throughout the whole pregnancy, and get to experience the first kick, you giving birth, etc (I am a sucker for domestic!javi if you can't tell haha) I think it would be really cute!!

From the Beginning

pairing || Javier Peña x afab!Reader

summary || Javier gets to experience the chaotic excitement of welcoming a new baby to the family.

word count || 6,466

warnings || kid fic, pregnant reader, non-graphic childbirth, some spiciness but no smut, dad!Javi being adorable

a/n || I can’t even express how much I love writing about the boys as dads, especially Javier! I really hope you all enjoy this, it was so very much fun to write.

Main Masterlist | Join the taglist!

Early spring mornings always had a special quality about them. The air was never too hot, pleasantly warm with a hint of a cool breeze that still lingered from winter’s sharp grip. Plants were beginning to bloom, the trees regaining their bright green foliage that ruffled in a symphony with every pass of the wind. Spring was the bringer of warmth after the ice and snow, the nurturer that coaxed seeds to sprout and flourish, the guide for new life and hope.

Ironic, then, that those very qualities you had grown to love were the ones causing you so much inner turmoil that you couldn’t even enjoy the gorgeous morning happening around you. You hadn’t even realized what was happening at first. Mother nature hadn’t exactly gifted you with a cycle that could be easily followed and predicted. Instead you had the supreme pleasure of having to carry around menstrual products everywhere you went and having to replace your underwear far more often than usual. So when you went two months without the waves of cramps and frustration of your period, it wasn’t all that remarkable.

It was when you were doing some last minute grocery shopping the night before that you realized something was off. Well, more off than usual. The sight of the shelves of tampons made your stomach bottom out with realization. You must’ve made quite a sight as you stood in that aisle with a cart half full of food, just staring at tampons with dread. Two boxes of pregnancy tests got tossed in with the various other items in your cart and you hoped that Javier was too tired from work to insist he help you put away the groceries.

For once, the universe appeared to be on your side. Your husband was sitting on the floor with Elianna, a spread of coloring books and crayons scattered on the living room carpet, and he actually listened to you when you waved him off to carry the bags in yourself. The tests were tucked away in the bathroom behind your tampons - ironic, yes, but it was the one place Javier really wouldn’t be poking around.

Honestly, a part of you felt bad for not telling Javier right away. He had more than proven himself as a great father and husband in the nearly two years since he returned to your life. Those irrational little fears of him leaving you and little Ellie had been crushed into nothing in the wake of the role he readily took on with his daughter, but this was different. Maybe it was pretty naive of you to not have that conversation with him, but it was something you thought you still had time for.

The plus sign on the pregnancy tests told you the time for that conversation was now, apparently. You were grateful for the timing of your little realization. Saturday mornings saw the standing trend of your sister whisking Ellie away for some ‘auntie and niece time’, and you really didn’t want her to feel the tension you were carrying. She was such a perceptive little girl that had an eye for everything.

Javier was still asleep. You usually slept in with him on the weekends, but you were restless to find out if your period was just pulling a fast one on you or if you actually were pregnant. Now you had four positive tests sitting in front of you and a sleeping husband who you couldn’t decide whether or not to wake up. Luckily, you ended up not having to make that choice since two sharp raps of his knuckles against the bathroom door snapped you out of your trance.

The door opened a millisecond after you snatched up the tests and hid them behind your back, not so unlike Ellie when she was hiding a treat she wasn’t supposed to have yet. The difference was that you didn’t know if this would be a treat to Javier. He was still half asleep, his thin pajama pants slug low on his hips and his eyes squinted against the bathroom light.

“G’morning,” He grunted as he moved to shuffle past you. “Move over, I gotta piss.”

You were rooted to the spot, though, your brain floundering to gain control of your muscles. “Uhm…”

“What’s wrong?” Javier slowly perked up through his sleepy haze at the realization that you looked downright terrified. He put his hand on your bicep and squeezed slightly. “Is Ellie okay?”

“What? No, yeah, Ellie’s fine. She’s with Amelia.” You spluttered, cringing at your inability to function.

“Then why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Javi pressed. There really wasn’t any hiding things from him. Ellie must get that sharp eye of hers from her father. “What are you holding behind your back?”

You tried to swallow down the thickness that enveloped your throat to form some sort of words, literally anything to convey to him what the hell was going on, but your body was seized with fear. So you held out the tests wordlessly. His eyebrows furrowed as he took the bundle of tests from your hand, staring at them with a split second’s confusion before it dawned on him. “This…? You…?”

“Yeah.” You whispered. The worry in your voice must’ve been obvious because Javier was on you in a second flat, his arms crowding you into his chest with a crushing strength.

“You’re pregnant?” Javier croaked into your neck and the dam of emotion in your chest crumbled. His voice was full of excited disbelief, and relief crashed over you.

“Yeah, I am.” You said with a tearful chuckle, winding your arms around him to burrow yourself even further into his chest. “I know we never really talked about having another kid but… is this something you want, Javi?”

“Fuck, this is ironic.” Javier laughed quietly and when you looked up at him, he avoided your eyes with an almost bashful look. “I was gonna ask you today if you ever thought about it. Do you have any idea how many times I went over it in my head?”

You couldn’t help it - you cracked up laughing. The whole thing was almost ridiculous - the both of you worrying despite wanting the exact same thing. Tears of relief and laughter soaked into his t-shirt as you both broke into chaotic laughter, fingers clutching at each other’s shirts as you tried to catch your breath.

“So, uh… are we doing this?” Javier sounded nervous, his hands rubbing up and down your back as if to reassure himself. “You really wanna have a baby with me? Again?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was choked with a tense mix of emotions, so you cleared your throat and tried again. “Yeah, I do.”

“I can’t… fuck, I can’t believe you - you’d… thank you.” He babbled, nearly unintelligible in his scramble to convey how fucking grateful he was, but you knew. It wasn’t the first time you had heard the desperate need to spit words he couldn’t really find, the words that matched the swell of emotions in his chest that still wasn’t used to voicing. “Fuck, Ellie’s gonna be such a good big sister.”

That choked you up more than you expected. She really would be, you knew that for a fact, but it was a dream you had boxed up and shoved on a shelf with all your other unrealistic dreams for your future. Never in your life did you let yourself really think you could have the whole package deal - the loving (albeit gruff) husband, the big house, the sound of little feet chasing each other through the halls…

“Wait, how long have you been…? Or do we have to see a doctor first? Oh shit, we have to find a doctor for you, what the fuck are they called..? A fucking... obstetrician!” Javi rambled in a mix of nerves and excitement, breaking from your embrace to pace the length of the bathroom. “How are you feeling? Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help, because -”

“Javi, breathe!” You calmed him with both hands out to stop his walking and braced your hands on his shoulders to rub at him firmly. “We have plenty of time, okay? Let me go make some coffee for you and we can sit down and make a plan. First, didn’t you have to go to the bathroom?”

“Oh… yeah.”

----------

Javier couldn’t stop bouncing his knee. It was a subconscious thing, something he stopped the moment he realized but soon found it moving of its own volition all over again. He really was trying not to let his nerves show even though he knew that you could tell. It was all so new to him, which wouldn’t be a problem if the reminder didn’t gut him every goddamn time. He couldn’t imagine how alone you must have felt the first time around when you were pregnant with Elianna, especially in these cold, sterile doctors offices.

His grip tightened on your hand. The feeling of your fingertips pressed against the top of his hand kept him grounded, helped him remind himself that there was no going back and changing everything else that happened. All he could do was be there this time around, be the best version of himself that he could be for you and his kid - well, kids now. Plural. The excitement was almost enough to drown away the guilt. Javi really could barely believe that he was getting the privilege of experiencing this with you.

“I’ve seen files on drug lords shorter than all that.” Javier nodded at the pile of forms and paperwork you held in your lap and you laughed brightly. He preened a little at the sound. It was something he could never get enough of, that laugh of yours. “I love you.”

You looked up at him, the pen in your hand stopping its constant scratching for the first time in forever, and gave him a lopsided smile. “I love you, too.”

There was no way he wasn’t going to kiss you after that adorable little display. Your cheek felt soft against his palm and the little sigh of relief you huffed against him was addictive. Just knowing that he was an anchor for you made Javier feel so incredibly loved and important and all he wanted to do was imbue you with that same sense of security. He held you close, his hand slipping back to the back of your neck to keep you right where he wanted you, and gave you those soft little kisses that never failed to make you melt.

“Mrs. Peña?” A nurse called out and he had no choice but to let you go with one last peck against your lips. He followed you and the nurse into the exam room, nerves and excitement soaring even higher in his chest.

It was kind of fascinating, watching you answer the nurse’s barrage of questions. Questions about your medical history, how many pregnancies you’ve had, all about your menstrual cycle. The two of you went back and forth for at least fifteen minutes, tossing questions and answers back and forth like a tennis match. The nurse left with the promise of the doctor being in momentarily for an ultrasound.

“Come hold my hand?” You asked, and how could he deny such a sweet request?

“Of course,” He pulled a chair from across the room and settled himself next to the exam table, both of his hands wrapping around one of yours as he brought it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “So what happens now?”

“The doctor will give me an ultrasound. She’ll probably want to run some blood tests, too.” You sighed, obviously uncomfortable at the thought of needles.

“I’ll hold your hand then, too.” Javier promised.

“It’ll be good practice for you, ‘cause once I’m in labor I’ll probably break your hand.” You teased and yeah, broken fingers didn’t sound all that great but fuck, he was more than ready to let you do just that. Javier wanted to be your rock, wanted to support you through it all - especially since he couldn’t the first time.

Two quick knocks sounded against the door made Javier straighten up hastily. The doctor came in with a smile and a large machine wheeling in behind her. “Good morning, mom and dad! How’re we feeling?”

“All good here, Dr. Hall. A little nauseous, but still… good.” You gave Javier’s hand a little squeeze before letting go to unbutton your jeans and fold the waistband down, followed by pulling the hem of your shirt up. It was hard to believe that the beginning of an entire new life was right there between your hips.

“Good to hear!” Dr. Hall fiddled with the ultrasound machine for a moment before turning to you. “So today we’re going to take a look and find out how far along you are, make sure mom and baby both look healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” You and Javier said in unison, and he took your hand again, needing to feel you there with him.

The gel must’ve been cold based on the way you hissed slightly. Javier watched the screen as Dr. Hall trailed the wand over your belly, lips parting at the sight of the black and white image. It was hard to make out what exactly he was seeing at first, but the image shifted slightly and he could make out the tiniest, vague shape of the newest edition to his little family.

“It looks like you’re about ten weeks along.” Dr. Hall murmured without taking her eyes off of the screen. “Baby is about the size of a plum.”

Javier squeezed your hand lightly, the both of you sparing a glance at each other before staring back at the screen in wonder. The doctor pointed out the baby’s head and a little foot as she took her measurements, reassuring you both that everything looked perfect. He gave a rushed “yes, absolutely” when she asked if he wanted the ultrasound photos - there was a spot in his wallet that he had in mind for it already.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been in situations that left him shocked before. This was Javier Peña, after all. Life and career experiences had given him plenty of moments where his mind was completely washed blank with surprise, but never had it been such a good thing. There were so many times that the shock was accompanied by grief or anger, but excitement? Gratefulness? That was new to him, left him reeling the entire drive home, all throughout dinner. Something in the back of his mind nagged at him that he couldn’t be like this when Ellie got home the next day. She was smarter than he could’ve imagined any kid being at three years old and even though he agreed with your assertion that no one should know about your pregnancy for a few more weeks at least, Javier was certain his daughter would be able to needle it out of him.

Those expert interrogation skills must be hereditary.

It wasn’t until he was getting ready for bed that it really hit him how real it was, that you really were sitting in the bed you shared with him, pregnant with his baby and making plans for the usual Sunday brunch and park visit you all did every week. As he set his wallet on the nightstand, he couldn’t help but pull out the little ultrasound picture. He had a feeling he would be doing that a lot, especially when the new cadets were driving him crazy at work. It all swelled up in his chest, the appreciation and excitement and disbelief, because holy shit, how did he get so lucky? One finger traced the little image in his hand, and he couldn’t help but blurt out, “Thank you.”

The confused look you gave him made him flounder for the words.

“I just… I know everything was fucked up the first time around but I swear, it’s going to be different this time. I am not going anywhere.” Javier slid closer at the sight of the tears in your eyes, easily welcoming your arms around his neck as you practically drug yourself into his lap. He held you close to his chest, trying to instill the certainty and promise of it all. “God, fuck, and I thought I couldn’t get enough of you before…”

“Javi…” You croaked, laughing wetly into his neck.

“I’m serious! You’re gonna have to tell me to fuck off when you want space because I can’t keep my hands off you.” Javi teased, relief washing over him at your seeming acceptance of his promises. “And now like this, growing my baby… fuck, I am in this with you. Me and you and Ellie… and our little plum.”

That night, Javier fell asleep with his head on your shoulder, his face buried in your neck, and his hand tucked into the waistband of your sweatpants to cradle that precious space that held his newest child.

----------

Ellie couldn’t stop touting her new title to anyone who would listen.

“I’m a big sister!” She told the cashier at the grocery store, the other kids at the park and their moms for good measure, and even the mailman when they came by each morning. The brightness in her eyes when she said it made your heart flip in your chest. You had expected some sort of confusion or even for her to be upset at the idea of a new sibling, but she launched right into a story about how her friend from playgroup has a baby sister, and you knew that she would be just fine.

With your sixteenth week rapidly approaching, you couldn’t be more grateful that Ellie was excited for the new addition to the family. It was one less thing for you to worry about amidst the chaos of bringing a new person into the world. The fatigue was something you definitely didn’t miss about pregnancy - it washed over you without warning, left you nodding off wherever you sat. Thank god Javier was such a hands on father. He had no problem herding Ellie off into the backyard or off for a walk to let you get some much needed rest.

You hadn’t expected him to be such a hands on husband, though. Sure, you knew he was excited and you knew he already loved everything about your body, but he really wasn’t lying when he said pregnancy made him want you even more. Every night, Javi’s hands gravitated to your body to ease the kinks out of your muscles, to rub your feet until the aches went away, to cheekily offer you an orgasm if you were up for one. It made you feel cherished, something you sorely missed the first time you were pregnant.

“Thank you, Javi,” You groaned lowly as those strong hands of his worked at your lower back. He easily hitched your thigh up slightly to ease some of the pressure on the new swell to your belly. There was a slur in your voice when you said, “Feels so good.”

Javier chuckled behind you, moving on to rub your feet. “Be quiet, you don’t want to wake Ellie.”

“Did you ever see this being our life?” You murmured though your voice was muffled by the pillows you buried your head in. “Telling each other not to wake the kids, making bacon smiley faces for a toddler’s breakfast?”

“I didn’t think I’d actually get it, but I wished for it. Dreamt about how pretty you’d look all full of me.” Javi placed a teasing kiss to the inside of your thigh. “The real thing is so much better.”

You could only groan under his praise. His thumbs dug into the arch of your foot and rubbed in methodical circles, drawing another pleased groan from you that you muffled in your pillow. The pain slowly melted from your tired muscles under his thorough ministrations, leaving a pleasant warmth in his wake that made you all pliant and drowsy beneath him.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Javi asked as he rubbed his hands up your calves and you smiled. You knew exactly what he was gunning for.

You eased yourself onto your back and reached out for him with both arms, bringing him forward with grabby hands that he could never refuse. Javier settled between your thighs, a knowing smirk on his face, and leaned down to kiss you deeply. “‘M feeling good, Javi.”

“You know I love making my girl feel good,” Javi murmured as he kissed down your neck, one hand trailing back and forth over your hip and thigh lovingly. “Can I make you feel even better?”

“Please?” You asked breathily and your husband was more than happy to oblige. The loose tank top you wore was the first to go, followed quickly by your shorts and underwear.

Javier set about lavishing your neck and chest with affection, his touch more gentle than usual on your oversensitive breasts, and once again you were struck by the surrealness of it all. The fact that this had begun in Colombia all those years ago as two coworkers using sex for stress relief and had blossomed into this beautiful life you shared together was a thing of dreams. But there you were, with Javier Peña making love to you, quietly as to not wake your daughter and gently as to keep you and your baby safe and happy, and you could barely believe it.

“I love you,” You choked out through the tears that sprung into your eyes and Javi sat up to look at you with a concerned expression.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes roaming all over to find the apparent source of your tears.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You tried to pull him back down to you but he didn’t budge, the concern unwavering.

“Then why are you crying?” Javier brushed a thumb under your eyes to wipe away the evidence of your strong burst of emotion.

“Because I love you,” You chuckled as you held his hand close to your cheek and pressed a kiss to the middle of his palm. “And I’m pregnant, so everything is a thousand times more intense and you don’t get to tease me for that.”

“I would never,” Javi muttered but the mischievous grin on his face betrayed him. “Let me make you feel better, baby,”

“I’m already better, Javi - oh,”

----------

Two o’clock in the morning was not an ideal time to wake up, especially since Javier knew that Ellie would be awake and full of energy by seven, but something felt off. Even in his unconscious state, he could feel the absence of you in bed and his mind nagged at him to get up and find you. The hardwood was cold beneath his feet as he wandered from the bedroom, finding the bathroom empty before he made his way down the stairs. You often would rest on the recliner in the living room when your back was bothering you particularly bad, especially since your center of gravity had so drastically changed the further along you got in your pregnancy - but you weren’t there either.

Before Javi could start really worrying, he heard the refrigerator open and found you peering into the illuminated fridge in search of… something. A pint of ice cream was already in your hand, a spoonful of it hanging from your lips as you browsed with a frustrated look on your face, and honestly… Javi loved how you looked. It was so domestic and sweet, the sight of you in your pajamas that barely covered your belly as you raided the kitchen.

Thirty-six weeks and four days. He could barely believe how much time had passed since he saw those positive tests. It felt like forever and the blink of an eye at the same time, and he was beyond excited to meet his newest little one.

“What are you looking for, sweetheart?” Javi asked after a moment of watching you helplessly search around.

The sheepish smile you gave him made his heart swell in his chest and he automatically opened his arms as you shuffled over to bury your face in his chest. “Your kid is driving me crazy with the cravings.”

Javier hugged you tightly, relishing in the way you relaxed against him. “Well, if they’re anything like me, they probably want those barbecue chips, then.”

It didn’t take long for him to get you herded back up to bed with the chips in hand and the sight of you sleepily munching away while burrowed in the blankets eased an almost innate need Javier had to see you safe and happy, all nice and taken care of in his bed. He climbed into bed once he was sure you didn’t need anything else, settling on his side with his head propped up against his hand to watch you despite his own sleepiness.

“Let your mama sleep, troublemaker.” He murmured to your belly as he rubbed gentle circles over the spots he could feel the nudges of his little one retaliating to their father’s stern words. “Need some lotion?”

“Hmmm, please?” You hummed.

Rubbing lotion into your skin was something Javi had taken a particular liking to. The first time he had seen you doing it yourself, he was quick to take over. That was the first time he felt his little one kick at his hands and he fell even more in love - something he hadn’t thought was possible. It was a good way to feel closer to you both, to his wife and the baby you were bringing into the world, and the way you dozed slightly as he helped you relax made him feel needed, like he was doing right by you. That’s all he ever wanted to do.

A nudge to the edge of his hand made Javier glance back down to where his hands were running all over your belly, but it was the sight of the baby rolling that made him do a double take. “Holy shit,” He whispered, hands frozen as he saw what had to be the imprint of a little foot or hand poke out before disappearing. “There really is a whole person in there.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” You grumbled, grimacing slightly at the feeling. “It’s aerobics hour, apparently.”

“That’s fucking crazy.” Javi tentatively resumed massaging the lotion into your skin. It was hard to fathom, the idea that your body was so capable of creating and nurturing a brand new life, and for the millionth time he found himself thanking the universe for letting him have this second chance.

----------

Gabriel Peña came early, quick, and with a sharp cry you were sure could be heard throughout the entire hospital. His little nose was scrunched up, his face all red from his wailing, hands curled into angry fists over his sudden eviction from the warmth and darkness he was accustomed to. It was a short labor, so very different from your first with Ellie for so many reasons but the biggest being the strong presence of Javier at your side. The moment the contractions began at the crisp hour of six a.m., he was alert and full of nervous excitement.

True to his word, Javier let you clutch onto him through it all - every contraction, every push, every angered grumble you threw his way for getting you pregnant in the first place. That sharp mind of his kept up under the pressure. He spoonfed you ice chips and let you use him for support as you rocked your way through particularly bad contractions.

There were tears in Javier’s eyes as he carefully set his hand on his son’s head, carefully musing the shock of dark, wispy hair on his head. You leaned your head against Javi’s shoulder, exhaustion, relief, and happiness warring with each other after hours of labor. You felt his lips press against your temple before he sniffled and whispered, “Thank you.”

Javier stayed by Gabriel’s side the entire time the doctors checked him over and cleaned him up, per your instructions, and he was the one to return your son to your arms. It was the most careful you had ever seen him, his movements slow and deliberate, eyes on the baby’s adorable, chubby face.

“Seven pounds, nine ounces,” Javi murmured as he drug a chair as close to your bedside as possible and settled in, his hand resting on your thigh. A disgruntled whine came from the baby wriggling in your arms and you smiled, knowing he was hungry and could probably smell the milk your body had been preparing to make for his arrival. You pulled the gown down to expose your breast, propping your arm with a pillow to better support him, and adjusted his latch to settle in.

“Nice latch, mama,” One of the nurses said as she finished settling the blankets around your feet.

“Not my first time at this rodeo.” You chuckled quietly. It had been a while since Ellie weaned but you still remembered the struggle of figuring out how to get a newborn to latch properly when you had no idea what you were doing. You set your hand over Javi’s, smiling at him when he blinked sleepily up at you. Neither of you had gotten much rest before Gabriel decided to make his appearance into the world. “Can you hand me some water, honey?”

“Of course,” Javi perked up with the small task you gave him. There wasn’t much he could do at this point, but you wanted him to feel involved, to feel like he was helping you, and even though his mere presence helped you relax, you knew he was an ‘action’ kind of man. He needed something to do to feel useful. He held the straw steady for you and everything, your sweet husband. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired.” You answered honestly, leaning into his hand when he brushed stray hairs from your face.

“I know this wasn’t easy. I’m proud of you.” It was a simple statement but it hit you right in your chest. As excited as you were to have another baby, it was hard. Exhausting. He could see it all, how tired you were and how hard you were working just to carry on like normal through your pregnancy, and while he did everything he could to ease some of that burden, the plain acknowledgement of how hard you worked felt good.

“I love you so much.” You whispered, pulling his hand close to kiss his palm.

“I love you, too.” Javier leaned over the side of the bed and kissed you softly, careful not to jostle his son where he sleepily nursed against you. “How are our kids so damn cute?”

You huffed a laugh, which made Gabriel shift against you before settling back down, sighing suspiciously similar to his father. “It helps that their dad is incredibly good looking.”

“True,” Javi said, trying for that cocky tone you loved but you didn’t miss the pink tinge to the tips of his ears. Compliments always got him like that, all red-faced and adorable - though he would never admit it.

A short nap later and you had one very excited Ellie fidgeting in the chair next to your bed, impatiently waiting to meet her baby brother. Javier stood behind her, quietly reminding her to be careful as you helped keep the squirming newborn steady in her lap. Your heart damn near exploded when she began cooing at her brother and very gently touching his soft cheeks. She was enamored by him, asking so many questions that you and her father could barely keep up.

“Can we share my bed?” “No, he can’t sleep in your bed, baby. He has to sleep in a special bed in mommy and daddy’s room.”

“Does he get a special seat like me?” “Yep! Daddy’s putting his carseat in next to yours right now. You’ll get to talk to him the whole way home.”

“Is he gonna cry a lot?” “Yeah, he will. That’s how babies let people know they need something since they don’t have words like we do.”

“Can I share my crackers with him?” “Not yet! Right now, he only drinks milk.” “Milk? Like for cereal?” “Kind of, but it comes from your mommy.” “What?!” “You ate the same thing when you were a little baby, too.” “What?!”

The entire drive home was full of little Ellie chatting away at her baby brother, mostly about the stuffed animals she had at home that she promised to show him the moment they got home. There was a small smile on Javier’s face as he drove, his hand curled around yours on the center console. He practically radiated contentment and damn did it look good on him.

----------

For what felt like the millionth time, you woke before the sun had a chance to rise. Though this time, it was to the feeling of a full bladder rather than the sound of a hungry baby, so that could be counted as a small win at the very least. You tried to ignore the ache in your healing body as you stumbled your way to and from the bathroom, near silent in your movements even though you were half asleep. It was a well practiced dance, getting out and back into bed without waking your sleeping children.

But something was off. The sheets were cooler than usual, missing the fire-like heat that Javier radiated constantly. You sat up, blinking against the drowsiness and darkness to see your husband passed out on the rocking chair in the corner of the room with Gabriel curled up on his bare chest. Skin-to-skin contact was something Javier couldn’t get enough of. He told you how close it made him feel to his son and you couldn’t complain. It was a precious sight. Avoiding the creaky floorboards, you carefully covered Gabriel with a soft baby blanket and smoothed it down his back.

“S’wrong?” Javier mumbled, words slurred with sleep, his eyes barely cracking open. On instinct, his hands shifted over the little baby asleep on him to hold him closer, even more secure.

“Shh, nothing’s wrong.” You soothed as you gently tucked his curls back away from his forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

“M’kay.” And with that his eyes were closed, back to dozing like he was never interrupted in the first place. You were glad. Tomorrow was an early morning, and paired with all of the midnight feedings and diaper changes, you all could use some rest. So you laid back down, sleep dragging you back under swiftly.

Javier was practically bouncing with nerves just hours later, even though he was trying not to show it. It brought you back to that first appointment when you were pregnant, only this time he held a sleeping one-month old who he was trying not to wake up with his nervousness.

“I just want it to go well.” He grumbled when you asked if he was okay.

“It will.” You reassured him, rubbing circles into his knee. “They’re both perfectly healthy, the pediatrician will tell you that, too.”

You were right - then again, when weren’t you? Gabe was a healthy nine and a half pounds, strong heart and lungs, and good reflexes. Javier was hooked on the pediatrician’s every word, nodding along and giving you a relieved smile with each positive statement. And of course, Ellie’s rambunctiousness had the pediatrician and nurses completely captivated as she told them all about her preschool and the antics she got up to while they checked her over.

The pride on Javier’s face with every positive comment and reassurance that both of his kids were on track developmentally made your heart flip. You felt so beyond lucky to have this little family of yours, with two beautiful children and the man you always loved. It felt too good to be true sometimes, especially when Javi pulled you close for a tight hug and a kiss to the side of your head before he worked to get one wiggly Gabe back into his onesie.

One impromptu trip to the park later and you and Javier had two very tired kids on your hands. Ellie was already passed out by the time Javier pulled into the driveway but Gabe was quickly venturing into ‘overtired’ territory. He was grumpy, wriggling around in your arms like he couldn’t get comfortable, all the while giving little whines and grunts that threatened to turn into full on wailing. He didn’t want milk, he didn’t need a diaper change, he just wanted to sleep but was too frustrated to let a nap take him.

“Give ‘em here.” Javier offered and you freely handed him over. The postpartum fatigue was no joke, and even though it was lessening with each passing day, you were damn tired so you had no issue with letting your husband put the baby down for a nap. You curled up on the couch, not quite going to sleep but still letting your mind and body rest as you listened to Javi try to negotiate with Gabriel as if he were some sicario and not just a particularly stubborn baby.

“C’mon, little man. Just go to sleep. All of your problems if you went to sleep right now? Solved. Completely solved. Instead of crying you could just… go to sleep.” Javier whispered over the cooing and grunting of his son. “Oh, don’t give me that face, mister.”

You snorted a laugh - you knew exactly what face Gabe was pulling. His nose and eyebrows would scrunch up, lips pursed as he huffed angry breaths like a little baby bull. It was an exaggerated copy of the face Javier pulled anytime he was frustrated, which you found ridiculously adorable. Slowly, the grumpy grunts became more and more quiet until they disappeared completely, and a few moments later, Javier flopped down on the couch next to you with a sigh.

“Got him down.” Javi said as he pressed close to you, burying himself between the back of the couch and your body to press his face into your neck. A blanket of drowsiness must have settled over the entire house as both kids napped peacefully in their beds and you cuddled up to your husband in the living room. The both of you would doze until the sound of little feet on the hardwood or the sounds of a hungry baby woke you, and then it would be back on the grind of parenthood, but you knew… with Javier by your side, you could do it.

{Taglist}

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