#chip Taylor fluff
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The Sign
Pairing: Chip Taylor x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~ 3.5K
Warnings: Drinking, fluffly smut, creampie.
Summary: As Chip sought an escape from his troubles, a vibrant bar sign beckoned to him. Intrigued, he stepped inside, not knowing what the night had in store for him.
Preview: “Will you let me take care of you, Chip?” I ask in the sweetest tone, my voice laced with desire as his eyes met mine.“Please be gentle with me,” he begged with a pout.
A/N: I love Chip so much, just wanna hold him in my arms.
I hope you all enjoy it, and any and all comments are appreciated 🍒
MASTERLIST
The bar had settled into a quiet hum, with a scattering of regulars lounging at their usual spots, half-engaged in a random game flickering on the TV. I seized the opportunity to clean up the sticky residue left behind by a night of beer spills and colorful cocktails, wiping down the counter with rhythmic precision.
A gentle ding echoed through the air as the entrance door swung open, announcing the arrival of a new customer. He took a seat on a stool, keeping his gaze fixed downward. The words spilled out in a wearied tone: "Give me some Jack on the Rocks, please."
Responding to the request, I pivoted towards the top shelf, snagging Jack Daniels. With the clink of ice cubes, I poured a generous amount, recognizing from his demeanor that he could use it.
“There you go," I offered, sliding the drink across the freshly cleaned surface.
Only then that he lifted his head.
His eyes, a rich shade of brown, were captivating yet carried an air of melancholy and fatigue. As they met mine, I couldn't help but notice the subtle weariness etched into his features. A slightly busted lip hinted at a rough patch he might have navigated recently.
The man, who had just walked into the bar, possessed a unique kind of beauty. His eyes, reminiscent of warm mahogany, held stories untold beneath their gaze. The strong bone structure framed a face that seemed to wear the weight of experiences, and his soft and pink lips betrayed a vulnerability hidden behind a worn exterior. In his presence, there was an intriguing blend of strength and fragility—a captivating allure that set him apart in the dimly lit atmosphere of the bar.
His response, a quiet "thanks," hung in the air, leaving an air of mystery around him. Intrigue danced in the atmosphere as I observed him. There was a certain beauty in his quiet gratitude, a sense of vulnerability that added layers to the enigma before me.
His appearance struck a chord, akin to that of a lost puppy finding its way to unfamiliar territory. Despite his undeniable beauty, there was an air of solitude, a silent plea for understanding. As he sat there, seemingly adrift in his thoughts, I couldn't help but feel a tug of compassion, a desire to unravel the story behind those captivating eyes.
“Rough night, hun?” I queried, hoping to ignite a bit of conversation.
“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” he chuckled in response, his eyes briefly meeting mine before lowering again. There was a weight in his words, a heaviness that hinted at the struggles he might be carrying within.
I leaned on the counter, wanting to offer a sympathetic ear. “Well, you’re in good company. People say a bartender is like a makeshift therapist. We listen, pour drinks, and hope things get a little better.”
"I'd rather not talk about it," he said, taking a gulp of his drink.
"Oh...Yeah...that's more than okay. I'll be over there if you need anything." I spoke in a quiet voice, straightening up as if preparing to leave him to his thoughts.
Maybe he just wanted to be alone.
"Hey, no, no, no, stay. I… I´d really appreciate the company," he said, giving me the sweetest half-smile, his look softening.
The silence embraced us for a bit, before I decided to chime in again.
“So… I’ve never seen you around here before.” I leaned in once more, offering a different approach to the conversation.
"Yeah, I'm not from around here. Just passing through"
"Yeah, I knew I didn’t recognize your face. Small town, you know,” I remarked with a grin. “Do you have a name, or are you going for the mysterious stranger vibe?”
The hearty laugh that echoed from his chest illuminated his features with a small yet captivating smile. He was undeniably attractive; his grin seemed to brighten the entire room.
“It’s Chip, Chip Taylor,” he offered, his eyes carrying a spark of amusement.
"Nice to meet you, Chip. I'm Y/n," I offered, reaching my hand across the counter for a handshake. His grip was firm, yet his touch remained gentle, and the warmth in his hands felt inviting.
"Well, well, Mr. Taylor, what brings you to this little slice of paradise?" I asked as I poured a drink for myself.
He chuckled. "Honestly, I don't even know. I just got in the car and drove. When I saw the sign, I decided to come in.”
I jokingly said, "Guess the universe knew it; you needed a sign—literally."
We both laughed, and he agreed, "Well, I guess signs do work in mysterious ways."
“So, are you planning to stay for a couple of days, or is this just a one-night stop?" I inquired.
"Honestly, I don't even know. I didn't plan anything," he responded with a shrug, a hint of uncertainty in his expression.
"Sounds like someone will be sleeping in their car tonight," I joked, a playful smile accompanying my words.
"Well, it might just come to that. But who knows?" he said, offering me a smile as he took another sip of his drink.
As the night progressed, Chip and I found ourselves engrossed in conversation, our words flowing effortlessly. He proved to be easygoing and open, making the dialogue naturally enjoyable. Through our exchange, I learned that beneath the busted-out exterior, Chip was genuinely a sweet guy.
Sadly, it became evident that a girl had definitely made a number on his pretty little head, and from what I could gather, that seemed to have left him with a sense of being lost and lonely, undeserving of love.
As Chip shared tales about his ex-girlfriend, Liza, was her name, it was pretty clear that he had experienced a whirlwind of emotions. The warmth and kindness he exuded clashed sharply with the pain inflicted by someone he had once cared deeply for. Each word seemed to carry the weight of a past filled with unsuspecting toxicity.
Listening to him, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness for this beautiful soul who had been blindsided by the harsh realities of his last relationship. His genuine belief in love and commitment made the way she treated him more repulsive. I wondered how someone could overlook the treasure that Chip was—someone who radiated sweetness and cared for others with a sincere heart.
Yet, despite the wounds he carried, Chip maintained a certain innocence in his recounting. It was as if he couldn't fathom the depths of the toxicity until it consumed him. My heart ached for him, and I found myself wanting to shield this gentle soul from further harm.
As the other customers gradually left, Chip willingly joined me in tidying up the tables and washing the remaining cups. Amid laughter and shared stories, we closed the bar together, his presence a comforting company that made the tasks feel lighter.
"It might be your lucky day, Taylor," I told him as I watched him close the metal guards at the front.
"How so?" He asked in a gentle tone as he rose to his feet.
"Well, you helped me a lot tonight, and I just feel like I should return the favor. So, how about you crash at my place?" I offered; it was the least I could do for him. “It’s that one, right across the street.”
"Oh, Y/N, no way. I don't want to step into your space like that." He held his hands up as if unsure about accepting the invitation.
I grabbed his arm as I started to walk to my house. "Hey, it's okay, I insist. I bet my couch, although very old, is still more comfortable than your car." I laughed.
I noticed a hesitant yet grateful smile forming on his lips, a silent acceptance of the offer.
“Come on, Chip, you can even take a shower and change into some spare clothes I have lying around.”
“They’re my brother's. He has some spares at my house for when he stays here to help me out with the bar,” I offered a small explanation.
"And your boyfriend won’t mind me wearing his clothes?" His tone held a curious edge, a playful note that suggested a mix of light-hearted banter and genuine interest. There was a subtle spark in his eyes, as if he was testing the waters, teasing to see my reaction.
"His clothes or not, you're letting a stranger stay at your house. I bet he won't like it." He was now fidgeting with his fingers as he waited for me to open the door.
“Chip,” I laughed at his awkwardness, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
As we stepped into the house, I motioned for Chip to get comfortable.
“Can I get you anything?” I offered it in a sweet tone.
"I'm good, thank you,"
I grabbed some spare clothes for him. While he freshened up in the main bathroom, I decided to take a quick shower in my room.
Half-expecting to find him already asleep as I approached the living room, the soft glow of the lamp revealed Chip, not asleep but comfortably seated on the couch, engrossed isome random show playing on tv.
"You clean up nicely. Feeling better?" I asked.
Dressed in a white shirt and comfortable sweats, he seemed at ease.
As I studied his demeanor, it was evident that the stress had lifted off his shoulders. His posture became more relaxed, and the subtle lines of tension that had etched themselves across his face seemed to ease He exuded a sense of calm and peace, looking remarkably beautiful on my sofa. His lip, no longer marred with dried blood, revealed a gentler man, and the earlier signs of roughness had disappeared. He looked not just good, but like he belonged here.
Chip looked up with a soft smile on his lips.
"Much better, thanks to you," he replied.
“Anytime,” I said, returning his smile. “So, do you usually end up in random towns, or is this a first?”
He chuckled. “Well, it’s not a regular occurrence, but life has its surprises. Sometimes you just go with the flow.”
“Must make for some interesting stories,” I commented, settling onto the couch.
“You have no idea,” he said with a playful glint in his eyes.
As our conversation meandered through the night, Chip’s gaze softened, and a more vulnerable side emerged. He fidgeted with the edge of his shirt, his eyes occasionally dropping to his hands.
“You know...” he hesitated, “Meeting you, it’s been a bright spot in a bit of a rough patch.”
I smiled, sensing a genuine sincerity in his words. “I’m glad our paths crossed,” I admitted.
He sighed, a mixture of nervousness and contemplation in the air. “Can I be honest?” Chip looked up, meeting my eyes with a touch of uncertainty.
“Of course,” I encouraged, curious about the turn in our conversation.
He shifted on the couch and said, “I wasn’t expecting to feel this… comfortable. It’s like I’ve known you longer than just tonight.”
The vulnerability in his expression tugged at my heart. “Sometimes, connections happen unexpectedly,” I replied, choosing my words carefully.
Chip nodded, his eyes reflecting gratitude. “Maybe it’s the universe giving me a sign.”
There was a subtle shift in the air, an unspoken understanding between us. As I met his gaze, I noticed a hint of longing, a desire for connection that went beyond words.
He hesitated, then, with a shy smile, he said, “Would it be too forward if I said I’d really like to kiss you right now?”
I felt a warmth spreading within, appreciating his honesty. “Not too forward at all,” I admitted, mirroring his smile.
He inched his way to my face, his nose touching mine. I could feel his breath, smelling of the whiskey I had poured him earlier. His lips brushed over mine as if seeking confirmation, and in that moment, I leaned in, and our kiss began. It was soft, filled with affection, a gentle exploration of each other's feelings.
I brought my hands to his face, cupping it delicately. My fingers played with the soft hairs on the back of his neck. The kiss deepened slightly, each movement a synchronized dance of two souls finding solace in each other's company.
With a mild pull, we found ourselves sinking into the sofa, our lips meeting again in a sweet and unhurried kiss. The room seemed to fade away as we lost ourselves in the intoxicating warmth of the moment. Soft sighs and the light rustle of fabric became a symphony to my ears.
As our kisses deepened, the desire for closeness grew. Chip shifted his weight as he continued to savor the connection that seemed to deepen with each passing second. His hands traced gentle patterns on my back and sides.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured against my cheek.
"Chip, you have no idea how beautiful you are," I replied, my fingers gently tracing the contours of his face. "You’re so sweet and kind; you deserve nothing but love.” My eyes met his; his lips were open, but no words came out, so I continued, “I want to treat you right, the way you should have been treated before."
He looked at me with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. "I... I've never had someone say something like that to me."
My hand gently tugged at his neck as I whispered, "She didn't deserve you, Chip. Every little second she spent with you, she didn't deserve it."
He breathed in deeply, and I felt his Adam's apple bobbing under my fingertips as he looked up at me with his big brown eyes.
"Why are you being so good to me?"
In that quiet space right before our lips met again, you could practically feel the tension in the air. It was like this magnetic pull, and I swear, you could almost hear our hearts beating in sync.I could feel the gentle touch of his fingers, a feather-light caress that traced the contours of my face, leaving a trail of tingling sensations. The room was dim, but it felt like everything was glowing. You know those moments when time kinda stops? Yeah, it was one of those. I could sense his breath mixing with mine, and there was this unspoken language passing between our eyes. It was all anticipation, a sweet torture, and then, in a heartbeat, our lips crashed back together.
Our bodies synced in a rhythmic dance, his hips gently pressing into mine. The sensation of his hardness against the warmth between my thighs was like a wildfire spreading through me, making my toes curl in sweet response.
His hands explored the curves of my body, tracing a path that sent shivers down my spine. The touch was electric, making my breath catch in the midst of pleasure. Our mouths collided in a passionate exchange, each kiss leaving us both breathless and wanting more. His lips migrated from mine to my neck, leaving a trail of sweet kisses in their wake. Meanwhile, his hands found a comfortable spot on my hips, gently pulling me closer to him. The squeeze was tender, yet firm.
I guided him backward onto the couch, settling myself on his lap. Leaning in, I pressed soft kisses along his neck, the taste of his skin driving my desire. Running my teeth lightly against it, I elicited a quiet moan from him. Leaning further, our lips met in a fiery kiss, passion igniting between us. The world faded away as I lost myself in the intensity of the moment, our connection deepening with every shared breath and every stolen kiss.
“You’re driving me insane, Y/N," he whispered in my ear as his hands met my hips to guide me as I grinned on his fully hard but still covered dick.
“I’ve barely even started,” I chuckled as I placed small kisses on his collarbone. He responded with a sharp inhale, laying his head back and grinding his hips up to meet mine.
“Will you let me take care of you, Chip?” I ask in the sweetest tone, my voice laced with desire as his eyes met mine.
“Please be gentle with me,” he begged with a pout.
Those pretty brown eyes begging me were the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life, and it made me grow even hotter than before. I responded with a soft smile, placing a sweet kiss on his cheek and lowering myself on the ground in front of him.
“Y/n, you don't have to," but there was a subtle hint of hope in his eyes, secretly wishing I wouldn’t stop what I was doing. And so I didn't. As my hands laid flat on his thighs, I looked at him and said, "But I want to."
The whimper he let out was delicious, clearly growing desperate as my hands worked the string of his sweats. He raised his hips a little so I could help him out of them, freeing him completely.
“Baby... your cock is so pretty,” I told him with a sweet smile.
“Humm.. is it?” He asked in a quiet moan, with uncertainty coaxing his voice.
“Humm..humm” I placed a soft kiss on the tip. “The prettiest.” I then slowly started to kitten-lick before taking him into my mouth as my right hand started to move.
As his head fell back, his hand met the back of my neck. He couldn’t contain himself as he moaned loudly. Fuck, this man was vocal, and his soft moans and whimpers were making me wetter than ever before.
As I sucked on his cock, his hand pulled on my hair, guiding me however he saw fit. Suddenly, he pulled me up. "Please stop, or I’m going to cum," he moaned, his body shuddering with pleasure. “I want to be inside of you.”
Now was my turn to moan at his words; he sounded so sincere, like he longed for it.
As I rose from the ground, I took my pants off and motined for him to also take the rest of his clothes off.
I held a twinkle in my eyes as I suggested, “You want to help me out, pretty boy?”
He immediately lunged forward, grabbing my ass and pulling me close to his mouth. His open-mouth kisses on my stomach sent fireworks of pleasure through my body, and I felt as if every nerve in my body had lit up with desire.
His fingers grazed my sides as he hooked them on the fabric of my panties, pulling them down.
He then took my shirt off before pulling me into his lap once again.
I reached between us, taking his dick in my hand and lining it up with my entrance. As I sank down, he captured my lips once again, moaning in my mouth at the sensation of him filling me up.
“Fuck Chip, you feel so good, so big inside of me,” I said, looking into his eyes. He almost melted, his lips half open, letting a sweet moan escape.
“You’re so warm, Y/N, so tight." He hissed as I stared to move. "Fuck,” he moaned in a high-pitched tone.
“Feels good, doesn’t it, baby?”
“Oh my god...” He cried, “So good.”
"I bet Liza never made you feel this good," I teased, kissing his neck softly.
"Never," he moaned, his body shivering with pleasure.
"Yeah, I bet she's nowhere near as good as me at making you feel good," I said, biting his neck hard enough to leave a mark.
"There's nothing that could ever compare to this," he moaned, his hands wrapped around me and his entire body tense with pleasure.
As I moved up and down, I felt his hands travel along my body, sending me a shiver of pleasure. His breath quickened, and his whimpers became more incoherent with each movement.
“Y/n.. y/n I ca..” He tried to speak, but the sentences seemed hard to form.
“What is it, baby boy?” I asked as I grabbed his chin, making him keep his eyes on mine.
"I need to..." He sounded desperate, and my walls squeezed at his neediness.
"Oh, baby,” I moaned. “Am I fucking you so good you can't even hold a conversation?”
He quickly nodded his head in affirmation.
Oh, what a sight! He looked so worked up, and his eyes begged me to not stop my movements as his dick hit my cervix.
“Can I please..." He tried to form the full sentence, but a moan inturremped him. I could feel the fires of passion burning inside me with each stroke, his cock twitching, yearning for release.
He breath in deeply “Can I please cum inside”.
“Yes baby” I moaned “Please cum for me” I held him close as I rode our shared climax. The felling of his load spilling into me made me feel full.
As I reclined on the couch, Chip nestled himself between my legs, his head finding a restful spot on my chest. Despite lingering fatigue, his demeanor shifted to one of contentment and tranquility. With gentle strokes, I caressed his head, feeling the softness of his hair.
"Well, that was unexpected,” he spoke, breaking the moment with a light-hearted chuckle.
I laughed, “The best things usually are.”
Chip’s gaze softened, and he looked at me with a mix of gratitude and realization. “You know, YN, I never thought I could feel so much love from someone. It’s… it’s different.”
I smiled, appreciating the sincerity in his words. “Different can be a beautiful thing. You know? The ordinary becomes extraordinary in the company of the right person.”
Chip sighed contentedly, his eyes drifting closed. "Well, I think I found the right person tonight."
And with those words, he succumbed to the embrace of slumber, the room filled with the soft sounds of a peaceful night.
#chip taylor#chip taylor smut#chip taylor x reader#chip taylor fluff#mgg#spencer reid#criminal minds#mgg x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#mgg x y/n#mgg fanfiction#mgg smut#spencer reid x reader#68 kill#matthew gray gubler#matthew gray gubler smut
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masterlist
chip taylor life after the kill
spencer reid undying love
Matthew Gray Gubler
Matthew gray gubler island of paradise
sex with Spencer Reid all 15 seasons
Spencer Reid As Your Boyfriend all 15 seasons
Spencer Reid Smut
Criminal Minds smut’s
25 days of december with Matthew Gray Gubler
what kind of lovers are the men of the BAU
Spencer Reid
Spencer Reid picture-perfect.
#spencer reid#criminal minds#chip taylor#spencer reid smut#criminal minds smut#chip taylor smut#matthew gray gubler#matthew gray gubler fluff#matthew gray gubler smut#Matthew Gray Gubler Lovers Fics Smut#Matthew Gray Gubler Lovers Fics Fluff
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MGG Characters Masterlist (discontinued)
✴ = angst︱❁ = fluff︱✿ = smut︱✂ = trigger warning (listed in warnings)
Spencer Reid
To Dream ✴ ❁ ✂
Series
The Rain Saga: Spencer Reid x reader (completed)
- Chapter 1: A Sweet Rain ❁
- Chapter 2: Made of Storms: ✴
- Chapter 3: Eye of the Hurricane ✴ ✂
- Chapter 4: Flash Flood ✴ ✂
-Chapter 5: Downpour ✴
Chip Taylor
- Night Shift ❁
#Matthew gray gubler#mgg#masterlist#Spencer reid#criminal minds#Spencer Reid x reader#chip Taylor x reader#angst#fluff#smut#68 kill#fanfic#fanfiction#fan fic#fan fiction#reader insert
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I PURPOSELY WAITED UNTIL 2 PM TO EVEN COOK MY FOOD. TWO. TWO FUCKING PM AND AS SOON AS MY FOOD IS DONE. THAT'S WHEN MY FAMILY DECIDES "oh, we gotta feed the dogs and clean for 2 hours" THEY DO THAT AT 12, WHY DON'T THEY KEEP TO A SCHEDULE?! FOR FUCK SAKE, IT'S SO STUPID. GOD DAMN IT
#neurodivergence#neurodivergent#autism#mgg#adhd#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid fluff#Matthew gray gubler#68 kill#Chip taylor
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summary: in which jungkook is giving up on you but you have so much love left to give.
> idol!jungkook x f!reader / angst, fluff, suggestive / wc: 8.3k
> warnings: mention of infidelity (no one did u can breathe ily), mention of a classmate slipping their number in oc’s pocket and oc feeling unsafe, mention of puking, mentions & allusion to s/x, alcohol consumption, making out, boob!e fondle, gr*nding kinda? jungkook is hard™️ they’re so in love it’s sickening
> in which masterlist!
playlist! and if/or when - ruel / hate everything - jungkook cover (gsoul) / hits different - taylor swift / statue - lil’ eddie / i wouldn’t ask you - clairo (i had to get in the zone & this is so oc-coded i need u to listen i’m so srs)
next: in which you don’t want to give up jungkook (even when he gave you reasons to, even if they give you reasons to).
note: this was a journey. happened back in june 2019.!! i’m ripping off the bandaid <3 deep sigh writing this made me realize how my babies have come so far. hopefully will follow up with a fluffy fluff lowkey inspired by the underwear live soonest lols i’m excited for it 2 stay tuned 🫂 reblogs & feedback are much appreciated <3
—
you forgot the walls of the apartment building you’re living in are thin. a small portion of the white paint has been chipped off, it looks like a birth mark, you note — except it’s not, and you’re the one who caused the irregularity.
your favorite glass is scattered across the kitchen floor, reduced to shards and to sparkling pieces almost as miniscule as dust. you don’t know what came over you. you don’t know why you threw it at the wall instead of filling it with cold water to only drink three sips like you usually do.
just when you thought you’ve been faring well in holding yourself together today, a fresh wave of sorrow overwhelms you. your knees buckle as you begin weeping, the loudest you’ve been since this nightmare has started. it swallows the knocking sounds at your door, but it’s still not loud enough to quell jungkook’s quivering voice playing like a broken record on loop inside your head.
“we should end this… i think it’s for the best, before we get drained.”
the rain is coming down fiercely and you’re freezing inside his car, parked outside your apartment. after all, his balenciaga windbreaker can only do so much against the blasted airconditioner. your throat is painfully dry, and your hands and face are numb from the piercing cold. but those are the least of your concerns because you feel like your head had just been dunked in ice water. the sting in your eyes are burning warmer as the seconds fly by and the muffled sounds of the torrential raindrops drum frantically in your ears. they’re clouding the car windows, mirroring jungkook’s tear-stained cheeks.
“i’m leaving again in three weeks. and i’m leaving again next year… and i’ll be gone again soon after that for a long time. i-i don’t know when i’m coming home, ___.” he pauses. the heel of palms press against his eyes, as if that could possibly barricade the saltwater leaking from them. “i never know where my life is taking me and you have your own… there’s too much-too much going on. i think that i’m just wasting your time, that this isn’t- it’s not going anywhere.”
“open the door! hello?! ___!”
“what do you want?!” you seeth in annoyance, swinging the door open to reveal your pesky neighbor.
he scratches the top of his head awkwardly at the sight of the mess that you greeted him with, having not bothered to pretend that you weren’t wailing your heart out.
”hey, i know you’re going through something…” his lips remain parted as he struggles to find the correct word, his right eye twitching voluntarily. “soul-crushing? right now. but i heard glass breaking and i was concerned that you, uhm, might’ve hurt yourself.”
the apparent nervousness and sincerity in his actions pull you out from the isolating disassociation you’ve imprisoned yourself in. you feel humiliated, presenting yourself in your most pitiful form infront of a kid two years younger than you. you envy him for having it together after storming out of his parents’ house while you-
“i’m not hurt. it was just an accident.”
you’re shamelessly lying infront of his face because the truth makes you feel too ashamed of yourself.
he only nods, smiling in relief. “i don’t know how to help make you feel better, so i just brought honey like i used to do before.”
you sigh, the familiar jar of honey and its red checkered lid waving at you like an old friend. has it been a year?
“bro, i told you i can’t accept this anymore.”
“you and your boyfriend already broke up. what’s the big deal?”
you have never wanted to smack someone more, the genuine confusion painted on his face feels like an infuriatingly harsh slap to yours.
“he wasn’t threatened by your honey, you dipshit. we just found out my blood sugar was getting a bit high!”
“oh- i’m so-”
you angrily slam the door shut. the silence you’re left with is suffocating, and you find yourself breaking down again.
he jumps in surprise when you open the door again, yelling- “and we’re not broken up!” before ripping away the jar of honey from his sweaty palms. he’s left completely flabbergasted, an inexplicable heaviness weighing on his chest when he hears your sniffling from the other side of the hard-wood.
“does that mean i can deliver again next week? i have too much in my kitchen…”
he doesn’t receive a snarky answer, surprisingly, so he continues talking.
“and f-y-i, your left cheek is bleeding! you might want to check on that!”
—
“you didn’t even give me any signs…”
you inhale a deep, shaky breath in a fragile attempt of keeping your composure. you want to scream, rip apart this thick tension with your bare hands, and force him to admit that this is just some kind of sick joke. you finally see him in person after months and all he has for you is a gift bag filled to the brim with heartbreak. this is too casually cruel, not something you would’ve expected from your jungkook.
“do you really mean that? or is there something else you’re not saying…? look at me.” you plead, weakly tugging at the hem of his long-sleeved shirt. the horrors of long-distance relationship stories claw their way out of your skin, adding fuel to the fire of your deepest fear. “you didn’t cheat on me, right? that can’t be it. we- we always-”
after you ended your last relationship, you cried at the parking lot of your university and continued living your life the next morning as if nothing happened at all. you did it all for yourself, anyway. he was gradually tearing down your confidence and your dignity; and you didn’t want to become a person the future you would despise for not being wiser, stronger.
and here you are at present day: spending the cozy sunday night solving chemistry problems on your desk. you have a blue bandaid plastered on your face and a cheek full of fruit and honey. and you would say you’re fine, but jungkook wasn’t here to sweetly dote on you while treating your wound. he isn’t here to taste the honey from your lips with that coquettish smirk of his. he isn’t laying on your bed, fighting to stay awake because he wants to fall asleep with you as his pillow.
no matter how hard you try to shut out this thought, it keeps knocking on the door. he’s going to be doing these sweet nothings for a different person when he finally reaches a more stable place in his life. you want to kneel on the ground, beg the heavens to meddle with destiny and never let you hear about it.
because that means he will never set foot in your apartment again, and the personal belongings you left in his room will be thrown out to erase the traces you left behind.
so this is how it begins.
the ugliest parts of you are swimming to the surface, tying themselves around your ankles because jungkook took away the ground from beneath your feet after unearthing your soul and… nothing makes sense to you anymore. if you wake up every morning to tend to your garden, and you look outside the window to learn that the sun has stopped burning, what do you have left?
your lips inevitably curve into a frown, but you inhale a sharp breath, patting your eyes dry before they can smudge the black ink on your notepad. and then you dip a strawberry in honey for the third time.
—
“no, baby, no- that’s not it.”
the dread and insecurity weaved into the cracks of your voice fill him with nausea and panic. he captures your frigid hand with haste, firmly holding it to his pounding chest.
“i would never do that to you. just the thought alone fucking disgusts me… you’re the only one. you’ve ruined me for everybody else.”
“then why are you giving up on me? am i becoming a burden?”
jungkook feels painfully numb, mind floating as the buildings outside the window get left behind him as a mere, passing blur.
“yah, jungkook-ah. are you crying?”
a torturous moment of silence passes as he struggles to find his voice. his tongue is tied, and his lost eyes are betraying the nights he spent practicing how to explain himself to you. back then, the reasoning he curated made sense. but faced with the consequences of his actions, the love of his life’s brain running a thousand miles per hour, recording a tale of woe and heartache on his passenger seat — he has never felt this much loathing for himself and his weaknesses.
you release a shaky breath, patting his rosy cheeks dry with your sleeves. you smile at him kindly, and he watches you in sheer disbelief. he can’t fathom the perpetual luck he’s been blessed with that he met, who he believes to be, the purest soul to grace this corrupted world. they’re damp with your tears, so it’s practically useless, but the sweet gesture is a stray beam of sunlight in the midst of the dull gray clouds.
the comforting rubs on his shoulder extracts him from his torturous thoughts, and only then does he feel the wetness on his face.
“you’ve been holding it back for the past week. just cry it out.”
he nods wordlessly, hiding himself in the fleece blanket from his lap. yoongi can feel a lump forming in his throat as he witnesses his youngest brother breaking down, jungkook’s pain also being his pain. as a group who’s been living together for the past decade, no one will be able to empathize with them as well each other. especially during times like this.
“___ hasn’t called?”
jungkook shakes his head wistfully, wiping away the tears that slid down his nose. he is dying to send you a text message, worried sick, and still used to hearing about your day the same way he is used to sleeping on his stomach.
“hyung,” the sound of the word borders on a sob. “it’s over. this is killing me… it’s all my fault.”
“but isn’t that what you wanted?”
“exactly. so why am i crying?” his hands ball into closed fists. “i’m an asshole.”
“enough of that!” yoongi loudly whines out his scolding. ”we all know you had your reason.”
“but, hyung, i fucked up!” he tenses up, blurting out the acknowledgement that’s been haunting him day and night. “she told me the most romantic thing and i felt so… fuck, i’m so angry at myself. i ruined everything. and i’m scared that i’d end up making things worse if i try fixing it.”
“stop beating yourself up. we can’t solve things this way.” yoongi grabs a bottle of water from the cupholder between them, twisting the cap open before handing it to jungkook. “drink first.”
once he starts drinking, he realizes that his throat has been awfully dry and sore. it’s most probably best for him to rest his voice. he can already foresee the concert rehearsal being absolute hell tomorrow. if he can’t sing, he doesn’t know how else he’s supposed to keep himself sane.
“talk to me. what did she say?”
“you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, do you know that?”
and with that revelation, he loses the warmth of your touch, and he comes crashing down like a wingless aircraft.
“i also need time to think about it. that’s only fair, right? that i get to decide, too…?” you swallow thickly, lips parting as if the words are resisting to come out of your mouth.
he looks at you with an emotion you can’t name, a push and pull between longing and trepidation.
if this was a movie, he would brave the rain and somehow perfectly deliver a poetically romantic speech that would sway your heart. if this was a movie, you would take a warm bath together, make out in the bathtub, and make love on your bed. if this was a movie, the day would end with the two of you tangled up, peacefully asleep and rhythmic breathing in sync. but he knows you. apparently not as well as he thought, but to some extent, he knows you. if he pulls you closer in the heat of the moment, you would feel suffocated and defensive and you would push him away; and he would lose you for good. that much he knows. so he lets you leave and he stays in the car— heartbroken, crestfallen, and regretful, because he might’ve just recklessly thrown away the best gift the universe has ever given him.
“i was thinking about how she never would’ve made this much sacrifices and efforts for anyone else and i feel like… i- it’s all going to waste because our future is uncertain. i can’t be committed to her as much as she is committed to me. and, and i felt like the guilt was eating away at me, you know? i wasn’t thinking straight.” jungkook chews on his bottom lip, a last ditch effort to prevent himself from sobbing. “it just… consumed me? like i was drowning… and all i could smell and taste was the saltwater.”
“i see,” yoongi sighs, crossing his legs and intertwining his fingers infront of his stomach as he finds the right words to say. “that’s a normal response. our brain is a very complex friend… but you know, everything i’ve been through as myself and as a part of our team, hmmm, they taught me that there are times when a problem doesn’t necessarily need a solution per se. you just keep going until the fog clears up and then you move past it.”
fuck, jungkook needs a glass of whiskey. or two. or twelve. he listens intently despite seeming like he’s spacing out.
“this won’t last forever and time slips away from us without us even noticing. you should do what you want to do. if we’re going to deprive ourselves of good things, what will we have left after everything is over? money we can’t spend in one lifetime? there’s no happiness in that.”
yoongi frowns, wishing he could do more to alleviate the weight hanging on jungkook’s shoulders.
“you deserve love outside all the noise, too. focus on the present which you can still control and deal with the future when it arrives. if you do otherwise, you’ll just be tormenting yourself… and i know it’s easier said than done but! do you want to hear something i’ve had on my mind lately?”
with a flushed face and swollen eyes, he tilts his head to curiously spy on his hyung.
“what is it?”
“your motivation to work out after our shows is so you can stay awake and spend time with her. that’s why you fall asleep everywhere else. do you know how scary and endearing it is to watch that? is that what you call ‘not being committed enough’?”
yoongi fails to hide his gummy smile, body vibrating with silent laughter as pictures of jungkook falling asleep standing up flash before his eyes.
“seriously, you punk! you scare me! i just pass out and die straight after while you- really, you’re really unbelievable. i envy you. for being able to love with everything you have until they break your heart. i mean it!”
“but i’m the one who broke their heart this time.” jungkook somberly utters in defeat, bottom lip jutting out and chin quivering.
yoongi encouragingly pats his shoulder, shaking his body lightly. ”you can make it up to her. she’ll reach out before we leave. have some more patience.”
jungkook’s eyes turn into slits, suspiciously squinting at the man sitting beside him. “why do you sound so sure?”
“because she loves you. why else?”
—
you automatically pause from eating cup ramyeon when your phone lights up on top of the journals you’ve been reviewing for the past hour.
“ah, shit! shit!”
you abruptly cover your mouth with your hand, exhausted eyes watering because you accidentally bit your tongue after reading the name of the sender of your newest text notification. you take sips of cold water, peering at your phone as you do so. your hands itch to type out a response, but the screen dies and turns black, another of yoongi’s messages in the same pile of unanswered ones from your friends checking up on you tonight. you can’t talk to anyone right now; you need to get shit done.
after eating your dinner at the convenience store, you come home to a plastic of fried chicken hanging on the doorknob of your front door.
Eat lots and stay healthy! I’m feeding Jungkook well too. Don’t worry. — Yoongi
you peel off the blue handwritten note, sticking it on the cover of one of your books. you carefully carry the food using your free hand, and you can feel it radiating on your skin, the heat of a freshly-cooked meal. you were always worried of being a bother when you occasionally ask him how jungkook is doing on tour, but this made your heart significantly lighter. gaining a good friend after losing your lover, perhaps life can show a smidge of mercy when it wants to.
too bad you’ve always been one to be greedy.
—
“ah, seriously. why did you have to break up with ___?”
“we’ve been through this a million times!” jungkook exclaims in exasperation as he fiddles with the controller, bumping his knee with taehyung’s. “focus. you’re supposed to be helping me forget.”
“i don’t remember agreeing to that.” taehyung responds with a shrug, smirking when he picks up a booster and runs past his friend’s character. “you finally found someone who could put up with you and you let them go? i won’t let you forget.”
jungkook scoffs, eyes rolling upwards. “bro, i should be the least of your problems.”
“nuh-uh.” taehyung tuts with a grin, belly aching with laughter when jungkook’s car jumps over his to steal the lead. he didn’t even know that was possible. he plans on using the same trick against him later. “i’m making you my biggest problem so i don’t have to deal with mine.”
“they’re not married yet. you still have a chance, you know?”
“yah!” he gapes at jungkook in shock, entirely forgetting about the game. “take that back!”
“don’t act like you haven’t thought of it!”
“yeah, but i don’t say it out loud. it sounds too wrong! i still have my morals left!” he cries out, stomping his feet on the floor.
jungkook lightly punches his arm, eyebrows pinched in confusion. “i meant you have a chance if they break up. i have morals too! what do you think of me?!”
“oh…” taehyung blinks. “you know who else have probably thought of that too, though?”
“who?” jungkook boredly questions as he scrolls through the game collection, contemplating about which one to play next.
“all the other people waiting in line for ___.”
the realization renders him motionless, stirring up the possessiveness coursing through his veins. for the love of god, he doesn’t want to be petty but that struck a nerve. he wants to storm out of the house and look for you, beg on his knees for you to take him back.
“aish, hyung, you’re driving me crazy! why would you tell me that? are we torturing each other?!”
“are you crying? yah, jungkook-ah.” taehyung watches his hunched figure with a guilty wince, hesitant hands rubbing the expanse of his back. “i’m sorry- i’m sorry… do you want a hug?”
jungkook stays quiet, head hanging low to hide his face crumpling with anguish. the loose but affectionate hug that he gets pulled into prompts him to fall apart, catharsis blossoming in his ribcage and turning his bones into jelly.
he hears obnoxiously loud sniffles, and he abandons taehyung’s shoulder to look at his face. “are you crying, too?”
“stop ruining the moment.” taehyung groans, forcefully pushing down his head again.
namjoon comes out from his bedroom in search for another extension cord, still sipping on the half-empty iced americano he took from the fridge only ten minutes ago. the heartfelt scene on the couch causes him to halt on his tracks. how did they go from playing games to crying together? he silently observes the two members for a moment before deciding to approach them.
“what am i going to do with the two of you?” he grunts, ruffling his hair in frustration. “shall we go out for drinks to disinfect your wounded hearts?”
the mention of alcohol makes them perk up, jungkook’s tearful doe eyes sparkling at the prospect of temporarily erasing the pain that has uncontrollably spread throughout his system. he wants to drink until he forgets that he has hands, until he forgets what it feels like to touch you.
“thanks, monie-hyung. i’ll have my appetizer.”
and the iced americano gets snatched away from namjoon’s unsuspecting hand within the blink of an eye.
—
“this is not a barbecue restaurant.” you stare blankly at the orange neon lights spelling out the name of the night club your friends secretly conspired to bring you to.
“___, loosen up! the fastest way to move on is to find someone else. this is the best place for that.” aera turns around from the passenger seat of the taxi, her red lips painting a thrilled smile. “just forget about jungkook. we all knew this shit was going to happen. i’m surprised you even lasted that long!”
“i don’t know what you’re trying to imply but i don’t appreciate your tone.” you warn her with a sharp, threatening look. “and the ‘someone else’ that i found at a bar before turned out to be biggest fucking jerk i’ve ever met. i’m not doing this again.”
“things might be different this ti-” mi-ran aids in persuading you, but it only adds fuel to the fire.
“oh my god! fuck off!” you yell in irritation, aggressively getting off the car and slamming the door shut on their faces.
you never look back, ignoring the shouts of your name and half-assed apologies. you don’t have the slightest idea about where you’re going — your feet have a mind of their own and they chose to go the opposite way of home. this isn’t how you envisioned your night. you just wanted to listen to the sound of the meat grill and complain about life giving you a taste of true love just to cut your tongue with it until you bled. was that too much to ask?
you’re about ninety percent certain that you just lost two of whom you treated to be your closest friends. you think of ah-young, and you briefly consider crashing at your best friend’s band practice, but you’re too exhausted to travel to the other end of the city.
with eleven seconds left in the timer, you cross the street with swift and long strides alongside a crowd consisting mostly of employees wearing the same navy blue uniform. at last, you’re among the bright and lively restaurants, the inviting smell of good food making your stomach sting with hunger.
it’s only taehyung who recognizes you when you unknowingly pass by, almost choking on his glass of somaek, the combination of soju and beer. with his career on the line, he is confident that he can recognize that balenciaga windbreaker anywhere and anytime. meanwhile, instead of talking about you, the youngest is drunkenly reminiscing about the alleged ghost encounters he had in their old dorms. their leader is tragically left to tend to the grill alone. he deeply regrets not dragging any of the older members with them.
“everyone, i think i just saw __-”
a grimace of cluelessness is plastered on taehyung’s face when jungkook claps once, enthusiastically pointing at him as if he just announced something inspiring and life-changing.
“you’re right, you’re right! that’s it! what i’m kind of trying to say here is…” he pauses, facial muscles relaxing into a gloomy expression. he sniffles and rubs his nose, making it a brighter shade of red. “when we move houses again, i won’t have stories like these to bring with me. the new ghosts will be my memories with ___.”
none of the other two dares to speak after that, the oddly satisfying sound of meat being grilled and the chattering from other tables occupy the uneasy and heavy silence. instead, they begin filling their own shot glasses with pure soju. namjoon is the first one to spill it down his throat, slamming it on the table before dishing out his phone from his pocket. by this time, all of them are already drunk, double vision blurry and speech a little slurred. they gave up on counting the green bottles and cans of beer a long while ago.
“shit, that was a good metaphor. i need to write that down.”
“namjoon-hyung, he’s crying again!”
jungkook’s head slumps on the table with a thud, hot tears escaping down to his temple as he laments. “i miss her so much. why did i have to break up with her the second we got home? why…? am i so impulsive? what do i do if… if she agrees that we- h-how am i supposed to live with myself after that…? i’m never going to love again.”
they shuffle apprehensively on their seats, but still, they tell jungkook what he needs to hear since he won’t remember tonight’s events, anyway.
that’s not going happen. she just needs some more time. i’m sure she’s missing you too. everything will be okay.
but it’s been almost two weeks of radio silence. their flight is in nine days, drawing nearer and nearer as if it’s purposely taunting jungkook. everyone is thinking the same thing, and everyone is afraid to say it out loud.
—
it’s 7am when his work alarm goes off. with a disgruntled noise, a hungover jungkook drowsily drags himself out of bed, eyes still closed as he swings the bedroom door open.
“oing?” he creates a noise of confusion when his arm bumps against an object. he blinks at the brown paper bag hanging on his doorknob, removing one of the handles to peek at its contents.
he buffers for a moment, staring blankly at his belongings safely tucked inside. there’s his black mini bluetooth speaker, tinted lipbalm, wired earphones, bucket hat, facial cleanser, moisturizer, and shampoo. these are everything he left on top of your study desk and in your bathroom. neatly folded on the side is his windbreaker, which he recalls as clear as daylight, how you reveled in its comfort the last time that you were together. the fabric softener you use has replaced his perfume, the cherry scent forming a rain cloud of nostalgia and longing above his head.
if this is a nightmare, he is begging for somebody, anybody, to break into the room and to bring him someplace where hope is not desolate.
his wounded heart, as his namjoon-hyung described, is experiencing an excruciating pain he never even imagined was possible. he now understands, why the broken heart syndrome is a real thing.
he can’t read you. is this your way of ‘reaching out’? have you kicked him out of your house, out of your life? for good?
the dread of losing you forever is gnawing at his insides. nausea almost succeeds in knocking him off his feet. his brain hisses with static. he panics at the disgustingly familiar sensation brewing in his digestive system, sprinting to the bathroom to spill out his guts.
they say that you don’t realize what you have until you lose it. that early morning, jungkook realizes that he’s only a human being after all.
—
“when did i put that there?”
you’re sorting out your dirty laundry after showering when you notice a tissue paper tucked in the front pocket of your denim jeans. you huff out a sigh, ripping it apart into tiny pieces over the trash bin with raging vexation. you will never understand how men thinks that these kind of stupid tricks are supposed to compel you into seeing them anywhere near attractive and desirable in your eyes. if anything, they make you feel unsafe and if your paths cross again, you will run the other way. great. another person in the lecture room to avoid. just fucking great.
at this point, you want to mockingly laugh at your own misery. just when you thought your day couldn’t possibly get worse, it fucking does.
you tuck yourself in bed by midnight, texting a friend about your joint presentation next week, and then rereading your conversation with namjoon from this morning for the nth time. you’ve been hoping it will shine light on the right path to take, because you’re still lost and hurt.
Namjoon:
he’s been devastated since
can’t this be sorted out?
stuff’s just been overwhelming and honestly i’m as anxious as him
i'm not trying to force you into getting back together with him ofc but please talk for closure atleast..
you’re also my friend. i think you need it too..
you scroll a bit further down afterwards, and your heart drops to your stomach when you see the three dots under the contact name ‘my jungkook’. you click on it as it beckons you to, only to allow time to flow like a river with no sea to kiss, idly watching the bubble appear and disappear, appear and disappear. almost everyday, you catch a glimpse of him at the very least, typing a message and never sending it.
the same goes for tonight, it seems.
his silence is torturing you. in the car, in your inbox, in your call history. a person knocks on the door and a part of you foolishly predicts that it’s jungkook not using his copy of the key out of respect.
you succumb to the yearning, heading to your shared media and files that you’ve been actively resisting for the past three weeks… for this exact reason.
you randomly click a video sent by jungkook three months ago.
“i know you’re in class but i’m too excited to show what i got you today!” he beams at the front camera, bunny teeth cutely showing. he picks up the first item from the hotel bed with his free hand. “you already own this book but this one got a different cover, see? it’s hardback? they say it’s a limited edition.”
he eyes it fleetingly, obvious that there is something else he is dying to mention.
“i won’t show it too close. you can look at it when i go home. there’s a little surprise inside.”
he scrunches his nose before teasingly sticking his tongue out.
“and then here we haaave-”
following that, he shows you an adorable fluffy white bunny with red eyes. it occupies more than half the screen, and without a doubt, it is soft and huggable.
“cooky’s new sibling! we found it at a gift shop and hobi-hyung said it looks like me.”
he presses his cheek to the bunny’s. “i accept. we do look alike, but my eyes are so much bigger.”
in the upcoming seconds, the video is muted except for his breathing. he plops down on the bed while ruffling his dark hair, staring at the camera wordlessly, evocative of when you catch him dreamily watching you study while you’re on a videocall.
“i miss you.” he smiles sadly, deep dimples appearing on his cheeks. “don’t forget to text me when you’re on your way home.”
he drops on his back, the firm mattress breaking his fall.
“mmmwah!“ he kisses the camera, and your screen freezes on the final frame.
the silence in the aftermath is defeaning. you tear your glasses off your face, burying your face in the pillows. you arrive at your final decision then and there. you don’t care. you don’t care. you don’t care anymore. you cannot bear to spend more of your days like this. his things that used to live here might be gone, but you look for him everywhere. you look for his car in the parking lot. you look for his hair when you see flowers. you wait for his name to be called in the coffee shop. on your way home, you linger at the playground where you used to usually meet.
because if your relationship with jungkook is truly doomed to fail, you want to watch its foundation collapse on the ground, burnt down to gray and black ashes that disintegrate when you try to grasp them in your hands… with good grace, it’s the only way for you to believe that there’s no more home to come home to.
with a trembling hand, you press the call button and for the very first time, you beg someone to stay.
—
jungkook’s breathing ceases, heartbeat violently racing in his chest. the ‘chimes’ ringtone tickle his ears, his phone vibrating incessantly in his hands. the two features he specifically customized in your contact settings so he will immediately recognize that it’s you who’s calling.
it’s been four days since you dropped off his things. and here he was, laying on his bed and struggling to find the right words to say because he refuses to believe that this is how it ends. the paper bag is still hanging on the doorknob. he hasn’t touched it since the first time. he doesn’t have the courage to do so.
fuck giving you space. he wants drown himself in you and never come up for air. he’s more than willing to suffer your anger or your coldness. he’s prepared to prove himself worthy of a second chance every second of every day. he wants to occupy half of your desk and half of your closet again. he selfishly wishes to be the first and the last person you fall in love with.
but until the very end, you’re the braver one.
“love?” your voice is quiet, barely audible, but it’s there, and he hears the affectionate term of endearment distinctly. “i’m sorry. i tried, i really did, but i couldn’t do it…”
“baby,” he falters breathlessly, half of him in disbelief, convinced that he has officially lost his goddamn mind and delusion is bleeding into reality.
“i tried living without you like you wanted- but i can’t-” you hiccup in between small sobs on the other line. “i love you, jungkook. i can’t live carrying around all this love with me. it’s too heavy…”
exploding and breaking apart, jungkook’s heart is a meteor that has entered the planet’s atmosphere, and he doesn’t know where to begin digging for the fragments so he can piece himself together again.
“we are too young and we don’t know what the fuck we’re doing and i love you too much. you don’t have to protect me… i’ll take my fair share of the responsibility, so just-” he hangs on your every word, and then you pause, your following words eliciting a powerful punch to his gut. “just let me love you and let me learn my lesson the hard way… let’s do that, okay?”
the walls of him room ebbs and flows in like the sea. he rests his forearm over his eyes, his skin gradually dampening with tears. he once promised himself that he would never put you in this position. he should be the one begging for forgiveness, repenting and crawling on his knees. but rather than wasting his time with surfing through another tsunami of self-blame, he reminds himself: i want to be a better man.
“okay, baby. let’s do that, hmm? let’s do that. it’s what i want too.” he coos softly with a hoarse voice. “are you at your apartment?”
you hum in confirmation, sniffling. “come home.”
—
a half-naked jungkook abruptly opens the door to yoongi’s room, wearing gray sweatpants with his left arm awkwardly inserted in one of the black t-shirt’s armhole.
“hyung! can i borrow your car? mine’s getting a check-up.”
yoongi tears his eyes away from the computer, hanging the black headphones on the nape of his neck. he merely shrugs before throwing the car key, and jungkook catches it in one hand with ease.
he sighs in relief, politely bowing his upper body to express his gratitude. “thank you, hyung.”
“what are you doing?!” yoongi half-smiles with fondness, jokingly waving him off. “just go- go. leave!”
—
jungkook nervously stands before your front door, head woozy with anticipation and fear. what if things have changed? what if your relationship never goes back to the way it was?
“oh. you’re back together?”
he whips his head back to find your neighbor arriving home from his part-time job. huh, he just realized that he has never really learned what his name is. the only information he has on him is that his sister owns a bee farm.
“how did you even know?” he asks with knitted eyebrows. “you haven’t been giving out honey again, have you?”
“she only accepted it once.” the stranger puts his arms up in surrender with a roll of his eyes. “and don’t make her cry again, will you? she blasts sad songs late at night.”
and with an unpleasantly forceful shut of the door, jungkook is left alone in the hallway. his jaw clenches as he glares at the next apartment, but he rubs his face to release his frustration before he goes to meet you.
“we need to move in together.” he grumbles to himself as he enters your unit, relocking the door behind him. he removes his sneakers, neatly setting them down beside your pairs of shoes by the doormat.
he pads on the wooden floor with his white toe socks, looking around the dark and quiet living room. a faint orange light is seeping under the gap between the floor and the bedroom door, which he recognizes to be your favorite mode on your multi-colored nightstand lamp. he cautiously cracks the door open, and he is instantly greeted by your curled up figure, peacefully sleeping.
it’s muscle memory when he hangs his backpack on the backrest of your study chair before anything else. he also brought the paper bag you sent, putting it down on the floor.
he squats down infront of you, lightly prying away the phone you’re hugging to your chest and placing the device on the bedside table. the light is shining over your skin, and there are a thousand of photos and videos organized into the most treasured folder in his gallery, but not a single one of them will ever do you justice.
god, he missed you so much. it hasn’t been two years, but the life he had before he met you feels like an extremely distant memory.
he sighs, talking in hopes that he appears in your dreams. “how do you do this? you make it impossible not to love you.”
he unconsciously frowns at the sight of your puffy eyes. never again. never again. never again. he chants inside his head. he plants a kiss on each of your eyelids, taking his time to bask in the feeling of your weight under his lips.
he climbs on the opposite side of the bed, tucking you underneath the blanket before securely holding you from behind with his thigh hanging over yours. the warmth of your body and the scent of your shampoo cures the headache that’s been bothering him the whole day. he drifts off to sleep soon after.
—
the feather-light brushes through the silky locks of his hair pulls him out of his slumber half an hour later. he can make out your silhouette through his half-open eyes, the little-mermaid-like scene feels too vivid for a dream.
“why didn’t you wake me up?” you whine, sulking with a pout.
“i’m sorry.” he answers quietly, sitting up to engulf you in a tight embrace as endless apologies tumble from his tongue. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i gave up. i’m sorry that i hurt you. i’m so sorry… are you angry at me?”
“i’m upset.” you admit after a few beats, not seeing the point in sugarcoating it. “it hurts when i remember you saying that. and i understand you but… but i don’t like that you decided alone for us. if you do that again… then it will be over between us.”
he has an arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand firmly holding the back of your head. it’s a little hard to breathe, but it’s so reassuring to feel that he doesn’t want to let you out of his embrace. because you hated it — hated how it felt like letting you go was so easy.
“i regret everything. i’m sorry.” he whispers, concealing his tears by nuzzling his face on your neck. “and you’re not a burden. that’s not true.”
he knows that you mean your every word, so he lifts up his head to gaze directly into your eyes, showing that he is as sincere and true to his.
“from now on, all i’ll think about is what i can do to make you happy and safe without compromising our relationship… i’ll do better. i’ll love you better. i promise that i’ll be stronger for us. i won’t make the same mistake twice.”
you wish jungkook could be kinder to himself, treat himself with the same gentleness that comes so naturally with you. why is it that humans find loving themselves so laborious? why does being have to come with such a curse?
taking glimpses at the past, you should’ve been reminding him of these affirmations everyday.
“you don’t have to be strong all the time. i’m not asking for that.” you shake your head, voicing out yourself in a tone so soothing and illuminating. “i don’t want to go anywhere far away from you so think of yourself, too. i told you before, it’s okay to hold on to me. i’m also strong.”
jungkook feels so safe at home. he doesn’t remember what he was so worried of anymore.
“and you know what? if you really see it that way, then i’m telling you now. i want to waste my time on you. you can’t stop me.” your threatening eyes widen in conviction, provoking a sheepish smile to tug at the corners of his lips. “i always get what i want.”
“and you want me?” he innocently points at himself.
“love you.”
“i love you.” he replies, nosing at your neck before leaving a chaste kiss on your skin. “so much.”
“then put yourself in my shoes.” you hum, combing his hair with your fingers, lightly tugging to initiate eye-contact. “i want to take care of you just like how you want to take care of me. i think we have something rare and beautiful…” you pause, self-conscious about coming across as too needy now that you’re face-to-face, but an epiphany shatters your apprehension with a bow and an arrow.
this is what he needed to hear from you that day.
“so stay with me.”
jungkook’s vision becomes unfocused. he’s speechless; the only sound in the room is the humming of the airconditioner, but it’s almost as if you can hear the gears of his brain working their hardest. the pain that glossed his enchanting doe eyes has been replaced with a devotion you’ve never seen expressed so passionately in them before.
“all the time i own is yours.” he declares, cupping your face, the pad of his thumb daintily stroking your cheek. “all of it. we can do anything you want to do. let me make it up to you.”
“anything?” your face lights up with joy and mischief, and the butterflies in jungkook’s stomach come alive. he wants to make it his life’s mission to make you smile everyday; and that, he will do. “then i want you to kiss me.”
the sultriness of your enticing voice makes him go haywire. it’s been too damn long. he has forgotten what it feels like to kiss you. he slowly inches closer, his lips brushing against your lips before he pulls you in deeper, a fervent display of his yearning and apologies. he swallows the needy moan that escapes you as he slowly lays you down on the mattress, stripping off his shirt and mindlessly tossing it somewhere when you impatiently tug at it with another whimper. you cage his face in your hands, bringing back his lips on yours as if he’s the air that you breathe.
he wants to grieve for all the wasted time because everyday, he craved for this. to be honest, he forgets his name when he’s kissing you. outside, the crowds scream his name for being the best at what he does best, and he happily lives for the euphoria of it all. but in this room, there is only you and him. you communicate using the unspoken language of love with your lips. you bare the soft animal in yourselves with your teeth sinking in the other’s skin. you allow your rawest desires and truths to unravel with a slip of the tongue. he exists beyond his name, becomes an indecipherable enigma even to himself. what is the use of an explanation if there is no meaning anyway? all he knows is that he loves you despite all the reasons, against all the reasons.
he sneaks under your shirt, fingertips teasingly exploring your skin as if he’s drawing a map. he feels you quiver when he finally reaches your chest, gently kneading the soft flesh in his palm. this makes you mewl in pleasure, arching your back as your hand unconsciously curls around his wrist, the cotton fabric separating the two of you. the action electrifies jungkook, makes him lose himself a little more, which he didn’t think was still possible.
“touch me, please- jungkook. need you-” you choke out a desperate whimper, nearly sobbing as you guide his hand between your thighs. you can’t bear to spend another second untouched; the last time you made love feels like an eternity ago. he slips past the waistband of your underwear, the only article of clothing you’re wearing below. but to your disappointment, he gently caresses your hip bone instead of dipping his long fingers into your wetness.
“shh, hold on, baby-” he forces himself to break away from the kiss, swollen and red lips glistening with spit. “baby, look at me. you didn’t drink, right? i don’t want to take advantage.”
you gape at him with your chest heaving up and down, dumbfounded. “how could you even think of that right now?”
his eyes widen in panic, worried that he might’ve offended you. “no, no, no-” his palms skim your thighs, guiding them to wrap around his slim waist. you gasp when he presses up on you and his hard length rubs on your folds, sending jolts of electricity up your spine. a gush of arousal dampens the thin material covering your center.
“i want you so fucking bad that it hurts.” he gingerly wipes away the tears that you didn’t even notice streamed down to your temples. you can’t remember the last time you cried before today, they must’ve gotten tired of asking for your permission. “but you were crying when you called, baby. i had to make sure.”
“oh, my boyfriend is such a gentleman.” you muse dreamily. pepper his face with delicate kisses, lips curving upward with an adoring smile. “look at him enjoying my kisses.”
you playfully squeeze his cheeks together, making his pillowy lips pucker.
“you really wanted to break up with me in this case, huh? you wanted to live without me and my kisses? no way.”
his eyelids flutter open, and he shakes his head as he dips down to kiss you. “it was hell without you…” his teeth captures your bottom lip, nipping at the supple flesh. “going to build a life with you. i’ll build furniture, and they’re going to be ours.”
“good. you better.” your high-pitched giggles bounce off the walls as his lips trail down to your neck, licking a bold stripe over your ticklish spots. “i don’t have the patience for it, but i’ll be your trusty assistant.”
it’s ridiculous, how even the sound of your laughter turns him on even more.
—
jungkook learned that you finished your exams yesterday, having spent majority of the past two weeks pulling all-nighters to prepare for them. you seem to be confident about the results, the way you talked about it without concern. he never once doubted that you’re resolute and persevering, but acing your exams in the middle of a breakup is beyond what he can digest. it must’ve been a grueling experience, he can only imagine.
he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and then your lips, before dragging the blanket higher over your naked figure, a thicker one he brought out from the cabinet. poor thing, you fell asleep on his lap while he was drying your hair, incoherently murmuring about how tired you are.
he walks to your study space, fixing the loosening towel wrapped around his waist. one by one, he pulls out the items from the paper bag, returning them to their old places on your desk. he toothily grins at the windbreaker, ecstatic due to his plan on wearing it at work today. he wants to give it back to you smelling like him again.
an index card lands on the ground when he unfolds it, making him peer down in curiosity.
“what’s this?” he mumbles, bending down to pick it up.
jumbled thoughts. a letter shoved at the back of the mailbox. a hesitant confession. a bittersweet reminder that says: a wound does not magically disappear overnight. it requires the proper treatment to heal correctly, and even then, it might still leave a scar.
These are only a few of many. Why is this the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do? I’m usually the more logical one. Was it really so bad that we weren’t going anywhere?
and messily crossed out at the end,
I miss you.
—
taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D
—
#jungkook#jungkook fluff#jungkook drabble#jungkook scenario#jungkook imagine#jungkook one shot#jungkook fic#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x you#jungkook x reader#jungkook au#bts fluff#bts reaction#jungkook angst#jungkook smut
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I'm not sure if you've already answered something like this, but what are your reasons for disliking Tom Taylor?
I haven't read everything of his regarding the Titans and Dick but I don't really like what I've seen so far. I was excited at first with the current Titans run, etc. But that excitement has faded away.
What I don't like that is hard to put into words is his writing seems to reflect that he doesn't really understand the characters that he's writing, AND he seems to prefer Dick with Babs instead of Kory.
But what are your thoughts on Tom Taylor's writing?
in a nutshell — tom taylor is a fundamentally incurious person who writes comics to go viral on twitter. there’s no tangible substance in what he writes aside from moments of unearned toothless fluff, he isn’t interested in preserving legacy relationships or characterisation, and he lauds himself as a champion of representation while blocking those from marginalised communities who critique his works for being harmful or otherwise inaccurate.
his writing on nightwing reinvented dick grayson as a spineless, inoffensive character with almost no conviction. babs gordon has been removed from oracle entirely and exists as his girlfriend who lovingly banters with him but otherwise possesses no personal stance on any issue. his portrayal of bludhaven is devoid of its grit, style, or culture. dick’s ability to perform basic tasks as a hero — solving cases on his own, any degree of instinct or self preservation, acting like an adult — is notably absent. his chip about kory manifests in strongarming babs into being dicks one true love — something that defies existing canon and harms both of their existing relationships with other characters.
his writing on titans pisses me off even more, because now he has a wide cast of established characters that he can water down into stereotypes, flat characterisation lifted out of the cartoon, and bad politics. raven is basically a non-character who exists to be bb’s girlfriend. roy is totally absent. kory is underwritten. donna is flat and lifeless. the dynamics of the group are totally off. the decisions they make are bad, and because he’s established dick as a dunce i don’t understand why anyone would sincerely trust him to lead this group.
the issue is that there are no stakes. taylor’s liberalism allows for surface-level representation with no substance and no personality. why should i care that superman is bi if said superman decides to hug space-hitler instead of fighting him? why would i care that dick grayson is back in bludhaven if every character around him exists to support his new, inferior storytelling? taylor does not appear interested in improving his craft or actually collaborating with the people he claims to represent. there is no compassion, no sincere interest in nuanced storytelling. only window dressing with shiny cover art by dan mora
#is this too mean? idc fuck that guy#my proudest moment was meeting him at a con and telling him his hat was ugly ❤️#nightwing#dick grayson#teen titans#dc comics#the ask and the answer
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x : AFTERGLOW :*+ﾟ
it's all me, just don't go !
in which: rin doesn't realise what he has until it's gone. now that you're gone, he will do anything to get you back.
warnings: 5.2k wc, ANGST TO FLUFF, breakup, toxic relationship towards the beginning, rin is really mean to gn!reader, hopeful ending, rin is devastatingly in love and pathetic, reader and rin are adults + he's a soccer player, other characters make an appearance and are friends with reader, mentions of throwing up, mentions of food, both reader and rin cry, just listen to taylor swift's 'afterglow'.
a/n: FINALLY, THIS FIC THAT I STARTED ALL THE WAY BACK IN APRIL IS DONE. GOODNESS. i have mixed feelings towards this piece, but i cannot withhold it from the world any longer. i'm going to forget i ever wrote this and move on! this literally took three drafts to finish.
you don’t know when your relationship with itoshi rin began to crumble since it isn’t an event that can be pinpointed, not a date that can be marked in your calender, and most certainly not a reminder you can set in your phone.
your friends keep telling you that you need to think back on it, that although it hurts, it was a necessary step in healing and getting over him. the more you reflect on it, however, your heart would only shatter into more fragments, with each one piercing you with the memories of better times.
when did his expression turn sour? when did he begin looking at you with such disdain? when did he decide he didn’t need you anymore?
when did rin’s chips of insecurity wedge themselves between you?
the only memory that serves as an answer occurred at 7:00 pm one regular night. if you think hard enough, you can remember how the plush couch cushions sank under your weight, the clicks of the clock that had a second hand minutely too fast, and the sinking feeling of premonition in your gut.
the latest rin ever comes back is 6:00, and if not, he would have let you known why he wasn’t home.
so where was he? the takeout you bought for dinner is getting cold and your stomach is growing louder and more impatient by the second. you didn’t want to eat without him though since it’s something you did daily; eating together as a way of debriefing and letting go of the stress that the day brought.
after an onslaught of unanswered phone calls from you, at 7:15, rin merely texts a ‘won’t be home for a while. eat without me’, and although rin was naturally curt and straightforward, the text had a depravity of… him, somehow. either way, his message causes a swirl of emotions in your stomach; unpleasant ones that begin to grow a nauseous shade of green.
you put rin’s takeaway in the fridge regardless, sending him a quick text telling him to be safe and that you’ll see him soon.
he probably got caught up with something. you’re sure it’ll be fine.
you shouldn’t have ignored that sinking feeling of premonition. shouldn’t have pushed down the unease swirling in your stomach when shutting the door to the refrigerator before stalking over to the kitchen island with slow steps as you prepare to eat in silence. no one to keep you company except your own thoughts and the ghost of rin’s presence.
and when rin does come home almost two hours later, he stills calls your name as usual, you still go to him as usual, he greets you with a tired smile as usual, you hug him as usual, he doesn’t kiss the top of your forehead, though. you ignore it, pushing your thoughts aside because he was home. he finally came back. you’ll wake up tomorrow and this uneasy feeling will sort itself out.
except it doesn’t.
from that night onwards, rin changes. slowly, but surely, the cracks of change manifest in your relationship and through it all, you choose to cast a blind eye, plastering over it with sightless belief in your love.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
the queasy feeling in your gut never stills. it fades at times when your mind is busy with other things, but it inevitably gets drawn back into the whirlpool of concern regarding your lover- or, rather, rin.
you think you’re still in a relationship, but you don’t really know anymore. you haven’t seen him in a while. the only indication of his existence that you get are the stray bowls he leaves on the kitchen counter whenever he’s done eating, the lessening weight of his protein powder containers, and the decrease of various food items from the fridge that you restock here and there.
it feels like you’re living with a ghost.
some nights, when it gets the most lonely, your mind betrays you, completely eliminating any and all trust you had in rin.
you wonder if there’s another person. another lover that he feels more passionately for. another lover that his heart had gravitated towards, abandoning yours in the process. perhaps that is the explanation behind his absence.
but no evidence points towards that conclusion. there has been no suspicious deduction of bills from his bank statement that would suggest infidelity, his location is constantly at the sports stadium whenever you check, and there are no traces of a lover on him- not even you.
it is not totally blasphemous to assume that itoshi rin wouldn’t be engrossed in soccer to the point that he’d spend unhealthy and obsessive hours into honing his abilities, but it feels a little traitorous that he could forget about life outside of the sport. it isn’t just you he’s neglecting. his mother and father have been constantly asking when he’ll come over to spend some time together, his teammates have been asking you about rin’s whereabouts and when he’ll be free and what’s worse is that you never know how to answer every time.
it’s embarrassing to be seen as a lover that is forgettable enough for rin to dismiss, so you lie and lie and lie, telling everyone that you’ll tell them later, that he’s fine and just busy, and you lie to yourself. you tell yourself that rin will be home soon so you two can talk about it, and then everything will return to normal.
(your reflection looks through your facade, disheartened and worried.)
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
“why are you late?”
you jump at the voice that greets you when you step foot in the apartment and the sight before you causes you to wonder just how tired you feel, because rin is in your apartment, where he’s meant to be, for once. not only that, but he’s leaning against the couch, adorned in loungewear and slippers, and the sight is too foreignly domestic for your comprehension.
coming home to a house with someone there feels nice.
he’s lost a little bit of muscle and fat, but his frame is still as intimidating; shoulders broad and built, just the faintest indicator into the athletic body he’s developed over the years. his hair is a little longer too.
“oh, rin, hi.” you mutter, surprise evident in your tone.
“hello.”
“since i got a promotion,” you respond simply. rin makes no move to approach you, no initiative to take your bag and put it on the couch for you. instead, he stays rooted in his position leaning against the couch, arms crossed.
the air around him feels hostile, and suddenly you’re almost afraid to speak. “and does that promotion change your work hours or something?”
(he doesn’t congratulate or celebrate your achievement.)
“i work with flexible hours now but the office is further and the commute is so bothersome.”
rin uncrosses his arms with a thoughtful hum, gaze glued to the floor, mind occupied. you approach him slowly, pulling your bag off your shoulder and setting it in the entrance near the genkan with a thud, the sound sobering to him.
when he looks back up, you don’t want to acknowledge the emptiness in his icy eyes, barren of the usual determination that defined itoshi rin. but if you knew that that day would be the beginning of the end, perhaps you would have done something about it.
when you opened your arms for him, perhaps you would have hugged him a little tighter, a little longer, strained all the stress out of his shoulders.
perhaps you would have protected him a little harder from the cruelties of his own mind; shown him that the world was not out to get him, and that there was a place for people like him in the world (people who can’t see their own value and instead, berate themselves for their waning self-worth because they cannot see the light behind them).
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
“i’m going to shower,” rin declares once the moment both of you step in the safety of your shared home.
“no, you’re not! not before we talk,” you demand, hurriedly taking off your shoes so you can face him before he slips out of your grasp. the dark-haired turns to look at you with an unamused expression, the way tonight seemed to drag on obviously taking a toll on him.
“you’re gonna stop me from taking a shower, really?”
“yes because what the fuck was going on with you tonight?”
he narrows his eyes into slits, the pure intimidation that rin naturally emanates almost threatening you into submission. however, for the humiliation you’ve had to endure tonight, you won’t budge.
“i don’t understand,” rin says monotonously. you roll your eyes.
“you don’t understand? what’s that supposed to mean?”
“i don’t know what you’re getting mad over.”
“the fact that you didn’t even try to talk to me- let alone look at me, once this entire night?”
your partner looks away, crossing his arms over his chest. “that’s an exaggeration,” he huffs.
“no it’s not!” you recall the looks of pity sent your way when rin sat beside you unmoving and unresponsive to any conversation you tried to make. “would it have killed to show you some sort of interest?”
“would it kill you to not receive attention for one night?” he retaliates.
“it’s not about that-”
“really? sure feels like it. i don’t have time to shower you with all my attention, y/n, there are other things i have to do.”
there are a million things you want to say to rin, a million emotions that you have felt whilst he’s been absent, a million examples of how he’s been leaving you behind and how you’re now fed up of keeping these millions to yourself. yet, not a word leaves you, too stunned by the stranger in front of you to voice it all out.
rin, however, takes your silence as defeat and turns to leave.
“you’re being dramatic. i’m going to shower before i waste anymore time with this lukewarm conversation.”
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
the night your relationship officially fell apart is one you still remember vividly, because it only happened a few days ago.
in your memory, the night was nearing 9pm, yet rin had still not come home.
your heart takes you to him because as much as your relationship with him has caused you nothing but pain recently, you know itoshi rin. you know him because you’re soulmates and where he goes, there’s a fragment of your heart that follows.
the drive to the practice pitch is nothing but heavy. heavy with your anticipation and stress, you feel your chest constrict and tighten, especially when you pull up into the very empty parking lot.
“rin!” you shout for the fifth time and only then, does the dark-haired look up at you from where he’s doing dribbling drills. he almost trips over the ball from your interruption.
“wha- oh,” he turns away just before you can catch the roll of his eyes, the snarl of frustration (one that lovers should never bare at each other). “what do you want?”
you pause a few feet away from him, utterly gobsmacked with the attitude your partner was showing you. after driving all this way, the least you’d want is a little concern, but alas.
“it’s time to go,” you stand your ground. “i’m here to pick you up.”
“yeah, right, i’m not going home.”
“that’s ridiculous! are you not tired?”
“no.”
“rin. c’mon, that’s enough, you need to rest.”
“what the fuck do you know about being enough?” he asks.
the silence is deafening and most hurtful.
you stammer out the only response you can, “wh-what?”
he doesn’t give you anything. unrelenting, he is. rin has always been the embodiment of stubbornness served cold. not finding much productivity in his silence, you continue speaking with a wavering voice. “let’s go home. please, you shouldn’t be working yourself like this-”
“-leave me the fuck alone!” he finally comes undone. “can’t you see that i don’t have time to deal with headaches like you?”
the thread keeps unravelling.
“fucking lukewarm. i can’t deal with this right now, i don’t need you here.”
“fine,” you murmur. rin has his back turned against you and he prepares himself to kick another ball. “i’ll leave then since you don’t need me.”
when rin arrives home that night, he reasons the unease churning in his stomach on the physical exertion of practice as nothing is out of place. the apartment is as kept and tidy as it typically is, the lights are off because you’ve gone to bed, and there is a meal on the kitchen counter sealed by plastic wrap.
he won’t eat it because he’ll want to throw up otherwise, so rin tucks it neatly into the fridge, not thinking twice about the emptiness on the shelves, right where your favourite drinks are normally kept.
the athlete washes up quickly and efficiently, a good night’s rest sounding too appealing for his battered body that felt as heavy as lead.
that night, sleep takes rin and lulls him into a temporary sanctuary, protecting him from the reality that he would wake up to. because when morning comes, he will turn and find that you are not beside him like he expects you to be. your side of the bed is untouched, devoid of any warmth or indicator that you were there.
he checks the bathroom- you’re not there. he calls your name in the hallway- you don’t respond. he scans the kitchen, the study, the living room, and finds nothing but loneliness in each room. there’s no text from you indicating that you were elsewhere.
you’ll return, though. rin’s sure of it.
except you don’t, the hours pass by with rin anticipating your return, and his confidence slowly dwindles with each minute. by the time it’s been 24 hours since he last saw you, his patience runs thin. finding your contact, rin presses the ‘call’ button and is surprised that it does not go through, stopping him after only one ring when an automated voice says ‘this caller is unavailable’.
the dark-haired stares at your contact in contempt, furrowing his eyebrows when all of his following attempts receive the same treatment, but rin continues stubbornly because you couldn’t have blocked him, right?
was it because of what he said? he didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean to blow up on you like that- how is he supposed to say sorry if he can’t even reach you?
checking his private accounts on various social media, he sees that you’ve blocked him there too. running in to the master bedroom and checking the closet, half of your clothes are missing, and the bag you keep on the shelf is missing too. the bathroom lacks some of your products, your laptop and various chargers are gone from your study space, and the heaviness of your absence hits itoshi rin like a train.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
you never did come around to collect your stuff. rin finds a little bit of pain in that fact.
he feels like a ghost, haunted by the trinkets of you that remain littered around his apartment. he doesn't have the heart to throw them out, not when they're the closest thing to you he can get.
a few times rin sees you in his dreams. a few times he sees you in his nightmares, looking completely hurt and run-down by his recklessness and neglect, but most mornings he wakes up feeling emptier, no one to turn to on your side on the bed. not anymore. there’s no body to hold when he needs it most, there’s no one to keep him company whilst he eats dinner, there’s no love. not since the day you left.
you, on the other hand, find it odd to live life without a second person in the periphery. you thought rin was the one for you, you never had any thoughts about what life could be without him because you were certain that it would be him that you spent the rest of your years with, so learning to accommodate without him is gnawing you away, the little bug of loneliness festing on your newfound independence.
you’re seated on the floor of your best friend’s living room when reo texts one day, interrupting your apartment hunt.
reo: Are you still coming to my party?
you scrunch your eyebrows at the text, unknowing of where it was coming from.
y/n: not anymore. what’s up?
reo: Why not :(
reo: Please it’d be so fun
y/n: don’t you know that rin and i broke up?
reo: Ok but he’s definitely not coming
reo: It’s Rin, he doesn’t have a life so you’re fine. Pls say you’ll come
reo: Plus he’s been all mopey ever since so I don’t think he’s in a party mood
you dutifully ignore the last part of reo’s statement. after a little more coaxing, he finally manages to get you to agree to come, but not without a feeling of apprehension settling in your gut. still, it would be a shame to miss out on an invitation from a friend because of it.
besides, reo’s bargain of offering to buy your outfit was too tempting to let go.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
“practice was rough,” bachira murmurs, flopping on the sides of the soccer field with a sigh. his sweat causes his hair and clothes to cling to his skin, and isagi takes a seat on the bench beside his best friend, tossing the dual-tone haired his water bottle.
wiping the sweat off his forehead, isagi agrees with a hum. “i know. i just want to go home.”
“i don’t know how rin does this, staying overtime and all of that.”
“he’s insane. it only got worse after his breakup and everything.”
bachira frowns, looking over to where the dark-haired in question is standing. “i feel bad for rin-rin, seems like he’s not taking it well at all.”
a beat of silence passes before bachira speaks again. “you know y/n’s coming to reo’s party this weekend?”
the black-haired wipes his mouth before setting the water bottle down. “really?”
“yeah. reo told me.”
“that’s nice, it’s been a while since we’ve seen y/n so it’d be nice to catch up.”
“i wonder if rin knows.”
“i doubt it,” isagi reassures, “he hardly goes to parties like the one reo’s throwing.”
“maybe that’s why y/n agreed in the first place.”
“probably.”
a cold voice suddenly cuts the two from their conversation “y/n’s going to reo’s party?”
isagi feels his blood cool over before looking up. there, stands itoshi rin, who has a frazzled, yet equally determined look in his eyes, one that isagi has not seen in a while (not since you left). “what? no! where did you hear that from?”
bachira laughs nervously, “you’re hearing things, rin-rin!
but they are soccer players, not actors or professional liars. “shut the fuck up, asshats. y/n’s going to reo’s party this weekend?”
the two exchange a look and their silence is the only answer rin needs.
“hold on, you’re not thinking of going, are you?” isagi asks, accepting defeat and now switching tactics.
“why wouldn’t i? my partne-” he pauses. “y/n is gonna be there.”
“yes but-”
“-you can’t stop me from going, so don’t even think about it.”
without another word, rin is gone, stalking away with a scary determination that was previously dormant.
“what did we just do?” bachira mumbles. “should we tell y/n?”
“nah.”
“agreed.”
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
you should have never come to this party.
how stupid and foolish of you, but how utterly cruel of the universe to let you hurt like this, to let the same pain that has walked all over you for the past few months return; this time ramming into you with the ferocity of a bull, knocking the air out of your lungs
“y/n!” comes the dreaded call of your name. you walk a little faster, breaking into an-almost sprint.
“y/n!”
“for fucks sake- y/n!” this cry of your name is broken, rasped and pathetic, and your chests clenches from how pained it sounds. like a howl from an injured wolf, it is broken enough for you to pity it, luring you into a trap that will inevitably end in chunks being torn from your heart, but you don’t have much left to spare, so you keep running, no matter how badly you want to give in.
except it’s not enough to deter rin, nothing ever be when there’s a goal in sight, especially one so close that he can taste it.
“y/n, please, i need to talk to-”
“-go away, rin!” you cut him off, hugging yourself tighter to shield yourself against the cold and rin’s pleas from piercing you.
“not until you listen to me!”
fury powers you, igniting you with the courage to turn around and finally face him. you don’t look him in the eye, keeping your gaze elsewhere, but he shuts up nevertheless, awestruck by finally being able to see you face-to-face after being so long away from you. all words die on his throat, withering away to nothing as his eyes slightly widen in shock.
you’re just as beautiful as the day you left; perhaps even more so.
rin wonders if your radiancy was birthed by his absence, and if the answer is ‘yes’, he might wither away on the spot.
“it’s always about you isn’t it?” you shout. “always about what you want and never about what others want. you said you wanted me to leave, so i did! what more could i possibly give?”
he gulps, utterly entranced as his heart makes itself known in his chest, racing wildly and vividly; the first indication that it was alive and hadn’t been replaced by a gaping hole in your absence. he hasn’t felt this human since you left.
“i didn’t mean for you to actually leave,” rin confesses shakily.
“well, it didn’t seem like you wanted me to stay either.”
“no, that’s not-” he falters. “it’s… not the same without you.”
you hug yourself tighter. “i don’t believe you, you’re just saying that now that there’s nobody to warm your bed.”
“no, it’s not like that- i don’t like living without you,” the athlete continues, admitting something so heavy with such airiness.
“you can’t just say that after so long. not when you’ve been living without me months before we broke up.”
there are a million and one things that rin wants to say to you, but none of them break through the whirlwind that is his thoughts, rattling around in his brain on overdrive and overwhelming him with the intensity of them all. one thing he knows for sure is that you are the single muse behind all of them, the only thing that is keeping him sane amongst the flurry of disturbances.
then, you shiver from the chilly breeze of the night, and the whirlwind is silenced into oblivion to awaken a dormant instinct of his instead. one that commands him to fulfil a duty that he’s not inclined to do anymore.
quickly, rin takes off his jacket and holds it out to you, as if expecting you to take it.
he drops it when you don’t, hope dwindling in his stomach.
swallowing weakly, he then asks “would you ever give me a second chance?”
“you’ll hurt me again,” you glance away, the street lamps highlighting the melancholy in your profile as rin observes you closely. his eyes outline the curves of your face, each divet and slope that he used to trace with his hands now out of his reach. “you take and you take, but you never give and i’m so tired of it.”
“don’t say that,” he pleads, voice barely louder than a whisper as the dark-haired takes a heavy step towards you. “you’ll break my heart.”
“i shouldn’t love you anymore, you’re bad for me.”
“then i’ll be good- i’ll become whatever you want me to be-”
“-we won’t work like that.”
“we’ll work as long as i’m yours again, just, let me fix us, i’ll do whatever it takes. i’m not giving up like this.”
the first tear makes herself known and paths the way for your downfall like a tsunami, washing away whatever you had built up during your time away from itoshi rin; the good and the bad. the hurt and the healing, all undone by a singular, stray tear. in your vision, he becomes nothing but a blur, a kaleidoscope of colours that you once loved.
a kaleidoscope of colours that you still love, much to the chagrin of your broken heart.
a hand wraps around your wrist, a warm shackle that grounds you to rin like he’s your lifeline. no matter how bad you want to push him away, something in you will always bend to him.
“don’t cry,” he pleads, voice airy and breathy. “i’m sorry, please don’t cry.”
please don’t cry because of me.
“i don’t want to be with you if it means i need to go through all of that again.” you whisper, slipping out of his grasp like sand and wiping away your own tears, rejecting his callous and prickly touch.
rin’s world dims as panic seizes his throat. “please don’t say that, you don’t mean it.”
“i do though. you left me first, don’t you know?”
“-i do.”
“and now i’m not yours to care about anymore-”
“i know, i know,” words are merely spilling out of his mouth without much purpose at this point, because he’ll do anything just to delay you leaving, to push back the possibility of you turning around and never seeing you again. why did he have to break who he loved so much?
still, he pleads for another chance, desperation shining in his eyes as pure longing fills him. you have always been too good to him, he knows, but like the tumultuous tides and their inability to stray too far from the shore, rin will come back to you with his undying devotion.
even if he thinks you should find someone better than him, that you should be adored by someone who could love you so much better, he can’t let go. to let you go is to let go the one good thing that came to him in life,
you exhale shakily. “we’ve loved each other for too long.”
“what do you mean?” he stutters, eyes widening helplessly.
“i have loved you too much for too long, rin,” you choke, “there has to be an end to us somewhere in sight- you need to accept that.”
“no,” his look of absolute devastation causes a physical recoil in your stomach. “no- not long enough, it’ll never be enough, fuck- even forever won’t be long enough, i can’t let you go like that.”
he crosses the distance between you in the blink of an eye. you can’t see him clearly under the dim light of the night, but you can feel him, so close and so overwhelming, but so cold as his hands come to grasp yours. his grip is firm, not enough to hurt, but enough for you to feel his determination.
tears dance along his lashline.
“please, tell me you’re still mine,” begs the dark-haired. rin’s tears are diamonds, in which they are precious, but they also crumble into a precious waterfall that rolls down his cheeks, tempting you towards his beautiful ruination.
words continue to tumble out of him, each one sharpened to pierce your defences. “tell me that we’ll be fine, that i’m all you want, please. i’m so fucking sorry for hurting you, but please don’t leave me.
i’ll fix us, i’ll become everything you need, i’ll be good.”
the dark-haired’s hands find their way to your face, cupping each side of your jaw with a scary gentleness; one that you’d never expect from someone as ragged as itoshi rin.
“i love you,” he declares, so raw, so full of passion that it makes you sick. the rin you know never lets his heart on his sleeve like this.
you cave. “how will you fix us?”
slowly. he’ll rebuild everything that you have given him.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
first, rin takes you out on dates again. calls you beautiful and really means it.
second, rin leaves practice at regular times, and listens when you tell him that he needs to take care of himself. because for you, he will.
third, rin picks you up from work. his practice ends a little earlier than your job, so he always goes the extra mile to be there for you at the end of the day. even if you tell him that he doesn’t need to go out of his way to do so, he’d rather see you get home safe than only receiving a mere text of confirmation.
plus, it gives rin more time with you.
fourth, rin sends you regular gifts. from bouquets, to random items that he just knows you’d like, they all get left at your door at the best times.
fifth, rin lets you set the pace. you wanted things to go slow so that you two didn’t have to force anything back in place. no point recreating something that’s in the past, you reasoned, so might as well try again.
sixth, rin takes his time in welcoming you back into his space. it’s a few months after you two have reconciled, and majority of your items are back where they belong (you poked fun at him for not being able to throw away the stuff you did leave, and he just mumbled something indecipherable, all embarrassed, before moving on). the life has been restored in his apartment, now filled with more remnants of you loitering around his space: your various chargers and laptop, your products, your clothes, they all sit beside his things like that’s where they are meant to be.
and you are back in his arms, because it is where you are meant to be (more for his sake than yours).
rin stirs awake one morning under the gentle light of the morning sun and you’re there beside him, occupying the space that he has left devastatingly empty. mattress still curved to your frame as he never dared infiltrate it, in hopes that you would return.
now that you have, you feel too warm, too familiar, too unreal that he wonders if you’re just another dream of his.
then, you stir, and press yourself closer against his chest, face to face with the heart that only beats for you.
a stray tear rolls down rin’s face; a salvation for the utter relief he feels, as well as the overwhelming amount of adoration that he stores for you. his ‘i love you’ is sweeter than the chirping of the birds outside, and certainly more meaningful as he wraps more of himself around your sleeping figure, hoping to attach all of him to all of you.
you’re home. he won’t let you leave again.
© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
#itoshi rin x reader#rin x reader#rin itoshi x reader#blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#itoshi rin fluff#blue lock fluff#blue lock rin#itoshi x reader#blue lock itoshi rin#itoshi rin drabble#itoshi rin x gn!reader#I HATE THIS SO MUCH
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colour me in: blooming | jjk (m)
Summary: You're the flower blossoming in Jungkook's living room, no matter how relentless the rain. And you're the sun he tirelessly orbits — warm as a home.
➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader
➳ rating: 18+
➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; hints of angst, fluff overload, suggestive
➳ warnings: full jk pov!, fluff fluff fluff, but also crying, bits of insecurities, mommy and daddy issues, their friendddsss <3, oc's favourite blanket smells like him <3, his feelings for her are consuming him in a gorgeous way 🥺, grocery shopping 🍏 and then a housewarming party, jk chocolate chip nips appreciation (oc pinches them lol), horniness, implied sex + implied boner, sexual tension, flirting and teasing and bickering, yearning, convos about their relationship/life, cooking together hehe, jk is so… jk, kissing/making out, the ending ♡
➳ word count: 15.6k
➳ a/n: domesticity is my favourite city and i never wanna leave lol. i've genuinely been enjoying fluff more than i ever thought i would. this chapter made me so damn happy and i hope it has the same effect on you guys, too <3 let me know how you liked it; feedback is always appreciated 🥺 also, there are lil sub-headings to avoid confusion with the timeline!! enjoy!! 🤍
➳ a/n2: even though i am a tiny bit late… happy birthday @jkaxl. love you so much, axelle <3
➳ listen to: daylight by taylor swift (ty anon <3) | full collaborative playlist 🤍
SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST
MASTERLIST | WIPs
”Are you happy?”
“I’m… I’m adjusting to it all. It’s new. But so far I feel— relieved.”
“Okay.” He pauses. “I’m sorry I didn’t encourage that feeling earlier. But… you know. You found your way on your own, and somehow, I find that just as remarkable. If not so much more.”
“Thank you.”
Silence breaks the dialogue, but there are still shreds of unspoken words he’s not letting out yet. Right on the tip of his tongue, resting quietly; so you wait. Let your weary gaze slump to your lap, blinking until you hear a rustle and a—
“Do you want to come over sometime?”
You don’t know.
So you respond in just that uncertainty, “Maybe at some point? When it’s… not so overwhelming anymore.”
“I understand. Hey,” another break in his speech, “I’m proud of you.”
Your heart suspends for a fraction of a moment, but you feel the seething, searing pain. Fresh, clumping up your throat.
“…Thank you.”
THE SUNDAY AFTER THE PRESS CONFERENCE
When Jungkook locks the door, the apartment is quiet, but the living room light still glowing.
Still fired up and hot, the cool back of his hand pats his warm neck and cheek. Your name threatens to tumble off his tongue, but an oddly calm feeling advises against it. And as he carries his bag into the living room, setting it down next to a big flower pot you so wanted, he sees why.
Because you’re curled up on the couch, temple against the back of it, legs pulled in. Your favourite blanket — that you swear constantly smells like him — is draped half over you, falling off one of your shoulders.
You’re sound asleep.
Jungkook recognises the pout even from afar; lets his eyes drift from your face to the hand peeking out of the blanket. Brushing a piece of paper that is holding on for dear life, attempting not to slip off your lap.
What if he never moved? If he kept staring?
Back in college, one of his dearest professors used to say, “You know it’s art when even blinking feels like a waste of time. You don’t want to spend a second not looking at it.”
That very semester is still a major component of Jungkook’s memory. Ever since, he’s seen a handful and a dozen and a hundred pieces that matched the words once uttered.
Just, never as much as today.
The sky has obscured since he left two hours ago — he wonders how fast that time passed for you. Either way, he reckons you didn’t rest until your body forced you to. Because it’s not anywhere near bedtime; but the changes in your life constantly add to your exhaustion.
He wanted to help. He did all morning before you sent him away, arguing that, “You’re already doing too much. And you hate paperwork anyway!”
To which he expressed, “But I don’t hate you or having you here!”
“Just go!” You reached to his left nipple, poking it, and he, wearing a frisky smirk, instinctively threw a protective hand over it. “The muscles demand your attention desperately. Just don’t look at other girls’ butts, ‘kay?”
He chuckled.
You made it sound like a life-altering goodbye to a year-long journey instead of a brief trip to the gym. He nodded solemnly, nearly saluting as he agreed, “You’re right. Gonna make sure I’m able to crush you extra hard.”
But it seems you crushed and knocked yourself out well enough. And that after he sent out various emails with you, drafting and crafting a battle plan, googling salient issues and their solutions, and writing down lists of everything still left to do before you can actually move in.
The two of you are lucky the landlord is laid-back. Usually, they don’t let anyone move in so quickly; demand a couple months. And you’ll already be settling here officially the very next.
Not that it makes any difference.
You already spend your dusks and dawns here, clinging, reluctant to go home. And he won’t tell you to; he’d be a fool to. Plus, he hates his bed cold.
Jungkook’s steps are slow, muscles painful to the touch. He sweeps his tresses back as he nears your slumbering, balled up form, soon pressing a hand into the arm of the couch. Suppressing a groan, he leans in; frees your closed eye from a lock before he plants a kiss next to it.
You stir with the softest flutter of your eyelashes, just a teeny tiny bit.
God. You tilt his world off its axis.
“Baby,” he whispers.
It must be pulling you out of the remnants of your doze, because your muscles awaken, corners of your lips twitching. The movement of your legs finally pushes the paper off the blanket, and Jungkook hurries to catch it before it can drift to the floor; places it on the table.
He kneels; and for the briefest, smallest moments, you flinch when your pupils eventually align with his. Then, relaxation floods you anew, and you grip the blanket, sliding it back over you — only for it to glide down again.
You smile — a tired beam, accompanied by a sigh. Not quite wide, because you’re not fully there yet, but still so genuine. Stretching a little, you murmur, “You’re back.”
“And you’re still working,” he scolds, albeit cushioning his words by bringing a fingertip to your jaw. Flicking affectionately, softly. “Did you eat?”
“Mhmmm. But it’s—” Your hand taps for something, moving under the blanket; and a second later, you’re lighting up your phone, squinting at it. “It’s not late. Gonna eat with you again. I’m not that tired anymore.”
As if on cue, you yawn, tears of weariness collecting. You interrupt it with a gentle snicker and promise, “I mean it.”
The lopsided smile emerges on his features quickly. The drowsy, vulnerable tone in your voice caresses his heart like a gust… but the meaning behind it doesn’t pass by him so fast.
“Don’t overwork yourself, okay?” he repeats for the fifth time today alone; it’s become a constant habit. A reminder, like clockwork. “The body knows when you do.”
“No. I feel great.”
“Just. Be nice to yourself, munchkin.”
“I am,” you defend, attempting to stress the verb, but not quite getting there, “I am. Don’t worry so much.”
An impossible demand; but how would he explain it to you?
Despite the shake of his head, he still gives in, “Okay. I’ll shower and be back in a sec, yeah?”
He waits for your confirmation until you hum in unintelligible agreement, moving back in to plant a kiss on your forehead. Rushes to the shower, washes off today’s effort.
Wet hair strands pushed back, he finds you shuffling and organising the papers you read and filled in today, placing them neatly in the middle of the table. You look more awake now, delivering a content smile before heading to the kitchen with him.
Only, your mind might not be entirely unfogged yet — because your movements are slow. Different from how he handles the stir fry that the two of you cooked for lunch together.
You were proud of your creation — told Jungkook how you’re still far from the skills he possesses, but not bad to start with and improving every day. Seasoning better, understanding how to cut faster without hurting yourself in the process.
It’s lovely, watching the contentment spread in your eyes.
Yet, Jungkook always makes sure to stand close to your back, hands lifted, persistently ready to salvage the situation if need be.
But right now, judging from your clearly burdened brain, he bestowed a relatively simple task upon you. And you look so cute doing it — bun all messy, shoulders slumped, sporting (after stealing) his joggers since they’re so ridiculously comfortable, so get your own.
He side-eyes you every now and then, forbearing a chuckle; but when your lower lip juts in concentration, he can’t help but sling an arm around your waist. The jug containing the iced tea shakes, and you hold the glass carefully, voicing a little, “Oh— I… Kook.”
You’re wide-eyed and caught off guard; blinking when he tilts his head and leaves a kiss under your ear.
You raise your shoulder at the tickling sensation, and when you call his name again, your voice is reprimanding. But he could pick out the endearment even in his sleep.
That’s how it goes every hour of the day; sweet and new ever since you started frequenting his place even more often than before.
Something has occurred since the press conference. Two days only — but the universe has changed. Maybe it has expanded faster than ever and birthed a couple billion more stars, made even the nights brighter. He doesn’t know.
All he does recognise is that unnamed, newfound feeling spreading in his chest, and he’s been unblurring it. Bit by bit. Letting it take on a form that will soon consume him. He’s sure.
And soon, there’ll be a fitting word and definition matching this phenomenon, too.
It’s triggered by even the smallest things.
Like by the sound of your steps when you walk through the apartment. Or by the way you hum your favourite song all the time, unconsciously; then singing the line you hold dearest to your heart before resuming to the hum.
Trust in me when I say…
Or even… by how you’re facing him an hour later, satiated and cross-legged on the bed as you finish up today’s work.
You’ll have to notify the bank and whatnot of your move soon, so you need to brainstorm the relevant institutions that the new address and information will go to. It shouldn’t take too long; you’re diligent, so you’ll just be noting down all numbers next to the places you need to contact and then crash.
Jungkook soon takes over that task, lips moving as he reads the words, writes them down. And amidst the end-of-the-day chore, you crane your neck to read, and tell him, “You have such pretty handwriting.”
“So do you. I didn’t know you made circles over your lower case I’s,” he looks closer to where you scribbled, tapping the pen against a letter, “and awwh. The curves of the T’s!”
You giggle before you add, “I’ve heard a pretty handwriting symbolises inner beauty, by the way.”
“Ohh, so we’re both beautiful.”
“No doubt. We need to take more pictures… we look great together.”
That’s what’s been filling the hours of these days, too, Jungkook supposes. The airy, light atmosphere within the four walls he’s come to share with you. Laughter and shared glances, despite the stack awaiting you — because it signifies far more than paperwork.
Which is why it surprises him when a subtle switch occurs, suddenly and unannounced.
When he looks at your fingers lifting a paper, he can’t say what you’re seeing, but your ardour falters a little. Crooning dying, expression not matching the smile on the pictures you spoke of.
Delicately, you trace the edges of the document before putting it back down, aligning it with the rest of the pile. Pushing the whole thing to the side, you sigh, and he, a silent observer up to this moment, asks, “What’s wrong?”
“Hm?”
“You’re thinking about something. And I don’t like it when you’re quiet like this.”
“Oh… It’s nothing.” The shrug is subtle and unconvincing, and the tight shutting of your lips so telling to him. He senses the tension before you finally reveal, “Dad called today. And…” He waits; another shrug. “It’s nothing. He just asked how I was holding up. And that he’s sorry things had to escalate on Friday.”
Ah. Odd.
Jungkook would never say it to you: Because he has never been one to talk families down, sever a bond by voicing his opinion, even if the relationship’s already hanging by a thread. No… he’d never say it to you.
But.
There’s a dull realisation in the back of his mind; and it evokes quiet anger in him. That… there was always a potential anchor inhabiting the same house as you, but never serving as one.
Hidden behind your mother’s back, letting it all pass — probably for you to build character.
Jungkook has always assumed that his dad did just that, too. Throwing him into the world without support, letting a seemingly irresponsible teenager, and then young adult, experience hardships in order to learn how to deal with them.
In contrast to your father, his dad wouldn’t apologise to him… yet, in the end, morally and emotionally, both your families fucked up big time.
“Oh…”
You nod, elaborating, “He wanted to know if I was going to visit him. But I need a bit of time.”
Right… thinking about it, you haven’t seen your father in a while. And your mother hasn’t blown up your phone since Friday evening — when you came out of the glass building, with equally glassy yet hopeful eyes.
You truly must have let off steam in there for her to back away.
“Is that why you were saying you’ll be rushing to the house after work?”
Because as far as he recalls, you’ve been talking about gathering your stuff immediately after working hours — or on Saturday mornings. Never any other time. Because you know they won’t be at home then.
“Yeah,” you confirm, “I feel horrible neglecting him like that, because he seems to be glad that I’m happy, but…”
Your lips point downward; you clear your throat, but it doesn’t hide the tremble in your voice, “I just wish he’d defended me sometimes. Dunno. Maybe he did and I just don’t know about it? And it never worked? It’s what I like to think.”
God…
“Because,” you continue your vent, “he was strict but not like her, and… Sometimes he did recognise bullshit when he saw it. I’d hear them talk and he wouldn’t always see eye to eye with her. But a bit more open support would’ve been cool, you know?”
Shit, how it angers Jungkook.
The knot in your throat; how you avert his gaze; the looming tears. It all angers him.
He moves his hand to your knee, keeping his voice and heart steady for you. Simply uttering, “Baby…”
“And… and then today he suddenly seemed… I don’t know.” You take a deep breath, shaking your head. Your blinking fastens, and you vehemently dodge Jungkook’s eyes. “I dunno how casually he said it, but he told me he was proud.”
The way you emphasise the word… as if it’s a stranger to you, like you’re trying it out…
Jungkook sighs, heart and chest heavy, muttering so kindly—
“Oh, sweetheart… Ah, come here—”
His palm shoves the papers aside some more, uncaring, and brings you closer to his body. Yearning for your embrace, he shifts with you until your legs wrap around each other. Fingers slither to your chin to raise it, and then pinch your cheek adoringly.
The bedroom light falls into your sparkling eyes, shiny with the dampness. You’re not crying, but you sniffle for a moment.
“Of course he is,” he whispers, keeping your face upright, “what’s there not to be proud of? You’re so fucking cool.”
“…You think?”
“Of course I do,” he repeats, “you’re so inspiring and smart and funny and awesome. I’m the proudest of you, in fact.”
The heat increases beneath his palms as your cheek smoulders, pupils promptly softening. As if the outline of your irises is blurring, relinquishing the harder, unwanted emotions.
“I could probably live with just that,” you respond, managing a tender laugh and mixing it with your sniffles. “But…”
But perhaps, the heavy heart won’t get entirely lighter just yet. And Jungkook’s turns half blue at the same time as yours.
“I wish my mom could react the same way instead of being so… stubborn. I mean, it’s a good thing that I want to stand on my own two feet! And aside from work — she also saw me in the summer, and she knew how I felt without you. She sees how I feel now with you, too, and yet.”
You puff out some air, as if you’d been dying to rant; and he imitates the release of a quiet breath, but for wholly other reasons.
Because…
Along with the melancholy drenching your voice, the guilt shoots an arrow to his heart. Guilty about this damn summer; about the days he nearly gave up on you. If he could encase your fractured soul in a quick cure…
“I’m sorry she keeps hurting you, baby. And… I’m sorry you cried. Being sad over a loser like me was the last thing you needed, so…”
He’s half joking; lifting the corner of his lips. You seem to know, too, because you match his smile — still pledging, “Being sad sucked, but… you’re right here now and. I do need you.”
It’s so easy for you to tinge his entire being in a bright pink. Because somewhere in the depths of his mind, he admits that he wanted to hear this. That he wants you to need him as much as he needs you.
“And I’m right here to stay,” he promises. “Even if she doesn’t. Okay?”
“Yeah… yeah. But maybe someday she can be proud, too.”
It’s fucking you up more than he thought. Probably more than you thought.
“I’m sure,” he guarantees, “some people accept their mindsets as the only truth, angel, but one day she’ll come around.” You only nod. So he adds, “I’ll fix this with you.”
“Fix it?”
“The issues you deal with. And the ones I deal with. You and I together, okay?”
Your motions are slow. The nod is barely one; maybe because his hands refuse to establish yet another distance to your skin. And maybe because you’ve tired yourself out once and for all. The slight slouch is telling; your body needs some rest.
Enough with the papers.
“You know… somehow, this excites me,” he says. The grin emerging confuses you for a while; the flicker in your eyes is as delightful as the moment. “Pulling out all the stops and making things better with you, I mean. I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.”
And he’d know. Because if he’d been comfortable enough, he would’ve long ago; he had the chance to. Yet, the courage never surfaced — until with you.
His touch drops from your face to the side of your neck, shaking you gently before he says, “You excite me all the time.”
Shouldn’t be news to you — bearing his unceasing kisses and everlasting words in mind, his bliss is difficult to miss. There’s barely any containing it around you.
And maybe you know what he means; because judging from your dreamy smile, you can’t seem to muster any self-control either. Feeling the joy bubbling, growing, simmering in the middle of your stomach until it explodes and you—
Wrap your arms around his neck abruptly. Attacking him until balance abandons him, falling back onto the bed before you land on top of him. The hug is crushing, your body pushing into his with every sliver of fondness you can summon.
He could say something. Blurt more admissions dipped in honey. But he doesn’t question it; doesn’t comment on it. Only relishes the silence and your warm cheek against his chest, cuddling in.
And sighs in contentment.
A WEEK LATER
You’re messing up the structured system he established for himself.
The groceries are scattered in the cart; instead of playing Tetris with them, as he usually does, you’re piling them up randomly, unaware of the mess.
Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell you that the pack of eggs isn’t supposed to be balancing on top of other products like this. Because holy shit, you are buzzing. Not because you don’t know how to grocery shop, but because of the conversation this morning.
”I've got a whole list in my head. We’ll need a shit ton to make this work tonight.”
You were taming your hair as you listened; watching your reflection follow your movements — and as he readied himself for the day, Jungkook watched from afar.
You’d decided that for now, a week was enough to mourn the loss of whatever familial bonds could’ve been. Just last night you told him that starting this new life means an opportunity to gradually leave your sorrow behind, even if it takes some time.
And in celebration of the new arc you’re so joyfully approaching, you’d decided to host a housewarming of some sorts.
Jungkook’s friends already know his place; but the pronoun has changed. This time, you want them to step into your apartment, too.
Securing a hair strand with a clip, you asked, “Do we have it all here?”
“Not everything. Gotta go grocery shopping later.”
“Ohhh…”
Your fingers floated to the edge of the wash basin. You held it in your grip, leaning over it a little, staring into your own eyes quietly. He checked with another step closer to the bathroom, glimpsing at the expression in the mirror.
Calm, but thinking.
“What is it?” he asked, pulling his jeans’ zipper close.
“Uhh. Do you need help?”
“You should rest. You’re already doing so m—”
“No, no, I mean…” You let the sink go, folding your fingers. Inhaling for just a moment when your eyes fell on his bare torso. “I want to go grocery shopping with you. It’s Saturday and I have nothing to do until tonight. So… Please don’t go without me?”
The big eyes and saccharine question went straight to his heart; like one of Cupid’s pointy, sharp arrows targeting the exact middle of the organ. What else could he have done other than breaking into a breathy laugh — wide grin building a lively start to the morning.
“Of course. I’ll wait until you’re ready then.”
You raised a triumphant, tight fist, and he shook his head in delight. Diminished the distance between your bodies, a hand pressing into the back of your head before pulling you to his lips and placing a kiss to your forehead. Right before—
“Hey— ouch?”
It didn’t hurt; but he still felt the fingers pinching his tiny nipples — and heard your cheeky, “Why are they always hard? And why are you always shirtless, Jeon?”
He didn’t argue that changing into outdoor clothes didn’t count. Instead, the bright golden light you cast in his mind distracted him, taking him back.
You’d said that to him before; everything has changed since then.
“Why are you smiling like this?” you ask, holding a pack of four yellow apples in one hand, red ones in the other.
“Hm?” Jungkook rubs a hand over his cheek, feeling the glee in his countenance before flattening the dimples. “It’s nothing. I’m just liking how much fun you’re having.”
“I am! But most of all because I can’t wait to cook with you today.”
Your words instantly conjure pictures of a potential evening; idyllic ones mixing with utter chaos. Rushing and cutting and serving — but for one of the very first times together. Only milestones ahead.
A higher pitched gushing threatens to fall out of Jungkook, right here in the fruit aisle. But instead, you raise your hands again, asking, “Which ones?”
“Hmmm… neither. Let’s get the green ones.”
You let your arms fall, a finger pointing towards him, and say, “Ohhh. Good call.”
And then you proceed to complicate the cart labyrinth again. What a savagery. Jungkook waits until you’ve turned around and works on reorganising again, following his system. Then, he thinks — this could be draining, but it’s not.
Because you keep each other entertained. And neither of you bothers about the gapes you receive.
Not when he leans over the cart, shoving it in teeny tiny steps; continuing when he realises it makes you laugh.
Or, when you cheer once you find something the two of you like that nobody else enjoys; accompanied by exclaimed Ohhhhs and Haaas. And not as you argue when you find something to disagree about.
It seems that you do not dig dates, and he, the friendly omnivore, takes playful offence in that. He teases you across half the supermarket until you turn the tables, picking up an eggplant and interrupting him with a,
“Look! This is you.”
The roll of his eyes only veils his amusement a little, he’s sure. Because your enthusiasm remains steady, including the impish pull of his beige Supreme beanie over his eyes and a kiss to his cheek that paints the spot in a rosy dust.
Pointing to a glass of honey, Jungkook soon fights back, “And this is you.”
“…This is way too sweet and I do not know how to counter it.”
“Romance tends to make people speechless, darling.”
Your expression resembles an ellipsis; whether you’re out of answers or overwhelmingly affected by the selection of his words, he doesn’t know. He knows he’d short circuit if you ever said that to him.
“Fair,” is what you settle on, though, “wouldn’t I know what brain outages your romantic ass causes.”
You’re the model definition of a cheesy, movie-esque couple. Taehyung and Eun differ from the nature the two of you showcase; they already threatened to bring paper bags in case Jungkook and you overdo it tonight.
Can’t blame them. The world is certainly pink-tinted when you bicker and jest at the register; or when you hurry through an Ikea — courtesy of your last minute plan to buy plants — to make it home and cook in time.
Just this morning, you were daydreaming about the concept of furniture retailers and how such shops allow building a home with the most special person.
And then, as if wanting to clarify your sentiments, you turned in the car, facing him as you struggled with the belt, just to say, “Which is you for me. I’m building a home with you.”
Jungkook’s legs still melt into a puddle whenever he remembers the softness in your words, and the puppy gaze you threw as you finally leaned back in your seat.
Which is why it’s such a shame that the clock is ticking so relentlessly.
Because your initial elation turns into disapproval only for today as you wade through the labyrinthine, time-consuming design the store is so popular for. Trying to keep up with Jungkook’s pace and hastening across the rooms.
And even then, neither of your laughter ceases; you turn the most stressful situations into deep solace. The pressure soon gives way to a calm satisfaction the moment your apartment door opens.
You set up the few plants you brought; some under the window, some on the desk in the bedroom, right next to the Beauty and the Beast rose, and a jade plant in the living room. For good luck, you said.
And then, after resting for five minutes and abandoning all further breaks, you start work in the kitchen. Which proves as cooperative as he thought — that is, until you get into a friendly argument about whether to do the dishes now or later.
“One of us keeps cooking. The other washes up what we don’t need anymore,” Jungkook explains, repeating it over and over.
To which you keep defending, “Or. One cooks one dish. The other handles the second. And we finish cooking faster and then do the dishes together.”
His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, and he whines, “It won’t make much of a difference!”
“Well, if it doesn’t, then we could do either!”
“BUT… it might get crowded if we work at the stove at the same time, babe—”
“You just don’t trust me with th—”
“Keep yelling at me like that, and—” Jungkook interjects, and you wince a tiny bit; but he continues a mere, barely lasting moment later, “and I swear I’ll kiss you.”
Beat of silence. Your eyebrows are still furrowed. And then, amidst the agitation, you erupt into laughter. Blend it with the chortle he can’t suppress, either.
To Jungkook, the sound is akin to a song — and he could spin the record all day long.
Spoiler warning — you do not kiss. But the lively chuckles and free-spirited conversations dye the atmosphere and flavour it. Its sweetness feels like a feathery kiss, too.
And whether it’s that very unlimited sense of familiarity, gradually growing, or your unwavering teamwork at last — you’re surprised when the late afternoon transforms into an early evening, a dimly blue, cloudy sky already changing into different shades of grey.
Time passed fast; but the hour-hand on the clock still hasn’t quite moved to where you’re waiting for it to settle. Because back in the living room, you’re still an hour early. Your guests are invited for around six, but you can’t say when they’ll actually show up.
Seems you wrapped up work at a convenient time. Better now than late.
You kiss your teeth in the middle of the room, scanning it for something to do. It’s clean; pretty. Plants set up, table wiped, cushions neatly set on the couch. So you remark, “We were so stressed, I didn’t think we’d be finished already.”
Jungkook, already plummeting onto the far end of the couch, pats the spot next to him, saying, “That’s good. Gives us a bit of time to relax. Anything you wanna do?”
But you don’t sit down yet. You watch your manspreading boyfriend lean back, big inked hand wrapping around the remote control. You look at the open button of his shirt, and the singular hair strands; the side parting. The mole under his lips and the big eyes.
He just doesn’t notice it until the lack of a response continues.
“Huh?” he voices again, finger stopping over the power button before his eyes flit back to you.
You look deep in emotions and distracted; if he could guess, then even… ferociously yearning. He waits with a dancing heart until you admit boldly, “There’s plenty I can think of that I wanna do right now.”
You fold your hands behind your back, chest out a little, legs crossing. You curl your lower lip in, nibbling at it. It affects him, and you know. He sucks in air, a hand on his thigh. Blinking at you, and then poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.
He leaves out a puff of a tiny laugh, shaking his head a bit. Nearly succumbing to the thought that…
Perhaps there’s an activity you can indulge in before they come, right—
Wrong.
Jungkook, no matter how tempted, throws another glance at the clock, and argues, “Stop thinking of eggplants. They’ll probably be here soon, so your smooth-talking is not allowed to work!”
Your body relaxes, back in its prior position; you pout for a second. “Fine. Then I’ll get dressed before anything else.”
Jungkook sighs in relief — close. Way too close. Tonight might just stretch his jeans if you keep this up; his blood is already abandoning his brain and putting its attention elsewhere.
But you’re well-mannered in the company of guests, right?
Only one way to find out — an hour to go.
Jungkook heaves his body off the couch merely ten minutes later.
And maybe even that was too early.
Maybe he should’ve waited for you to trudge out of the bedroom; or should’ve gotten his clothes and changed somewhere else. Because when he follows your steps to find a new attire for himself, too, you’re sitting at the very edge of the bed, dress already on.
It’s not too posh; rather casual. A green cotton one, pulled up to your hip because you’re dragging transparent tights over your legs. A patch of your thighs is still visible; part of your ass on display where your panties don’t reach. Skin far too empty without his kiss on it.
He doesn’t know how you do it; but within a moment, you elicit a plethora of emotions in him. Burning desire; comfortable warmth; cosy affection. You look so cuddled in in that autumn dress.
Pretty. So gorgeous; you’ll drive him insane.
But the craze doesn’t manifest in hunger this time, but gathers in a single breath, let out in a sigh. Which… makes you recoil. Your hand briefly bolts to your chest, eyes rolling, head shaking. You murmur a quiet, “Babe…” before resuming the task.
Jungkook watches as you lift your body to pull your tights over your ass and the dress back into place, and then reaches out a palm to you; urging yours to settle in it.
Still trapped in a cube of daydreams, he tugs you in until your grace radiates toward him, and then tells you—
“My baby is the prettiest ever. Ever, ever.”
You take his fawning with glowing cheeks, smile so unbelievably worth being alive as you answer, “Your baby isn’t sure if she deserves this so suddenly, but… thankful either way.”
Your voice is an endearing mix of soft and enthusiastic. The combination that breathes life into a room. You’re so…
“God,” he says, squeezing your hand, lifting his other fingers to touch the hem of your dress. Fixing it albeit already perfectly sitting. Then looks up; eyes dropping to your lips. “Maybe you were right. Want to kiss you stupid right now.”
And he would; he wouldn’t hesitate if you didn’t move a palm to his face, pressing a thumb to his plush mouth. Telling him, “Nope, too late. The make up wasn’t easy to do. And dark lipstick is hard to remove.”
Fuck, not when he’s kissing it off…
“I…” Gulp. “Fine, princess.” He removes your hand from his face, towing you back into the living room. “Then, what do we do now? Movie?”
“Nah… It’s so hard to stop watching. Gonna kick them out again if we start now. What about… hm.”
Your eyes dart across the room, and Jungkook takes the moment to suggest, “Or we could have some soju already? Or wine, beer, whatever?”
“Or…”
You wait. Jungkook follows your gaze to the back of the room, surprised when it falls on a peeking canvas behind another big plant pot. Oh — that’s still there. He never took it out, and neither did you. Protecting his privacy, probably.
But perhaps it’s lighting a bulb over your head, because you soon ask, “Or. Wanna give me a house tour?”
“A house tour? Don’t you know every corner already?”
“Yeah but,” you shrug, rounding the couch with him in tow, “I wasn’t always here. You organised the place the way you wanted to when you moved in, so you’d know it better. Like…” You point to the turned painting, “What’s that?”
“That’s… Remember the drawing I had in my notebook? Of Gureum?”
Quite a while ago. You visited him for the first time in Namjoon’s studio back then; recalled it at the exhibit, too. Crazy how sentiments have changed. From a silly play-pretend game to damaged souls to this…
You nod.
“Yeah so,” he continues, “I painted him on a bigger surface.”
Your eyes shoot open, genuine interest in them. “Oh? Can I see?”
“Of course.”
It’s not his best work, honestly; but it is close to his heart. A piece he still wants to improve and feature in his own exhibit once it rolls around. The colouring process will be interesting; it’s barely an outline yet.
But you seem to perceive it with utter fascination and sheer joy. Because the moment Jungkook heaves the canvas up, turning it for you to see, your chin drops. You gasp, mumbling under your breath, “You’re kidding!”
“…Do you like it?”
“It’s so cute! This is…” You lean in, taking in every detail; commenting on it. “He’s a fluffball! Oh my god, the tongue peeking out. He looks so happy.” When you look up into his eyes, Jungkook’s heart does a thing; and his cheeks the other thing. “You painted him from memory?”
“Mmh, maybe a couple details? But I got most of him from a picture my aunt sent me a while ago. He’s been looking much older these days and I wanted to capture him before he ages even more. Made me miss him so much.”
“Awwh, Kook…” You pout. “I really want to meet him one day.”
He looks at you with something knowing and so telling in his gaze; he feels it unveil through his own stare. The knowledge he possesses about something, and that you don’t.
You might notice hints of it, but you don’t question it. Listening when he responds, “You will. He really is a fluffball and remembers me even after months and years of distance.”
“I love him already.” You lift, straightening your back. Watching as Jungkook sets the painting back before you add, “Okay. House tour. What else?”
“Hmm. Let’s see. Come.” He leads you the short way to the cupboard, and you follow in tiny steps, like an explorer running from one treasure to another. So exhilirated. So fucking cute. “Look, these— and don’t laugh, these are precious to me.”
“Laugh?”
“…These,” he opens the cupboard doors, reaching to the far back, behind some decoration; and pulls out a deck of cards. “Are my Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I used to collect them long ago, but I’m never throwing them away. Also—”
Your lips are parted, your eyes focused. Eyebrows shooting up gently, delighted when he takes out another small object from the back.
“My Jiraiya figure that I got for my tenth birthday.”
“Holy shit… I really never bothered looking in hidden corners.” Yeah… but now that you are, you’re making this place your own, too. No, it already is yours, the way he is. He swoons at the thought. “This is so cool. Why would I laugh?!”
“Ah… Were you a Naruto fan?”
You tilt your head. “A little. More into Detective Conan, though.”
Jungkook wonders… How foolish might his smile be looking right now?
“You… keep surprising me, angel,” he says — and you seem to like the praise.
Because you light up, forefinger touching his chest as you reiterate, “See? The house tour wasn’t a bad idea at all! Look at us tracking back the path of our souls, too.”
Jungkook can’t help but chuckle. You’re a breath of fresh air to be around; so incredibly tender when you’re yourself. After all those weeks, you’re finally back to who he used to know. Not as sad anymore.
Never sick of the hand-holding, he grips your palm again, voice hushed when he orders, “Follow me, quick!” The mysterious journey leads you to the closet next; back to the quiet bedroom as he playfully shushes you. “I haven’t worn them in a long time, so you won’t know, but… Look, because the secret's out.”
You crane your neck to see what he’s referring to. And when you do, you coo and laugh straight away. Endlessly enraptured when he claims, “Wahh. They were my super-favourites.”
Iron Man socks. Obviously worn a hundred times; so, so him.
His bunny teeth flash in all their glory when he smiles, dimples out and corners of his eyes crinkly. He feels you hold his hand tighter, and you pick the most supportive tone when you say, “You need to start wearing them again! It’s so sweet when you’re geeky.”
“Maybe you’re right.” He stuffs them back, though not to the very bottom anymore; places them on top for easy access. And then, he continues, “Okay. One more thing for the glorious house tour, and we’re done. It’s another important sight, actually.”
“Ah. Oh?”
Barely a couple seconds later, you’re back to where the trip started. Following suit when he kneels near the table; swift beam spreading over your face when he clears his throat and narrates, “This… Is where I painted on you. Not on another medium, but I painted on you. Remember?”
You must. He rarely abandons paper and his usual colours like that; but you were the most marvellous masterpiece he ever covered. The most outstanding canvas he’s ever drawn on…
“I do.”
Your gaze falls sideways; are you remembering the same heart on your waist that he does? And how he touched it; smeared it under the shower water. How your back pressed into his chest, unknown what feelings you truly harboured, but never failing to showcase his own care to you.
The kisses on your shoulder. The whispers in your ears. The plea for you to stay.
“Of course I do. It was so calming,” you add, “and so beautiful.” You touch the soft carpet, plucking at its tiny fibres. “You consider it a sight at Jeon manor?”
He snickers at your choice of words, but then inhales, and very sternly says, “Yeah. We also had sex here, so it’s forever tainted. I remember it felt… like… we should do it ag—”
“Now it’s you saying these things!” You move a fist to his bicep, pushing against it lightly. “Be serious. Be romantic! It’s not the time to make me want you.”
“Oof, hey… For the record, I was being romantic! And also, I only want you more when you’re being sweet,” he rubs the spot you grazed; he barely felt it, “but seriously. I still remember everything I felt for you. And how crazy you drove me… and how vulnerable you were.”
You’re still stroking the fur of the carpet as you look into his eyes; and he sees a molten puddle in yours. Only one side of your lips lifts, but the softness in your voice is genuine, “I think I still am. Just a lot safer than before.”
“…Good. Me too.”
And that’s all.
That’s all his mind comes up with, because all the words and infatuation are locked in his heart, moving to his fingertips when he inches closer. He raises them to your chin. Knees near yours and close the yawning distance until your lips are a whisker away.
Funny — how his strong chest holds a feeble heart. Bursting and aching, full and yearning.
If he could, he’d stay here with you forever, just like that.
But. The two of you have a party to host.
And the suddenly ringing phone reminds you of it. Makes you flinch until your noses and foreheads touch, and you laugh, rubbing them as you tap the couch for the device. The two of you lean against the sofa, cosy on the carpet as you pick up.
He hears Eun’s voice announce through the phone, “We’re all here. Just a warning, because you better not be naked.”
You shoot a glance toward Jungkook. He snorts, and you start, “Why would we…”
“‘Cause we’re early for once. Taehyung didn’t need as much time with his hair today. So be prepared.”
Jungkook nods in confirmation. Taehyung usually needs to be told an earlier time when invited to an event or get-together.
There are sounds in the background, and he readies himself to register another voice. But not a second later, the doorbell chimes. Guess the two of you will have to wait with the bare devotion.
Because for now, it’s time to indulge the gang. Let them stream in with vibrant greetings, wrapped gifts, endless booze and sweets as irresistible as you.
Jimin is the only guest coming in a little later, rushing straight from his shift. And Jungkook recognises quickly that he’s not Jimin’s first pick for conversation after a timid handshake and parting of ways.
There’s no enmity between them; Jungkook reckons it’s more the awkwardness from the Blue Night still lingering between Jimin and him. Maybe even some leftover guilt about how he used to perceive the younger man.
At least, it’s strange when he, eventually, does take a seat on the couch, separated from Jungkook only by a healing Yoongi. You’re busy talking to Eun, and Taehyung has escaped to the bathroom. Yoongi maintains a healthy atmosphere with casual talks and soft jokes.
But even if somewhat reluctantly, it seems that Jimin is at least trying when he leans back on the couch, enabling a better view to Jungkook as he asks, “Did you paint that one?”
Jungkook follows the finger pointing at the wall next to the window; nothing too out of the ordinary. Just colourful flowers. It’s okay. Better this than nothing to warm up to each other.
Turning on the couch, Jungkook waves a hand in denial as he explains, “Ah, no, no. She bought it because she thought it’s cute.”
“But you could paint that, too,” Yoongi argues, followed by Jungkook’s shy, “I guess.”
“Ohh, okay, okay. Well, since we’re talking about it. Even if you didn’t paint it,” Jimin says, “been wanting to tell you that I loved your exhibit stuff. Uhm, Eun showed me pictures. Hope that’s okay.”
That’s surprising. Jungkook considers himself gifted in this sense, but— having someone actually boast about his work for him makes him feel… accomplished? Appreciated.
No wonder you hold your friends in such high regard.
“Yeah! Of course. Thank you, Jimin.”
“It’s a pretty place, by the way.”
Yoongi wiggles a finger back and forth with an agreeing nod, snacking away, a quiet listener for the time being. There’s something amusing about it; makes Jungkook smile as he tells Jimin, “Thanks. And I’m glad you could come. Can imagine work’s a lot, so…”
“Yeah. No worries. Everything for our girl.”
Jungkook hums as the chat dies and the awkwardness returns. And then, he remembers—
Speaking of — where are you again? Still in the kitchen? Seems so. Or at least, moving away from it bit by bit.
Immersed in a conversation, holding the frame of the living room door, at the threshold to the anteroom. You’re discussing something with Eun, your expression focused. He can’t really make out your words because of those exchanged between Jimin and Yoongi, but…
A moment later, you do look at him. And then away again immediately — as if he caught you. A motion of your hand waves whatever cryptic topic off; and intrigued, Jungkook comes to a stand.
In vain — because Taehyung returns the same moment, babbling about whatever Yoongi just said. And you use the opportunity to march into the room, asking Jungkook to help you set the table for dinner.
To his chagrin, most of them offer to help momentarily. Taehyung swarms around you, insisting on plating, making it impossible for Jungkook to find a moment to ask what your conversation was about. And eventually, he gives up — if it’s important, you’ll tell him.
So for now, he relishes the evening your friends grant the two of you. They compliment the food, narrate short and long stories, watching Jungkook and you unwrap the gifts — board games from Jimin, cutting boards and wine from Yoongi, a stylish, modern thermostat from Taehyung and Eun.
The ecstasy overflows, the screeches probably making your neighbours think of you unhinged. Wine spills on the table; curses exchange; laughing turns into crying.
If anything other than this life is considered good, then Jungkook doesn’t crave that goodness. The unbridled chuckles, and your never-dropping smile are beyond everything twinkling and gorgeous already.
And he’s happy, too. Elated when you cover your mouth when you laugh; and overjoyed when you stand at the window after dinner, leaning forward. Breathing in the autumn air.
Jungkook follows once things wind down and the guests agree upon an appropriate volume. He mimics your stance, lower arms on the windowsill and hands hanging relaxed.
His fingers graze the withering flowers in the window box. They’re slowly dying by the hands of the approaching cold, and the rain keeps overwatering them. Yet… they still let it hurt them, holding on for as long as possible.
So in love with the shower.
It’s almost a bit tragic.
Jungkook refocuses, turning to you and asks, “What are you doing?”
Your head moves to the side, and you kill the remaining distance between you. Step close until you’re nearly nudging his elbow.
“Just,” you nod into a haphazard direction; into the outside world, “looking at the rain. Got a bit stifling in there.”
“Yeah.” Jungkook throws a glance over his shoulder. “Also, I think they’re getting drunk.”
“Mhmmm. Except Jimin. Poor him is looking at the alcohol so longingly. Did you notice that he didn’t drink?”
“Someone has to drive them home, and Yoongi with his healing injury is out. I offered, but Jimin insisted on taking care of them and not, as he said, bothering us. Super thoughtful, really.”
You smile, nodding along before you silence. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking of; or what you’re seeing. Maybe you’re truly only revelling in the rain; contrasting it with the sunshine you radiate.
Maybe he should look for a rainbow somewhere.
In the midst of the tranquil evening, your gape strays from the drizzle with a blink. It descends to his twirling thumbs, and then moves along the length of his arm. Jungkook notices your attention from the side, but only turns to look at you when he realises what you’ve fixated on.
You gesture towards the hues and outlines on his skin, delicately touching the writhing snake as you say, “Want a tour for them, too, if you’d ever allow. I imagine it could be fun.”
“Tattoo tracing?” His lips move into an endeared smile; you look so fascinated. Like you’re seeing them for the first time. “I’d be down. I could even…” His fingers journey to yours, gently leading them to the flowers. “I can even give you a sneak peek.”
“Really?”
“Sure. Look.” He guides your touch over the dazzling orange of his tiger lily. “This is me. Tiger lilies beg for love. I’ve always sought love, too.”
Your eyes change. He knows you see it, too — the urge to never be abandoned again, all the time.
He can nearly see your heart ache. And feels his own thump a thousand miles a second. A fraction of it breaks off and jumps into your chest, making it yours; it does it all the damn time until you hold the entirety of it in the palm of your hands.
Unhurried, he steers your finger further, stopping at the blue tint; clearly hears you draw a breath when he tells you, “And this… This is my girlfriend. She’s even prettier in real life… that’s right.”
For a bit, you’re speechless. Jungkook keeps admiring you in the forget-me-nots for another second, and when you don’t speak on, he meets your eyes. You’re shaking your head, and then — slowly wrapping an arm around his, moving close, head on his shoulder.
From this angle, your cheeks are demanding to be squeezed; eyelashes kiss them softly, your lips tempting curves when you laugh. Jungkook doesn’t get enough of you… and you don’t want to make it easier for him either.
Because, “Shit,” you say, “you were right about pining more when someone’s being romantic. ‘Cause you’re making me want you so bad, in every way. Are you… still up for kissing me stupid?”
“Ahh… babe.”
“I just… You excite me, too, you know?”
“Don’t say these things while they’re here, baby,” he warns, although as tenderly as anyhow possible, “you’ll give me a heart attack, I mean it.”
“Now you know how I feel all the time!” you tease, fingers flicking raindrops into his face out of nowhere.
Jungkook recoils and squirms, taken aback, but it takes him a mere second to play along. He gathers rain in his palms, threatening to toss it into your face; bickering chaos at the open living room window until your damp hands rejoin and delicate digits interlace.
And as he looks at the sad flowers again, the reality of the moment makes him think. How the two of you used to resemble the blossoms in your window box, once enduring the incessant melancholy, too.
Much like the flowers towards the downpour, Jungkook and you reached for each other while being watered by gloom — but unlike the flowers, you’re still sprouting and thriving into something vivid and fragrant. Not beaten by the agonising shower.
The rain hurt me, but I wanted to keep fighting. Because I hoped. Because I adored.
And in the end, him and you aren’t tragic like them. You will never wither — only bloom.
An hour later, the apartment is empty.
You opened all the windows to eliminate the suffocating air; and the hot water running in the sink soothes your cold skin. What a relief to watch the clinking dishes lessen; you sigh at the small amount still left, and Jungkook catches it immediately.
“See?” he teases, loading the dishwasher. Even that seems like a task after such a day; tidying up the living room was more than enough. “Good that we did most of it during and after cooking. It’s so much even now.”
Eyes heavy, you admit, “I should learn to listen to you more.”
He clicks his tongue, skipping a response, and then, out of the blue, says, “Angel… I could get used to this.”
“To me listening to you more?”
“Yes. But no. To you being here.”
You glow up, even though you’re still facing the sink, smile a little hidden, “You need to. Because I’ll be annoying you all the time.”
“Oh, I believe you.”
You hit him with a spoon, wetting the spot a bit before handing the cutlery to him. Delivering a head tilt, he smirks. Amused before he remembers something and asks, “Hey. What were you and Eun talking about earlier?”
“Hm? When?”
“Before dinner. It looked serious.”
You halt mid-movement. Did he catch something? Maybe. But you only insist, “Nothing special. About her graduation… you know, since it’s pretty soon.”
Huh. Doesn’t seem to quite cut it.
“Mmmh. Anything else?”
You feign a thoughtful moment, as if you’ve wiped your memory clean off whatever she said to you. Then, you tell him, “Yeah. I told her how you played around with the recipe and came up with the best dinner ever. And how hot you looked doing it.”
“…You said the last bit, too?”
“No.” Jungkook blows a raspberry before comically pressing his lips into a line, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault. I mean, do you know how attractive is it to be among people and know that this one person is still only looking at you?”
Oh, all too well…
“I would definitely know,” he chuckles. “Shit. You’ve been testing me tonight, you know?”
“…How?”
“All those compliments and ambiguous statements.” You shrug your shoulders in apparent innocence, muttering a small, ”It’s true" before he digs, “Anyway, don’t distract me. Anything else she said?”
Perhaps you’re done playing games. And perhaps you should’ve kept doing just that; because your next answer is a much greater tease.
“…I’ll tell you about it soon enough.”
Jungkook squints, organising a plate into a free spot, playfully disgruntled, “Unfair.”
“Hang in there.”
“Alright. You’re lucky I trust you.”
Your grin is gaping wide, and he attempts his best to ignore it. But when you add an evil snicker to it, regarding him with pure mirth in your eyes, he folds, “What?”
“Nothing. You’re just so cute. You’ll keep acting like you’re digging, but still always know when to respect my decisions. Maybe the bar is low? But I find trust ridiculously attractive.” You throw a longing smile at him, bringing a damp fingertip to his cheek to poke. “And to top it off… You’re so pretty, too, and I’m just… enamoured from all sides and—”
You wait and he uses the moment to wipe his cheek on his shirt. But when you don’t speak on, he spurs you on, “…And?”
“And I want you so bad.”
The plate waiting to be set into the dishwasher drops on the counter. Jungkook stares up, regarding the ceiling with a seemingly agitated look. You don’t know what’s truly whirling in him, so you warily ponder, “…What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Jungkook turns the water off, taking the cups from your hands and placing them in the sink. He shakes his palms off the liquid, and then whispers, “Okay. Later.”
The hold around your wrist is firm, and the tug firmer. Determined, he leads you out of the kitchen, slapping a hand over the light switch; your eyes are wide when you ask, “Wait, we’re not do—”
His answer is predictable; yet, you didn’t foresee it. Because—
“Bedroom. Right now.”
THE MORNING OF THE CONFESSION
Unlike you, Jungkook has considered himself a night owl ever since he entered the bustling world of college. Settling in the city was a stirring experience, and the thrill of it, along with a girlfriend, exams and newfound friends, kept him up until the sun rose again.
He enjoyed what he did, too. Loved school, so he didn’t mind the fatigued eyes during lectures. Truly one of the handful of joys that helped rid his head of the brain fog he bestowed upon himself after each long, sleepless night.
And he was an avid participant in classes despite his sheepish persona — they shook him awake, the late afternoon workouts obliterating the rest of the exhaustion. Maybe that’s why he was so reluctant to flake out for the night, too; still energised.
But while Jungkook carried the spirit of a straight-out-of-the-high-school-freshman who disliked falling asleep early, he despised waking up at the break of day just as much.
Would groan, blinking into the sun, with no one to blame for his agitation but him. No matter how deep his fascination for his studies and how quick the fading of his initial irritation — the first few minutes of every day were pure agony.
Jungkook is still a night owl. Still wants the nights to stretch, albeit for other reasons now. But his attitude towards mornings has changed.
There’s a shift in his preferences now; you moved his universe by an inch, altered it so effortlessly. Suddenly, he doesn’t regret rising with the sun next to him. He doesn’t curse the groggy feeling anymore.
There’s a silky touch he seeks every single morning that his eyes open to, lips he follows with his own blindly. You’re a permanent presence now, air and fire to his lungs, and he feels the freshness, feels the burn whenever your fingers brush his shoulders upon waking up.
He won’t need to check in at work for a few hours still; yet, sleeping in would mean losing the minutes that you’re still here before walking out the door until the evening.
He’ll sacrifice a slumber for this. Voluntarily.
And it’s crazy how none of this requires any sort of effort or pleading from your side. How all you need to do is to breathe and talk and smile and stay.
Those extra moments, no matter how fleeting, grant him a little more time on Earth with you, and he grasps it greedily. Even when you spend it teasing the hell out of him. Or, even when you wake up with scorching cheeks and endearing, high pitched complaints.
Like today.
“I still can’t believe yesterday,” you say.
“It’s okay.”
“I embarrassed myself so hard. Thinking about it, can I really show my face at the wedding? I’ll probably make things worse.”
Jungkook keeps glancing at the back of your head, the loose bun shaking with your movement. Smoothly, his fingers trace up and down your back; a gesture he started randomly and continued the moment you mumbled, “I like it… continue?”
Sat between his legs, you’ve been swaying for a while, both uneasy and amped about the approaching event. And to Jungkook, it’s as sweet as it is frustrating to see your brain fuming like that.
“Come here, baby,” he demands, content when you reverse into him. He wraps his arms around your chest, pulling you to his body, and presses a pillowy kiss to your temple. “You’re overthinking again. I promise you, we’ll make sure you have the most fun.”
“I embarrassed myself so hard,” you repeat, and Jungkook kisses his teeth.
“You’re a clown, I’ll admit,” you whine his name, and he laughs, “but I’m telling you. I know my mom and that was her I-like-you voice. Which I didn’t doubt for a second, by the way. Like, she really seems happy with how my life has turned out, and with whom. As am I. Understand?”
One more kiss to your scalp. He swings you from side to side, ignoring the ticking of the clock. In a few, you’ll be leaving the apartment, and Jungkook will need to kill the hours until he joins Namjoon at work.
He shouldn’t be missing you already; but he still holds you tighter. Tighter until you let out a little groan, a hand on his arm. He can’t read your thoughts or decipher whether his promise helped; because you don’t answer yet.
Only wait for a few seconds, allowing him to wallow in your warmth until you call, “…Jungkook.”
“Mhh?”
“Talking about life and stuff… did you always imagine yours to be like this? Just curious.”
“Like this?” he ponders, mentally intertwining every current branch of his life into one healthily growing tree. He’s liking it. “Well… I graduated. An exhibition ahead that’ll hopefully bring me a step closer to my own studio and profession.”
You hum in pride, tapping his arm as an affectionate reward. He continues, “I do what I love, have some great friends… and I get to spend my days with my favourite person? Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”
You crane your neck to look at him; your lips are so close to his, tilted into a smile that’s so unbelievably you. “You called me that last night, too.”
“Huh? Oh, that’s right. And… I mean it. Like. Now that you’re here, it’s even clearer somehow?”
“…How so?”
“Mmh… whenever I used to get home, I’d think of what to eat and of showering and going to sleep. And when I come home now, the first thing I think of is you. What we’d cook tonight. Or what we might watch or talk about. You’re…”
He feels your chest rise under his limbs; a sigh of fondness as he knows it best.
“You’re the one I want to spend all my time with.” He pauses when you look at your blanket-covered lap, hiding your twinkling eyes. “So it’s clear.”
“You always sound so hopelessly…”
You halt mid-sentence, the touch against your arm tensing — much like his own heart, jumping to the next beat with a heavy thud. You shake your head; Jungkook doesn’t get to dwell in further thoughts… still doesn’t have the words for them yet.
Or doesn’t want to admit them yet.
If he thought about them long enough and arrived at a conclusion, would you think he’s rushing your relationship? Would it scare you?
Better not find out yet.
So he lets you talk and listens, “Anyway. So, is there anything, like… more? That you want to achieve someday? Or that you think of sometimes before you go, that’s still left for me to do.”
How fitting.
Pretending to be sinking into thoughts, Jungkook hums, letting his chest vibrate against your back, and then answers truthfully, “Yeah? Maybe a couple things. We’ll see them with time when I gather the courage to tackle them.”
“Like what?”
“Hmm… am I allowed to say that already?” More simulations, teasing you with a fake distant gaze and a hissing inhale of air. “I’m not sure. You’ll know.”
“Hey! That makes me nervous.”
“No need.” You interrupt his speech with another sound of disapproval, pulling a dorky, infectious chortle out of him; his nose scrunches up. “I’m kidding. I’m talking about all the goals I have for my career. I don’t want to stop, no matter what. Keep going and keep striving for more.”
You nod; someone as hard-working as you would understand. In a sense, you’re a role model to him, too — a sentiment that you, as you have often emphasised, reciprocate.
Yet, you advise, “Just don’t overwork. Think of Icarus! We can’t always get more than more, you know? There’s happiness in satisfaction with what we have, too. But either way…” You angle your legs, pulling them close; cuddling into him more. “I’ve got your back.”
And perhaps that’s one of the gazillion traits he cherishes so much about you.
Your position at work is reputable and treasured, and you could easily push him to work harder, too. Could want him to match your career success, because it’s more or less guaranteed for you.
But you don’t. You stand by his side, prioritising his happiness and mental strength, albeit unaware of how his future might turn out. When you say you’ve got his back, he believes you.
“I know,” he says, lips in your hair, breathing you in. “Yeah… I know.”
“Hmmm… okay,” you move on, “what about me? Do you have any expectations? Certain standards and rules? I just,” you reach forward, tugging the blanket over your chest and his arm, “I feel like that’s something one should talk about. Tell me if it’s too much, though.”
“No, you’re right. But honestly? Is it… is it weird to say that you’ve kinda become a standard?”
“…I— What do you mean?”
“I just mean that… I’m never going to tell you that I expect you to be loyal and kind because it’s the bare minimum, right? Who doesn’t want all that? I know you are, so I don’t need to say it. So I don’t have any other expectations from you; these things are already the foundation of our relationship. Just. Mmh, how do I say it?”
He thinks for a moment, but you’re nodding, as if you’ve already understood. But his thoughts don’t end here; they’re just difficult to word. In his mind, they’re clear, but upon having to express them, he doesn’t quite understand the concept of language anymore.
Curses its limitations.
But then, as emotions gingerly gather to a coherent sentence at last, he tries to explain:
“Rather than adhering to any rules or standards I could have, I feel like you’re building them for me. You make me have a type, you know?” He feels you dissolve in his arms as he taps between your clavicles. “And that’s you. I don’t want anyone if I can’t have you.”
Did he go off track? Possibly. But you don’t seem to mind.
Because your voice is painfully sweet and miniscule when you speak, on the brink of losing the fight against the tremble, “But you have me. Pinky promise that you do, for a long, long time.”
Yeah… yeah, he does. And he’d be damned if he let this go.
Because if he ever did — if he ever so foolishly lost you again after combating these cruel storms, you’d still remain his standard. He’d look for you in each face passing, and in every laugh sounding.
The blueprint. And an everlasting memory.
Does it make sense? He doesn’t know.
And it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re right here.
“I’ll take your pinky promises,” he says, overjoyed as he crosses his legs over your shins, peppering more kisses onto your cheeks, the corner of your eyes, on your ear. He speaks in between your sighs and quiet laughs, “What about you? What do you want?”
“I… I don’t think I’ve ever had any expectations either, but. The wedding and—” You hesitate, as if considering dropping whatever you were going to list; and then you start anew, “The wedding made me think, and I— I just want to have so much fun with you.”
“Yeah? Tell me about it.”
“I want all the ordinary things we do to feel special because it’s us doing them. And I don’t ever want us to regret anything, so… I want us to be brave.”
“Brave? Well, you’re already the strongest and bravest person I know.”
“Braver. I want to live without restraints. And I don’t want to overthink anymore.”
Hmm…
Jungkook has seen your jumbled up thoughts before. The pain you cause to your mind sometimes, and the zoned out eyes painting pictures of what you fear the most.
He knows that feeling. Has battled one too many beasts to lessen the ache; even if it’s not always possible. Even if he seeks reassurances sometimes, too. And maybe that’s the prominent and sole reason why he never dismisses your disquiet.
Why push you away if you’re already at an impasse? Why not lead you out of the maze?
“Take it easy, okay?” he soothes, letting his grip around you fall bit by bit to search for your fingers instead. “Restraints can’t beat us.”
“Yeah! I’m hopeful.”
“You should be.” Because thinking of all you’ve fought within the span of a couple weeks… “You’re the first person to show me that there’s no reason to be scared, you know?”
“Then…” You sit up, curling your fingers around his hand, lifting it mid-air in sudden eagerness. “Just imagine how life could go, right? We could go to the ocean. Oh.” You gasp, sucking in air. “Oh my god! The Great Barrier Reef!”
“Ohhh, that’s actually a solid bucket list item. And then, bungee jumping?”
You nod zealously; lacking your fingers’ mobility required to list things, you instead knock your intertwined hands against your thigh each time to come up with something new. Like now, “Cliffs. And northern lights, too. I’ve always wanted to see them.”
Reflexively, you look up.
Stare at the glued-on stars from last night, and the now missing projection you dozed off to. An effective visual lullaby; you didn’t even stir when Jungkook turned it off, tucking you in properly. In your blanket; in him.
“Hell yes,” Jungkook confirms.
“But the first stop’s your hometown… and the wedding. I want to meet your family and be super awkward about it.”
Jungkook laughs, forehead falling forward against your head. He shakes it for a second, and then recalls, “Ah… so chickens and family awkwardness. What else?”
He didn’t expect this to work out before he asked you. Considering you’ve barely started at Novaura, he anticipated gentle rejection. But now that it’s become a certain event in the incredibly near future, his heart pounds every time you mention it.
Because…
You in a dress. You in his house. You, dominating over every single heart that’s dear to him.
And it seems you’ve already thoroughly thought about this, because your answer shoots out of you like a bullet, “Wanna dance with you. And kiss you under the lights.”
“Angel… you’re over the moon about this, aren’t you?”
“…Too obvious?”
You allow a fleeting glance back to him before your eyes fall down to his bare arm, ending in a hand clinging to yours; covered in ink, much like the rest of his right limb. He knows you’re staring at the flowers without asking.
And as if knowing, reading your soul, he doesn’t find himself surprised when you suggest, “And then… one day… What do you think? Should I get a tattoo someday, too?”
“Totally, if that’s what you want. What would you wanna get?”
“Flowers to match? I don’t know. Maybe you can draw on me. Here,” you lead his hand to your thigh, sticking there for a while until you move up to your hip. “Or here.”
He wonders how focused your thoughts are right now. Because if they are, and you’re not fixating on the changes of his skin, you probably won’t register the countless goosebumps under his tattoos.
A giddy sensation spreads throughout his body, collecting in his chest and tummy. Memories of a nearly bare body, painted in his dozen colours returning. And then, pictures of the same hues blurring, smudging.
He breathes an exhale, insane at the thought of kissing those lines. Of lips trailing up your skin, stopping at your hip, dying a pleasant death.
Fuck.
“I… I would. I’ll paint you any day.”
His words come out more airy than intended, fingers itching to pinch your chin, to move your face to his. To slide down the mattress, to kiss your lips swollen, making out with you until the sun sets…
But the world is cruel and too real; the clock still ticks until he realises that freezing in place isn’t an option right now. So he says, “As much as I hate to say this… You should get ready for work.”
You groan; there’s something sweet about your unwillingness to go. Relatable. And it sticks until the exhaustion washes away with each second. Small breakfast in, clothes on, newfound work spirit restored.
Must be a good day approaching.
And you’ve been enjoying the recent ones, he assumes. Despite being so good at what you do, there’s a clear difference in how you tackle a day at Charmante versus at Novaura.
And you confirm it when he accompanies you to the entrance, bidding you goodbye until you meet again later, “What I love most about Novaura is that they don’t feel the need to communicate everything with Mom. They’re their own independent world and trust themselves.”
“Right… You as someone equally independent will fit right in, so they’re lucky to have you there. Makes me wonder, though.” Jungkook pauses, watching you grab your jacket from the wall hook, “Are your Charmante people okay with you being at Novaura so much?”
A COUPLE DAYS LATER
“…I really don’t know if I can do this.”
Well, shit. Wasn’t he ready to strive for more, run endlessly until his feet tired? Where is the dread suddenly emerging from?
Jungkook has barely set his sketchbook down when lightning bolts head for him.
Countering his concern with kissing eyebrows, Namjoon’s full lips purse, dimples gone as he wonders, “What are you even talking about?” — Much at the same time as you utter a threatening, “Shut up,” pastry lifted, ready to throw at him.
Jungkook shies away from the table, ready to dodge your attack; returning when you place the crumbly croissant back on your plate. He presses his lips together before smacking and kissing them, finger rolling the pen over his sketches, but eyes fixated on Namjoon’s notebook.
“I’m serious. There’s so much to do until November, and I… how do I get so much done?”
“But,” Namjoon knocks against the random drawing open on the table, “you already have so much to show. And you can revamp stuff from college, too. Besides, it’s okay to try your best and be scared at the same time, Jungkook! That’s part of a growing artist’s job.”
“But, are you sure I’m a growing artist?!”
Namjoon mutters something under a breath, and you add something unintelligible to the reassuring mix. Jungkook’s worried gaze remains on the rough lines of pencil on paper, teeth repeatedly nibbling his lower lip. Baring his mole.
He closes the sketchbook, staring at the golden, imprinted letters on a dark black background. He’s filled a quarter of it already; the very piece you gifted him for his birthday almost a month ago.
In some way, opening to a blank page serves as inspiration alone. You furnished him with something so simple yet gorgeous; thoughtful engraving to use as a reminder to hold onto his efforts.
But…
Amidst the lasting zeal, he’s been racking his brain. Because. What if he immerses himself in this, spending hours tainting his fingertips in different tints — only to steer towards failure?
What if it doesn’t work out? And he ends up not amounting to much, other than trying his luck online and living on a bare minimum of a salary? Would he start tutoring young, aspiring artists?
And you…
You’re diving into a stable job, well-paid, well-known. If you end up carrying both of you on your shoulders… would you think of him as a washout? Grow frustrated and dissatisfied?
You’ve been repeatedly declaring your unswerving support, but what if you some day do realise that…
Ugh.
He stuck to this passion with the full knowledge he would never fall out of love with it; but now that he’s working for his dreams, the process seems so scary all of a sudden.
“And I’m at the wedding, too…” he says.
He leans back in his chair, moving his pupils away from the paper and instinctively up to you. More concerns threaten to tumble off the tip of his tongue, but when your eyes suddenly flicker with disappointment, his lips shut again.
You blink, unsure, before you ask, “Do you… not want to go? We could totally stay here if you need the time.”
Oh…
Hadn’t you gushed about the event day in, day out now, he would’ve maybe believed your words. And in some sense, you probably do think of the alternative as okay, as long as he profits from it.
But he sees it in your eyes. And not just in yours — he’s been as enthralled by the idea as you. Which is why…
“No,” he responds, “no. We will go.”
Because the prospect of winding down with you has been keeping him sane. Doting on you under the countryside stars, showing you all you haven’t seen before, body to body dancing with you…
He’s not missing out on that, no matter what.
And god knows you need the break, too… especially after the utter hysteria last Friday…
“Kook, think about it. You need to be absolutely sure,” you argue, genuine worry in your gaze; from his side eye, he sees Namjoon nod in confirmation.
“I am. We’ll go, baby, okay?”
You don’t avert your gaze; your mouth closes a little, but you stay unblinking, waiting for his mind to change. He knows because he sees the thoughts floating at the surface of your eyes.
Like you’re still pondering; of course you are. As someone who’s been working hard for their career, even if just for a few months, you’d know. Who’d understand if not you?
The trance lingers between the two of you, and Jungkook lifts his lips, a vow and certainty in his smile. Moment only broken when Namjoon clears his throat and encourages once more, “Give it a shot, Jungkook… Those high-profile people need to see what you’re capable of! I mean, we’re so lucky to have them coming to our exhibits.”
Namjoon gestures randomly, across the small restaurant as he says, “Say what you will about this city, but we lure in quite a few esteemed artists for sure.”
“Who says something about this city?” you ask.
“I do,” Namjoon’s voice is soothing. One thing Jungkook has learned about him is that his flowery mind never rests. Lyrical; not always easy to understand. “I love and hate it. Leaving it, living it.”
He pauses, sipping on his diet coke before smacking the taste away and ordering, “Ask me anytime if you need any help, alright? And be confident.”
“And… what if it does work?”
Your gentle laugh sounds from the opposite side of the table, the straw of your milkshake on your tongue. The rhythmic melody calms something deep in him; perhaps more because he understands your reaction.
You’re just as cute worrying about things that he knows you’d ace.
“Well,” Namjoon starts, aware that Jungkook knows; still annihilating his unease, “the guy is ready to buy your art. If it goes well, he’ll sponsor you. Then, at some point, you’ll be able to afford your own studio and grow as an artist. Ideally.”
“Ah… ah, really…”
”Kookie,” your voice calls; you lean over the round table, shoving the milkshake aside, “don’t worry. And in the most unlikely case that it doesn’t go as planned, know that I’ll cheer you on either way.”
“And me too,” Namjoon raises a hand.
Your finger swings to and fro between Namjoon and you, and your expression changes from empathic and soft to the sweetest, most gut-wrenching smile he’s ever seen. The apples of your cheeks lift, pupils sparkling when you vow, “We’re here for you.”
He…
He could look at you all day, blinking be damned. Could pour out his emotions every second of every minute of every hour, and it’d still not match the endless letter his heart keeps crafting for you.
Disregarding how much of a shipwreck the two of you were last Friday, his chest has still lightened ever since; an epiphany has never been sweeter.
Because…
The words he couldn’t compose into a poem before are now an ardent confession, with rhymes and a melody and infinite beauty. Roaming his mind nonstop, caught in that baby pink bubble.
When had his senses last heightened this much?
Because somehow, he still feels the damp trail of tears he cried that night. And the heart that beat against your cheek. You, frozen against him, processing his words.
If there are ways to make him fall in love harder, you’ve been presenting them all the goddamn time.
And fuck, it’s been hard focusing on anything but you.
Like, on paying. Or on upholding a conversation with Namjoon — assuring him he’d be back in the studio in a bit as he prepares to bid you goodbye for the day.
To his chagrin, the walk to your car isn’t long. It’s parked at a corner, convenient for lunch dates like these; you promised you’d join one with Joon at some point, and you did. Forty-five minutes passed too quickly. Felt like a moment.
“Namjoon is so nice!” you comment, hands in the pockets of your denim jacket.
You keep swaying back and forth, from your heels to your toes and back. Your smile and movements suggest a free spirit, but your risen shoulders and the shallow crease between your eyebrows drench you in something tense.
You’ve been like that since you suggested staying, focusing on his work.
“He’s so wise, too, really,” Jungkook responds, close to you in case your swinging moves leave you tumbling, “like, a cool mix between calm and dorky. I’ve been learning so much from him.”
“Jeon Jungkook and his love for his mentor. You will never stop talking about him.”
Jungkook shrugs, a hand to the nape of his neck, face warming, “He’s cool, what can I say?”
“Yeah.”
And once again… he sees you gulp. Unsure, pupils flickering. You usually don’t struggle maintaining eye contact. So he soon wonders, “Are you okay? I… I hope you didn’t misunderstand what I said earlier. I really do want to go to the wedding.”
“Hm?” you voice, chin lifting a bit before you dispute, “Oh. No, I believe you. If you say it’s okay, then that’s how it is.”
“What then?”
“What do you mean? Do I really seem like something’s up?”
“A little.”
“Uhm…”
You roll up your eyes as you dig into your thoughts. Scouring your brain for whatever might be meandering in the back of your mind. Hm… seems you’re not fully cognisant of the subtle change in your behaviour, either?
So maybe, it means nothing after all.
Then again. It must be something.
Because in hindsight, he didn’t only notice today, but all weekend, too—
Oh…
Maybe you’re just getting used to the new developments; maybe they’re just making you a bit bashful like him. Maybe…
Okay. Deep breath. He just needs to make it sound like a joke, nothing pushy or odd or awkward because—
“Or is it because I told you I love you? Have I scared you off already?”
He watches your breathing stop. As though flexing an x-ray stare, watching your lungs dry up, air stuck in your throat until it escapes through your nose. Honestly… he’s been feeling the same.
“No!” you answer, tone breathy, pulling a hand out of the pocket to sprightly push at his shoulder. He barely budges. “Of course not. All that does is make me want to faint.”
Jungkook chuckles, delighted when your laugh matches his own. He doesn’t always know how to take a compliment either; but you fix your speechlessness with that glow on your face. Fills his own body with fairy dust, too.
His dimples are valleys when your fingers move to his open jacket, grazing the zipper and filling the seconds with quiet tenderness. He doesn’t know what to say to you until you let the silence prolong and then giggle into it once more.
If he could just dive into your brain. But all he has are his own, messy thoughts.
And those tangled thoughts say—
“Angel… Can I kiss you?” Now his lungs are collapsing, too. Worse, so much worse when you look into his eyes, still so surprised at every sliver of affection he signs. “I really want to kiss you right now.”
No… he needs to. Needs to blossom in this breezy weather. But he won’t tell you that.
He’ll just keep looking at you. One second, two seconds — until you’ve raised your hands to the collar of his jacket to move him closer, soon sneaking your touch further up to his neck. A miniscule and wordless hint of approval, and he basks in it avidly.
Twitching palms hesitate for only the subtlest of moments before they’ve dashed up to your cheeks, cupping your face and leaning in and…
Lock.
A picture of a lock. And of its key.
The first thing to flash into his mind.
Because how do his lips fit so perfectly between yours? When you touch him like this, delicate fingers caressing his jaw, how do you feel so much like a feather? And the damn way you sigh into his mouth… how you reciprocate the kiss.
He will never tire of telling you, telling himself, that you match him just like the ocean complements the shore. And it’s baffling. How perfect this feels, and how right it feels.
You do make the ordinary extraordinary.
Like a kiss that is shared a million times a day, between so, so many people. But you’re moving your lips against his. Holding onto him, tilting your head, soaking in his warmth. Going tentatively, then a bit faster, then slow again.
For the merest moments when your mouths part, you gasp, inhaling before pushing your fingers into his hair, at the back of his head. Then back against him, seeking his tongue; such soft sounds meeting his that he swears he could cry.
Cry about the shiver down his spine and the flutter in the pit of his stomach. About the world becoming a backdrop to everything in the middle of the pavement; and about how his thoughts only revolve around your shared breaths and the feeling of your warm cheeks.
Just you.
You, you, you.
Still too far away. Why do you drive him so incredibly mad?
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He loves you. He loves you.
Under a breath and against your soft pillows, he mutters your name; so airy that he barely recognises his voice. His tongue drags over your lower lip, pecking one more time before he establishes an intruding distance between you.
Your foreheads touch for a transient bit, thumb skimming your cheek. When he opens his eyes, yours are still shut, and you’re feeble in his grip. And then, he asks, “What’s wrong?”
You swallow again. Take a breath before admitting, “You’re right. There’s something I want to ask you, and I was so stupidly… nervous about it.”
“Yeah?”
“The whole gang, they… they’ve been planning something. They paid for it and all, but they’re waiting for me to give them an answer, so they know if I need to pay them back or if they should cancel or, or—”
He interrupts your ramble with a soft, “Tell me, babe.”
“Okay,” your eyelids finally open up; your gaze is so hazy when you look at him. “It’s a trip. Four days, three nights, during the wedding week.” He hasn’t said a word when you hurry to add, “But, we can leave earlier. It’s a road trip kinda thing to the mountains and the beach and. They want us there, too.”
”Oh.”
“…Yeah.”
“I… Baby.” He moves back, shaking his head. He was careful not to ruin your hair, well aware you have half a work day ahead of you; but he still brushes a strand back. “Were you and Eun talking about that two weeks ago?”
“Yeah. And Tae also said I should be the one to ask because you’d like that. But then things happened and all the stress and…”
“But… even before that. Why were you so nervous asking me about it for so long?”
“Because,” you answer, one shrug of your shoulders, “I wanted to wait and see how you feel about the exhibition and the workload. And you already have limited time because of the wedding and I didn’t want to take away more of it.”
He can’t help but beam; why does this feel… endearing? Mirrors his own thoughts when he asked you about accompanying him to the wedding.
“We really do have the same brain, don’t we?” he asks.
“You’d think we’d learn.”
You say it lightheartedly, yet gnaw on your lips. He tongues the inside of his cheek, keeping eye contact, and then queries, “There’s something else, right?”
“Ah, just.”
You look unsure, trying to make sense of your thoughts, but your uncertainty makes him uncertain, too. So he exhales before he prods, “What? What what? Is it something bad?”
“No! Just. They’ve been wanting to do this since the summer. They never talked about it to me because you and I were… you know.” You kiss your teeth, and he uses the second to whoosh away the aching memories. “But they never cancelled for us, either.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because they’d say, and I quote, ‘Just wait.’ They knew we couldn’t stay away from each other even before we did.” You laugh. “Eun told me that day in the kitchen.”
Even before you did?
Untrue. He knew he didn’t want to live without you the moment you left his apartment, tear-soaked and heartbroken.
“Okay…” he starts, “and you were worried because?”
“Because you always get so sad when I talk about the summer. Explaining the context of the trip seemed hard to me, and I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”
Oh…
Shit, man.
“You’re… ahhh… my sweet baby.” He wants to hug you to his chest and never let go. But you’re already running out of time, lunch break nearing its end, so he only grips your shoulders. “You know that it gets better after two minutes, no? Because whatever happened, I have you now.”
He flicks your chin as he has been lately; it cheers you up. Makes you smile a bit, conjures the pout away. Adding to the effect when he says, “Don’t worry so much, my love.”
Another inhale. Then, you admit, “I’m sorry. I dragged it out.”
“It’s okay.”
“So… would you come? Do you think you could take some time off work and all? I’d understand if it’s too much.”
“Hmm… Right before the wedding, isn’t it?”
“Mid-october, yes. We could leave earlier!” you reiterate, hellbent on assuring he’s not obligated to do anything. So sweet, how you scratch your head. “They’d drive on. It’s convenient because it’s all in the same week.”
“Mountains and beach, you say.”
“If you don’t like them, we can stay at the hotel and chill together.”
Shit.
His grin widens with each heartbeat; you notice, because despite your suggestions, you sound more lively now.
And yet, it’s funny you’d question all these things like this at all. Don’t you remember damp cheeks and gentle touches?
Just days ago.
How he was still trembling when you left Eun’s complex. How he stopped you before climbing into the car, much like now, mumbling a timid, “Angel…”
And then retracting when his heart combusted. Looking into your eyes, still red, his own mind filled with nervous fear before settling on, “Nothing. Let’s go home.”
Or how you cried in the living room. How you broke down, terrified he might walk away. How his breath quivered, how his head spun, how he felt like he might throw up or faint or scare you off.
The damn sickness in his stomach until he spat the hidden words for the first time. And the pounding of his heart when you responded with a mumbled, “Kook… How.”
And… how his chest constricted at everything that followed after that. Don’t you remember?
In spite of every indication he threw your way — you still worry so much.
Funny you’d be so nervous around someone who wants to see the entire world with your hand in his.
What did you call it again? Wanting to be brave.
So fucking easy with you.
“How about…” he begins, staring into anticipating eyes, hearing a storm of cheers rumble, “going shopping before we leave?”
Your demeanour changes momentarily. The unsure girl, afraid to hurt him, soon finds her way back to her foundation. You light up, a hand over your mouth; your cheeks must be hurting.
You deliver one, short jump and then pull him back in, kissing his lips once before scattering a couple more pecks next to them. He soon finds himself pushing you towards your car, forcing you back to work, but you have a thousand things to babble about.
He’s adoring all the bright stars in your eyes — now he understands how you feel when you see the same universe in his.
It’s crazy. How effort is never required from your side for him to feel that way. How you only need to breathe and talk and smile and stay.
Stay stay stay.
The word sails and wafts through his dazy thoughts like a silent prayer. Begging and begging; pleading to allow him to pour all his love on you, although he doesn’t need to ask. You always let him anyway.
And he guesses he’s using that permission thoroughly. Maybe that’s why keeps craving and burning for more; why he’s been holding you tighter these nights.
His tiger lily pressed against your heart.
*head in hands* they are so crazy for each other, pls 😭 warmth and reassurances and support and bickering literally build the foundation of their relationship and i love them sm :') for some reason the editing process knocked me out, but i still adore this one so so much, and i hope you guys did, too!! 🥺
feedback is always so so appreciated!! you guys are literally such a freaking supportive bunch and have kept this series alive for so long and i love you to death :( here's to the first one this year!! as always, please consider leaving a like, reblog (with or without feedback!), comments and spammm my inbox with everything that's on your mind hehe <3 any kind of msg makes my day!
and nowww!!!!! moving on to cmi: palette and VACAYYYY!!! mwah mwah 🤍
#jungkook smut#jungkook fluff#bts smut#bts fluff#jeongguk smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#bts x you#bts imagines#jungkook fic#bts angst#jungkook angst#jungkook
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breakup songs
tags: fluff! (I promise), established relationship, taylor swift songs
"cause i was there when you said forever and always...you didn't mean it baby," you sang passionately with the car's radio. "i don't think-"
the music stopped suddenly. "i don't like this song," sae itoshi grumbled. "pick something else."
you frowned, turning in your seat to face your long term boyfriend. like a good driver, he kept his eyes on the road, expression passive.
"but i like it," you huffed. "and you said i get aux privileges for the next week."
bright teal eyes flicked over you for a moment. "no."
your jaw dropped. "sae! at least tell me why."
"just pick a new song, y/n." his fingers tapped a steady rhythm on the steering wheel. "or i'll do it for you."
pouting, you opened your spotify. "stupid football players and their stupid egos. so used to getting everything they want," you mumbled.
sae ignored your complaints.
"you better like this one."
for the nth time that day, taylor swift's oh so familiar voices leaked through from the high quality speakers all around the car:
"once upon a time, a few mistakes ago-"
sae's hand jumped up to hit the power button. "we're going in silence."
you sputtered nonsensically. "it's another hour until our destination! what's wrong with my music?"
he opened his mouth and closed it. as you fired at him, sae itoshi shrugged silently.
you leaned back into the leather seats, crossing your arms. you couldn't understand why sae was being so shifty. it's not like he had ever minded your music choices before.
in fact, the pro football player had always let you belt out any song you wished, even joining in with enough pleading. it was only in the past week or so that he'd been more annoyed.
frowning, you chewed on your lip nervously. this wasn't a good sign, was it? maybe sae had finally gotten sick of you- found someone better.
you saw him glance at you again. avoiding any eye contact, you turned your gaze toward your hands.
god, when was the last time you had gotten your nails done? your previous polish - a reddish color that matched sae's hair - was chipping from all sides already. you almost frantically picked at the peeling paint.
"y/n," sae's voice was steady. "leave your nails alone."
you jumped, head snapping towards him. "huh?"
he raised one eyebrow, pointedly staring at your hands.
you reddened. "it's not a big deal- keep your eyes on the road. pretend i'm not here or something."
with a narrowing of his eyes, sae turned back to the road.
it was another three miles before you heard him sigh.
"they're breakup songs," sae muttered quietly.
"what?"
the light in front of them flashed red. with another sigh, sae turned his upper body toward you.
"your music. they're always breakup songs now. that's why i don't like them."
you gaped at him, feeling way too much like a goldfish. "what?"
he stared at you. anyone would have assumed he was as indifferent as ever, but you could see that hint of red climbing up his neck.
sae itoshi was embarrassed.
"you're kidding!" you blurted, grinning like a maniac.
he immediately turned his attention back towards the road, but even he couldn't hide the twitch of his lips.
"you're sad because i sing breakup songs?" you managed out past your laughs. "sae, that's so cute!"
"and now i take it all back," he mumbled.
you leaned towards him suddenly, landing a kiss right onto his cheek. sae cursed, car swerving slightly.
"y/n, what-"
"i love you," you said breathlessly, effectively shutting him up. "and i would never break up with you, no matter what taylor swift says."
he snorted. when he replied, his voice was soft all the same. "i love you too."
"...can i have my music back now?"
sae groaned, but there were no complaints as you eagerly tapped through your phone once again.
"we can leave the christmas lights up till january..."
reblogs & feedback appreciated!!
#blue lock#itoshi sae x reader#sae itoshi x reader#blue lock x reader#blue lock fluff#this is so self indulgent tbh#my way of coping with Taylor breakup#hydrobunny
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Santa Klaus
masterlist
pairing: niklaus mikaelson x female reader
warnings: fluff, some gore/blood, nikki being your lapdog, possesive, kissing, cursing, humor that was needed in tvd
summary: just some scenes of you and nik being a dream couple
a/n: idk with this one but these scenes popped into my head and i thought they were cute
song: paper rings - taylor swift
"Niklaus!" you snap at him, as he stands at the doorway covered in blood. You two were at a store and a guy accidentally backed into you. He decided that the man didn't deserve to see another day after bumping into your precious self.
"Sorry, love- actually no, he deserved it," Klaus shrugs holding his hands up.
"Well in that case... come a little closer," you giggle. He narrows his eyes at you, but of course listens. He takes a slow step into the room and freezes when he feels himself soaked in cold water.
You burst out laughing as he stares at the wall. He slowly turns to you, as you continue to laugh.
"Figured you needed a shower, you know, for all that blood," you get out in between you giggles.
"That's it, if I am cold, you're going to be cold too," he grins as he speeds towards you, bringing you into a cold hug.
"Nik! Let me go!"
"Now why would I do that?"
You were in the kitchen baking some cookies. You had the trays of them sitting on the stove as they cooled. You put some on a plate and turn around to get a paper towel. As you look back at the dish, you notice one missing.
"Hm, that's weird," you frowned. This then happened two more times, you realized it had to be Klaus. Either that or the cookies just happen to disappear.
"Nikki darling, stop being a baby and hiding," you pout. "Come out and face me like a real man," you try to say in a funny deep voice.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he suppresses a smirk.
"Do you take me for a fool Niklaus?"
"... no?" you bring your hand up and smack the back of his head.
"Hey, what was th-" you cut him off by pressing your lips on his. You swipe your tongue on his bottom lip so he opens his mouth. He does, and you allow your tongue to roam his mouth. You pull back a few moments later.
"Funny, you taste like chocolate chip cookies," you laugh and start to run away.
"You sneak!" Klaus yells as he speeds up to you, throwing you over his shoulder and smiling at your adorable giggles.
"AH!" Nik's high pitch scream reaches your ears while he jumps and covers his eyes.
You two were currently in the dark, watching a horror movie. You have seen it a few times already, so the jumpscares didn't bother you. The movie didn't interest you anymore either, but you watched it for the mere amusement you get from seeing Nik get scared.
"Nik don't be a wuss," you playfully roll your eyes.
"Did you see how that man looked?! He was- bloody hell!" Nik shouts as the guy popped up out of nowhere.
"Niklaus, you're as scary as that man to most-"
"Tosser! If I were still human, I would have died from a heart attack by now- fuck! Okay, love, that's it, we are watching something else"
He reaches over you and snatches the remote, putting on toy story.
"See, watching the story of toys that come to life is much more interesting. Don't you agree, love?"
"Sure... baby," you mutter with a grin. Laughter spills out of you when he attacks you with tickles.
It was Christmas, you were dressed in a lovely deep red gown and your hair and makeup was done. While you looked like royalty, across from you was a Nik in a Santa costume.
You had been trying to get him to do this for years, but he never agreed. He refused to have something as stupid as a Santa costume ruin his reputation.
He even said, "I wouldn't be caught dead wearing this bloody thing"
To which you replied, "oh well, then I suppose it's a good thing you are already technically dead," you shrug with a cheeky smile.
Now that he finally gave in, your bucket list has been completed. He said he wouldn't leave the house with it, but he didn't say you couldn't take pictures.
"I don't see what's wrong with it, you look great in my opinion," you gave his fake beard a little tug.
"Y/n this was a horrible idea," he shakes his head.
"I think it was a great one, Santa Klaus," you give him a bright smile.
"This was very unnecessary, love"
"Your siblings disagree," your pretty lips turn into a small smirk.
"I beg your pardon?!"
A few moments ago, you sent some pictures of him to a secret group chat you're in with his siblings. Nik - of course - isn't in this one. The one with all of you is full of threats he sends to his family who mess around with him.
The photos got you replys such as, "I can't believe you got Niklaus to finally agree to that, LOL," from Elijah. "You underestimate Nik's love for you," and "I'm going to print these out and tape them everywhere in the house," from Rebekah. As well as, "I bloody love you, darling," and "my brother is going to kill me for what I'm about to do with these," from Kol. Finn gave you a simple, "well done," which you almost rolled your eyes at his unenthusiastic message.
"Oops," you shrug with a fake innocence.
You were currently hunched over, laughing your arse off. You got Nik to wear an Easter Bunny costume. To your surprise, he let you paint whiskers on his face, along with a pink nose.
You finally are able to stop laughing, and look over his shoulder at the line of little children in a line, waiting to take picture with him.
"Go on, bunny. The kids are waiting," you peck his lips and pat his head.
"If you were anyone else you would be dead by now," he grumbles.
He was taking the pictures, when it was a new kids turn. You saw the fear in his eyes, you understood. You were also scared of the Easter Bunnies and Santa Clause's that you would see in stores and malls.
When he got to Nik, he sat on his right lap and started to cry. As you were about to go over, you hear Niklaus yelp as he quickly grabs the kid and lifts him off his lap and on to the floor.
You were confused when he rushed over to where you were standing, but burst out laughing with tears in your eyes as you saw a wet stain on his leg.
"Oh- m-my goodness! Th- this is gold!" you laugh out, grabbing your phone taking more pictures that you'll send to the groupchat later.
"Stupid children, I quit"
You and Nik were in some random fancy restaurant in Paris. You both knew nothing in french, so you though you would have some fun.
You planned out a fake scenario to get a reaction out of the people in there with you both.
You fake gasp loudly, grabbing peoples attention around you.
"You sick fool!" you place your hand on your chest as you dramatically stand up. "You cheated on me?! With my sister!"
The room fills with synchronized gasps from the people around you.
"Love! No, I would never!"
"I just saw a picture! I also got sent a photo of you with what looks like my best friend!" More gasps come around you as people look between you both in shock.
Nik stands up hiding his amusement.
"They are fake! I was going to propose to you tonight! He says pulling out a fake ring he found," holding it in front of you, people start whispering with interest at what was unfolding before their eyes.
"My friend had the same ring the last time I saw her! How could you," you slap him in the face, knowing he was going to whine about how that was not a part of the act, later. Gasps of shock chorus around while some people have their eyes wide, and some are laughing into their hands.
You turn and speed walk out as Nik follows. Once you get outside, you both burst out laughing after holding it in for so long. You hold out your hand for a first bump as he connects his fist with yours.
"Oh that was brillitant!" you smile, wiping fake tears from under your eyes.
"Did you see their faces, love? They were bloody hilarious," Nik grins.
"NIKLAUS! Y/N!" are the shouts from Kol and Elijah as they get covered with eggs and flour. You, Bex, and Nik set up a series of pranks to go off on them.
"Alright!" Bekah highfives you with a bright smile.
"Nikki we should do more pranks with Bex," you hug the girls waist.
"But pranks are our thing," he pouts.
"Now they are ours and Bex's," you give him a thumbs up.
"Yeah, Nikki- please don't dagger me again," Bekah says looking away from her brothers death glare.
"FUCK!" more shouts come from the kitchen.
You and Bekah were shopping with a grumpy Nik trailing behind you. You had been at this for at least three hours now and he wanted to go back and cuddle with you in bed.
You just tried on a tight club dress and stepped into the couch area were the other two were waiting.
While NIk was drooling over you, suddenly happy about shopping, Bex stood up and walked over to you.
"Perfect! You look so hot!" Nik nods as Rebekah's statement while still staring at you in awe. "Those boys through the window seem to agree with me," Bekah nods her head in the direction of the window where a small group of boys around your age were drinking in your figure.
Niks head snaps over to them and his face hardens. He stands up and walks over to you, wrapping his arm around your waist.
"You look bloody stunning as always, my love," he kisses your head. "We are buying this dress. You know, I don't know what I did to deserve you,"
"You didn't have to do anything," your lips tip upwards.
"Ugh, you two," Rebekah rolls her eyes. "Nik is not coming with us next time, you guys are too sappy, makes me sick," she sighs.
"Don't be jealous, Rebekah"
You were finishing up some final touches on a tray of pastries you baked for Nik. You made all his favorites and decorated them to look cute. You hear a knock on the door and look out the window. You see Nik at the door with flowers in his hands.
You open the door and smile at him, "Nikki, hello!"
"Hi, love," he smiles and pecks your lips. He hands you the flowers as he strolls in the house.
"Oh, Nik! Come in the kitchen"
You pick up the pastry tray after putting the flowers in a vase. "Tadaaa!"
"My favorites! Thank you, sweetheart," he kisses you.
"You are very welcome, thank you for the flowers"
"You are very welcome. I love you so much, you know"
"Of course I know, I also know that I love you so much too"
#nina writes 🤭💗#klaus mikaleson imagine#niklaus mikaelson#niklaus x reader#niklaus x you#klaus mikaelson x you#klaus mikaelson x reader#klaus mikaelson imagine#mikaelsons#mikaelsons x you#mikaelsons x reader#rebekah mikaelson#kol mikaelson#elijah mikaelson#finn miakelson#rebekah mikaelson x reader#kol mikaelson x reader#elijah mikaelson x reader#humor#the vampire diaries#tvd#vampire diaries#vampire diaries fluff#the vampire diaries fluff#mikaelson fluff#soft niklaus
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delicate | conrad fisher (f)
ᡣ𐭩 pairing : conrad fisher x fem!reader
ᡣ𐭩 summary : over the summer's spent at cousins, your feelings for conrad have only grown deeper, but does he feel the same?
ᡣ𐭩 warnings : none, pure fluff.
ᡣ𐭩 word count : 3.4k
ᡣ𐭩 a/n : hello everyone! first of all thank you all so much for such an amazing response to my very first fic, thank you, i love you all. ❤️ im back with my new fic and im very excited to share it with you all. happy reading, do like, reblog and leave your precious feedback. 🥰
You don't remember the exact moment you fell for Conrad Fisher, maybe it was all those years ago when your family had moved in a beach house for summer in Cousins after your dad's knee surgery as the doctor had suggested that fresh air and change in scenery would do wonders for his recovery. You and your sister were playing by the huge swimming pool in the backyard when your mom had called you both over and handed you two freshly baked boxes of chocolate chip cookies that were to be given to your new neighbors, The Fishers and The Conklins.
You had nervously knocked at the Fisher's front door and a boy about your age had answered it, his eyes were the most beautiful, sublime shade of blue you've ever seen reminding you of the ocean from your bedroom window, his smile when he introduced himself, welcoming you and your sister to the neighborhood made your heart skip a beat and your nerves dissipate as you and your sister thanked him, introducing yourselves.
When you walked out of the Fishers’ front gate, waving at Conrad, your heart knew that it was the beginning of something special between you both.
At Conklins’ you were greeted by a beautiful woman who introduced herself as Laurel and a girl who was looking at you and your sister curiously from behind her mother and was the same age as your sister was her daughter, Isabel or Belly.
Another year, another summer at Cousins, your dad was recovering very well, all thanks to the ocean breeze, sun, sand and sea along with the love and care of his family, friends and neighbors. The Fishers and The Conklins have been a huge support to you and your family, Susannah and Laurel were there for your parents countless times while Conrad, Jeremiah and Belly helped you and your sister settle in with them right away.
You had gotten a part time summer job at the clubhouse as a lifeguard, same as Jeremiah and you're currently on your shift, keeping an eye out at the swimming pool and then focusing back on the book in your hand. When you look up again, you spot Steven jump over the snack bar where he was working and rush over to the other side of the pool where Conrad, Belly and Taylor had just walked in, Conrad waves at you and you wave back, Belly gives you a small wave which you return and Taylor smiles at you, you smile back and they then turn to wave at Jeremiah as Steven reaches the group.
Taylor laughs as Steven very animatedly narrates her something, both walking back to the snack bar while Belly and Conrad prepare for a dip in the pool, book momentarily forgotten in your lap, you watch as Conrad pulls his shirt over his head and you sigh, resting your chin in the palm of your hand but your daydreaming doesn't last long as a commotion in the pool has you and Jeremiah getting down from your chairs and intervene to restore everything back to normal.
Conrad ducks laughing as Belly flicks some water at him, dark brown locks of his hair sticking to his forehead, the alluring blue hues of his eyes sparkle in the afternoon sun and you sigh again, pressing your fist close to your heart.
“So when are you going to tell my brother that you've been in love with him since forever?” Jeremiah speaks up and when you look at the youngest Fisher, his arms are crossed upon his chest, his eyebrows are quirked up in amusement.
“And here we go again.” You shake your head and then start walking back to your chair when your sister joins you both.
“Since the time we showed up at your door with cookies, Jere. Conrad opened the door, one look at his gorgeous blue eyes and warm smile, she was a goner!”
“When did you get here?” You ask.
“Just now? With Conrad, Belly and Taylor.
I stayed back for a while to text mum for the snacks we would need for our Disney movie night.” She answers, holding up her phone to show you the list of snacks.
“Please tell me we are not watching Tangled AGAIN?” Jeremiah quips in.
“Flynn Ryder Supremacy!!” You and your sister both answer at the same time as Jeremiah groans making you both laugh.
“No but seriously sis, when are you going to tell Connie how you feel?” Your sister changes the subject again.
“Exactly. What are you waiting for? For him to bring a girl home from college for the holidays and announce their engagement? Or for him to get married to her and announce that they are expecting their first child?” Jeremiah adds, agreeing to what your sister just said.
“You guys..” You sigh. It's not that you never had the thought about telling Conrad how you really feel for him, you did, half of your days were spent thinking about Conrad and how would it really be if you ever told him about your feelings? Would he smile and then pull you in for a passionate kiss or would you mess up and end up ruining your friendship?
“It's.. it's not easy okay? What if I tell him how I really feel and he doesn't feel the same way? It would ruin our friendship and that's the last thing I want.”
“Sis, I understand. It's always scary to open up your heart to someone, especially when you've been friends for so long. There is a chance that Conrad might not reciprocate, there is a chance that it might ruin your friendship but there's also a chance that he might reciprocate, a chance that your friendship might evolve into something beautiful, but if you don't tell him how you feel, you'll have nothing but regrets, what-if's and a missed shot at true love.” Your sister replies, gently clasping your hand in hers.
“Hey, I thought I was the wiser one. When did you grow up so much?”
“Fyi, contrary to what you think dearest sister, I am always the wiser one, duh. Also, I've been learning from the best.”
You smile and hug your sister tight, who hugs you back as tightly.
“Room for one more?” Jeremiah asks.
Smiling, you both open your arms for him to join in the hug and he does, happily throwing his arms around you and your sister.
“Now I need to tell Connie how I feel.”
“Tell me what?”
A deep voice that you would recognize even in your dreams, Conrad stands behind you, a towel on his shoulder as he looks between the three of you.
“To tell you that.. that we'll be watching Tangled at the disney movie night again.” Jeremiah saves you at the right moment and you quietly mouth him a thank you to which he responds with a subtle wink.
“Oh, that's cool. I like Tangled.” Conrad shrugs.
“Et tu, Brute?” Jeremiah clutches his chest dramatically making you all laugh.
Still laughing at his brother's antics, Conrad shakes his head and then looks at you, “I was thinking, if you are free then maybe we could go for a swim.”
You look at your watch, “Yeah sure, my shift ends in five minutes. Let me just change out of my lifeguard uniform and then I'll join you.”
“Cool.”
Your sister clears her throat, “We too have be somewhere, don't we Jere?”
“Yeah, I have a few hours of my shift left so I'll be going back to my chair.”
“And I'll go find Belly and Taylor.”
“Have fun kids.” Jeremiah salutes you both and then walks off with your sister.
You change out of your uniform and since you are already wearing your bikini underneath, it's even quicker. You untie your hair, give them a little shake as you take a last look at yourself in the mirror and then take a deep breath to calm the butterflies fluttering in your stomach before walking out to meet Conrad by the pool, whose eyes widen and jaw drops as he takes you in, his eyes lingering on your curves.
“I.. Wow. Is that new?” He asks, breaking out of his trance, referring to your burnt orange high waisted bikini.
“Oh.. this old thing? No, I brought it last summer just.. never had the chance to wear it.” You reply shyly, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.
“I.. you.. Wow. You look..”
Last summer when you had picked up the bikini from the rack to try it on, you instantly fell in love with it, for it beautifully accentuates your curves and not to mention, your sister wouldn't leave you alone till you brought the swimsuit.
Now that you've left Conrad Fisher speechless, you're so fucking glad that you tried on the bikini, that your sister pestered you to buy it and that you decided to wear it this morning.
“You.. You look stunning! I love the color on you.” Conrad says as he steps a bit closer, his sapphire eyes darken precisely to a shade of the ocean under a night sky.
“Thank you Connie.” You reply, the tips of your ears turning pink.
“So, the last one to reach the other side of the pool is a rotten egg?” He then looks at you with pure mischief, amusement dancing in his blue eyes.
“Oh you're so on, Fisher!”
The two of you dived into the pool together, trying to out-race each other. It's something you both have been doing every summer since you were kids and you had first arrived at Cousins. Jeremiah and your sister used to be the referees but you both are competitive and the loser has to buy winner ice-cream for the rest of the summer, so the stakes are even higher with free ice-cream which resulted in a fighting match and ended in you both sulking and not talking to each other.
It made you and Conrad miserable, not to mention Jeremiah and Your sister had to be your messengers when you both weren't talking and they were sick of it, so they quit and you both then decided to dial down the competitiveness but the loser still had to buy winner ice-cream for the rest of the summer and you and Conrad still squabble over who out-raced whom.
You both swam to the other side of the pool together, finishing neck to neck and agree to buy each other ice-cream, as you and Conrad dry off, you two trade stories about college, your classes, the friends you've made and agreeing on the fact that the friendships you've both formed in Cousins will always be special.
Strands of his wet, dark brown hair fall on his forehead, obstructing your view of his eyes and before you can stop yourself, you are already pushing back the locks of his hair so you can look into his eyes.
“Have I ever told you that your eyes are the most beautiful shade of blue I've ever seen? It reminds me of the ocean. Everytime you pull your hair down, I want to brush them away because.. I want to get lost in those eyes, Connie.”
Sometimes when I look into your eyes,
I pretend you're mine, all the damn time.
Conrad steps closer to you, his hand cupping the side of your face and his thumb caressing your cheek gently.
“No you haven't, but the way you look at me tells me everything.”
An enormous splash of water drenches you both, breaking the tender moment between you two as a twelve year old resurfaces and apologizes for cannonballing into the pool too hard.
“So ice-cream?” Conrad laughs, wiping off water from his face, his hand now entwined with yours.
“Yess ice-cream!” You respond excitedly, with a child-like gleam in your eyes and Conrad laughs again as he leads you out of the pool area.
You all had worked and planned your butts off for the 70’s themed party, a last hurrah at the Fisher's beach house, a homage to Susannah. Initially, it was Belly's idea and Conrad had agreed to it but you all wanted to give the beloved beach house a proper goodbye.
You had chosen black velvet bell bottoms paired with a red bohemian print front tie top that had cute bell sleeves, hoop earrings and chunky heels while your sister had opted for a sparkly silver dress with a matching headband, cuff bracelets and ankle length boots. She had done both hers and yours makeup with holographic eyeliners, lots of glitter and gems for the eyes and classic red lips. You looked beautiful, you felt beautiful and you got compliments the minute you walked in through the door.
You spot Conrad standing by the drinks counter with Steven and he waves at you as he sees you, picking up two beers and making his way through the crowd to you.
“Wow.. you look..” He tries, never once taking his eyes off you.
Was Conrad Fisher speechless again? This is the second time! Do you have that effect on him?
Your heart skips a beat as you reply, “I just hope I'm on theme.”
“You are, you look beautiful.” Conrad speaks as he looks into your eyes.
“Thanks Connie.” You blush, unable to hold eye contact.
Steven calls you both over for photos, you strike a cute pose, your fingers held up to the left side of your face in a v sign and a bright smile, your other arm around Conrad while his arm is around your waist, the warmth of his skin against yours making your heart pound in your chest.
The camera goes off with a bright white flash and you both go over to Steven to see the photo, it takes a few moments to develop and when it does, Steven has the biggest grin on his face as he hands the photograph to you both.
It's a very cute picture, you posing for the camera while Conrad looks at you adoringly, not at the camera where he should be looking but at you, warmth spreads in every fiber of your body as you realize that that's exactly how you look at him too, not to mention, you also noticed how he had brushed his hair back today and wasn't pulling it down like he always did. The crimson on your cheek darkens when you realize that he did it for you because you like his hair brushed back so you can look into his eyes.
“What do we have here?” Your sister comes up from behind you, pulling the polaroid from your grasp before you can stop her and Jere ofcourse is right behind her, the two being of the same age and are as thick as thieves.
“Ooooh. This is such a romantic picture, isn't it Jere?” Your sister's eyes sparkle with fondness and mischief as she looks at the polaroid.
“It is. The way Connie's looking at her, oof.” Jeremiah nods cutely, his golden brown curls swishing across his forehead.
“I know right? This is exactly what they call The Look Of Love.”
“Okay you goofs, that belongs to us.” Conrad takes the polaroid back from your sister and Jeremiah, “by the way, I heard Skye asking Cam that they are confused as to what they should watch at the next Disney movie night, Tangled Or Frozen?”
“Frozen obviously, there's no way I'm watching Tangled again!” Jeremiah crosses his arms across his chest.
“How dare you? I'm going to tell Skye that we are watching Tangled!” Your sister glares at Jeremiah and then stomps off to find Syke and Cam.
“Oh no, you don't!” Jere follows her.
Conrad gives you the photograph, his hand closing around yours as he pulls you closer to himself and you gasp softly from the sudden proximity.
“Should we head out to get some fresh air?” He asks, handing you one of the beers.
“Yeah, fresh air sounds great!” You smile.
Your hand entwined with Conrad's, you both walk out to the pool area and sit side by side, dipping your feet in water. The party rages on inside and while you enjoyed it immensely, it's nice to take a break and listen to your thoughts again. Nostalgia of every summer that you've spent here ever since moving to Cousins when you were kids washes over you and you blink back tears, Conrad wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer and you rest your head on his shoulder.
“I miss Susannah.”
“Me too.”
“Remember when she threw us a welcome party?” You look up at Conrad, smiling and his lips curl upwards in a smile at the memory.
“You mean the party where you tried to convince us that pizza tastes better with peanut butter on top?” He mimes barfing.
“Hey, that was one time! Besides, you were the very first one to try it out.” You hit him playfully in the chest, laughing.
“Yeah well, maybe because I've never been able to say no to you, also your puppy eyes are deadly!” Conrad looks down at you adoringly, his blue eyes soft as he tucks a lock of hair behind your ear.
You blush, looking down at your lap and then look back at him again.
“God, you're so beautiful.” Conrad whispers as he cups your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek, moonlight washing over you both and you close your eyes, giving into the warmth of his touch.
“That day at the pool, you said that my eyes are the most beautiful shade of blue you've ever seen and that you want to get lost in them. What if I say that every time I look into your eyes, I'm unable to look anywhere else, I'm lost in your beautiful eyes. What if I say that every time I look at you, my heart feels as if it'd beat out of my chest. What if I say that every time when you walk in through the door, all I want to do is take you in my arms, kiss you and tell you how incredibly lucky I am to have you in my life and that everytime you leave after summer's over, a piece of my heart goes with you.”
“Connie..” You speak, your heart beating a mile per minute.
“If I don't tell you how I feel tonight, I might never have the chance to do so. I love you, most ardently, I am in love with you and I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.” Conrad says, looking into your eyes, holding both of your hands in his and tears pool your eyes realizing that he just quoted your most favourite, timeless declaration of love from your most favourite book.
You remember talking his ear off about your love for Pride and Prejudice, about Elizabeth and Darcy being the OG enemies to lovers during the long summer afternoons when you both would be relaxing by the poolside with chilled glasses of lemonade, sometimes you would read to him too and Conrad had gifted you a hardcover edition of Pride and Prejudice with illustrations on your birthday.
It's one of your most special gifts and one of your most prized possessions till date.
You take a deep, calming breath, ready to bare your heart to him as well.
“My life has never been the same ever since I walked up to your front door with cookies and you answered the door with your serene blue eyes and your warm smile that reached up to them, the way my heart skips a beat when you hold me close everytime we watch horror movies, the way I want to kiss you everytime you get chocolate on your nose from your favorite donuts and everytime I leave after summer's over, a piece of my heart stays with you. I love you, I love you too, Conrad Fisher.”
You both look into each other's eyes for a few moments letting the words, the feelings sink in, before inching closer. When his lips touch yours, you melt into him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders while his wrap around your waist pulling you closer. The kiss is soft, sweet, full of promises and you both part with a sigh before Conrad kisses you again, a little passionate this time.
“I love you Connie.”
“I love you more.”
“So boyfriend, should we head inside? I wanna dance and would love do so with your arms around me.” You ask, pressing a kiss to his lips before getting up and pulling him up as well.
“Would love to girlfriend, just give me a few more minutes because I'm not done kissing you yet.” Conrad smiles before leaning in to kiss you again.
#conrad fisher#conrad fisher x reader#conrad fisher x you#team conrad#jeremiah fisher#conrad x reader#conrad fisher imagine#conrad fisher fanfic#the summer i turned pretty#tsitp conrad#conrad fisher one shot
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Hello, I hope you’re good!
I have a Melissa x reader prompt. I listened to Sweet Nothing by Taylor Swift I thought it would be a perfect story. Can you make it? But in a way that Mel and the reader are not together yet in the beginning but it has a happy ending with them being together? Thank you ❤️
-We need each other in all lives-
Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader
Gender:soft, fluff, love
Warnings:cursing
Summary:Mel was always there to take care of you because you were good friends.
Hi sweetheart! That was a beautiful song! I didn't end it exactly how you want it, but maybe I'll write a next part where they go to prom or something. I hope you like it! I love request with songs! ❤️
Changes, there were times that were good things and others that complicated your existence. Some changes pushed you forward and others made you stagnate in place.
Many years you begged and listened as others begged wishing that Ava would be a better director, but you never thought that the moment when that would happen, you would wish you could go back in time.
After the break, when you returned to work, Ava had made a 180° turn, a turn so radical that it surprised everyone. You had high hopes for this new Ava, until it started banning everything you wanted or enjoyed doing, including breaks.
With so few breaks and teaching two classes at once, you were on the verge of a physical or mental breakdown or both, something that didn't go unnoticed by Melissa.
The redhead and Barbara had almost adopted you since you had started working at Abbott, your sarcastic joke caught Melissa's attention and at the same time your maturity in certain things, caught Barbara's attention and they immediately liked you. The years that followed only strengthened the friendship, although you had to admit that you were closer to the redhead than to Barbara.
There was nothing you could hide from Melissa, she could tell when you lied or hid something, she even noticed how you felt before you told her. She was very aware of how these weeks with more demands had affected you, for that same reason, she was paying much more attention to you than before, even controlling that you ate and drank water.
Since you could no longer take advantage of your free hours to check the kid's work, you started doing it while eating so you wouldn't have to do so much at home.
-"Do you want to go out tonight to eat and drink something?" - Mel offered while you ate with her and Barbara. The red-haired woman slightly pushed your glasses that were on the table towards you so that you would realize that you should be wearing them so that your eyes wouldn't burn afterwards, you smiled slightly at her putting them on and kept correcting the sheets
-"I can't, I have a date with Geral for our anniversary" - The older one commented, and Mel looked at you, giving you a chance to answer
-"I have too much to do... Besides I'm to tired for going out Mel-Mel" - You commented, still looking at the sheets of paper and moving your red pen over them
-"So it's decided, tonight you're coming to my house and I'll make something to eat for you. And don't say no, you need to rest and distract yourself a bit, you're not even eating right now so you can correct those papers" - she commented in an authoritative tone and you nodded in agreement with no other choice.
When night came, you drove to your friend's house with her favorite wine in hand. When you opened the door, a savory aroma surrounded you and the redhead laughed when she saw the joy in your eyes when she noticed how that gave you happiness.
Upon entering the house you sat in your usual place on the counter while she finished cooking, soft music played in the background that was sometimes interrupted by the noise of the pans or the knife chipping something on the board. Mel told you about a new bar she wanted to visit while you showed her pictures of a dog you were thinking of adopting, every now and then silence fell on you but it wasn't awkward, before you resumed the conversation with another topic.
When the food was ready, the two of you went to the living room to watch a movie while enjoying your friend's tasty creation, which also was your favorite food.
Even if you were worried that you weren't correcting the exams, it was nice to take a moment to rest, being by her side always calmed you down not matter what was happening.
When the dishes emptied, you paused the film to wash them quickly; whenever Mel cooked you washed the dishes and vice versa, then grabbed chocolate from the shelf where you knew she kept them and went back to the couch to watch the rest of the movie.
When you had settled down next to her, Mel didn't press play on the movie and that made you curious, so you looked at her with a raised eyebrow
-"Play..."-You whispered and she continued to stare at you
-"What are you thinking? I can see the guilt in your face, you're thinking so loud that subtitles are about to come out of your ears" - Mel asked and you laughed
-"I was just thinking about school..."-You answered and she rolled her eyes
-"Today was supposed to be a night to distract you and relax... Don't tell me that the only way you're going to relax is by doing that thing that we did..." - she whispered with a mischievous smile and you shook your head blushing
-"That only happened once and that was because I was so stressed and tired that I couldn't sleep" - You muttered embarrassedly and Mel opened her arms smiling. A few years ago, you had to take an exam for your teacher application while you were teaching at Abbott, the night before you were due to take the exam, Mel had come to your house to cook something to eat and help you study. When it got late, you begged her to stay with you because you were nervous and scared. She when to bed with you but you couldn't fall asleep, so the redhead hugged you to her chest until you relaxed and fell asleep. That's when you discovered that having her that close calmed you down in an incredible way without having to take any pills or anything.
-"But it worked, so let's do it again."-The redhead commented and you sat on her lap blushing, you carefully hugged her waist and rested your head on her chest closing your eyes momentary as she scratched your hair-"Now I can feel how you stopped thinking, I'll press play on the movie" - The redhead hit play while still stroking your hair and you watch it still resting on her chest.
A few seconds later, your cell phones rang at the same time and that could only mean one thing, a message from school. The redhead grabbed her cell phone while still stroking your hair and laughed as she read it, making her chest vibrate against your cheek.
-"You and I are in charge of being chaperones at the graduation party Ava wants to throw for the kids" - she muttered and put her cell phone down again
-"Good...I've never had a graduation party or been to one..."- You murmured against her chest with your eyes almost completely closed because of how relaxed you were.
-"Then I'll come pick you up with a corsage for you since you Wil ne my date to prom"-she commented jocking
-"I would love that" - You responded with your eyes finally closed, her perfume invading your senses, her warmth hugging your body, her gentle heartbeat synchronized with yours, the vibration of her voice against your ear every time she spoke, it was enough to block your overthinking brain and relax you completely-"Mel..."-You whispered sleepily and she urged you to follow with a soft hum-"do you think we are friends in another lifes too?"-Mel laughed at your question, whenever you were falling asleep, you would start asking weird and unexpected questions
-"I'm sure of it hon... In every life there is a Melissa who is dedicated to taking care and be next to one (Y/N), there can be no Melissa without you to accompany her, we need each other in all lives..."-she whispered kissing your forehead and you smiled with your eyes closed, almost asleep on the redhead's chest
-" I love you Mel-Mel"-You whispered babbling and the redhead's heart jumped and she doubted if you could hear it or not, how is it that your "I love you" had more effect on her than when her previous partners told her they love her, if you were just friends?... Why was she excited to think about being your date at prom when you were just friends?... Maybe what she was feeling from a few months now was just because she didn't had a boyfriend now... Or maybe you just were really good friends... Yeah... Friends... Why it hurt her thinking about you two just as friends?... Fuck, she was fucked...
-"I love you more hon, more than you know" - she whispered hugging you tight with a million questions in her head, sadly, you were already asleep to listen to her words and the meaning behind it.
#melissa schemmenti x you#melissa schemmenti soft#melissa schemmenti fanfic#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti#melissa schemmenti abott elementary#abott elementary fanfic#abbott elementary fanfic#abott elementary#abbot elementary#abbott elementary#lisa ann walter fanfic#lissa ann walter#lisa ann walter#pinkthrone445#melissa schemmenti request#request open#request
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WARM CONVERSATION (suna x reader)
cw: breakup heavy, light mentions of reader going through it, angst to fluff i promise!!!! best friend osamu <3 kinda long im sorry, titled from sad beautiful tragic by taylor swift because what else would it be
You should've known he’d come over. Should've expected it the moment you sent the text turning down his offer disguised as a reminder.
A sick part of you almost wants to laugh as you reread the texts on the phone in hand.
From: Osamu
ur coming with me to atsumu’s stupid thing tonight, right?
To: Osamu
absolutely not
Not even twenty minutes later (which is impressive, considering Osamu lives at least thirty away from your apartment), an abrasive knock is on your door and you don't even need to check the peephole to see who waits on the other side.
The moment you open the door with unimpressed eyes, Osamu is opening his mouth to complain.
“You're shitting me, right?”
His tone walks the line of being in denial and being pissed, like he can’t quite be angry yet because he’s not sure if you’re joking with him or not. He does a quick once-over of your appearance—with pajamas you've been wearing for three days straight, dirty and unbrushed hair, and a more than half-eaten bag of chips in hand, you choose to shrug.
“Can’t say I am,” you deadpan before turning your back to him, letting him huff his way into your apartment with urgency.
“No,” he shakes his head to himself, laughing in disbelief, “no, you’re coming with me.”
Closing your eyes in frustration, your head falls back into a childish groan.
“Osamu, I really don't want to.”
“It’ll be good for you,” he's quick to try again. His eager words immediately have you scowling, but he can't tell if the waver in your voice is one on the verge of laughter or tears.
“And how will celebrating your brother being awarded ‘The Sexiest Man in Japan’ be good for me?”
“Eurgh, not that,” he’s quick to clarify through an over exaggerated gag before reiterating, “just getting out there. Everyone’s missed ya.”
Your glare softens in the slightest at his sweet confession. He uses your hesitation from the sentimental moment to snatch the bag of chips from your grasp and raise his eyebrows in amusement. Instantly, your intimidating glare returns and you’re throwing your hands out at your sides in frustration.
You whine obnoxiously, rubbing at your eyes with your fingertips before recollecting your stubborn self.
“I'm no fun to be around right now,” you decide to remind him, crossing your arms in defense and letting him sit on your persistent words.
Now, it’s Osamu’s gaze that softens at your harsh self-judgment.
“Yer the only one who thinks that,” he tries to match your sarcasm, but you’re sure to note the gentle tone weaving through his breath.
Tired of the game of cat and mouse, you fold. Plopping yourself on the couch, Osamu cautiously sits next to you, where your head is in your hands and your nose is pinched in thought.
“He’s back,” your voice is soft, barely above a whisper as your eyes meet the floor, “and he’s gonna be there.”
Osamu merely nods, as if he’s been expecting this point to be made.
“I know,” he agrees, before thinking out loud, “it’ll be the first time you’ve seen him since—” his voice loses its confident edge as his sentence trails off.
With a humorless laugh, you bitterly finish for him, “Since we broke up?”
“Since you forced him to break up with you,” Osamu corrects through a smug grin, “but yeah.”
And your eyes roll because he’s not technically wrong, there's just more to it—so you decide on biting your tongue and letting him have that one.
When silence takes over, you assume that's the end of the conversation. Perhaps that was naive of you to think, as when you turn your head you’re still met with Osamu’s expectant gaze awaiting your response.
“I don’t know, Osamu,” you give up into a sigh.
Getting excited at your slipping determination, he sits further up on the couch.
“I’ll be right there the whole time. I'll drive, we can leave whenever ya want, and if anyone says anything stupid, I’ll defend yer honor, per usual.”
Your silence speaks louder than your resistance, and Osamu can practically taste the victory on his tongue as he watches you loomingly mull it over.
“You owe me a bottle of wine,” you declare as your head falls back into your hands.
Osamu silently lunges his fist in the air at his success.
“Damn right I do,” he proudly agrees before tossing you the snack still held in his left hand, “I’ll even throw in a bag of chips, too.”
…
Walking up to the door of Atsumu’s (disgustingly large) penthouse, the sickening memory of the last time you saw Suna intrudes your mind on repeat.
You knew he’d be traveling. After officially signing with EJP Raijin, you had thought you braced yourself for this. The early training hours, the late night flights, the stealing time together just for it to be ripped away at any moment. You swallowed that pill and digested it fully.
And then he told you about America. About the year-long tournament and exclusive training program he’d been recruited into. You vividly remember him eagerly bragging about how not even Atsumu got invited. He was thrilled, and you were too, for him.
But then came the unease, the insecurity that would eat away at your brain every night like a parasite. You couldn’t rest, couldn't live with yourself knowing that there could be more out there for him. You refused to hold him back from fully experiencing whatever this opportunity could bring him. You wanted him happy, whether that was with you or not.
Needless to say, the breakup came as a surprise to him. Two weeks before he left, just when he had everything he’d ever dreamed of, the thing he needed the most decided to slip from his grasp.
“You're being stupid,” he threw out in a panic. “You don’t get to just decide that for me when it affects both of us.”
“I already made up my mind,” you'd croaked out through teary eyes and a constricting throat.
You remember Suna looking at you like he didn't even know you, like he didn't recognize the person standing in front of him. The person who held his heart in their hands, the person he has a ring hidden in his closet shelf for. Unrecognizable.
Your shaking hands held out in front of you like a plea, you continued to use them to sever your red string of fate from him.
“You don't know what's out there for you. You could love it there, you could meet someone better than—”
“Why would you say that?” he winced at your words. He felt like he was going crazy, like this wasn't really happening. Not to him, not with you. “I don't want anyone who’s not you, I don't even want to think about that, I—”
“Rintaro,” your hand on his salty cheek was the last time he’d feel your touch. He didn't knows that at the moment, refused to believe it, but it was. He knows that now.
“I won't be able to live with myself if I don't do this,” your voice is barely audible behind your sobs. “I’d never forgive myself if I knew you had anything to regret.”
Regret.
He places his hand on top of where yours rests on his cheek.
“I don’t want to do this,” he urgently begged, “I love you.”
You smiled and it broke whatever was left of his heart.
“And I love you,” you ached. “So go to America, and don't think about me. And if there’s a world where you come back here a year from now and somehow still feel the same, then maybe things could be different. But we won't know that unless you go.”
Two weeks later, Suna was on a plane to the states—and when he went to call you before he boarded, he was immediately sent to voicemail.
It’s been a year since it happened, but it feels like days when Atsumu opens his french wooden door with a brash welcome.
The party in itself is fine, probably fun for the average guest invited. Atsumu thought it would be funny to throw himself a congratulatory party for being voted Japan’s Sexiest Man, though with the alcohol coursing through his veins and the hype from his past and current teammates, you’re willing to bet he fully believes it.
The night passes like nails on a chalkboard, agonizingly slow and leaving you hyperaware of your actions. Conversation is easy enough. Everyone is kind and Osamu holds true to his promise of hanging by your side for the most part. You catch Suna’s gaze a handful of times, never holding it long enough to address it, nor feeling drunk enough to do something about it. You hate how foreign it feels.
…
The balcony is a refreshing kind of cold on your clammy skin. The jacket you hold tightly against your torso is more so for protection than it is for warmth.
You’d excused yourself from a small conversation with Iwaizumi and Osamu to escape onto a balcony of (one of) Atsumu’s guest rooms. Just for a moment—a moment to breathe, to stop thinking foolish thoughts, to bury yourself in the drink in your hand.
The sound of the sliding door interrupts your sulking and your heart drops like glass on concrete.
“Osamu said I might find you here,” the voice wavers, and you sigh in relief to hear that it’s Aran.
“Fucking Osamu,” you curse behind a sip of your drink. “Remind me to kill him later.”
Aran laughs earnestly at your clear stress, “M’not that bad, am I?”
“No,” you're quick to correct, “no, I didn't mean it like that.”
Aran’s always been a good friend, to both you and Suna. From your high school days to the entire year you were barely seen in the public eye, he’s always been genuine and attentive. The conversation is natural, a nice distraction from the consistent thumping in both your head and heart.
You congratulate him on his most recent win. He asks about your work. You tell him about a recent promotion and he manages to successfully tell you about his time in America without directly tying it back to Suna. You appreciate his earnest effort.
That is, until he clears his throat into the crisp air.
“He hasn't been with anyone since you,” Aran suddenly breathes.
You don’t say anything, but he sees how your brow furrows at the sudden declaration.
“He didn't see anyone while he was away, in America,” he clarifies.
He watches your body stiffen at the realization of what he’s talking about. Drink in hand, your arms cross defensively across your chest. You’d attempt to play the pathetic action off as the cold weather if you cared.
Your tone is a bit harsher than you’d like it to be when you respond. “It wouldn't have mattered if he did, we weren’t together.”
Aren’t, you mentally correct yourself. We aren't together. It shouldn't matter, no matter the capacity. But with the way Aran’s watching you crumble like a leaf in the wind, both of you know that it does. It matters.
“I mean—he tried, a few times,” he adds on, “but he couldn't go through with it.”
Your heart sinks at the mere thought of Suna trying to get back out there, and you hate that you still feel this way because that was the whole point. The reason for the way everything went down the way it did is because you wanted Suna to explore all of his options before choosing you. So why does the mere insinuation of him doing the exact thing you told him to do make bile rise in your chest?
You sniffle, hoping Aran dismisses it on the chilly breeze as you practically whimper, “Why are you telling me this?”
Aran smiles, but it doesn't meet his eyes. It drips of a melancholy coldness. “Because I think you deserve to know that even when he could’ve, he still didn't do anything.”
His words grip you like a tight hug, almost constraining as they apply pressure to all the spots you'd numbed months ago. And he must feel it, too, because he decides that he’s said enough.
With a gentle hand placed on your shoulder, he makes his way back inside, but not before prefacing you with a foreboding, “I don't know if he’ll try and talk to you tonight, but if he does, just—think about hearing him out, alright?”
You swallow before nodding, “Sure, I’ll think about it.”
And once again, you're alone with your thoughts—but they're different this time. Less cruel and guilt-ridden, but more so clear and airy.
You hear the door sliding open once more behind you, and your naivety assumes it’s Aran returning with another final word of wisdom. You’re turning around without a second thought.
“Aran, I told you I’d–”
Any blood not tainted by alcohol leaves your face as Rintaro now stands before you, taller than you remember, though you know it’s not even possible. His eyes still look right through your facade, his adam’s apple still prominent as he clears his throat awkwardly.
“Hi,” he bites first.
Your response is immediate, but far weaker, “Hi.”
He joins you where you lean on the railing, practically shoulder to shoulder as the two of you stare at the dimming streetlights, sipping on drinks that suddenly don’t feel strong enough.
“Congrats,” eventually falls from your lips, “on everything. You deserve it all.”
“Thanks,” he returns, though you know it’s only to segue into what slips from his lips next. “You look great,” he lamely chokes out.
Your response is immediate and cold, “You don't have to.”
“Don’t have to what?” Suna chokes out after a second of confusion.
“Lie,” you breathe, eyes still focused on the street below. “I’ve looked like shit for the past year, I’m well aware.”
Within the entire mourning period of the breakup, you’ve barely taken care of yourself. You look unhealthy—sunken cheeks and dark circles and skin and bones and sadness. But Suna doesn't see it that way.
Sure, you look different, but you always look different. You're always growing and changing one way or another. And while he might wish you looked like you got more sleep, that's for selfish reasons, not superficial ones. Your eyes still hold the same shape they did when he left you, your hands still smaller and cold. Your lips still the same mold against his, he hopes.
“I always think you look beautiful,” he disagrees with a mere shrug, “you still look like you.”
You swallow back a whimper at his honest words, before clearing your throat and biting the bullet.
“Why’re you out here, Suna?”
The last name stings, but he chooses to ignore it for now. There are bigger issues at hand.
He states the obvious, “It’s been a year. M’back from America.”
He watches you nod in agreement, “Yeah, I can see that.”
“Do you remember what you said?”
Your throat closes at his words.
“Rintaro—”
“I went,” his voice raises in desperation to get his point across, “and I had all the freedom in the world. Could’ve done whatever the fuck I wanted to. And I did, or I tried to, but I wouldn’t because it wasn’t with you.”
“I know,” your pitch matches his, “that was the point. I wasn’t going to let you do something if you couldn’t do it properly.”
He shakes his head at your stupid reasoning, the same stupid reasoning that ruined everything in the first place. You were so sure that there was more out there for him, that he’d be swept off his feet by some American woman and forget you entirely. And because of his own fear, he was forced to go along with it and prove you wrong. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“Well guess what?” he takes a sip of his bottle before swallowing harshly, “I did it, and it sucked, and now I'm back and nothing’s changed on my end.”
He takes a step closer to you, shaky hand raising in slow motion so you see it coming, so you have a chance to flinch or dodge or run, and you don’t. You let him rest it on your cheek, just like you did that night, and you let him tilt your jaw up to look at him properly for the first time in a year.
“Now I know what it’s like to be with you and to be without you, and I still just fucking want you.”
You take a moment to admire him, just as beautiful as the day you’d left him. He’s porcelain and tangible and here for the first time in a—
“And it’s been a year,” he reminds you through a sad smile, “like you said.”
You let out a wet giggle through your shaky core, “It’s been eleven months.”
Rintaro groans as if he’s been punched in the gut, and the feeling of your laughter erupting even louder shoots what he assumes must feel like drugs straight to his heart. Ever so gently, he swipes a stray tear from your lash line.
“Don't make me wait another month,” he begs, “please.”
Rintaro thanks whatever deity might've listened to his endless prayers these past eleven months, because for the first time ever, you listen to him. Obey him without complaint as you let him press his lips to yours, and he’s overwhelmed with warmth at the realization that they do still mold against his all the same.
“I love you,” he breathes in between breaks from your lips, “never stopped loving you.”
“I know,” you match his hunger, “I love you.”
Between overdue kisses and eager gazes to ensure that you are, indeed, real, Suna lets go of all of his regrets.
“M’never letting that happen again,” he shakes his head at his own stupidity, “never letting you go again.”
“Okay,” you mindlessly nod into his hands.
“Never letting you make a stupid decision like that for the both of us.”
“Sorry—”
“Never letting you look at me like that from across the room just to look away. I mean, what the fuck was that—”
You shove him out of embarrassment and oh, it feels like love. “Okay, I get it,” you whine.
And when the night passes in eventual hours that feel like mere seconds, ending up with you in Suna’s lap and everything under the moon being discussed, he’s brought back to reality as you begin to rise from his hold.
Rintaro instantly ushers you back on top of him, “Hey, hey, where d’you think you’re going?”
You comply with his gesture, but not without rolling your eyes. “Shouldn't we go back inside? They're gonna wonder where we are.”
“Let ‘em,” his head is buried into your neck, a feathery kiss placed as he tightens his hold on you. “I just got you back, lemme hold onto you for a little longer.”
…
+ bonus scene!
Between tipsy laughter and friendly competition, the party going on inside should be busy with a handful of different things. But the leading contender of entertainment for the group of friends seems to be partaking on the balcony.
Too lost in one another, you’re grateful you don't see the tufts of red hair peeking out behind the curtain, hoping to catch a glimpse of the long-awaited reunion taking place.
“It's working, I think it’s working!” Hinata beams, bouncing from window to window trying to get the best view.
“She’s on his lap,” Kita, who traveled a decent way to see this (oh, and for Atsumu, too), notes. “Do you think they’ve kissed yet?”
Speaking of the devil, Atsumu pushes his old captain aside as he drunkenly whines, “Aw, we missed it?”
The crowd of overgrown men bursts into childish chatter.
“Don't be a fuckin’ creep.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, you idiot.”
“They’ve had to have kissed by now, we just weren’t paying attention.”
“Yep, they're kissing!” Bokuto excitedly confirms, watching the two of you outside like a rom-com displayed on the silver screen.
Osamu’s attention is finally sparked at this confirmation.
“Oh thank god,” he impatiently shoves through the crowd to confirm the sight with his own eyes, and when he deems it to be true, he exhales a long overdue breath of relief. ‘‘That was the worst year of my life.”
Aran tilts his head in confusion, “I thought it was only eleven months—”
“Eleven months too long.”
#suna x reader#suna x you#suna rintaro x reader#suna rintaro x you#suna angst#suna fluff#suna fic#suna rintaro fic#suna rintaro fluff#suna rintaro angst#suna haikyuu#suna rintaro haikyuu
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WE’RE NOT REALLY STRANGERS - ETHAN LANDRY 🃏
“Tell the other person to close their eyes and to keep them closed” Playing the “we’re not really stranger” card game with Ethan Landry!
Content includes: fluff! Card game, Softie! Ethan Landry, shy duo!
<3
<3
<3
You lay on the couch of Ethan’s apartment, sighing as you continued to add details to the Google slide. “You know y/n, it doesn’t have to be pretty, just copy and paste the information” you frowned. “I like it pretty, looks like we put more effort into it” You switched the background color to a deep blue, a smile on your face as it matched the other slides.
“I’m getting so bored of this” you mumbled, changing fonts and adding colors, copying and pasting pictures onto it. “How about we take a break? We’ve been working on this for the past hour” You looked down at him, a thankful expression on your face. “I was hoping you’d say that” You shut the laptop, Ethan sitting on the couch next to you.
“We better get a perfect A, we’re putting way too much unnecessary effort into this” The 20-slide Econ assignment was almost done, with only a couple of things left to add. “What do you wanna do?” He asked, chin resting on the side of the couch. You shrugged, looking around his apartment.
“Do you like card games?” You nodded, watching him as he went over to the game closet, pulling out a red box. “What’s that?” He placed the box on the coffee table, the box reading “We’re not really strangers” at the top. “Basically, it’s just a bunch of questions that we get to ask each other to get to know each other better, fits since like…we’ve only really hung out for projects like this” You nodded, agreeing. “Yeah, okay” you smiled, Ethan explaining the rules as he shuffled the cards.
“Okay, uhm I’ll ask first?” “Yea,” he pulled a card, reading it out loud to you. “What was your first impression of me?” You hummed, thinking back to the first time you’d met him. “I think…I thought you were cute, a bit awkward I guess. You seemed really smart so I’m glad I got partnered up with you” Ethan blushed at the compliment, thanking you before you pulled the next card.
“Who do you think is my favorite artist!?” Ethan knew you loved music, and he already knew the answer. “Taylor Swift…?” “Yea! I like how you know that” you bit back your lip, cuddling up to the shared blanket.
“Okay…do you think I like hot Cheetos?” Your eyes turned into lines, pointing at the empty bag of chips. “No Ethan, I think you love Cheetos” He rolled his eyes. “It’s a very solid chip, they’re good” he laughed, smiling at you. “Do you think…that I’ve ever been in love?” You watched as Ethan examined your face, eyes squinted. “I think…that no you haven’t, but other people have probably been in love with you” You turned your head, Ethan biting back his lip.
“What makes you say that?” He shrugged. “You Just have a very loving personality, it’s the first thing anyone picks up on” You blushed and he pulled out a different pile of cards. “Round two is…connection…what’s the biggest mistake you’ve made?” “That’s deep…” he nodded as you thought. “I think it’s probably…hm. Oh, I know. Not sticking up for myself in things that have impacted me, like a lot”
“Like what?” “Like…I was bullied a lot as a kid, I think that kinda messed with how I turned out” he frowned. He could never imagine people bullying you. You were so sweet and caring. “Okay…hmm what non-domestic animal describes you? And why?” You already had an answer in mind, Ethan thinking with his hand on his chin. “A cat?” You shook your head. “That is so wrong” “Really?” You nodded, “You give hamster energy” he looked at you confused. “Well…I guess that kinda does make sense” he was really random and quiet, but he was also smart.
“What’s the worst pain you’ve been in that wasn’t physical?” You felt comfortable with Ethan, so you decided to open up with your mental health issues, if he thought you were crazy then that would probably be the worst pain. “I think…when I was in this really dark place, it was a couple of summers ago but uhm. My mom was sick and I was just depressed…like suicidal” You played with the rings on your fingers, sinking yourself into the couch. “I’m sorry…are you okay now?” His heart hurt for you, looking at you with doughy eyes. “Yea! Definitely, being around people that I care about helps a lot” You smiled at him, trying to give him the indication that it was him you were talking about. “I’m glad”
“What would your younger self not believe about your life today?” You put down the card, snuggling closer to the blanket as the gears in Ethan's head turned, thinking for a minute. “Maybe the fact that I actually have friends?” He laughed and you smiled. “Really?” He nodded. “I never really had friends, I was always really quiet as a kid and- and like shy” he scratched the back of his neck.
“What’s your least favorite personality trait in a person?” “I really dislike pretentious people, like get over it. You’re not better than anyone” You shrugged and he nodded his head, agreeing. “Think of someone that you admire. What made you think of them specifically?” You were the first person that popped into mind, his face flushed as he began to speak.
“The person, they’re just so sweet and, like” he sighed, not able to put his feelings of admiration towards you into words. “They do their best at everything. They go above and beyond even when they don’t have to. It’s like they’re the perfect person and they have such a beautiful personality” he could rant to you about yourself forever.
You just smiled, nodding your head as he described this mystery person. He must have a crush on them, the way that he was going about it definitely showed signs, a small frown on your face. It was the last question of the connection round, going into reflection.
“If we were in a band…what would be our name?” He smiled. “Like, the Econ girls or something” “But I’m not even a girl!” You broke into a small fit of laughter. “I like Econ girls, that’s our band name” he nodded, excepting his fate as an Econ girl.
“What part of yourself do you see in me?” “Honestly, nothing…you’re too perfect” you scoffed. “I’m for real…I don’t think I could compare myself to you” he fiddled with his hands, avoiding eye contact. “Really? Okay, draw” he picked up the card, placing it on the table.
“When this game is over, what will be something you remember about me?” You pretended to think long and hard, already knowing the answer. “Everything, I liked getting to know you better” Ethan felt his heart pump out of his chest, trying to hold back a smile as you pulled the next card.
“What do I need to hear right now?” He chewed on the inside of his cheek, glancing at you and then at the pile of cards on the table. “That the person I thought of first was you” You could’ve screamed, and so could Ethan. His face was flushed as he waited for your response, your eyes just wide as you tried to calm yourself down.
He watched as you held back a smile, your attempt failing before you hid your face in your hands. “Another one?” You nodded, Ethan with a smile on his lips. “In one word, describe how you feel right now” The universe was working with him, all the cards playing out perfectly. “Happy..?” You questioned, nodding to yourself. “Yea, happy”
You pulled out one of the wild cards, pulling out the paper and pencils from inside the box. “Write a message to each other and give it to each other, open it once you have left” You tapped your pencil against the table. Tucking your hair behind your ear as you started to write.
Ethan watched you, attempting to sneak a peek but it didn’t work, trying to come up with what to say to you. The tension could be cut with a knife, smiles hidden as you wrote. “You done?” He questioned and you nodded, folding up the piece of paper.
“Look Into each other's eyes for 30 seconds. What did you notice?” You scooted closer toward him, your body nervous as you looked into his eyes. You always knew Ethan was pretty, but seeing him so close made you realize he was way more than just pretty. His eyes were a pretty brown color, creasing at the sides when he smiled.
His lips looked so soft, so pillowy. The perfect shade of pink. You started to even get a bit insecure about your own. Ethan on the other hand took the opportunity to examine you even more. He knew everything about your face, every detail, every mark. He felt his heart beat faster as you looked at his lips, looking back into his eyes with your lips agape.
The two of you got closer, Ethan’s light breaths on your face as he took your jaw into his hands, pulling you closer to him. Your body melted into him, your lips pressing against his without a warning. Heat filled your body, butterflies going crazy in your stomach. He tasted so good, so sweet. And the feeling of his lips on yours was addicting. His hand pushed to the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him if that was even possible.
He pulled away, taking in the sight of your puffy lips, your face flushed in a pink blush. “One more? For good luck?” You nodded and he read the card to himself, instructing you to close your eyes. Your eyebrows furrowed as you waited. 5 seconds, then 10, then 15.
You felt him kiss you again, confused but not mad about it. His hand was on your waist, pulling you on top of him. The feeling of his kiss was like hundreds of fireworks going off inside of you, euphoria filling your whole body. Just the feeling of his hands running across your skin made you shiver, pressing your hand against his chest.
You pulled away and he handed you the card, reading it out loud. “Tell the other person to close their eyes and to keep them closed…wait 15 seconds and kiss them” You shook your head at the card, Ethan pulling you into his side. “I liked that game” “I did too” Before you left you exchanged letters, opening it frantically in your car as you recalled the night's events.
Y/n, you’re the person that I was talking about, but I think you already know that. I'm happy I decided to play this game with you. You make me feel safe and I really like you…It’s easier to express my feelings in letters, but I hope I get to show or tell you in these next couple of rounds.
Yours, Ethan Landry <3
#celebrities#cute#ethan landry#fanfic#jack champion#scream#ethan landry smut#jack champion x reader#avatar#ethan landry x y/n#ethan landry x you#ethan landry angst#ethan landry oneshot#ethan landry fluff#ethan landry drabble#ethan landry fic#ethan landry x reader#ethan landry fanfiction#jack champion oneshot#jack champion fluff#jack champion scream#scream franchise#scream 6#scream fluff#card games#jack champion fanfic#jack champion x y/n#jack champion angst#jack champion headcannons#jack champion gif
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7 Minutes in Heaven- Gojo Satoru
featuring:- Gojo Satoru x fem!reader, Shoko, Utahime, Geto, Nanami
tags:- fluff, y/n and gojo being absolute lovesick idiots, dumb and cringy pickup lines, kisses
a/n:- again, i apologise for the cringe but your wishes have been fulfilled. i swear, next time it REALLY will be angst. Also this was based of a req i got on my main haha
wc:- 2k || masterlists
Shoko and Utahime were dragged by you into a nearby room, the door shutting behind them forcefully. “Guys you can’t literally be serious.” You exclaimed. Shoko yawned as she said, “It’s literally just a game, [Y/N]. Relax, you’re getting all worked up for nothing.” You looked at her in sheer disbelief as you whisper-shouted “But he’s here too! What if we- god forbid- get paired?” Utahime chuckled at your nervousness as she put an arm around your shoulder and said, “Well, that’s a great opportunity for you, isn’t it? I mean, no offence [Y/N, you’re my best friend and I love you, but you are driving me crazy with all your rambling about Gojo. Like, I get it, you like him, please go and confess.” She sighed. You were about to retort with a denial before a series of soft knocks sounded on the door. “Are you guys there? We’re waiting, if you’re ready.” Geto’s ever-calm voice came from the other side of the door. Shoko immediately responded with a “Yup, just [Y/N] being silly.”
The room to be used for the game had been appropriately darkened and set up. Nanami was working on the chits they’d used to select the two people for 7 minutes in heaven when they re-entered the living room. You released your breath in relief. Nanami was the most trustworthy in the group, and there was definitely no chance of rigging the chits. You know that if it was anyone else, probably all the chits would be filled with your and Gojo’s name.
Yeah, you have no idea how it even came about in the first place, but you had developed a terrible crush on one of your best friends, Gojo Satoru. Every moment you spent with him casually just made it worsen, as you noticed more and more things about him- the small twinkle in his eyes when he was up to some mischief, the assured self-confidence in his grin, the way his demeanor softened a bit on seeing all of you, and so much more. Even worse for you, you believed that he would never reciprocate, leading you to rant about it to your best friends, lovesick. (To the point that they consulted Geto and Nanami about it without your knowledge, only to find that those two were facing the exact same problem. Safe to say, Nanami was even more pissed than usual by Gojo.)
You’re brought back to the present from your daydreams by Geto calling out, “Hey, could you and Gojo please get the timer and some snacks from the storeroom? It’s gonna be a while.” You swallowed a bit as you nodded, “Yeah sure.” ,walking towards the said location with Satoru close behind you.
It took the both of you some time to find the timer, which had been buried in some box somewhere, and you couldn’t help but feel that it was on purpose. By the time you two came back, the others were ready with the chits and waiting impatiently for you. “Took you long enough.” Utahime grumbled as she grabbed the snacks from you without bothering to ask nicely, passing over some packets to the others. There was only one bowl with all your names, ‘to make it more interesting’.
The chips and cakes and drinks were passed around as Nanami drew the first two chits- Him and Geto. He shrugged as if bored already, as he followed Geto into the designated room. From beside you, Gojo groaned that this was a waste of time because absolutely nothing would happen between those two, as he impatiently tapped his foot- another thing you’d noticed about him. To while away the seven minutes, you put on some of your favorite songs, the others beside you perking up as they recognised their all time favorite artist. (im listening to taylor rn lmao) At the end of the time, you guys noiselessly padded over the carpets and barged into the room to find both of them- asleep.
You merely deadpan at the sight while Satoru instantly ran over to Nanamin and grabbed his arm to pull him up, the said man spewing a string of curses at the sudden disturbance, Shoko doing the same with Geto. Then Nanami pulled the next two chits, and your heart sinked as he first called out your name then, “..Geto?”
Everyone at the table simultaneously frowned as Geto leaned over to look at the chit. “...That’s literally Gojo in my cursive handwriting.” Frowning, you grab the chit from Nanamin to confirm, and indeed it was Gojo’s name written on it. Geto leaned back in his chair, unimpressed at his friends’ inability to read his writing, while you weren’t sure whether to be happy or upset that you’d be locked in a room with your long-time crush.
“Well, let’s go now, the seven minutes are ticking away!” Satoru laughs as he pulls you gently into the designated room by the wrist. Utahime and Geto cheerfully call out “Good luck!” and you swear you can see everyone sigh with relief.
You take a deep breath and walk through the door Satoru is chivalrously holding open for you with a grin, and Satoru follows as the door is locked from outside. But just a moment later, he trips and falls. He quickly gets up though, as he looks at you and says, “Hey, do you have a bandaid? Cause I scraped my knee falling for you.”
You blink at him, once, twice, till you start laughing. He pouts, upset. “That’s so rude of you [N/N]!” You respond with “You should tie your shoelaces- I don’t want you falling for anyone else.” Now its Satoru’s turn to be flabbergasted, and you’re sure both your friends would be highly disappointed with your cringy as hell pick-up lines, but hey, atleast you’re not nervous anymore. “You don’t need to worry, cause I was enchanted to meet you. Still am, by the way.”
Your smile turns sad as the reality of the situation sinks in. Satoru was probably just using these to while away the time, and the fact that you really were in love with him didn’t help. “Satoru, I think we should stop now, because it hurts to know that you don’t really mean any of this.” “But I do!” Satoru protested vehemently. You turned away from him to face the wall. “Stop joking, please. Fine, I’ll admit it. I really like you Toru, and I wanna be more than just friends with you but I know you don’t feel the same. Still, its not nice of you to play with my heart like that.”
A beat of silence, then another, and suddenly you’re scared that you’ve ruined everything that was between you- friendship or more.
And then you feel Satoru hugging you from behind, as you freeze up. You think you might just malfunction, because the Gojo Satoru just kissed you on the cheek with a lopsided smile. “Now now, who gave you the impression that I didn’t like you back? If anything, I thought that my feelings weren’t returned.”
You spin around in his embrace, shocked. Mistake, you realise, because your faces are so close to each other now, that if either of you leant forward a bit, you’d be kissing. “Are you being serious right now?” You whisper. “For once, yes, I’m being dead serious. But since we both like each other, can we just skip the formalities and kiss? Because right now, you’re the one torturing me with this proximity.” Satoru replies back, fully serious, and it makes you laugh a little as you finally, finally, pull his pretty face towards yours to kiss him like you’ve been longing to all this time.
Satoru immediately responds in kind, and you’re not quite sure how much time passes while you two are lost in each other, but eventually Satoru pulls away a bit, and you frown at the loss of contact. After a moment, you hesitantly say, “..Well? What do we do now?” At this, Satoru smirks as he fully pulls away. “Of course, we go back to acting like we did before. Let’s make our dearest friends think their genius ploy to get us together has miserably failed. I always love a good prank, and this’ll be one of the best.”
Again, you can’t help but chuckle at this. “So you suspected something was up? Yeah, me too. What I’m wondering is how they convinced Nanamin to join in. I genuinely didn’t think Nanami would ever do something like this.” “Remember when we all went to see Geto and him? I bet that at that time, Shoko and Utahime switched up the bowl of chits. That's like the only way possible.” “Nanami must still have been in on it though.”
“The seven minutes are almost up, I think. Right, so I’m gonna go to this wall and you go there, and we’ll pretend we haven’t been talking much. I can bet you they’re eavesdropping on us even right now, but I know from experience that its very hard to actually make the words out. So basically, they won’t know shit.” Amused, you go along with his plan. Except that now its actually embarrassing to act the way you used to, all lovesick at the mere sight of him, and you think he feels the same way from the way he’s blushing slightly.
A minute or two passes, and you’d think it was incredibly awkward, but its actually funny by the way Satoru keeps grinning at you, or says even more dumb pick up lines occasionally. Suddenly, the door bursts open, as if your friends are hoping to catch you in the middle of some heinous act. Imagine their sheer disappointment to see the scene in front of them.
Utahime stomps over to you as you rush out of the room, the way you would have done a day ago. “Well?” she demands forcefully. “Did anything happen?”
Its so very hard to keep a poker face at her furious expression on hearing the blunt “No.” from you. She mutters something before proceeding to strangle Geto, who was strangling Gojo. Your and Satoru’s eyes meet, and you almost crack up at the mischief sparkling in his eyes- another thing about him that made you fall in love.
Oh well. You’re sure your friends will find out soon, but for now its highly entertaining to watch them at their wit’s end. You smile at Satoru when no one’s looking, and he sends a wink your way.
Bonus:-
Lessons had ended, and Satoru, being the gentleman that he is, came to fetch you from the class. The others were nowhere to be seen, and taking advantage of the moment, Satoru decided to kiss you- no one is here after all.
Unfortunately, you lose track of time as a screech resounds in the empty and silent class. You two jump away from each other, startled and guilty as charged, while your friends stand at the entrance of the classroom with a betrayed look on their faces. The two parties just stare at each other till Geto finally, slowly asks, “How long?”
You sheepishly respond with the truth, and the look of shock on is just priceless. You sigh internally- Your friends are something, and your now-boyfriend is an entirely different kind of something.
Satoru sticks out his tongue at them before kissing you again, on the cheek this time.
Cue Nanami strangling Gojo. (They all gag, but they’re very relieved.)
Reblogs, Votes and comments are very much appreciated <33
#skylia's works#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#gojo#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#gojo fluff#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#jjk fluff#shoko ieiri#nanami kento#geto suguru#utahime#gojo satoru fluff#gojo x reader fluff#satoru gojo x reader
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— JUMP THEN FALL (INTO MY CAULDRON FULL OF HOT STRONG LOVE) - TEASER (ISSUE 02)
when trying to unearth hogwarts' resident Golden Boy™ seungcheol's secret girlfriend, leads to the proposition of a lifetime
★ PAIRINGS: seungcheol x fem!reader
★ GENRES: fluff, humour, angst
★ AUs: hogwarts!au, fakedating!au, gryffindor!seungcheol
★ WORD COUNT: ~1.6k (teaser)
♫ title is from taylor swift's 'jump then fall' and celestina warbeck's 'a cauldron full of hot, strong love'
★ ★ ★ A/N: hiiii, i'm alive! here's a little snippet from the next part of jump then fall. please note that things may change when the full chapter comes out, but i really want to share some of what i've been working on! also it's more of the soonyoung+yn dynamic and i literally love them, they're my lil freaks 😭
happy reading!
To say this was going poorly would be an understatement.
One week. You had been following Seungcheol for one week, and nothing. You had nothing to show for it.
Oh, you had photos, two rolls worth.
A snap from the back of Transfiguration. Seungcheol sported a bright smile as he turned a raven into a textbook. His partner, a quirky Hufflepuff by the name of Claire Dobson, sat next to him, clapping enthusiastically.
A click from behind one of the suits of armour lining the hallway. Seungcheol leaned up against the wall, listening to fellow Head Girl, Mythili Mahendran, as she spoke fervently, her arms waving around with each word. He had a reassuring grin as he nodded along, eyes never once leaving her face.
“The only thing this kid is doing is buying a one-way ticket to Burnt-out-ville,” you say, slipping the last bit of film out of the developer potion and hanging it to dry.
On it, a clear snapshot from behind a shelf in the herbology section of the library. Seungcheol was draped over Joshua’s shoulders, eyes crinkled into half moons as he burst out laughing, his pearly whites on full display. Jeonghan sat across from them, a disgruntled sneer on his face.
“Maybe he’s sneaking off somewhere at night?” Soonyoung leaned against the wall of the dark room, the dark red light reflecting off his face.
You shook your head, “Where? Or even better, when? I’ve been following him day and night like his bloody shadow! Golden Boy couldn't even take a piss without me knowing.” There had been barely enough time for you to finish most of your assignments this week, not to mention the 2 feet on Unbreakable Vows you hadn’t even started.
“I’m telling you Hosh,” you start unclipping the dried photos, sorting them into piles. Seungcheol in class. Seungcheol at the library. Seungcheol in the Great Hall. “Perhaps Raveena’s got it wrong.”
Soonyoung scoffs, “Impossible, Pudding’s the best there is.”
You give him a look, “No one is perfect. She was bound to pick up a weird rumour eventually.”
“She’s never gotten a tip wrong Y/N. ” An unspoken yet hung in the air.
Raveena was a capable girl, there was no doubt in that, but you knew a lost cause when you saw one. Soonyoung was as stubborn as a bull though, and you knew he would never see it that way.
Soonyoung chewed his lip before pushing himself off the wall. “There’s always tomorrow I suppose.” He was halfway out the door before it registered.
“Tomorrow?”
“Did you forget?” Soonyoung feigned surprise, and you dreaded his next words. “First Hogsmeade weekend! No better time and place for lovely couples to have a cute little date.”
You resist the urge to drown him in one of your tubs of developer potion.
“I haven’t even begun to research that Defense essay due Monday. Not to mention, the ten million other things we need to study.” You slam the cannister you were holding down onto the counter, exasperated. “Or did you forget we’ve got N.E.W.T.s this year?”
Soonyoung pouts shaking his head and fiddling with the chipping wood of the doorway, “Come on Y/N, I’ve even got disguises for us!“
You loved your best friend, truly, with all your heart. But he was a Grade A schemer to the core.
“I promise I’ll help you with your essay when we get back,” He turned on puppy dog eyes before adding, “I’ll even throw in sweets from Honeydukes! Whatever you want, it’s on me.”
You were running low on sugar mice and you did eat your last pumpkin pasty during Seungcheol’s prefect rounds the other night.
“Fine,” you grumble, drying your hands off before whipping around and stabbing a finger in his direction, “But this is the last! If we come out empty-handed, you’re going to drop it. Promise?”
Soonyoung put his hands up, “Swear on my Nan’s grave.” He makes a crossing motion across his chest and points up at the ceiling, sending a wink your way, and dodging the towel you chuck at him.
The next morning, you find Soonyoung waiting for you in the entrance hall.
You curl your lips, looking him up and down. He wore thick brown robes with a gold monogrammed “SK” on the chest, a stark contrast to your plain faded navy ones. On his head sat a matching brown deerstalker, his blond bangs poking out from underneath.
“What's with the hat?”
Soonyoung grinned, sticking out a small bag, “Disguises!” Inside, were some sunglasses, a couple of stick-on fake moustaches, and a cheap-looking wig.
“I wanted you to have the first pick!” Soonyoung says as you decide on a pair of matte black sunglasses and a bushy chevron moustache.
He chooses a handlebar moustache and brown tortoiseshell sunglasses for himself, “How do I look?”
“Like you’re about to solve a murder,” you say dryly, “all you’re missing is a magnifying gl-”
“Oh sweet summer child, do you under-estimate your friend so?” He sticks an arm into his robes, pulling out a gold-rimmed magnifying glass.
Holding the glass flat in your direction, he presses down on a secret button in the handle. A bright light flashes along with a loud clicking noise and you throw your arms up to cover your eyes.
“Merlin!” Soonyoung scratches his head and peers at the glass befuddled. “I thought I’d turned that off.”
You snatch the device and weave an arm around his, “I’ll fix it on our way. We’ve got to get a move on if we want to get to Hogsmeade while he’s still there.”
“You’ve got your camera?”
You scoff as you pat at your chest, where there is a small bump under your robes. “Of course, I’m no amateur.”
The path up to the small wizarding village is free of any students. Most of them tend to head up earlier, wanting to make the most of their rare reprieve from school. This was fine with the two of you though. It allowed Soonyoung to ramble about a few other stories the team was working on that week, while you fixed his magnifying glass.
It was easy, nothing a few modified silencing charms and an expungement charm couldn't fix. As for your own camera, all it needed was a well-placed disillusionment charm, and it disappeared against your chest.
★ ★ ★ A/N: i hope you enjoyed this lil preview! please lemme know what you think 🥺
★ TAGLIST: @scarlet742 @ochidize @zo-byeol @hannieween @dearxia @leejihoonownsmyheart
#seungcheol x reader#seventeen fanfic#svt fic#seungcheol scenarios#seventeen scenarios#choi seungcheol#choi seungcheol x reader#my writing#writing#fic recs#band: svt#member: seungcheol#author: cvntrlseecvntrlvee#title: JUMP THEN FALL (INTO MY CAULDRON FULL OF HOT STRONG LOVE)#title: jump then fall
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