#if you will excuse me i will go lie down and dwell on my feelings
Text
ꕤ 38. you're not a horrible person
tw: none / wc: 1.6k
"i thought you'd never show up," was the first thing yoimiya tells you as soon as she sees you barreling down the narrow hallway of their dorm.
the door's already open, your blonde friend waiting patiently for you like she said she would. you had merely shrugged as a reply, hands hidden inside the pocket of a random coat you saw inside the closet (you think it's kokomi's, it smells like her).
yoimiya makes small talk on the way to the canteen, and you're grateful she isn't pressuring you to reply because you weren't listening, to begin with. but hey, her chattering is better than complete silence.
"wait, can we make a detour? i think i left my scrunchie in one of the classrooms…"
you nod, letting her drag you to an empty hallway.
maybe you should've thought of it harder when you saw kokomi leaning against a door, as if she was waiting for someone. it seems that someone is yoimiya, in particular, if the flash of recognition in her eyes was anything to go by.
kokomi pushes herself off the door and starts walking towards the both of you in haste, a glint in her eye you can't read but didn't think much of. a mistake on your end.
you miss the wordless communication shared between yoimiya and kokomi until the next thing you know, your pink-haired friend swung the classroom door wide open, shoved you inside, and had already shut the door closed with a resonating bang.
your eyes met ayaka's and it felt like the world was at a standstill. she leans on a desk at the front, parallel to the professor's podium.
she looks just as lost as you do.
before you even got the chance to ask what was going on, yoimiya's voice echoes inside the classroom.
"we're not letting you guys out until you talk and make up!"
ayaka appears next to you, banging on the door. "let us out this instant, yoimiya! kokomi!"
you can't help but roll your eyes, distancing yourself from her as you sit at one of the desks, letting your legs dangle. you dig for your phone to text/yell at your two friends. only to fume when you see there was no signal.
great, fucking fantastic.
"aren't you listening?" kokomi says from the other side of the door. "we're not letting you both out until you make up and become friends again."
you shot out the desk in anger, marching towards the door before banging on it with an open palm.
"well, fucking good luck with that because i'm never going to be friends with this spoiled rich kid ever again!"
"excuse me?" ayaka raises an eyebrow. you don't spare her a single glance before spinning on your heel and walking back towards the spot you were sitting on earlier.
"what, did i lie? are you going to call me a liar and a shitty person, again? call me names while looking at me like i'm so inferior to you?"
"how many times do i have to say that i –"
"i'm not having this conversation with you again, ayaka," you turn your back on her, busying yourself on your phone. "whether you like to admit it or not, you lumped me together with those shitty friends you had in the past, so if that's what you thought of me the whole time we were friends… i don't want anything to do with you."
the flash of hurt in ayaka's eyes invokes a feeling of regret in your heart. but it was gone as soon as her eyes hardened and she opened her mouth.
"the feeling's mutual, then."
she says, and you don't dwell on the fact that you find no hint of conviction in her words.
an hour of silence went and passed excruciatingly slower than ayaka liked to admit. you sat on the other end of the empty lecture room, while ayaka sat on the opposite.
dark enveloped the room save for the giant windows on the far wall, on your side of the room. a glance from ayaka's phone made her realize it's already 9 o'clock in the evening and her stomach's been growling for thirty minutes.
she gets up from the floor, walking towards the door with purpose in every step.
"yoimiya! kokomi! i'm getting hungry. just let us out already, this is stupid!"
she steals a glance at you, startled to see your eyes already on her figure. you pocket your phone and stand, ayaka takes a step back as you approach, wanting to distance herself from you. the nasty glare you shot at her was something she didn't miss.
you sigh, annoyed. "can't you guys just accept that we ended our friendship and stop forcing us to get along?!"
"don't act like you don't have ayaka's twitter notifs on like you do her brother's! i know you still care for her, yn! stop being stubborn!"
"no, i don't! i'm not –" you scoff. "i'm not stubborn!"
seeing as the conversation is going nowhere, ayaka interferes. "you heard her, she said she doesn't care and she's not stubborn. now open the fucking door already!"
"nuh-uh," it's kokomi this time. "you're not any better! don't make me talk about that dummy account you made right after you blocked yn's twitter account!"
an unreadable look flashes both of your faces and suddenly, you can't seem to meet ayaka's eyes, neither can she to you.
the door clicks open and a certain blonde slides a bento between the narrow gap. you barely manage to grab the door to try and fight it open, but a student athlete like yoimiya was obviously stronger than you – also, you minded where you were stepping on, not wanting to accidentally step on the food.
the door shuts once again, everything happening too quickly that ayaka had merely stood still like a statue throughout.
"there, food! we can do this all night, besties, so take your time!" yoimiya giggles.
you groan slumping by the door and looking at the little bento they bought for you both. it was a meal meant for one person, so it's either you're going to fight for it or… you're going to have to share.
"you didn't even give us chopsticks! how are we going to eat this?!" as if on cue, someone slides a single pair of disposable chopsticks under the narrow gap of the door.
the way ayaka said "wow, thanks," was clipped and irate but she took the chopsticks nonetheless.
you take off the plastic lid of the bento box before sliding it wordlessly towards ayaka, who looks at you like you grew two extra heads.
you roll your eyes. "what?"
"you're giving it to me?"
"i don't want another late night trip to the emergency room just because you fainted," ayaka merely blinks at what you're saying. "i mean… yoimiya and kokomi would force me to come and make another attempt to get you and me to become best friends again."
you were just about to move to stand when ayaka suddenly faced you, arm outstretched, giving you the chopsticks.
ayaka says something that makes you pause.
"with my brother's engagement being the talk of the town, i doubt you're in any good shape. let's just set aside our differences first and share a meal."
a deep shade of red sets itself on ayaka's cheeks.
"…and maybe, talk about… you know, us?"
you scoff with a hint of playfulness. "the way you say 'us' makes it sound like you and i are dating. i'm getting shivers all over so quit it."
you take the first bite before giving her the chopsticks back.
is this it? is this the part where you both talk it out like adults instead of screaming insults at one another?
you wait for ayaka to say something, anything, as you take turns taking a bite out of the contents in the bento box yoimiya prepared. you shove the last piece of egg roll in your mouth, determined to apologize after you finish chewing.
but ayaka beats you to it.
"you're right, the promise was stupid."
you nearly choked on the egg roll.
"i gave it some thought, a few days after we fought at the hospital."
"ayaka…"
"just know that i never really thought shallowly of you. that was never my intention. it's my fear of what happened in the past clouding my judgement and that was all me, all my fault, and something i had to work on myself. isn't it ironic? i wanted to have actual good friends but i, myself, can't be one. i'm deeply sorry for that."
you can see her forming her thoughts in her head and you wait patiently for her to continue.
"i've been feeling really sorry. to you and to my brother as well. especially because it's kinda also my fault why he's getting married to some girl he doesn't love.
if i hadn't made you promise me, maybe you both could've been happy with each other and realizing that kinda sucks, you know? am i this horrible of a person? that's why i haven't been talking to him – i can't face him knowing i was partially the reason he and you are unhappy."
you see droplets of her tears meet the carpeted floor of the classroom. you move the bento to the side and offer ayaka a tight hug.
"i forgive you. you're not a horrible person, ayaka. you've been through something traumatic, what you did was your defense mechanism and that's not your fault. i'm sorry i called you a spoiled brat and that you deserved the way you were treated in the past. that was a real shitty move, i should've been the bigger person and tried to knock some sense into you but i lashed out myself."
"…you also called me a rich kid. derogatory."
you laugh. "yeah, i'm sorry for calling you that, too."
ayaka laughs along with you as she pulls away from your hug, drying her tears.
"so, will you move back to our dorm again?"
"will you let me drive your white lexus?"
"…fine."
LOWKEY » previous : masterlist : next
a kamisato ayato social media au
summary — it was only recently you found out kamisato ayaka was, in fact, not an only child after all! seeing ayato for the first time gave you the severest case of the butterflies but according to ayaka, he’s off limits, especially to you as her most treasured friend. well, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt, right?
notes — lmao i said last night but i fell asleep :< so here i am updating before going to sch yaaas
🏷 i. @rinrinchin @nejibot @mich-cola @viiolettee @katsumikumo @kaz3yo @starryeyedkoko @xingqiusliegee @selenshinitai @boxdisappeared @lovelyycherries @ferumie @love6cks @kiyowoir @luvvmeilin @blackberri-jelli @moonlightbqe @kazooms @tricethecharm @lynnforever @kaedear @xiaoisahawtie @crowbird @apotatouwu @xinii @euryrue @aequha@nuttytani @plinkuro @choco-rei @aixaingela @milesluvrrad @windasteriaa @cherrytomato2 @zannivrs @k4miyato @eishtar @wccycc @ceylestia @sweet-almonds @ayatobro @animewolflover278 @queenaveryrules @veyu002 @ukinya @ventis-dandelion @adeptusx @x-xxiaos @loveyoutothestars @ssalamanderr
#genshin imagines#ayato kamisato imagines#kamisato ayato smau#genshin smau#genshinimpact smau#genshin impact x you#genshin impact x y/n#genshin impact x reader#genshin x you#genshin x reader#genshin x y/n#ayato kamisato x reader#ayato kamisato x y/n#ayato kamisato x you
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 14/?
STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26
You guys ever read They Both Die at the End cos this is looking a lot like that the more we go on.
-----------------------------------------------
Lucifer had begun to tell them of his trip to Heaven, from what had prompted Michael to almost destroy Hell with his holy weapon to the brewing civil war.
They listened intently to every word he said, not once interrupting him again until they got the full story.
And that's what he gave them.
Well... almost all of it.
He left out the part where the Fates had prophesied his imminent death in the war. Revealing that particular information would raise more questions that Lucifer wouldn't be able to answer.
Charlie: I still don't understand. Why would they involve you, Dad? If Heaven goes to war, how does that affect us?
Satan: Despite what most might think, Heaven and Hell are not two separate entities. After the creation of humanity, it's impossible for one to exist without the other.
Lucifer: He's right. Back then, before... everything. Hell hadn't been made yet because, while yes there was darkness, there were no lower beings to corrupt. Thus no use for a pit to contain them. But then Adam and Lilith happened. Then Eve...
Mammon: So what? We're screwed?
He shook his head.
Lucifer: No. Just me.
Satan: Huh? What do you mean, just you?
Shit. What is with his mouth today?
Lucifer: ..... Michael told me that he took a look at the Fates and saw me among those on the battlefield.
Beelzebub: Excuse me?!
Satan: What the hell??
Leviathan: So it will happen down here? Because there is no way we are letting you go back up there for anything.
Belphegor: Were you also planning on keeping that to yourself? Really, Lucifer?!
Asmodeus: I don't like this.
Charlie: The Fates?
He understood their reactions; after all, this was too big of a revelation to keep quiet for this long about.
Alastor had been awfully quiet beside him, but he can't dwell on that right now nor will he call out the look of disdain the guy is giving Levi.
'Do those two know each other?'
In the end, he chose to ignore Belphegor's accusation (is it really an accusation if it's true?) in favor of answering his daughter.
Lucifer: The threads of life. Pre-written destinies of every being in existence. It might be placed in Heaven, but no one, not even Father, can change what has already been woven.
Charlie: And Archangel Michael saw yours? How?
Lucifer: I-You'll have to ask him that. I fell before the duty of guarding the Fates was passed onto me. I have limited understanding as it is.
He's digging his own grave but it's not a total lie.
Charlie: And do you trust him?
Her question throws him in a loop. Because what?
Lucifer: What?
Charlie: I can tell you have resentment for him. Do you not trust his word? Is that why you were not in a hurry to tell any of us because you think it's a trap or something?
Lucifer: Regardless of what my feelings towards Michael, I believe his words. He is not one to involve Hell in anything that can be solved within Heaven. And I want to say that I'm sorry for not telling you all the moment I got back. The only thing I can say is that I was tired and with everything that just happened in Sloth, all I wanted was to sleep. I promise that I didn't know any of that stuff you saw would happen.
Charlie: But what was that, dad?
Lucifer: My appearance might not be the only thing the ritual affected.
Lies.
Lucifer: I'm handling it.
Lies.
Lucifer: I swear it's nothing to worry about.
LIES.
He gives her a smile that he hopes is comforting enough but based on her crunched up expression, it must have came off more strained.
Charlie: Dad...
Tense silence fills the room. Lucifer's well aware no one believes him but he knows they won't try to push further. They are well acquainted with his character, after all. Cowardly but stubborn.
Satan: We'll get our forces ready then.
Lucifer: Huh?
Satan: What? Did you think we'll just sit here and let our King fight alone?
Lucifer: Look, no one else needs to be involved. I am-
Satan: -the King of Hell, are you not? And whoever threatens our King is our enemy.
Everyone let out a chorus of agreement. The Sin of Pride crumples the bedsheets in his hold. There's tears threatening to fall from his eyes in his disbelief.
How did he find people who are all so willing to fight for him? He feels a pang of guilt for he knows that regardless of what they do, he will meet his end in that war.
But how could he tell them that? Tell his family, these demons he raised, that he'll be leaving them?
A Marigold being tucked behind his ear made him look at his silent pillar. Alastor grabs a hold of his hand and plants a kiss on top of it in a manner that makes his heart flutter like a lovesick teen.
Alastor: We will do everything in our power to keep you safe, my King.
.
.
Lucifer: I believe you.
He wishes he could stop with the lies.
-----------------------------------------------
Once the battlecries died down in favor of the Sins giving Alastor a weird version of a shovel talk, they hear shouts outside the room.
It kept getting closer and closer until the door bursts open revealing the rest of the hotel residents, all holding some form of weapons on them.
He would've thought they were under attack until Vaggie and Angel toss something, no someone, on the ground.
It was a face Lucifer never thought he'd be able to see again. Because he's dead. He should know because he burned the body in Hellfire himself.
On the floor, beaten and bruised, is a half-goat demon wearing a face of a dead man. It grunts and let's out an awkward laugh as it meets his eyes.
Adam: Haha..... Sup, bro.
-----------------------------------------------
Apologies if that last part is weirdly cut cos I wanted Luci to say that but then I also wanted Adam to appear now.
I'd appreciate any comments or DMs left on your thoughts about everything so far! Reblogs and likes are also much appreciated <3
Have a happy weekend everyone!
#hazbin lucifer#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer harem#lucifer centric#lucifer headcanons#lucifer au#lucifer morningstar#lucifer magne#lucifer hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#hazbin charlie#hazbin lilith#hazbin vaggie#hazbin husk#hazbin angel dust#hazbin cherri bomb#hazbin sir pentious#hazbin emily#hazbin sera#hazbin michael#hazbin niffty#hazbin adam#hazbin lute#hazbin belphegor#hazbin satan#hazbin leviathan#helluva mammon#helluva beelzebub#helluva asmodeus
34 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could you maybe consider doing an injured Hero x Protective Villain snippet please????
I will pay you in croissants!!
✨️🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐✨️
Eyyyy I missed you Croissant anon!! Of course I can!! Just for you!!
(No reposts but reblogs appreciated <3)
Pants on Fire
“T-tell me again just exactly how you got injured-” Villain cackled, throwing their head all the way back as they tried to calm their hysterics. Hero wasn’t a bad liar, but this time it was just unbelievable.
Hero glared at Villain pointedly, wincing slightly at the pain in both their ribs and their heart at how little the villain seemed to care. Hero had come to them because they knew—at least they thought—that Villain would be caring and understanding. But those seemed to be the last things the other portrayed as they couldn’t stop the laughing fit erupting from their chest.
“I said, I fell down the stairs and landed on my ribs and now my chest hurts. Why don’t you try listening instead of laughing and I won’t have to repeat myself next time?” Admittedly the hero was mad. It hurt to breathe and they were obviously looking at a much more serious injury than what they had expected, but with zero sympathy from Villain, Hero was beginning to feel like they shouldn’t have come to the other at all, let alone with such a terrible case of flail chest.
Villain took another minute to clear their lungs from the laughing and cool down, taking one last deep breath before returning for one last examination of the other’s wound. On the outside it looked like a badly bruised chest, but if you looked a little closer you could see the unevenness in the rib cage and the way it moved in two directions at every breath. It wasn’t great and there wasn’t much treatment for such an injury so Villain wasn’t in the biggest hurry.
“You know, you really underestimate me, huh?” Villain pointed out, grabbing at their oxygen from the medical bag and an un-hot, hot water bottle to secure the area and the hero’s breathing. The perplexed look Hero fixed them with pressed their speech forwards, “I mean, I’m not stupid, Hero. I know you didn’t fall down a flight of stairs and end up with a medical emergency in your spry condition.”
There was a beat of silence before Hero tried to interject, something along the lines of “I’m not lying” or “I really did!” trying to escape their lips, but Villain kept going. Fastening their pace with setting up an oxygen tank for Hero and getting the one in question to secure the water pack on the injured area.
“This is the third time in the past week that you’ve showed up to our fights with a nasty set of bruises or fresh scars I didn’t place.” The villain paused for a moment to open the seal on the air tank in front of them, hooking intricate tubes between the mask and the bottle like a work of art. “I’ve been nice enough to let you off the hook with that—to let whoever has been doing this to you live as far as they have now—but this? Broken ribs? Flail chest? Difficulty breathing? You could die, Hero. This is too far.”
“Your excuses and pretty lies can only get you so far and that’s why now you’re going to be a good little hero for me and you’re going to tell me who has been doing this to you.” Villains words had a slight blush sneaking up along Hero’s neck, but they would never admit they loved the possessive hints in their enemy’s words.
However, when sharp pain shot up Hero’s side and they were beginning to feel lightheaded, they decided they could dwell on complicated emotions like “love” later. It was starting to look bad for Hero and they hated to admit it.
One gentle hand supporting Hero’s face drew their attention away from the painful situation and to Villains piercing gaze instead. “That’s why I’m only going to ask once and you’re going to tell me, because you know I’ll bring you justice and you know I’m only helping you with your job. So tell me, pretty hero, who did this to you.”
This time, Hero didn’t seem to have it in themselves to lie.
#AHHHHHH#YES#OKAY#hero x villain#villain#villain x hero#hero#drabbles#fantasy#imagines#oneshots#scenarios#hero and villain#villain and hero#heroes and villains#villains and heroes#whump#caretaking#whumpee#caretaker#hero whump#injured hero#possessive villain#caretaker villain#flail chest
489 notes
·
View notes
Text
“What do you suppose we should…hide.” Reshi asked, looking over towards Tornadus. The older man nodded approvingly.
“Well, Humans don’t take well to anything strange. I’ve found this to be the easiest solution.” His hand became shrouded by thick mist, a breeze kicking up as he did so. Running it along his hairline, the horns he normally sported seemed to disappear into thin air. It didn’t take long for his tail to follow suit. “See? Nothing too extreme.” He said. “It would help if our clothes were simpler, however it’s not easy getting ahold of mortal fashion nowadays…”
The idea of mortal fashion seemed interesting, but for now it would have to wait. “Let’s see…” Flames danced around the goddess’s fingers as she ran them along her wings. They seemed to burn off, sparks leaving as she did so. Similarly, her sleeves and parts of her outfit burnt away, looking far simpler than previous. “Is…this any better?” She asked, unsure of herself.
“Of course. You look less formal, it’s alright.” She avoided his gaze, prompting him to place an arm around her. “Come now my lady…This isn’t a lie, if people don’t know who you are then how are you decieving them?”
“That entire notion is deception.” She gave him a weak glare. “It feels…wrong.”
“It will be much easier to move around this way, I assure you. If the wrong people knew who you were, then things could get messy fast.”
She thought about it for a moment. He wasn’t trying to decieve her and yet…he wanted to decieve others? Was it alright to lie in cetain situations? A pit grew in her stomach as she continued to dwell on it longer, her brow furrowing more.
“Let’s go My Lady. Maybe you’ll understand when you experience it.” Reluctantly she followed him into the villiage.
It felt strange, looking at him without some of his key features. Reshi wondered if he had done this often when patrolling the region, extending the thought towards his brothers as well.
Upon walking into the town she noticed plenty of people talking amongst themselves, a few dancing in a group and a few walking into a house with some younger pokemon. It was all jovial, something she hadn’t been privy to since she had awoken.
A few paces to their left was the man they saw earlier, she recalled his name was ‘Brycen’. He seemed to be lost in thought, before walking into an ice covered cavern.
She starred with intrigue at the icicles hanging off the entrance, their gleam reminding her of something. It felt almost familiar, almost like-
“MOOOM!! We gotta go!!!!” A little girl was pulling on her mother’s arm, exiting the pokemon filled building. “I love the club too but I need to get ready for Layla’s sleepover!!!”
Sleepover? The word rang around Reshi’s head curiously. “I know darling, don’t worry. We can pick up some snacks on our way over!” The mother reassured. The idea seemed to be fun, but Reshi wanted to be sure.
“Uh…excuse me?” She approached the two quickly, catching up with a small jog. “Pardon my intrusion but, I heard something about a sleepover? I-uh…could you tell me what one is? I’ve never heard of it before!” The mother’s expression became one of confusion, looking Reshi up and down as she did so.
“You’ve…never heard of a sleepover?”
“No! Not at all!! But it seems quite fun! Could you please explain it to me?” A moment’s pause followed her question again.
“…Well…”
15 notes
·
View notes
Note
I’d like to request Big sister headcannons(platonic of course) with Kyoko,Kaede,Mikan, Mahiru, and Sakura where their little brother got into a fight at his middle school and REALLY beat the dogshit out of the other kid because he was talking shit. the little brother got a few minor couple cuts and bruises but the kid he was fighting got SIGNIFICANTLY more damage. All his peers and classmates recorded the fight and it was all over social media such as snapchat and instagram so there was little chance the older sister wasnt gonna find out. The little brother walked in the front door with headphones on playing no music was looking down while frantically and quickly trying to walk to his room because he didn’t wanna get scolded by his big sister lmfao.(even tho Mikan doesnt seem like the type to scold)Even if they asked if he got in a fight he would attempt to lie and say no and make up some dumb excuse
Thats about it pretty much. Also I’m really glad you’re back, def one of my favorite writers of tumblr! Hope you have good rest of your day.
Hey anon! I'm so happy to hear I'm one of your favorite writers, it's such an honor. I've never gotten a sibling request before, so I hope I captured this in a way you like! Enjoy :)
-Mod Celeste
Big sister! Kyoko, Kaede, Mikan, Mahiru and Sakura confrontation + comfort after a fight at school:
Kyoko:
-You can't hide ANYTHING from her. She'd seen the video of course, and had an expression of "you're in trouble, mister!"
-Snatching the headphones aside, she'd calmly ask if there's something you'd like to say.
-There's no point in lying, her Detective senses are too good! So you cave.
-"Now, now. Don't get worked up... I want you to apologize to the school and leave that boy alone. I know why you did what you did, but you're better than this."
-Stern as she is, she still loves you. She'd patch you up and grab you some juice as a peace offering.
Kaede:
-More than anything, she was worried about you! Her little brother, in a fight? No way!
-A mutual friend had told her, and she was worried sick. When you got home, you didn't even make it to your room before she tackled you in a interrogatory hug.
-"Are you hurt?? What did he do?? WHY did you punch him so many times??" Realizing you couldn't answer suffocated, she'd let go.
-Begrudgingly, you explained. She sighed, concern evident in her voice. She put a hand on your shoulder and looked you straight in the eyes.
-"Listen, buddy. I know you're super strong about your morals, and this guy upset you... but let's be a little more proactive next time! I know you can do that."
-Kaede is the forgive and forget type, so no need to dwell on it. She'd play you your favorite song to feel better about things!
Mikan:
-Oh, she'd be worried sick. She was actually a part-time nurse at your school, so she found out before you could even get home.
-"y/n to the nurse's office please!" Oh God, who let her use the PA? She would only ever be outspoken for you.
-You skulk to the office, annoyed. She sees you crashes into your bag, aiming to hug you... and missing, of course.
-Mikan didn't care about the circumstances, the motive, any of that. She wept (more like a sob in her case) and asked where you were hurt, what you needed, and if you were okay.
-She got to work before you could even answer. Ditzy as she is, nursing is still her talent.
-Afterwards, she'd try to find the right words. Mikan is constantly trying to be the best big sister, even if she doesn't really know how. "Uh, sweetie... I know you didn't mean to get in trouble, but, um, you know violence isn't right! It's my job to help patch up people, and well... I don't want you to end up in here again!!! Understand?" The last part was more of a feeble plea.
-You couldn't stand to see your sister sad, so you agreed. That day you left school with more sugar-free lollipops than you could eat.
Mahiru:
-She does NOT stand for violence. You knew that. "Oh God, she's gonna kill me," is definitely what ran through your head.
-Mahiru, to you, seemed omniscient: "Why are you in such a hurry, huh? Did you maybe PICK A FIGHT YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE?"
-She scared you sometimes. Not in a bad way, just in the typical "scared straight" sense. She'd come into your room, pull up a chair, and begin her spiel.
-"Okay, bro. I shouldn't have to say this, but... fights just aren't okay. Ever. But hey it's over now, so just try to resolve it peacefully next time. I know you're a good kid at heart, so let's act like it."
-She knew you were afraid of her reaction, so she let you off easy. You're her brother after all... she just wants what's best for you.
Sakura:
-simply the best big sister, I don't make the rules
-She has a good sense for when something is wrong. Around you, she is always gentle but firm.
-Sakura never confronts you, or scolds. She simply asks what is on your mind. A wonderful listener, that girl. And you feel safe enough to tell her everything, every time.
-She takes in your story, and pats you on the back. "Well dear, what's done is done. You know from watching me that fights have their purpose... but this one was not productive. All we can do is make better choices in the future, and strive to be better people. After all, people aren't bad at heart, they just make bad choices once in a while. Let's relax for a while, okay?"
-She'll give you a hug, and then some space to decompress. Later that night, you'll find a plate of dinner waiting for you.
#danganronpa#danganronpa headcanons#platonic x reader#big sister#kyoko kirigiri#kaede akamatsu#mahiru koizumi#sakura ogami#mikan tsumiki
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
in honour of me getting my account restored, here—have this 'personal statement' i joke-wrote back in june. i just found it when i was cleaning up my files and i re-read it and thought "tumblr. immediately." lmao
(p.s. if anyone has any advice for writing personal statements for uni applications, my inbox/comments/rbs are open 🥲)
We were sent a PDF today about how to write a personal statement. #5: “Stay positive and interesting. Avoid dwelling on negatives or making excuses” And it makes sense, but what if I am my mistakes?
What if I am the shattered coffee mug on the kitchen floor? And if I am the apology forlorn at the fresh end of a friendship? What if I am the hole dug by a puppy or the chair ruined by a cat? The brush of a coat against the big red button labelled: “WARNING: DO NOT TOUCH”.
And if I have been built by my faults? A lie here and there to save my own ass, and maybe sometimes for the hell of it. Maybe that is what makes me unique: the dumb, deluded prowess with which I traverse the years. The broken toes, the margin doodles penned in blue ink. The misspeaks, the miscalculations.
And then she handed out worksheets with a simple table. “Who are you?” I nearly laughed, because if neither my therapist nor my teenage memoirs know, then how should I? But I go with it for those next 20 minutes and scour my past for an inkling as to who I am. I write down what I want to pursue. What are my hobbies, my interests? My achievements? Most dauntingly, what are my skills and qualities?
If I bang on the keyboard for hours at a time until something satisfactory comes out, does that make me a pianist? And if my fingers grow sore atop the fretboard over a melody I’ve been wrestling with all week, does that make me a guitarist? By writing this personal statement, am I an author? Or does somebody need to quote me first? And what if I quote myself? Give a line or two in italics as if it will prove me over another. Chapter 2: I am a growing person who is learning about what pride is in their own, exciting little way. Call it a day and cross my fingers with that same dumb, deluded sense of accomplishment knowing I have sent my future 4000 characters about my mistakes.
Maybe I blame it all on autism and stain one of the most integral parts of myself in an attempt to wedge my way in just so I can sit in the lecture hall in my guilt and wonder: “How many others deserved this spot more than me?”
I blame it on the scenes I write about the girls and boys I wish I had a chance to know the taste of. Tell them—anyone passing who pauses to ask—that I am studying and close the tab with a practised flick of my wrist. Smile and nod until they leave me alone again with what I can feel growing into a mistake beneath my fingers.
Some people have said that mistakes are the back end of mental illness. People you pass in the mall who stare a bit too long and make you uncomfortable; you should have worn something with long sleeves. People who can make you think: “Was it a mistake?” To me, no. It was not a mistake. There are days when I regret it, and there are days when I am a growing person who is learning about what pride is in their own, exciting little way. It was a challenge, and now, to make light of it, I wear my grin and call it “writing experience”. I know it is pride; I know I have overcome that challenge.
A mistake is what you make when you don’t know. I am 17; I would be more surprised if I did know. A mistake is something conceived in a test that the teacher insists you shouldn’t be stressing over. Mistakes are the poems I send to my friend late at night on the quest for approval. Mistakes are the lyrics that never went anywhere, each with their own litany of reasons why they suck attached. A mistake is this PS; a long drawl in which I go back to my roots of defiance and let my coat brush the big red button and do exactly what I have been told not to.
And a thousand more. Not knowing when to stop or to ask for help. The drinks at the Halloween party. The glimpses I pretend not to steal as they sit across the table from me and kiss. The bruising of the bowstring and the twisting of my wrist, to name some of this last year’s. And they are me at my simplest before the truth is warped. I am my mistakes, and I lay them out in the daylight so that you know I am human.
#ash writes#drabbles#life writing#writing#writeblr#writers on tumblr#writers#creative writing#writerscommunity#writers and poets#teen writer#writer#spilled ink#queer#lgtbqia+#lgtbq community#actually autistic#autism#autistic#trans
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Twenty-two.
"...I KNOW, BUT... wait a second. She's stirring."
The first thing I heard when I awoke was the shrill piercing ringing sound in my right ear. Dazed and disoriented, I tried to sit up in bed, only to be pushed back down by a familiar, warm hand.
"What do you think you're doing? Lie back down."
"What happened? How did I get here?"
I had no recollection of how I'd ended up in my room, in my bed. I knew that had been my full intention when I'd come "home," but I also remembered the sensation of falling.
"You fainted at the doorstep. Don't you remember? You were losing some blood and severely dehydrated; it was only natural that would happen."
"Are you a doctor or something, then?"
He chuckled. "No, but my mother was." As my brain tried to process this new bit of information, he snapped his phone shut. Who still used an old flip phone in this day and age? "Shall I take your temperature one more time?"
"No, thanks. I feel fine." No need to give this guy an excuse to touch me, when that was the least of my worries. As my memory came back to me slowly--the horridness of the evening drama with my so-called "family"--I shook my head, as if trying to deny it happened. Refusing to dwell on what could very well be the cause of an upcoming panic attack, I changed the subject. "What time is it?"
"3 AM." Heath cocked his head to the side slightly, his eyes darting back and forth every time my body made a movement.
"I'm sorry, you should be sleeping, not having to take care of me like this. I'll be fine now, so could you leave?"
"You don't sound sorry at all," he observed.
I clicked my tongue. "What else do you want to hear? It's not like I asked you to help me--you did it of your own accord. What, should I fall down on my knees and thank you for your sense of heroism?"
"One day, I'm going to do something about that poison-laden tongue of yours." His promise was sensual and dark, and I stared hard at my hands, barely holding back a shiver. He stood, and headed towards my bedroom door. "You're right though. I decided to help you on my own, so I suppose there's no one to blame but myself for your... lack of enthusiasm. And there's no need for you to be sorry towards me--not now, not ever." What was he saying now? He wasn't making sense, as was usual. "I'll let you rest--holler if you need anything." And with that, he made his graceful exit, leaving me angry and fussy and exasperated. What did I want? Wasn't it for him to leave? Yet why was I feeling so frustrated...
Sighing, I collapsed back onto my pillow and stared up at the ceiling, trying to empty my mind and failing miserably at it. Should I skip school when the sun comes up? No, it wouldn't be right--a waste of tuition money. I could never be so ungrateful. For now, though, I would sleep, and in my slumber fervently pray, once again, that I would not wake up and have to face the day.
***
I woke up.
I hate God.
As I trudged my ass to school, panting as it was difficult to breathe, I pondered briefly about who Heath had been on the phone with before I had awoken with him in the room. A secret girlfriend, perhaps? A bitter taste infiltrated my mouth.
I barely recalled how I made it to my seat for the first class. It happened to be the class Heath was assisting, too--hard to not think of the guy when I saw him more often than I did anyone else.
"Hi, is the seat next to you taken?"
A girl with short pixie hair and an overly sweet smile inquired, pointing to the one by my right. Immediately, I became uncomfortable. Why did people persist in talking to me when I had my beats in? Did that not give off the vibe, "Don't talk to me"? Maybe this person was just that dense.
I shook my head without saying more, hoping she would drop it. In my peripheral vision, I spotted Heath entering the lecture hall to hand the professor a stack of papers. He caught my eye, witnessing my discomfort and raising one of his eyebrows, as if he also couldn't believe what he was witnessing. Usually, nobody talked to me. But this annoying girl beamed and commenced to talk my ear off about how excited she was for the semester, and how she was hoping to make a lot of friends in college because she was a loner in high school... yadda yadda... I intensely focused on the blackboard in front of me, not because I found what the professor was writing was that interesting, but in an effort to dissuade her. But she could not be dissuaded so easily.
"Ooh, I like that anime character too!" She pointed to a sticker on my notebook. "The ending was such a plot twist, didn't you think so?"
"Do I know you?" I said, failing to hide my irritation.
"N-no, but I was hoping--"
"I hate spoilers."
I didn't let her finish and turned my attention back to the board. It didn't matter what she hoped for; I was not in the mood to make small talk--fuck what she wanted.
The chatty girl bit her lip but otherwise abided by my request for the remainder of class, to my relief. However, once class was over and I stood abruptly to leave for a smoke break, I noticed the girl tailing me, barely a step away.
Not wanting to cause a scene in the campus hallways, I pretended not to notice until we got outside to the outside smoking area. I crossed my arms and whirled to confront her, but she was no longer there. Huh. Maybe it was in my imagination...
"Hi! Do you need a lighter? Wanna use mine?"
The pixie-haired girl was here after all; still managing to smile somehow, she held out a rainbow-colored BIC lighter and held it out to me all innocently. What a complete paradox.
"I have my own. More importantly, what do you want?"
"Like I was trying to say earlier, I was hoping we could become friends. Is that too much to ask?" Her face crumpled in despair, which caused me to be taken by surprise--a rare accomplishment on her part.
"Why would you want to be friends with me?"
Truly, I was baffled. What made her think--no, what made her approach me to begin with? I knew I had a reputation for having one of the worst resting bitch faces on earth. This girl was bubbly and friendly--two characteristics I tended to avoid because I simply could not relate to those kinds of people.
She tilted her head. "What do you mean? I think you're really cool and pretty, and as soon as I saw you in the beginning of the semester I've wanted to be your friend. I only had the courage to talk to you now." She shrugged sheepishly and smiled brightly once more. "Is that too much?"
It was. It definitely was. And yet...
I couldn't shake her off, and that impressed me. It took a lot of patience to deal with me, I knew. It made my bitchiness melt away--albeit reluctantly.
I took out my own lighter and lit up a stoge without a word, unsure of what to say next. Luckily, she didn't stay quiet for long.
"I always thought it looked cooler when women smoked. Don't get me wrong, I don't smoke," the girl clarified as if I had asked, "but I do admire the women who do."
"What does that even mean?"
"I have a thing for tall women," she confessed, and winked at me. When I stared at her in puzzlement, she burst out laughing.
"I'm only teasing you, I'm teasing! God, you should've seen the look on your face."
Giving me another one of her wide smiles, she held out her hand for me to shake.
An offering.
"Nice to meetcha! I'm called Ruse, but I prefer Rue. I have a feeling we're going to be the best of friends."
Little did I know then that this would be the start of another human relationship full of bitter lies and disappointments.
But I supposed that, by this point in my life, I really should not continue to be disappointed by people.
So whose fault was it, really, if not mine--as always?
***
Rue followed me around all the time after that, whether I liked it or not. She was difficult to shake off, and I had grown tired of trying only to be faced with more of her optimism, which was even more annoying.
Truthfully, though, I was acting sulky on the outside, but I kind of liked the feeling of someone wanting my company again, for whatever weird reason. It was hard for me to accept the fact that there must've been a reason for her wanting to do so in the first place. After all, who would?
But if I could let myself live in this lie for just a little longer.
Just until I could feel like a normal human again.
"You should totally come to the party tonight, too, Irina," Rue sang as I closed my locker after shoving my books inside. "Only the hottest seniors are attending, and I heard their numbers are uneven and they need more girls."
"I told you, I'm not like that. I don't like going out."
"But you promised we'd hang out outside of your apartment sometime!"
"I did no such thing."
She pouted and linked her arms with mine. "C'mon. It'll be a nice change of pace. You said so yourself that you've felt stuffy lately--what better than to go out and enjoy the fresh air with new people at a beach bonfire? Doesn't that sound romantic?"
"No. I hate sand. And even if it did, that would be more of a reason for me not to go."
"Such a party pooper!"
I shrugged. "It's not like you didn't know."
It was new, this feeling, yet familiar at the same time. I hated to admit it, but spending time with Rue reminded me of Abel more often than not. Their personalities... they were so similar. It was like their happiness could never be dampened, even by my own exuding darkness. Of course, still different, but at this point in time I was craving familiarity because it gave me a sense of comfort.
Hanging out with Rue also made me nostalgic for Quinn, because my friendship with him had been so effortless, where I could wholly and unapologetically be myself--different from my friendship with Rue. Because she and I were so different, I felt the need to shield her from my toxicity, and I found myself prioritizing her emotions over mine in attempts to eradicate myself. If that made sense.
"True, but there'll be free drinks for freshmen! Isn't that alone good enough of a reason to go? Pretty please, for me?"
I rolled my eyes. Rue was a couple years younger than me; a nerd who graduated high school early with all her scholarships for college. It did strike me as odd that such a person would wind up coming to a local university like here, but I didn't ask--she probably had her own circumstances. Sometimes the age difference bothered me because it made me feel like the need to become an older sister figure, maybe because she and Rose were around the same age bucket.
"Pleaseeeee--"
"God, fine, I'll go! Just stop whining!" I snapped, unable to hide the irritation in my voice. I immediately regretted lashing out.
But Rue just clapped her hands and laughed giddily. "Okay, yay! I'll let them know. This is going to be so much fun! I'm so happy!"
I knew I was going to regret saying yes, but my head was thumping, and I felt the need to do whatever necessary to extract myself from her presence for a little while. Lest I lose my mind.
"See you later, then," I said dismissively, walking away. God, I needed a smoke very badly, but first--coffee. My headache was turning into a migraine, and I needed to appease it very badly; caffeine often helped. I headed towards my favorite vending machine (it was my favorite because it was old and wonky, and sometimes spat out my coin, giving me a free drink). I used to joke with Quinn that whether I'd be able to get a free drink from the machine depended on the amount of good karma I was harnessing on a particular day, and I needed some good karma right about now.
Turns out the world was against me--the machine would just keep spitting out my coin without giving me the canned coffee I wanted. Frustrated, I kicked the damn machine. Why was nothing going right today?
"Finally shook off the mongrel, I see," Heath's smooth voice interjected. He was standing behind me--I knew even without turning around based on the soapy aroma that was permeating from him, damn my sensitive nose.
"What do you want now. I told you before, I don't want people seeing us together and getting the wrong idea."
"Or the right idea." I could hear the hint of a smile in his voice. Sly bastard.
"Shut up. And isn't it kinda rude to call someone 'mongrel'? You don't even know Rue."
Heath shrugged and casually handed me a canned coffee that he pulled out from his work bag. I glared at him but took the drink as he said, "Was that her name?"
"She's in your class, too!"
"I don't recall. In fact, I don't keep tabs on anyone in that class other than you."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm honored." I took a swig of the coffee he gave me and felt immediate bliss and relief. Sighing, I closed my eyes. "Thanks for this, I guess. I desperately needed coffee."
He nodded and sipped his own. "I understand the crippling effects of caffeine dependency. Speaking of, your health is still not up to par since the night you passed out--are you sure you should be going out so late at night?"
It took me a moment to understand what he was referring to. "How did you know I'm going out? Were you eavesdropping on us? You creep."
"Not at all. I just happened to be nearby so I could give you the canned coffee... not my fault if neither of you noticed."
"Ugh. Look, I don't even want to go, okay? But I already gave Rue my word, and I'm going. One night out can't hurt. Plus, I'll take some Tylenol later before I head out."
"I still don't approve."
"You don't have the right to approve of my going out."
By this point, despite the tone of our conversation, we had naturally started walking towards his car together. Even though I made a fuss about people at school seeing us together, to be honest I had already given up--by now, people knew that we carpooled to and from school in recent days. I had eventually acquiesced to Heath's offers for a ride because riding public transportation or walking are both equally more tedious, and I needed to save my energy for homework and other bullshit.
"Hmm," was all Heath said as he casually leaned over to buckle me into the front seat.
"I'll be home before curfew," I commented mockingly.
He smirked. "Good girl. You better--unless you want me to punish you."
With those words I turned into a pool of liquid in my car seat. My desire for him flared hotter than ever. Must resist...
As he buckled me in, I felt his warm, addictive breath wash over my face, overwhelming my senses completely; and I couldn't hold it in anymore.
I leaned towards him to impose a peck on his cheek.
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
even though she is out of my labyrinth and it does me no good to dwell on her . . . that scientist makes me nothing short of furious. she claims to only act the way she does because she is afraid of us, expecting to garner sympathy, but i know the truth. she is a horrible, irredeemable person. she always has been and she always will be. we are her excuse, her outlet.
When I was her captive, she would always go a little bit further than she needed to. A few too many volts of electricity. A few too many milligrams of venom through my veins. And she would lie to her peers about using painkillers. She has . . . no right to call me a sadist. No right to call me a monster.
would you like to know . . . a secret that harmony told me? she refused to “waste more food than she needed to” on the masked children. why do you think harmony is so small for a ten-year-old, why bun eats all the time? she only gave them enough to barely survive. medicine and painkillers were completely out of the question. she acted nothing short of monstrous towards children, none of whom were older than twelve, who did nothing to her. she is a monster hiding in plain sight, only looking for an excuse. How is it our fault that she is the way she is . . . when she is rotten down to her very core?
so no, i do not feel bad for what i did to her in the slightest. my only regret . . . was going too easy on her.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Vital Need
“But Peter said, “I have no silver and gold, but what I do have I give to you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk!” Acts 3:6ESV
Healing was mostly unheard of prior to Jesus Christ. Holy scriptures repeatedly told of God’s desire to heal, Exodus 15:26, Isaiah 53:4-5, Jeremiah 30:17 for example. Still the Israelites didn’t believe God would do what He said.
Have the hearts of God’s people changed any since? Sadly, I don’t believe it has. Most churches preach that miraculous healings ‘ceased’ after the death of Jesus Christ. Is this an excuse taught by leaders because of tradition? Because they don’t understand healing and faith? Because they can’t explain why the Lord didn’t answer their prayers for healing? Because of the coldness of the Believer’s hearts?
In 2011 the Lord instructed me to write a booklet about having other gods inside the church. The Lord took me throughout society revealing how Believers have learned independence from the Lord. Need money? Go to the bank and borrow, then serve the bank for however long the loan continues repaying— Yahweh considers this idol worship. Feeling ill? Head for the doctor’s office or hospital, rather than going to the elders of the church. We were instructed— “ Is anyone among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord.” James 5:14ESV. Government agencies provide many needs the church was to take to the Lord for His supply. Father God wants His children to need and want Him first.
2018 Yahweh began dealing with me to seek Him and Him alone for medical care. He said there was coming a time, where we couldn’t trust many medical doctors. (It’s quite possible, we’re approaching that time, as I heard a woman asking for prayer for healing of a heart condition. She told the healing evangelist, Billy Burke, that the doctor refused to operate on her because ’76 was too old.’ My dad had that same surgery at 80 years of age.)
Yahweh also said, we won’t be able to trust medications. Most of us are aware of the truth of this statement, since the forced inoculation of the COVID-19 vaccinations. What other medications aren’t trustworthy? Perhaps, one day……. I’m exercising my faith in hope to be at the point of trusting in God alone one day soon.
Do you remember how, as a child, you used to dream about having a rich father who spoiled you? Gave you everything? He actually is alive. His name is Yahweh— Lord God. Everything that the Father has is ours. We don’t receive because— “… neither do they seek [INQUIRE FOR OR REQUIRE as their vital need] the Lord of hosts” Isaiah 9:13AMPC (emphasis mine). Father God wants to be our “vital need” daily.
“The Lord is my shepherd; I SHALL NOT WANT. He makes me to lie down in GREEN PASTURES; He leads me beside the STILL WATERS. He RESTORES MY SOUL; He LEADS ME in the PATHS OF RIGHTEOUSNESS FOR His NAME’S SAKE… You PREPARE A TABLE before me in the presence of my enemies; You ANOINT MY HEAD with oil; My CUP RUNS OVER. Surely GOODNESS AND MERCY SHALL FOLLOW ME…I will DWELL IN THE HOUSE OF THE LORD Forever.” Psalm 23:1-3, 5-6NKJV. (emphasis mine.) Yes, everything we need and want is available. When we ASK our Papa God. He desires us to ask Him for every need in every circumstance, FIRST, before asking anyone else.
There’s silver and gold available with instructions written in the scriptures. Healing is there for those who will receive through the Word of God by faith. Will you receive? It’s your choice. You choose.
LET’S PRAY: Almighty God, we ask for and receive the blessings of Your word. The blessing of Your Presence with us, healing and prosperity, in the name of Jesus Christ I pray.
by Debbie Veilleux
Copyright 2023 You have my permission to repost this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this devotional, as author. Thank you.
#Jesus Christ#lord of lords#word of god#Holy Spirit#God#it's your choice#devotional#vital need#idol worship#require#healing#love#hope#faith
0 notes
Photo
“Barnaby.”
“Oh! Yes, Monty?”
“So, did you really mean what you said?”
“Umm... I, uhh... wait, what did I say?”
“You said that you— uhh... like me? In front of... Penny and Ismelda a few days ago.”
“Oh yeah! Ahaha! I did, didn’t I. What a mad way to end the day, huh?”
“Definitely was the cherry on the sundae that was you almost getting dosed with a love potion from Ismelda, of all people.”
“Ahahaha~!”
“Hahahaha!”
...
“Did you mean what you said, though?”
“...every word.”
#hogwarts mystery#harry potter hogwarts mystery#hphm#hphm mc#jacob's sibling#montague donohue#barnaby lee#montague x barnaby#mc x barnaby#montaby#not gonna lie i cried when i finished this#if you will excuse me i will go lie down and dwell on my feelings#hphm ships#works by montaguehphm#art by montaguehphm#barnaby x mc
107 notes
·
View notes
Text
Meet the Family
pairing: Pietro Peter Maximoff x fem!reader
warnings: angst, manipulation, reader is a Westview hostage controlled by Wanda, etc., 2.5k in length
notes: writing a piece that takes place in the WandaVision universe was such a challenging and fun experience, and I really tried to capture the same dark undertones of the show so I hope you enjoy!
summary: An innocent family dinner with Pietro’s new girlfriend reveals that life in Westview is not what it seems. Uncle Pietro introduces y/n to the family!
Y/n almost feels like she’s being watched as the warm hand of her boyfriend— since when do I have a boyfriend?— carefully guides her trembling figure up the front steps of his sister’s house and rings the doorbell. Her grip on the glass dish of brownies in her hands is so impossibly tight she fears she might just break it, and when the silver haired man swoops down to steal a kiss from her cherry gloss stained lips she can’t help but to feel nauseated. The sickness morphs into guilt immediately, and when he looks down upon her with a gaze so tender and fond she forces herself to bat her eyes and smile at him. What kind of girlfriend is horrible enough to be disgusted by a kiss from her own boyfriend? Something isn’t right here...
“Don’t even sweat it, babe, my little sis is going to love you!” Pietro comforts with an easygoing grin plastered on his features.
“I hope so,” y/n murmurs quietly, nervously chewing at her bottom lip. This is the audition, her one shot at impressing the boss, and if even one tiny minuscule detail is thrown out of place then there goes her new house and fancy wardrobe and y/n is written out of the show. Permanently.
“My girlfriend is such a worrywart,” he laughs fondly with a gentle pinch of her cheek. It’s as if a switch is flipped inside of her, and this time when she smiles at him it is genuine and full of unadulterated love.
“I just want everything to be perfect, I know how much this means to you,” she replies earnestly, too dazed to notice the soft aww that drifts through the air from the audience. Pietro smiles.
“Man, did I luck out on finding the most perfect girl in the world or what?”
“Well us being together certainly isn’t a coincidence,” she notes with a small smile. The uneasiness begins to wash over her again, but y/n isn’t given a chance to dwell on the feeling as the front door swings open and a vibrant looking young woman stands in the doorway, almost beaming at the two with pure glee.
“Thank goodness you made it!” She exclaims, hand delicately resting on her chest to showcase her relief before she pulls the stranger her brother into a hug.
“Like we’d really miss Sunday dinner,” Pietro jokes before pressing a chaste kiss to his sister’s cheek. His hand returns to the small of y/n’s back and the fond smile pulls at his lips again. “Wanda, I’d like to introduce you to a very special little lady, my girlfriend y/n.”
“Oh, she’s very special indeed,” Wanda notes with an overzealous wink, ignoring the way in which the brownie dish begins to tremble in the poor girl’s hands. Just a little stage fright, that’s all. “It’s very nice to meet you, y/n. I’m Wanda.”
“It’s an honor to meet you,” the girl replies earnestly, “Pietro has told me so much about you.”
“Well aren’t you sweet! Please, come in,” Wanda grins, ushering the two inside before shutting the door. “Boys, Uncle Pietro is here!”
“What a lovely place you have,” y/n compliments. Her eyes scan the perfectly decorated home in wonder, awe, and a third thing she can’t quite place for if she dwells on it for too long her head begins to ache and her surroundings begin to grow fuzzy.
“Oh, please, it’s just a little something I threw together,” she jokes, canned laughter echoing distantly in the background of y/n’s mind.
“Uncle Pietro!” Two voices exclaim, and y/n watches curiously as her boyfriend lets out an ecstatic laugh before rushing forward to scoop the twin boys in his arms.
“If it isn’t my favorite little trouble makers!” He grins, making sure to ruffle both heads of hair. “Billy, Tommy, say hi to your aunt y/n.”
“Hi, aunt y/n,” Billy greets politely. Tommy is at her side in an instant, movements so quick y/n can’t help but to let out a startled yelp as he lunges for the dish in her hands.
“Are those brownies?!”
“Tommy, where are your manners?” Wanda chides gently, shaking her head with a laugh and reaching for the pastries. “Boys will be boys. I’ll take these off your hands.”
“Oh, uh, yes, thank you...” y/n murmurs softly, brows stitched together in discomfort.
“You’ll have to excuse my husband’s absence, another late night at the office. You know how it is, don’t you?”
“I can’t say I do.”
“Hmm... Well, make yourself comfortable. Dinner will be ready soon, I’ll just go put these in the kitchen.”
“Oh, do you need any h-“
“No,” Wanda blurts out abruptly, startling everyone in the room. She plasters on a smile, “No thank you. How can I be a good hostess if my guest is doing all the work for me?”
“You’re right, I’m so sorry,” y/n flounders, panic clear amongst her features. “I-I didn’t mean to impose at all.”
“No apologies,” the woman murmurs quietly, a small smile on her lips and an admonitory glimmer in her eyes, “we’re going to have a nice family dinner, and everything is going to be just perfect.”
The tension in the air is suffocating, wrapping itself in a slow growing hold around y/n’s neck. Her eyes begin to water, bottom lip quivering in fear as she looks around the room that suddenly feels too big and too bright. She doesn’t belong here with these people, something is wrong, the man she came here with is not hers, and as Wanda’s figure retreats behind the kitchen door y/n makes a mad dash towards the nearest exit.
“Whoa!” Pietro exclaims with an uneasy laugh, and in a blue flash she suddenly finds herself being scooped up off her feet and tossed back down on the couch in between the apprehensive twins faster than her fried brain can even comprehend. “Not so fast there, missy. Just where do you think you’re going?”
“I... I don’t feel right,” the young woman murmurs, wincing at the uncomfortable dryness of her throat as she swallows. “I want to go home and lie down.”
“Don’t be like that, babe,” he chides with a disappointed frown, “this is my family.”
“But what about my family?” Y/n whispers, tears welling in her eyes as she realizes that whenever she attempts to picture the life she once lived not a single thing comes to mind. “I don’t have a family.”
“This is your family now. We talked about this, remember? We came to Westview to make Wanda happy, and you don’t want to upset her, do you?”
“No,” she replies meekly, shuddering when the calloused pad of his thumb swipes across her warm cheek to remove any evidence of tears. No, I don’t want to make her unhappy, because if I do then I’m written off the show and I don’t know what will happen to me if I am. “I want to spend time with my new family.”
“Atta girl,” Pietro grins as he cups her face with both hands and brings her in for a kiss.
“Yuck!” Tommy exclaims in disgust from beside the couple, and this time y/n can’t help the bubbly laughter that escapes her at the young boy’s antics. Any memory of her previous meltdown is quickly wiped from her mind, and all she can think of now is how utterly grateful she is to be loved by such a wonderful man and be taken in by his wonderful family.
She pulls Pietro in for another kiss and giggles uncontrollably when he responds by tickling her sides, all while Wanda watches carefully from behind the scenes.
~~~
“Dream of better lives, the kind which never hate. Trapped in a state of imaginary grace.”
Her voice is quiet and serene as she hums along to the Modern English song playing on the radio, a content smile on her face as she washes the dishes leftover from dinner. It was the least she could do after the lovely evening Wanda had hosted; her sister-in-law had been called upon by the neighbor Agnes for a task that hadn’t quite been specified, so y/n was happy to tidy up while her boyfriend spent quality time with the boys. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt as happy and content as she did now— she couldn’t remember anything, really— and y/n knew then and there that moving to Westview with Pietro had been the right decision for the family, for his sister and themselves, and for the children, too. Yes, everything was just peachy keen.
The kitchen door swings open and in walks a man y/n has never seen before. He looks just as surprised as she is when their eyes meet, an awkward smile on his red face and the morning paper in his hands, and y/n slowly drops the dish she had been washing back into the sink.
“Hello,” the man greets curtly, “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before.”
“I’m afraid not,” y/n agrees with a bashful smile, quickly removing her rubber gloves so that she may extend her hand towards him for a shake, “I’m y/n, Pietro’s girlfriend.”
“Ah, yes...” he murmurs lowly, cautiously shaking her hand and sizing the woman up and down until she shrinks under his gaze. He means her no harm, but he isn’t sure whether or not she’s part of this cooky little play or just another victim cast under Wanda’s spell. He smiles suddenly, the gesture startling the girl. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Vision.”
“Oh, yes! Of course. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
“May I ask where my wife is?” Vision asks.
“She went off to the neighbor’s,” y/n explains before promptly returning to her dish washing. The radio sounds distant and warbled now, the song she had been singing along to now nothing but static and jumbled up syllables, but to Vision’s dismay she doesn’t seem to notice in the slightest.
“How are you enjoying Westview?”
“I’m having the best time. Pietro and I have been talking and we might just have to hunker down in our own little place,” she says with a giggle. “It would be nice to be closer to you all.”
“I must say, having you and Pietro here was quite the surprise.”
“Not a bad one I hope,” she frowns. Vision guiltily refuses to meet her gaze.
“No, not at all. But, might I ask how you two came to be?” Vision asks apprehensively, adding on so that she doesn’t feel cornered, “I’m sure it must be a lovely story.”
“Oh, yes! I remember it like it was yesterday,” y/n swoons dreamily, a fond smile plastered on her face and her gaze casted out towards the living room where Pietro sits playing video games with the boys. She blinks once, twice, eyes never once leaving the silver haired stranger in the couch. A pregnant pause hovers over the two, the porcelain plate trembles in her hands, and Vision watches in silent horror as her eyes begin to well with tears.
“Y/n?” He calls gently, fingertips carefully brushing against her elbow in an attempt to bring her focus back to him. He removes the plate from her iron grip and sets it back carefully in the sink before turning the girl by the shoulders to face him; she still wears that same adoring smile despite the tears that silently fall down her cheeks.
“Forgive me,” she murmurs quietly, “I can’t seem to gather my thoughts properly.”
“Who did this to you? Was it Wanda? Pietro?” Vision press urgently. Y/n sways slightly when he shakes her by the shoulders in a desperate attempt to break her from her trance but still her smile remains.
“Pietro? Oh, he loves me, and I love him.”
“My dear, I don’t think you do,” the man utters sympathetically.
“Of course I do, silly. We were made for each other.”
“Perhaps you were, but not in the way you think. Y/n-“
“Please let go,” she interrupts in a soft, steady voice, looking up at him like a scorned child, “you’re scaring me.”
“If you would just let me,” Vision begins to say, fingertips reaching for her temple in preparation to break her from the spell only to be interrupted by another presence in the room.
“Whoa, what’s going on in here?” Pietro asks with a raised brow and uneasy laugh. “Hey toaster oven, you mind maybe letting go of my girlfriend?”
“Of course, my apologies,” Vision murmurs, stepping away from the girl and allowing her to run into the arms of her boyfriend.
“You okay, babe?” He asks with a raised brow. She isn’t, not in the slightest, but she has a job to do and a role to play, so she merely bats her eyes at him before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“Never been better. Hey, how does dessert sound?”
“I think that sounds lovely,” Wanda chimes, her sudden appearance in the kitchen doorway startling the already present trio. Vision looks like a deer caught in headlights when Wanda saunters over and gifts him with an innocent kiss to the cheek. “Why don’t you and Pietro get the boys settled down while y/n and I prepare the dessert?”
“What a lovely idea, darling,” Vision chimes with an easy smile— y/n isn’t the only one with a role to play. “Come now, dear brother-in-law.”
“Take good care of my girl, little sis,” Pietro calls on his way out. Wanda smiles, her eyes never once leaving y/n’s trembling frame.
“But of course. What is family for? Y/n, be a dear and grab the plates, won’t you?”
“Yes, Wanda,” the girl chimes obediently. She smiles.
“I noticed you seemed a little shaken up just now, is everything alright?” Wanda asks, feigning obliviousness.
“Oh, you know, just some friendly questioning from my new brother-in-law. I’m sure he just wanted to make sure Pietro had found the right match,” she explains with a passive wave of her hand. Wanda hums softly.
“Well we don’t need to worry about that,” she notes. “You’re here for a reason, y/n. Do you know that?”
“For Pietro, and for you,” she replies earnestly, smiling when Wanda takes her hands in her own and gives them a gentle squeeze. “You’ve always wanted a big family, a real family, one that would never turn its back on you or leave you behind ever again. You want a sister and nieces and nephews and love, and I’m here because I can do all of that and more for you.”
“Exactly right. Family is forever, y/n. Are you ready for the commitment that comes with being a Maximoff?”
“I’ve never been more ready,” y/n responds eagerly. Wanda smiles.
“I’m so relieved you said that,” she utters gently, pulling y/n in for a hug so that she may not see the way in which her eyes begin to glow red and waves of energy begin to emit from her fingertips as she carefully settles herself fully into the girl’s mind. She fills her head with thoughts of Pietro and family, with memories she’s never lived and feelings she’s never had, she fills her with love, and y/n is none the wiser.
“Congratulations, y/n,” Wanda utters quietly, comfortingly stroking the girl’s hair, “you’re a Maximoff now.”
#wandavision spoilers#wandavision#peter maximoff#pietro maximoff#peter maximoff x reader#pietro maximoff x reader#peter maximoff imagine#pietro maximoff imagine#quicksilver#quicksilver x reader#quicksilver imagine#wanda maximoff#vision#wanda maximoff x reader#vision x reader#marvel#mcu#mcu x reader#mcu imagine
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
a hero’s journey (m)
summary; jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story
pairing; jungkook x editor!reader (f)
genre/warnings; best friend’s boyfriend au, slice of life, angst with a happy ending because im weak, pining pINING, everyone’s kind of a mess in their own sweet special way, alcohol use, mentions of ze weed, toxic relationships, mean friends, sex—slight dom!kook, food play, fingering, squirting, heavy use of the petname “pretty girl” bc im weak, strength kink, manhandling (oop!)
w.c; 22.2k
a/n; woof! my first fic for @goldenclosetnetwork 23 | jungkook’s birthday project! this goes out to all the closet romantics *ahem me cough* who doesn’t love pining between a cutie koo? a huge thank u for vivi @eerieedits for making this bbbBEAUTIFUL fic banner!
prompt used: “I should’ve known.”
if you like this fic pls consider giving a like n’share🥺💜🥺💜
It’s so easy to ignore the world.
Maybe it’s a young-adult thing, but it gets difficult fitting into the 9-to-5 and playing to satisfy bosses that don’t entirely understand your work ethic. Maybe it’s out of complacency, or fear. But you prefer to let the world flow around you and when you’re needed, you’ll act. You’ve reached that point in your life where you enjoy the little things, satisfied by an extra hour of overtime tacked onto your paycheck, a new fabric softener, or finding the perfectly squishy yoga mat.
You’ve finally started feeling comfortable in your shoes, uncaring as to whether you’re single or drowning in college debt, happy to live a relatively stable life. You’re grateful. There’s nothing more than you need than your happiness, and the love of your friends and family.
Namely, your best friend from college. Jisoo always joked about how you two “won the lottery” as dorm rooms in freshman year were determined by lottery. Pulling numbers 883 and 884, you and Jisoo snagged a corner spot of the dormitory, leaving you two utterly cramped but utterly close as the years went by. Six years later and it’s still the case, the two of you have grown into talented working ladies. While you may not be able to spend time with each other the same way you did in school, you still care for each other.
So when Jisoo shows up teary with a rumpled dress shirt and her hair waterfalling out of this morning’s bun, you break out the good alcohol and season three of Jane the Virgin for her.
After the liquid is warm in your cheeks and you’ve fawned enough over Micheal and Rafael’s love triangle, you let Jisoo ramble.
Jisoo has downed a whole bottle of soju on her own, while you’ve decided to have a tasteful glass of wine. You’d rather be tired wine drunk than wasted on soju.
“Jungkook and I had a fight,” she warbles, stuffing a handful of popcorn in her mouth, “it was totally stupid.”
Your eyes flash, picturing Jisoo and Jungkook in quarrel. They’re the epitome of an Instagram-worthy couple, beautiful and deathly charming to a fault. They show nothing but kindness and sweetness to you whenever you third-wheel, not a lick of anger between them when you’re all together.
So a fight is something surprising. Jisoo and Jungkook, J-squared are a power couple. Saying their names next to each other just emits a sort of energy you can only akin to famous small screen couples like Troy and Gabriella or Cory and Topanga. Jisoo’s Instagram is belly full with sweet selfies of them together, the doe-eyed man always looking completely sweet and gentle to the woman in his arms.
You never piqued Jungkook as the type of guy who would pick a “stupid fight.” And you know Jungkook pretty well.
Maybe a little too well.
“He surprised me during my lunch break and he caught me talking to Doyoung and he thought I was flirting,” Jisoo is practically eating her sweater, her head falling between her flannel pyjama sleeves.
“Doyoung, as in your ex Doyoung?” you raise a brow.
She groans, glaring at you in earnest. “Not you, too! I told him it was ridiculous to get jealous, and then I told him how jealous I get when he’s around girls and I don’t need to tell him that,” she rolls her eyes, twisting her feet petulantly in her fuzzy socks, “but then you know what he says back?”
You wince, swirling your wine glass, “That you’re crazy?”
“That I’m crazy, exactly! How did you—” her bloodshot eyes zero in on you, where you’ve tucked yourself in the corner of the couch. You swirl the ruby liquid in your cup, watching the feet web around the cheap crystal, “you think I’m crazy too, don’t you?”
You swallow your sigh, taking your time to finish your liquid in languid sips. Uneasy, you wish you could just sink through the couch in order to avoid this conversation. Jisoo’s heart is generally in the right direction, but in terms of emotions she has the kind of sensitivity that you prefer to ignore rather than tread. Jungkook is also equally emotional, but in a different way. He wears his heart on his sleeve, preferring to keep things straight as opposed to bottling it up like Jisoo.
However the theoretic bottle has reached it’s brim and Jisoo’s tipping, fast.
“I need to tell you something,” Jisoo is swerving, crawling like an infant on wobbly limbs to reach your corner of the couch. You almost stop her, tell her you can continue this conversation in the morning, it’s what you normally do when she drinks into a stupor. But tears are swimming in her glassy caramel eyes and she’s grappling onto your blanket, resting her head in her lap.
Her glossy russet strands curtain her head, so you don’t see the expression on her face when she says her next words:
“Jungkook told me he liked you senior year, and I told him you weren’t interested so I’d have a chance.”
Wow. So that explains everything.
The memories that you’ve tried so hard to brush away, the feelings you’ve tried so hard and continue to try to suppress, are laid out in front of you on a rusted platter. You could laugh, you could fling the rest of the Pinot Grigio down your throat like fresh water on a hot day and call it a night.
But instead you choke back your tears, and push her off because you’re hurt.
Deep down you know you would’ve been less upset if she told you the week after Jisoo and Jungkook called it official. If you knew from the beginning, it would’ve been easier on your heart. But it's been over two years since the past, thinking you’ve been needlessly, stupidly, delusional in thinking that you could’ve possibly had a chance with Jungkook.
Because it could’ve been you. And the reason why Jisoo and Jungkook fought today? Now you know it’s because deep down, they know they’re each other’s second choice.
You can’t even recall a time where Jungkook and Jisoo were together alone before they suddenly started dating, remembering how it used to be you and Jungkook before Jisoo found him one day in your shared apartment, utterly smitten. And now you know you weren’t delusional, because the feelings and the signals you two were exchanging in senior year was real.
But it doesn’t stop the fact that over two years have passed. Two years of a serious relationship between Jisoo and Jungkook, and two years of you secretly loving him from an arm’s length.
“You hate me,” Jisoo removes herself from you, voice trembling. The quick, dark part of your mind wants you to snap back of course I hate you. You’ve trusted Jisoo with your life all these years, she was the reason you got through college so gracefully, why you enjoyed the past seven years of your life.
But the sentiment is stained, and all you can do is deliver a tired smile and stand up. “I don’t hate you,” you say, “I’m just, really overwhelmed. I can’t lie and say that I’m not hurt,” your fingers clutch the fake crystal in your grasp, and for once you’re thankful you’re not strong enough to break it, “but you two love each other now and there’s no point in dwelling in the ‘what-ifs’.”
Now that you think about it, when was the last time Jisoo treated you like a best friend? You stare at your wine glass, thinking that the only time comfort is provided in this apartment is when Jisoo is upset, never when you’re upset.
Jisoo bobs her head senselessly, agreeing to every word. It’s pathetic, seeing her on her knees and her eyes glimmering with the hope that you’d forgive her straightaway. She must feel awful. That’s good.
You sigh, needing to be the bigger person. “You need to call Jungkook and tell him he has nothing to worry about though, after all, you two have history now. As much, if not more than Doyoung.”
“Right,” she replies, biting her lip. It suddenly feels like you're talking to a wall, carrying a conversation that's long ended.
“As for us,” you have half a mind to slam your glass on the counter, but instead you give it a heavy hand, letting slowly thump to the coffee table, “I don’t think I want to see you two, for a while.”
“Understandable.”
“And I don’t want to help you move out anymore,” I just want you gone.
“Right,” she whispers. The both of you will be completed with your lease in two months, and Jisoo and Jungkook have decided to move into Jungkook’s apartment. As for you, you haven’t decided as to whether you want to go through the whole process of moving out or looking for a new roommate.
“I’m sorry, I’m so so fucking sorry. I just was insecure as fuck in college and Jungkook was the first person I met in a long time that helped me feel more… like me.”
You want to say that she's right, she’s selfish. Her excuses aren’t palpable anymore. It’s too late. But if you were in Jisoo’s shoes, you’d think this apology is mere crumbs in comparison to your friendship. Why isn't she trying harder? Maybe because she doesn't know any better. After all, you never told her what you felt for him has morphed into love.
You don’t even have to ask as to whether she’ll tell Jungkook this or not, you now know honesty is not her style.
Jisoo doesn’t get a goodnight and a drunken kiss on the forehead like she usually does whenever you two have your late night talks. Instead, she seals herself to her own demise as you slam the door to your bedroom, effectively shutting each other out.
Work is a bitch the following morning. You’re like molasses, rolling out of bed despite the whole world and its mother telling you to go back to sleep.
Your feet are killing you as you make your walk to work, deciding to wear a pair of red-backed heels so you can stomp your way through your day.
Your Wusband (Work-Husband) Kim Namjoon matches you step-for-step, eyes glued to his phone as he catches you on the sidewalk. “Woman on a mission,” he comments absentmindedly, eyes glued to his phone as he follows the click of your shoes to your favorite cafe.
You spare a glance to your right hand-man, eyeing him appreciatively at his dedication to your morning routine. He’s your favorite co-worker, one who keeps you on time to your meetings and keeps you sane when you want to pull your hair out and dig out a coffin in your little cubicle. Namjoon’s long legs always seem to catch up with you during your workweek, whether it’s to get coffee in the morning or to talk shit about the latest gossip in the breakroom.
The bell of the glass door tinkles in your ears as you enter the café, relatively busy for the morning rush. While you wait in line, Namjoon ticks off your activity list for today.
“Meeting with Victoria is cancelled this morning,” you groan in relief, your supervisor Victoria always scares the shit out of you even when she’s not doing anything, “and just the usual proofing and whatever we have to do on the third floor today—can I get a large iced Americano with a pump of caramel? Thanks,” Namjoon moves aside so you can throw your order in as well, “and after work could you stop by Vernon’s? He took a sick day today and he has most of the manuscripts for the next issue.”
“Done and done,” you swipe your card in the dip, tucking your card away in your zippered pouch. “So like, do Americanos taste any good? Like it’s literally watered down espresso how do you pay to drink watered down tar—”
Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter. Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter swirling stray sugar crystals with his thumb and putting them in his napkin. What an impeccable display of Virgo energy, absentmindedly cleaning things he has no business doing. You scoff to yourself, recalling this morning that Jisoo got off the phone this morning with a stupid smile on her face. From the mirror image that Jungkook is excluding while he’s smiling on his cellphone like a smitten teenager, it seems like they’ve made up.
Nevertheless the hurt from last night is still fresh in your bones, and you force yourself to look away despite the fact that your morning pick-me-ups are almost done and are sitting tauntingly next to Jungkook’s elbow. Does he really need to learn against the counter like he owns it? Hair slightly damp from the shower, your heart beats a little faster at the fresh image.His biceps are straining against his charcoal lycra long sleeve, which is slightly damp from his morning run. Snap out of it! You are a mature, working woman who does not swoon in the view of bulgy muscles, especially when the man who owns those muscles is taken. Suddenly there’s a call of your name, and two cups and a paper bag are put in front of Jungkook.
He blinks, and you immediately pale when you see his eyes flit over your name surrounded by your favorite coral pink beverage. You feel struck as his head perks up at the name and he narrowly makes eye-contact—
“The fuck you’re doing,” Namjoon gripes, shoving your guava iced tea and croissant in your chest, “standing there like a moron as if we don’t got shit to do today.”
“Sorry,” you mumble, pulling at the brown paper bag to tug a piece of croissant between your teeth. The warmth, buttery pastry melts in your tastebuds. Ah, bread. Nothing like a little bit of carb to make you feel better.
You’re suddenly thankful for Namjoon’s gargantuan torso from effectively blocking you from Jungkook, hauling you out of the coffee shop like a petulant toddler. He doesn’t even give you a chance to catch another secret look at the object of your affections, making sure you’re back in your work game before you enter the building. Even if he doesn’t know it, Kim Namjoon’s always got your back.
Or in today’s case, breathing down your back.
Without your third editor and a hard deadline coming up by the end of the week, you and Namjoon are working in tandem throughout your 9-5 to complete drafts for Big Hit Publishings Arts & Media section. Both of you take turns to bring snacks and feed each other, feeling like reading zombies and slaves to your desk as you remind each other to breathe throughout the whole ordeal.
In complete honesty you don’t totally mind. Namjoon is a great partner-in-crime, and you both love what you do and do a damn good job at it. You call it “Buzzfeed but with Benefits.”
And at least for today, you could quell the feelings in your chest from last night and this morning. Sure, you’ve always been okay with the pining you’ve had for Jungkook. The feeling comes and goes whenever it pleases, and since yesterday you’ve been okay with just admiring from afar and being their third wheel.
However, now the feelings are acutely comparable to a third-degree burn with the help of Jisoo playing with fire.
With a quiet exhale, you concede in your gaming chair (because it’s just so damn comfy to keep in the office.) You’re an adult and not a petty child, and you will not let this piece of information derail you from your calm, stable lifestyle.
But honestly? Fuck Jisoo.
“Let’s go, buckaroo,” Namjoon logs off for you, the cinnamon-y smell of his shampoo effectively waking up your senses, “it’s already 5:30. And you said you’d stop by Vern’s to get his drafts.”
“Right,” you blurt, mindlessly putting away your papers and snack wrappers in your bag. You can’t believe the whole day’s gone already.
“Maybe you don’t even have to go to his apartment. Just text him or whatever.”
“Sounds good, thanks Joonie.”
“And y/n?” Namjoon gives you a look that causes you to force a terse smile, one you give one too many times to higher-ups at work. It isn’t to insult Namjoon by any means, but you guys are partners, the kind that tell way too much but hide just enough to remain close from afar. “Take it easy, will you?”
“I will,” you concede, stretching your arms, “I’m def overdue for a massage.”
“You don’t look sick,” you scoff, taking in the casual look your co-editor boasts as he leans casually against the doorway.
Hansol Vernon Chwe is the epitome of fluffy, decked out in large electric blue sweats and his russet brown hair curling softly above his porcelain skin. Not only is he your co-editor, but also a friend from college. Not to the extent that you were with Jisoo and Jungkook, but you operated in the same publishing club and managed to get partnering internships that made you the co-workers you are today. You see a little bit of that collegiate youth in Vernon right now, as he looks well-rested and fresh faced despite the fact he probably didn’t apply moisturizer or drink enough water today.
“But you kinda do,” he tilts his head, noting the heels that adorn your feet, “you’re wearing your sexy shoes today, that means something’s going on.”
“Gee, ever the ladies’ man,” you scoff, getting under his arm to invite yourself inside, “all I want is the completed interviews so we can pick out the best parts and draft them. Then I’ll be on my merry way.”
“Oh c’mon, we’ve been talking nothing but work this whole damn month. What happened to college when we’d talk hours about House Hunters, the safeness of library sex, that little furry thing in Lincoln Hall’s urinal? That was prime conversation.”
“Vern, I’m just here for the drafts,” you sit at his tiny kitchen table, glaring at his open laptop.
“You could’ve just emailed me,” he teases, twisting around his chair so he can rest his arms against the back. “But since you’re here, that means you probably wanna spill some tea but you’re too upset to admit it.”
“If I talk will you stop talking like that?”
“Yes. Give me the juicy details. Need some juicy juice.”
“Nevermind, get out of my apartment.”
“Uh, this is my apartment.”
“My point still stands,” you make another face at his outfit, “you look like the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.”
Vernon purses his lips, scooting his chair closer to yours. He’s unfazed by your insult, far used to your defenses being higher up than Fort Knox. He looks up at you with his pretty lashes and deceivingly sweet caramel eyes, leaning his head along the backrest. “C’mon, tell me what’s bothering you,” he says in a gentle tone, coaxing you open.
He always knew how to do it for you, a little bit of sweet talking and that clear open gaze always reduced you to shreds in university. For him, it always took a good meal and some sci-fi movies to get him to talk. That must be why you’ve stayed friends for so long, you two knew how to connect.
Finally you crack, kicking off your shoes and hoping the sharp end doesn’t land on his cat. You hear Luna meow in protest but she’s got great reflexes. Unbuttoning the first three buttons of your stuffy blazer, you air out your cleavage, not caring about Vernon’s gaze. He’s seen worse.
“Remember Jeon Jungkook? Majored in graphic design.”
“Ah, yeah. The guy who like, lived at the gym and the dining hall? Haven’t seen him in a minute,” his eyes seem to glaze over the glory days, reminiscing in the simultaneous safetynet and stressor that made up your early twenties, “didn’t you guys hit it off real well? Like I remember you ditched like—three sci-fi nights to study with him. Who even studies at 1AM?”
“Yeah, we did,” and you can’t help but frown at as you remember the 7-Eleven runs, the utter warmth you felt when he would wipe a stray rice grain off your cheek, and how happy you felt to laugh so much with him it hurt, “but uh. Jisoo got drunk last night, because they had a fight. And she sort of admitted to me that she sabotaged our relationship and told Jungkook I wasn’t interested in him so they could start dating. Two years later and here we are.”
A pause. And then, “Want a beer?”
Vernon doesn’t even wait for a response when he gets up, bare feet slapping against the tile as he prepares some drinks and snacks for you.
“That’s pretty fucked up,” he practically sing-songs among the cacophony of popcorn pop-pop-popping in the microwave. The aroma of buttery kernels is all but a relief, reminding you of movie matinees, “and like, she knew you liked him! It was totally obvious, even if you didn’t spell it out for her.”
“Yeah,” you practically gushed to Jisoo those past two months, every waking moment with heart-eyes over the talented graphic designer Jeon Jungkook.
“I can’t believe Jisoo would keep that a secret from you for so long. Like, can you even trust her anymore?”
“Don’t know, was she even my bestfriend or was I just a good roommate to her?” you ask. Vernon is holding two beers in one hand and a bag of popcorn by the tips of his fingers in the other, careful to not burn himself. Opening the beer for you, you thank him and take a long swig.
“Well, good thing you’re still not in love with him or whatever. That would really suck. Unless—”
The look on your face says it all. You’re practically snotting into your bottle, your face tucked into your chin as you fight hard to stop the tears you’ve been suppressing for the last two years. “Don’t give me your pity,” you garble, turning away from the sad look Vernon gives you as he wraps his arms around you.
The tears are soft and gentle, flowing freely onto the cotton of Vernon’s arms as you let it out.
“‘M’not,” he concedes, rubbing his chin into your neck. He really is a lot like Luna, just like his cat ready to give you affection. “Let’s just, get some take-out and watch Hamilton or something.”
He lets you wear his matching sweat suit, lime green, as you order Thai food and rap along to Hamilton’s sick beats. Vernon does a better job keeping the flow, but you’re having a good time being his hype man as he parades around the living room like it’s 1776.
You go home that night around ten o’clock, feeling noticeably lighter and more relaxed. Be that it may you are still wearing the sweatpants and heels ensemble, you feel comforted.
The apartment is quiet when you walk in, not a single light turned on. You get a slice of the city lights bleeding in from the organza curtains, which allow you to kick off your heels and hobble to where you think the kitchen counter is.
Today is Jisoo’s day to cook dinner. You can tell she decided to cook today from the faint smell of Japanese curry and a small unwashed plate in the sink. Whenever it was someone’s turn, they usually left an extra bowl or serving in it for the other roommate when they got home. Unsurprisingly, you find no such thing on the counter or in the fridge.
You’re not upset, but rather decided. If Jisoo is going to let your friendship fade off with no intention of redeeming herself, then you should give her the same amount of energy back. You realize now the apology she gave last night wasn’t for you, but empty words to make her feel better and mend whatever toxicity she’s created in her own relationships. People like Namjoon and Vernon reminded you that you didn’t need to try and earn other people’s friendships.
It’s disappointing, but the feeling is all but too familiar.
If you could describe Jisoo as anything, it would be the color pink. Blushing, beautiful, beguiling pink. The way she flushes when Jungkook does an uncalled for grandiose gesture of romance, or when she wears a hot magenta number when she’s hosting a fashion show. Jisoo is the personification of La vie en rose, unbothered and unabashed.
But now all you see when you think of Jisoo? Nothing but red.
With that, you go in your room and untack the polaroid of you and Jisoo at the carnival last month, putting it away in your junk drawer to be forgotten.
“You’re running away.”
“Am not.”
“Are too,” that interjection comes from Vernon’s roommate, Jung Hoseok. He’s been watching you two bicker over work for the past hour while he plays GTA5, failing to get a good hard carry because you and Vernon are too busy discussing whatever finishing touches you need on your final draft.
“No one asked for your opinion, Jung,” you throw over your shoulder.
“I’m just saying,” Hoseok flicks his wrist and nabs a tank, “you never wanna go home, you eat all our food, and I found your pyjamas in my laundry basket.”
“You said your basket was the blue one,” you hiss under your breath.
“The navy blue one,” Vernon chirps unhelpfully, “not the electric blue one.”
Hoseok hits “save” on his campaign, disconnecting from his PS4 and stretching his lean limbs. “I mean, we could use a third roommate,” Hoseok jokes, getting up from the couch and grabbing a handful of M&Ms from your bowl, “you do make a bomb mac n’cheese.”
“Appreciated,” you relent when Hoseok presses a kiss to your cheek and tells Vernon he’ll be back late working, leaving you and Vernon alone in their shared apartment. When Hoseok is gone, you stare at the door, tilting your head, “y’know,” you remark, “Hoseok’s a cool guy, why did I never hang out with him in college?”
“Because he was stoned the majority of senior year and you just didn’t vibe with that crowd.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“But, you’re trying to change the subject,” Vernon carefully untacks your hands from your keyboard, knowing that you two have already been done with this month's issue and you’re now just mindlessly re-reading emails. “You’ve been here since Thursday, and now it’s Saturday. And as much as Hoseok and I like having you around so you can wake me up before we go to work, it’d be nice to throw me a bone and let me in on what you’re thinking right now.”
You frown, noting Vernon’s large hand covering your laptop closed. He isn’t going to remove his hand anytime soon unless you talk. “Jungkook’s helping Jisoo pack up her half of the apartment this weekend and I don’t want to be there,” you say, short and simple.
“You miss her?”
“Yeah,” you admit honestly. You hate this version of yourself, unable to even look at Jisoo nowadays despite the fact you’re under the same roof for the remainder of the month. It’s hard to believe that the roommate from six years ago finally got under your skin, cancelling out all the years of friendship because of one silly relationship, “sad she doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.”
“Did you talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” you reply despondently, “if she cared at all she would’ve to apologize again by now.”
Vernon figures, and his neutral expression doesn’t change as he leads you to the couch, brushing away Hoseok’s things so you two can get comfy. You busy yourself with the remote, exiting the PS4 homepage to scroll Netflix.
“And are you trying to get over him?”
“I mean, yeah,” you have been, but it’s a little hard when you’ve been contentedly pining. It was easy to keep your feelings bottled up because you originally thought Jisoo and Jungkook were meant to be for each other for the past two years. Now you're still pining but ruefully bitter at Jisoo.
“It’s not fair, y’know. She broke girl code, bros before hoes. Or is it chicks before dicks?” Vernon shakes his head at his lame attempt to get you to smile, which works anyway because Vernon’s silly and his sense of humor always gets you a little loose. “It’s your house too, you shouldn’t feel like you don’t belong there.”
“Well I was supposed to help her move out this weekend, and I’d prefer it if Jungkook didn’t know what was going on.”
“What?” your friend furrows his thick brows together, tucking his hands under his knees as he leans into your stubborn expression. “You’re gonna let Jungkook go on with his life not knowing that his relationship is based on a lie. That’s not cool. Even if you’re into him, he’s still your friend.”��
Damn, when did Vernon get so good at giving advice? Truth is Vernon’s always been good at dishing advice, you’ve just been privy to what you wanted to reveal to him. The first year or so being together outside of college was always about work, saving each other’s asses to ensure you two got that promotion and aim higher and higher. Now that goal is out of the way, and what better way to reconnect over some shoddy romance straight out of a Degrassi special?
“I know,” you hug your knees tight to your chest, “when I’m ready, okay?”
“Okay,” he agrees, because he’s not a pusher, “do you know the best way to get over someone?”
“What?”
“The best way to get over someone, is to get under someone," he emphasizes that point with his hands, sliding one under the other with a wiggle of his thick brows.
You slap him on the shoulder, “Vern, you disgust me.”
“But it works!”
“I’m not going on Tinder to find a fuckbuddy.”
“You don’t have to look on Tinder or Tumble.”
“Bumble.”
“Whatever,” and his eyes flicker to his lap, where his pale fingertips turn red as he grips the edge of a throw pillow. "If you really don't wanna find someone, I can help."
Is Vernon offering himself up? He is offering to fuck your brains out in the hope that you could inevitably fuck out your interest in Jungkook? Your eyes flicker over to Vernon's form on the couch, who's tucked in the couch just as you are.
It’s true that you find Vernon attractive, and to some extent he definitely finds you attractive as well otherwise he wouldn’t have suggested the idea. It’s just that in college you never viewed him in that kind of light, probably because you were always so caught up in Jungkook. But tonight you can’t seem to ignore the eagerness hidden in Vernon’s carmine gaze, and how shiny and touchable his chocolate locks look under the setting sun.
“I don’t want our friendship to change,” you reply slowly, furrowing your brows. “I appreciate it, but I don’t know. It sounds like a temporary fix.”
“Can’t knock it if you don’t try it,” and out of curiosity, you don’t shy away when Vernon leans over to you, squeezing himself between the couch so he can tuck you in his arms. “I want to help you, but only if you want to.”
Maybe it’s the frustration you feel with Jisoo, Jungkook’s ignorance, or the fact that you haven’t felt physical pleasure in such a long time, but you soften into Vernon’s hold. He’s relaxed, nothing betraying him as he waits patiently for your answer. You’ve always admired how much he kept up his “cool as a cucumber” demeanor. He isn’t the type of guy to let life pass him by, but he’s the kind of person who walks along life, embracing the ups and downs like old friends. He’s the ocean waves that crest along the shore, pushing and pulling along without a care in the world.
He’s the textbook opposite of Jeon Jungkook, which is why you give Vernon the okay to lean in and press his lips against yours.
His kisses are soft, and he takes great care in making sure you’re comfortable with this new step in your relationship. It almost feels as if you’re cutting corners, and you can’t help but feel a little guilty that you revel in the way Vernon’s hands trail under your too-large t-shirt.
The pleasure you’ve ached for is there, bubbling low in the pit of your belly. It’s hard to get you out of your mind however, because this man isn’t the one you love. His kisses hold no power, only brief reprieve. Your heart doesn’t palpitate and your palms don’t sweat, you’re just languid.
You’re greedy and selfish, but you remind yourself that it’s okay to allow yourself of these freedoms, even for a little bit. As Vernon finds your sweet spot that has you rolling your hips against his, you find that temporary fix isn’t a bad start at all.
When you trudge back to your apartment that night after much reluctance, your face is still flushed and you think you smell a little too much like Vernon’s cologne. But the fact that still stands is that you're satiated, and you feel a tiny percent closer to moving on.
The television is glowing with a terrible reality TV show, angry brides upset over cake layers or whatever. Jungkook and Jisoo have fallen asleep on the couch, surrounded by half-empty boxes. Jungkook has his arm lazily over Jisoo, her petite body fitting perfectly between his chest and the crook of his neck.
You scoff when you spy Jisoo's bedazzled manicure digging into Jungkook's bicep, as if someone's going to take him away if she doesn't hold tight.
With stiff muscles you spare one look at Jungkook, ignoring the pang in your chest as you weave between boxes to turn the TV off. Barely an iota of your feelings have dissipated since your previous tryst with Vernon not an hour ago. Looking at Jungkook brings it all back, unfortunately. You suppose the feelings will pass with time. The soft hum of the television ceases, and you’re bathed in a room that feels dark and empty, despite the apparent life in the room.
There’s some bleary talk coming from the couch as you walk to your bedroom, and if Jungkook is sleepily mumbling your name in question, you pretend you don’t hear.
“So, where’s y/n? I thought she was going to help us pack.”
It’s an innocent enough question, as Jungkook scans the corner of the living room hallway that leads to the bedrooms. You haven’t come out yet. He knows that you love sleeping in on the weekends, but he hopes the smell of fresh food will coax you to the table. His pan is sizzling in protest, telling Jungkook to quit talking and flip the hashbrowns. He's fried up three, in the hopes you’d be up for some crispy potatoes. He knows how much you love potatoes, especially at 2AM when you’re craving fries and a McFlurry combo.
Instead Jisoo mutters, “You toasted too much bread, you know I don’t eat bread like this,” she’s pulling slice by slice out of the toaster, until there’s a stack of six golden toasts in the middle of the kitchen table.
A little part of him wishes to quell the precursor to the argument there. It would be so easy for Jungkook to say, “the extras are for me” because he’s trying to gain weight, and that would be that.
Instead he continues with his unanswered question and replies honestly, “I made extra toast for y/n, babe. She was supposed to help us pack but I haven’t seen her all weekend.” But he’s pretty sure you came home last night, unless that was his imagination.
Jisoo pulls a carafé of apple juice out of the fridge, pouring the amber liquid into two glass cups. “Ah, she said she had some last minute things to do for work. Y’know, Big Hit always wants a big hit.”
He chuckles, tilting his head as Jisoo gives him a small smile from the kitchen table. Jisoo is always good at cheesy jokes. “She must love her job, huh.”
“Yeah.”
“Her articles are really good, too,” the air smells like butter and Italian seasoning, as he places one hash brown on Jisoo’s plate, and two on his. He knows you edit in the Arts & Media section, and loves how you make it a point to include video games and modern graphics when it’s deemed appropriate. “She did a piece on the evolution of RPG and I thought her commentary was really spot-on.”
He brings breakfast over to the table, while Jisoo places two slices of toast on his plate, one buttered and one with strawberry preserves. Breakfast is a quiet, but peaceful affair. Jungkook takes note of how Jisoo takes extra long to complete her meal, her fork creating ribbons in her little blob of magenta jam. He allows himself to complete his first hashbrown and a slice of toast before asking the difficult question.
“Are you and y/n okay?” and he also takes note when Jisoo’s ministrations on her jelly stop, as she looks up at him with her big brown eyes.
“We’re fine,” she insists, “just normal roommate issues, I promise.”
“Maybe I should text y/n,” Jungkook says, pulling out his phone. “Lemme help you fix this, wouldn’t want you and her in a bad place when you’re about to move out.”
“Baby, why are you so concerned about y/n?” Jisoo croons while his thumb hovers over your contact, his screen showing a two-year old selfie you two took during a study session early on in your friendship. He can’t remember the last time you two took a picture together out of spite, one without Jisoo. Jisoo’s hand pulls him away from his phone, rubbing small circles between his palm.
He wants to ask, why aren’t you? But he sees the terseness in Jisoo’s smile, as her eyes fix between the interlocked fingers. He has a feeling he’s hovering somewhere he isn’t allowed to be in. Maybe it really is roommate stuff and it’s none of his business, but he feels a little insulted being left out because you and Jungkook are just as much best friends as you were in college.
Or are you?
This question plagues him throughout the day, and when Jungkook packs enough boxes for the weekend and says he needs to go home, Jisoo for once doesn’t argue. Normally Jisoo would cling to him like a koala, murmur simultaneously adorable and dirty things in his ear and lead him to her bedroom to coop up for hours on end. But Jisoo says she’s tired and needs some alone time, which is also fine.
He doesn’t feel like going home, and instead heads straight to the gym. A couple pumps wouldn’t hurt, and it would clear his head. It’s nearly five in the evening when his body is thrumming with the afterglow of his post-workout, and he decides to take a little cool down in the mall and treat himself to a smoothie.
It must be kismet when he sees you coming out of the bookstore, looking a little winded but no less professional in your beige blazer set and rose gold iPad. Whenever he hung around your apartment with Jisoo and you’d come home from work, he’d make it a point to acknowledge your plethora of multicolored skirt-suits. He never needs to be professional in his place of work, and admires how much effort you put in.
“Hey!” he jogs up to you, and he catches the way your shoulders jump at his voice. “We missed you today.”
Your smile curls into something dry, and you twist your spine like rusty hinges to face him. In turn, his smile dims a little, wondering if he’s doing something wrong. Maybe you’re tired? He catches the line of sweat that glistens your baby hairs, and how your hair is done up but has fallen a few centimeters with some pieces falling out.
“Jungkook,” you exhale, “lifting boxes wasn’t enough of a workout?”
“You know me,” he replies stiffly, hiking his backpack higher upon his shoulder. Why does this conversation feel so awkward? “So, finishing up work? Sucks you have to work on a Sunday.”
“Ah, it wasn’t so bad,” you face relaxes a little as you explain your work, “it was children’s day at the bookstore and they were watching Disney movies. I’m writing a piece on how I believe Ratatouille is Pixar’s magnum opus. Interviewed some kids, I wanted an expert opinion.”
“Ratatouille is the superior film,” he declares with a firm nod, “after all, anyone can cook.” He revels in the small smile he manages to retrieve from you, immediately understanding the inside joke. If he came out of the gym five minutes earlier, he probably would’ve been able to catch you in the bookstore. What a shame, he would’ve loved to see you play around with the kids.
At the mention of food, the mall manages to silence itself enough for him to catch the grumbling coming from your stomach. He laughs when your cheeks heat.
“I was on my way to get some smoothies,” he jabs a thumb in the direction of the food court, “wanna catch up and get a bite?”
“Oh, I don’t know, I have a lot of work to edit,” disappointment pangs in his chest at your easy rejection, but he ignores it, “I kinda wanna save some money too, still not sure if I’m staying in the apartment after Jisoo moves.”
He doesn’t know what compels him to take your shoulders and wheel you in the direction of the food court, much to your protest and whines. “C’mon, explain to me why Ratatouille is the magnum opus—I need to defend why The Incredibles is superior. I’ll treat you to dinner.”
“What? I can pay for my own food—”
“And I can’t treat my best friend to a nice meal once in a while?”
That has you stopping in your tracks, and Jungkook nearly barrels his chest into your head if not for the grippy soles of his Adidas Ultraboosts. He can’t see your face, but his hands note how your muscles cord tightly between the cotton of your blazer.
He doesn’t understand why you’re so tense. Was it because he called you his best friend? Well, you are? At one point he felt that way, early on in college. The position just stuck with you. And when Jisoo told him you weren’t interested, he was perfectly fine with the platonic relationship. It was nice to have someone to talk media and video games to, someone not as chaotic as Jimin and someone not as deterred as Yoongi.
Although, maybe as of late he hasn’t been so much of a friend. It’s no one’s fault, he’s been caught up with work and Jisoo’s move, he hasn’t said so much as a “hey how are you” when you’re around. He can’t blame you.
Suddenly his mind blanks, the mall fading away as he focuses on how small you look as your eyes dart between the parking lot and the food court. Jisoo and Jungkook have been so caught up on each other lately, that he fears you’re starting to separate yourself.
“Um, this place is good,” you tug him by the elbow and lead him to a fast food joint.
When he picks up both your orders and comes over to your saved table, you’re talking animatedly on the phone. You’re laughing, looking at Jungkook as if he’s the one intruding and you’re muttering a hushed “sorry” as you continue the tail end of the conversation.
“Yes, Joonie. Go with section two, I know my shit. I’m your Work Wife for a reason, Umji in PR could never compare,” you’re giggling like you’re five years younger, and Jungkook feels stuck in a timelapse.
He watches you go, throwing around names and terms that he’s so lost on but so desperate to understand. He knows nothing about your life other than the one that’s tied with Jisoo, which is a damn shame. Since when did he inevitably downgrade you from “best friend” to “his girlfriend’s roommate?”
“I’m sorry,” you turn your phone over and push it to the side, giving Jungkook a smile as well, albeit weaker, “let’s dig in!”
To his relief the dinner goes as good as it should be. You have your tray practically overflowing at the seams, all on Jungkook’s dime. It has his heart swelling with pride, he hasn’t seen you eat in a long time. There’s fries spilling out from the corners, and two sandwiches because you couldn’t decide between a chicken sandwich and a burger.
Food gets you amicable, and he doesn’t mind when he does most of the talking. You’re engrossed in his talk, lettuce hanging out of your mouth as you’re rapt with attention as he recalls a story that happened at work recently with Mingyu. You ask questions in all the right places and he sucks up all your attention like a happy pill, and it feels nice to be able to lead a conversation for once.
“Jeez, I’m getting the burger sweats,” you giggle to yourself, and his smile brightens at your positive change in attitude. Food always helps.
When you remove your thick high-collar blazer, that’s when he sees it.
“Seeing someone?” he asks, eyes flickering curiously towards the violet bruises that bloom across your neck.
“What–oh,” you have the audacity to look embarrassed, hands clutching your neck like a shield, “no, just a hookup.”
A messy hookup, too. Unless you had a thing for showing off marks, which doesn’t seem to be the case. “Didn’t peg you for someone who hooks up,” he says more to himself than you, but you catch him on his impulse jab.
Your eyes narrow and your defenses go up, “I’m trying to get over someone,” you snip back, busying your hands by crushing up your greasy sandwich wrappers.
“Am I allowed to state my opinion?”
“Since you asked so politely, no.”
He sighs, “I just don’t think that’s the best way to get over someone,” heck, Jungkook doesn’t even know who exactly you’re trying to get over. He just knows that you’re far too smart and independent to let yourself resort to such matters.
“It isn’t, but it’s really the best option as of now,” you reply curtly.
And his gaze saddens as he sees you fold your blazer over your arm, indicating that your time is up. Jungkook is aware the comment he made is out of line, and it weakens him knowing that you don’t even want to pick a fight with him. He can’t even find it in himself to apologize properly.
He doesn’t know if he’s more sad that you’re pining over someone unattainable or upset at himself for not knowing you’ve been harboring feelings for someone. If you really think hooking up is your only option, you must be really hung about whoever you’re into as of late.
“If it’s worth anything,” Jungkook adds, wanting to leave on a high note, “fuck that guy. He clearly doesn’t deserve you.”
A small, secret smile plays on your lips, “Yeah, I like to believe that.”
“I’m anxious,” Namjoon’s mantra makes the whole energy in the room wobbly, paired with the fact the two of you are squished between cardboard boxes as Jungkook aimlessly moves things around like a Tetris screen.
The only time you feel remotely comfortable basking in your home is when Jisoo is gone. Oh-so conveniently is the Big Hit building undergoing maintenance today, so you and Namjoon have decided to work from home in your apartment. Although you thought by now that Jisoo’s boxes would be long gone and tucked away in Jungkook’s place, instead you’re living in an episode of Ed, Edd and Eddy and the cardboard is practically wall-to-wall. You also thought by now that Jungkook would have no reason to show up unannounced anymore, but apparently that’s not the case.
“I have, anxiety,” Namjoon adjusts his glasses for the nth time this afternoon, brain not fixed enough to focus on the screen of his chrome MacBook, “anxiety, anxiety. I can’t right now. I need my weighted blanket and a pillow.”
“Namjoon, I can get both of those for you if we just send in this last spread,” you coo gently, as if placating a baby. You make brief eye contact with Jungkook from the other side of the room, his lips quirking in amusement as he stacks a box of clothes by the kitchen.
“Do you feel my palms? My palms, they’re like a fucking fountain you need to feel them—” your Wusband approaches you like a zombie, leaning over you and tripping over his criss-crossed legs before he topples over you.
“Blegh, get off of me you sweat giant!” you cry with a good-natured laugh, although the grip of Namjoon’s palms under your shoulders are damp and slimy, “Joon, I can’t get you your blanket if you’re crushing my boobs.”
Namjoon finally relents, untacking himself to rest his chin on your glass coffee table. “Fine.”
“Look over the last column and I’ll bring your blanket, okay?”
Pushing yourself off the ground, you shuffle your way out of the living room through the maze of boxes and into the hallway. It feels like your apartment is less of an apartment and more of a storage space when you’re trapped in-between two lines of boxes, and Jungkook effectively blocking you from entering your room. He was just in the living room but now he’s come from the linen closet, standing between the entrance of your room.
“Sorry,” he pops his head out from a smaller box, one filled with designer costume jewelry.
“It’s fine,” you chirp, barely making eye contact as you shuffle over the boxes.
Your toe drags over the lid of one of the open boxes in an attempt to move diagonally. You nearly crash your face into the hardwood if not for Jungkook’s arm stretching out to catch you. In seconds he manages to catch all your weight in one hand, pulling you to him with your hip pressed against his. Your breath traps itself in your neck. Your subconscious fears that if you speak now, you’ll babble about how attractive it is that he’s able to catch you as easily as grabbing a light sheet of paper.
“Careful,” his voice rumbles in his throat as he regards you with a wan smile.
Your “thanks” is barely uttered as you slip into your room, heaving your weighted blanket and a pillow in your arms to let Namjoon borrow.
The burgundy quilted fabric is hunched over your shoulder, draped around your body so it’s easier for you to carry on your back. You try to eradicate the memory of Jungkook’s arms, lean and strong as he held you to him moments before.
Ugh, you thought messing around with Vernon would stop your silly pining. It seems that it’ll take more than a couple rounds to satiate your curiosity. For such a kind guy, Jungkook seems like a wolf in sheep’s clothing when it comes to the bedroom.
You can imagine him being so kind in the beginning, coaxing you to wan and bend to his every wish and command. And then when you keen a little too hard at the attention, you bet a switch would flip and he’d grab you—
The blanket flops around your back, and you’re sorely reminded that you’re thirsting over a taken man, yet again.
Jungkook makes it extremely difficult for him to be hateable. It’s by nature that he’s just so damn likeable. Heck, he’s pretty much packed seventy percent of the things Jisoo should be packing right now.
Making sure not to trip again, on your feelings and your blanket, you successfully reach a tired Namjoon. You tuck your koala-shaped pillow under your co-editor’s arms, and drape the heavy blanket over him like a cape. He’s giving you a thumbs up and a toothless smile, the previous meltdown overcome as he focuses on finishing the last of today’s work. He’s slipped on some noise-cancelling earphones, presumably filled with generic coffee-house music or rain playlists.
Wordlessly you go to your nook to prepare some tea. It’s getting late and a warm cup would distract you from the impending deadline. Despite the fact that you and Namjoon are 99% of the way done, his previous freak-out has you on live-wire and you could use a little caffeine.
Placing three mugs on the counter you call, “Jungkook, tea?”
“Yes please,” you stiffen when you feel Jungkook magically appear right behind you, his head peering over your shoulder, “with milk and honey.”
Deciding to give Jungkook the beehive-shaped mug because it’s very on-brand for him, you begin to steep the leaves in your kettle while he spoons the honey.
“So,” his words are slow as the drip of honey, the amber goo taking its time to descend into his mug as it falls from the dipper. “Is that the guy you’re trying to get over?”
Jungkook lifts his brows towards Namjoon, who is softcore jamming to his white noise playlist. It’s cute as to how curious Jungkook is about Namjoon. While you try to keep your work life separate, there really isn’t much backstory to your personal life to warrant that kind of divide.
“Namjoon,” you state aloud, watching Namjoon sing badly to himself, “why, are you gonna beat him up for me?”
“I can take him,” you can practically hear Jungkook’s chest pop out.
With a roll of your eyes, you reach to kill the heat off the tea kettle, “No need. He isn’t the guy I’m trying to get over.”
“Oh, he’s your fuck buddy then?”
“Shit!” being caught off guard, you grab at the handle of your kettle without a pot holder, burning your fingertips. In seconds Jungkook’s larger hand encases your own, pulling you over to the sink to soak your fingers in cool running water.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jungkook is chanting like a sinner at church, searching for any sign of pain in your visage, “I shouldn’t have asked while you’re working with a hot stove.”
You suppress a sigh, relaxing your fingers as Jungkook soothes the burn with his gentle hold, “Shouldn’t have asked in the first place,” you mumble.
“I know,” he replies, “guess I’m just feeling a little left out. We don’t talk like we used to. I guess I’m getting a little too nosy for my own good, aren’t I?”
You don’t understand what’s going on with his incessant babbling as of late, but you chalk it up to work stress and Jisoo’s move. Having no answers to his honest reply, you gently untack your red palm from his grip, assuring him that you’re fine.
Namjoon steps into your kitchenette, being surprisingly careful as he takes your potholder to pour himself a cup of tea. If the tea is oversteeped and bitter he doesn’t say anything, only leans against the counter as he regards you two with slow sips. “You alright?”
“M’fine,” you reply stubbornly, avoiding Jungkook’s worried stare.
Namjoon holds out his hand, “Hand.”
“No—”
“Hand.”
His deep voice coerces you, and you immediately slap the back of your palm onto Namjoon’s. Your partner brushes his golden hands over the tiny blister that’s forming over your fingertips. “Can’t have my Work Wife outta commission.”
“Your Work Wife is fine,” you gripe back.
Your co-worker’s eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s for a brief second, Jungkook regarding him in curiosity as he stares at your connected palms. “I have some aloe in my bag for sunburns,” Namjoon offers helpfully, ignoring the weird glances, “I’ll give it to you in a bit. Also, I’ve overcome my sudden bout of stress and I’m ready to email our progress to Victoria. We’re done for the day.”
“Awesome, thanks Joonie,” you exhale, relaxing against the sink, “wanna go eat somewhere?”
“There’s a niche place in Itaewon if you wanna check it out?” Namjoon offers.
Jungkook interjects, “Jisoo ordered pizza if you guys wanna share with us?”
“Pizza also sounds good—”
“We don’t wanna interrupt your alone time,” you gracefully cut in, stepping in front of Namjoon despite the fact that he’s easily towering over you.
Jungkook snorts, “I’ll have enough alone time with her when she moves in, don’t worry. Besides, I ordered three pies because I wanted to try three different flavor combos. I need two additional judges.”
“Thanks Jungkook but,” you stifle a cry when Namjoon jabs you in the back with his thumb. It’s pressing, digging into the small of your back as if he’s trying to telepathically tell you that you’re being rude, “but… I don’t know if I can eat three slices! Namjoon on the other hand, can probably eat enough to fairly judge.”
“Great,” Jungkook’s smile is blinding, causing your grin to stiffen as he looks for his phone to shoot Jisoo a quick text that they’re having dinner for four.
Once Jungkook’s out of earshot, Namjoon tugs you by the sleeve, “The hell was that?” he hisses in your ear, “you look like you’re about to shit and piss your pants at the same time.”
“I just don’t feel comfortable eating with them,” you cross your arms in defiance. You think back to just a week ago where you and Jisoo reluctantly attempted to eat breakfast together one morning. You provided minimal small talk while Jisoo clinged to her phone, replying to you in non-committal clipped tones.
“Do I want to know?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No!” you retort, “you got me into this mess, you’re gonna stay with me ‘till the end.”
“I don’t know what you want from me, woman,” Namjoon throws his arms out exasperatedly, oolong tea nearly sloshing onto his hand, “just suck it up or I revoke your bragging rights to that snag you got on our spread next Monday.”
“Not my fault you couldn’t get Kim Taeyeon on the spread,” you smirk.
“Well I didn’t so happen to stalk the Sephora she frequents for the past two weeks—”
“I didn’t stalk her I just so happened to need a new Fenty Gloss Bomb every other day—”
“I’m home, Jungkookie!”
Your face contorts, your playful energy melting to the hardwood as your previous banter with Namjoon evaporates into thin air. Work bags in one hand and three boxes of pizza balancing in the other, Jisoo kicks off her heels somewhere across the door and places the pizza on the dining table.
Jungkook immediately appears by her side, and you look away and Jisoo plants a heavy kiss on his lips. She cracks open one eye as she notices you and Namjoon hanging by the kitchenette, “Oh,” she mumbles at her audience, “you’re here?”
Yes, you bimbo. I’m here in my own apartment.
“I guess you didn’t read my text that they’ll be joining us for dinner,” Jungkook cuts in good-naturedly, “we have way too much pizza anyway. Have a seat, guys.”
Jungkook navigates the kitchen as easily as your own, and you slump in your chair while Namjoon exchanges pleasantries with Jisoo. She looks impeccable, hair in a tight chignon and a tight navy dress as she converses with your co-editor.
“I’m starving,” Jungkook announces, making sure to place a slice on Jisoo’s plate. He shuffles through the other boxes, making brief eye contact with you when he decides to put a slice on yours as well, “you like these toppings, right?”
You regard the greasy, hearty piece of cheese and bread with a curt nod. You feel Jisoo’s eyes laser on your skin, “Yeah, thanks Kook.”
Namjoon, Jisoo and Jungkook mostly stir up the conversation, you opting to eat as slow as possible to avoid any conversation. It’s easy to blend back and let them take over, as Jisoo loves to talk about her fashion firm and Namjoon is a great listener.
Jungkook and Namjoon make it a point to direct the conversation to you from time to time, and you let the ball leave your court as soon as it lands. You prefer to keep your responses short and simple, especially when Jisoo is so eager to talk about the new silk drapes she’s installing for Jungkook’s windows.
Your phone buzzes in your lap, and you discreetly look under the table to read the incoming text message.
vernie bernie: would u like to do the devil’s dance tonight
vernie bernie: or a tickle to my pickle?
vernie bernie: beatin ya bean?
You: ohmyGOD
vernie bernie: or y’know, u could just come ovr and chill. Hobi made some bomb tres leches
You: call. Ill come after dinner
“Are you okay, y/n?” your head bounces up to meet Jungkook’s gaze, “you’ve barely eaten and you haven’t talked much.”
“Oh you know, she’s just stressed about the upcoming spread,” Namjoon steps in for you, and you send him a discrete, but grateful smile. He’s always impeccable at reading the room, “she’s just nervous about her interview with Kim Taeyeon, but I think you did her interview justice.”
“No way, the singer Kim Taeyeon?” Jungkook gushes, regarding you with stars in his eyes, “your interviews are always so great, y/n. You ask really good questions. Like that one spread about Lee Yonghwa’s art gallery? Really cool.”
You notice the way Jisoo presses her lips together, a thin line as if she’s trying to seal away words that she’ll regret saying. She’s jealous, and you can’t help the blush of pride that fills your veins as you raise a secret brow at her.
“Right, you got nothing to worry about,” Namjoon squeezes your shoulder encouragingly, as if you’d get his double-meaning.
“Thanks,” you reply, pushing your plate away and standing up, “I’m actually gonna go head to Vernon’s for a bit, though. He wants to double check his work before we email Victoria.”
It’s a bald-faced lie, Namjoon sent the files to Victoria right before dinner, but he isn’t going to argue.
“Okay,” Namjoon thanks Jungkook and Jisoo for the meal, stacking his plate atop yours, “I’ll walk out with you.”
“It’s only been twenty minutes, though,” you see the slight panic in Jungkook’s gaze as he watches you quickly clean up for you and Namjoon. You can’t quite pin why he’s so concerned, after all he has been acting strange as of late.
“Yeah, I’m full,” you reply curtly, licking your lips and avoiding his gaze. You already know what he wants to say, that he’s been in your apartment all day and all he’s seen you eat is stale chips and tea, “but we can do this again.” But hopefully not.
“If you’re coming home late again,” it’s the first time Jisoo has spoken to you directly. You tilt your head to her slowly, watching the plastic smile carefully carved onto her expression. You see the contrived care and concern between her brows, “please try to be quieter next time, the last time you came home late you woke Jungkookie up.”
Snapping your gaze to Jungkook you plaster on a thick smile, “Sorry Jungkook—”
“What? No, it’s fine!” he furrows his brows in confusion, finally able to detect the strange tension between the two housemates, “I barely heard you—”
“Maybe I’ll just stay the night at Vernon’s,” your eyes trail over to the pajama set you immediately switched into when you got home today, “wouldn’t want to disturb you two.”
“Good,” Jisoo’s tone is saccharine and clipped as she tacks on a, “have fun.”
It’s laudable, how much Jisoo wants to make a fool out of you but you won’t have it. You revel in the perplexed expression as Jungkook’s gaze darts back and forth between the two of you, wanting to butt in but unsure of how to approach it. Not giving him the time to, you bid the couple a goodnight and make a fast getaway. Heck, you don’t even take your work stuff with you.
Once you’re out the door, Namjoon wordlessly gives you a hug. You sigh gratefully into his embrace.
The next time Jungkook sees you, he reads the room before anything. You and Jisoo’s apartment is scarily empty, almost clinical. He’s tried texting you a few times after his failed-not-failed attempt at catching up at the mall and his awkward conversation concerning Namjoon, but you always reply back with vague replies and an unpromised promise of meeting up sometime soon.
It dulls him to think that you’ve given up on him as a friend. But can you blame him? He needs to keep an appropriate distance for Jisoo, after all, she doesn’t like it when he gets too close to other women unless it’s strictly professional. Usually Jisoo’s jealousy inevitably works itself out and Jungkook doesn’t pose any problems because he has very few girl friends, but for some reason your friendship with him specifically gets Jisoo stiff in the face. Is it because you and Jisoo are so close? Possibly.
But it doesn’t mean you can’t join the same Valorant server with him at 2AM and accidentally bomb each other, or argue over the magnum opus of each film company. Is that not enough?
Jisoo’s working overtime, and Jungkook suggested last night that he move the boxes to the front of the door for easy pick-up when the moving truck arrives. Jisoo promises to buy Thai food in return, and with a kiss emoji she leaves him to audit fabric budgets.
As he glides down to Jisoo’s room he notes that the pictures along the wall have disappeared, and there’s double the amount of boxes in the hallway. It seems that you’re moving out too. To where, he doesn’t know but he hopes it isn’t too far.
He chides Jisoo remotely when he sees that her room is completely intact, and he makes moves to pack up her things.
That’s when he finds his letter. Not a love letter to Jisoo, but a love letter to you. Deep in the recesses of Jisoo’s junk drawer, is a faded lavender envelope with a pressed cream colored baby’s breath taped up in plastic. The glue is yellow and old, clearly served its purpose due to the fact that the letter is already opened and the contents rumpled.
Hey Pretty Girl–
He immediately stuffs the letter back in its holder, stricken at his messy handwriting from two years ago. It feels like he found a time capsule, another version of Jungkook confessing to you. He used to call you Pretty Girl, not enough for you to catch on to his feelings, but enough for you to understand that he did find you attractive. It was early on in your friendship.
When you first asked him to be study partners for some silly class that had nothing to do with each other’s majors, he gaped like a guppy and pointed to himself. That day he went to class in last night’s clothes and a nest of fluffy strands. “Me?” he felt like absolute trash, and you were probably desperate due to the fact you two were the only seniors in this class, “but you’re a pretty girl… and I’m pretty dumb when it comes to this subject.”
But instead you scoffed and pulled him from his slumped figure, dragging him to the library, with a wink and a “you’re pretty, too.” Those words have burned in his brain since then, as he wasn’t used to getting such off-handed compliments, especially from intelligent girls that wanted more than one night.
For whatever reason you continued seeing his dumb self, even after the semester ended and together registered for one more class for spring.
Whenever you’d go out for ice cream you wouldn’t hesitate to stuff your face and add for extra Oreos and fries, you’d assure Jungkook you’re not normally this much of a slob.
Jungkook would just smile and offer you a napkin and say, “You’re still a pretty girl.”
He fell for you gracefully. There was no regret, no walk of shame, no cliché late night party where you or him could’ve instigated it into the physical. It was all by feel.
However the two of you took your time with your relationship, languidly enjoying the hushed conversations in the library at 2AM, the late night McFlurry runs, the integration of each other’s friends like it was natural. Ergo the lavender love letter. It was a gentle declaration, one he felt pretty confident in.
So color him stupid when you passed him in class with a happy wave, Jungkook dumbfounded at how well you handled his confession. You weren’t oblivious, you just never read it.
But now he knows the declaration was for whatever reason, lost in transit. “I should’ve known,” he whispers in the air, the letter crumpling in his grip. Composing himself, he pinches his brows.
There’s an electronic buzz and a sharp slam of the front door. Judging by the time, you’re home.
You flop onto your mattress, folding an arm over your head to stop the sun from seeping to your eyes. Vernon’s exhausted you, and you barely got away before he could have any say in it. You need a little space, and some time to think.
Just as you close the door to your bedroom, it swings open.
You gape as Jungkook thrusts himself into your bedroom like a deer with horns, looking pale. You follow his gaze, darkened eyes that linger a little too long on your neck again, and you narrow your eyes at him to avert. He looks a little red in the cheeks despite his pallidness, looking like he just got out of bed with messy wavy locks and his signature sweats. Is Jungkook packing for Jisoo again?
Acutely aware that you smell like sweat and sex, you clutch the blankets closer to your body. “Uh, rude.”
He looks uncharastically frantic, waving a letter in his hand, “Did you ever read this?”
“Read what?” you ask, hands reaching out for the envelope.
“My confession letter,” he blurts, having no shame now that all the gears are running through his head. “I wrote you a letter asking you out, because you said you wanted to collect notes like in Letters to Juliet. But I just found it in Jisoo’s drawer, why would it be there?”
And all the pent up frustration that never seemed to escape under Vernon’s sheets, the feelings that never seem to subside, all bubble back to the surface. Now that Jungkook knows, there’s no hiding.
You’re in shock, hands reaching for the letter despite the burn that seeps through your fingertips. Jungkook’s shoulders slump when you do indeed look like it’s your first time seeing this, as if a missing puzzle piece in your timeline has finally been revealed.
“I, I didn’t think you’d write me a letter,” you take the lavender envelope, clutching the letter by your chest like it’s something precious, “that’s so sweet,” you say to yourself.
It dawns on him, “Wait, you knew about this? I knew something weird was going on.”
“Only recently,” you frown.
“And you didn’t think to tell me?” he nearly shouts, causing you to flinch, “no wonder why you were being so weird all this time. How could you let me live the rest of my life knowing this? That my relationship is built on a lie? ”
“I don’t know,” you suddenly feel very small in your mattress as Jungkook rounds up on you, pulling your desk chair closer to your bed, “because you love Jisoo, of course.”
“Well obviously that’s not possible,” and while yes a two-year realtionship ending like this is going to hit him hard tonight, he’s focused on you and the fact that you failed to tell him, “somehow I’d find out. Why wait for me to find out on my own?”
“Because I wanted to protect you!”
“Protect me,” he scoffs, crossing his arms and sneering at you. It causes you to tense up, feeling the telltale signs of tears bubbling to the surface, “you don’t even want to be friends anymore, y/n. I’ve tried to catch up to you so many times, but you keep leaving me hanging. I know I’ve been a pretty bad friend and I get it if you just feel awkward that I liked you, then that’s a shitty reason.”
“Have you ever considered that it’s too late to tell you?” you shoot back, sitting up straight, “yes, I admit I should’ve told you earlier and I’m sorry, but it was a lot for me to process to y’know? Jisoo and I haven’t talked properly in weeks!”
“Oh, so you’ve stopped trying to be friends with Jisoo too, huh? Just like you’re trying to stop being friends with me.”
“No,” you pinch your brows, “she stopped being friends with me! She doesn’t care about me because she has you,” conflict burns in Jungkook’s gaze, and you only serve to fuel the fire, “she’s tried so hard to not involve me in your relationship.”
“Just tell me why you’ve really kept this secret instead of saying you want to protect me like a baby—”
“It’s because I’m in love with you, idiot!”
You blink and back up against the wall of your bedroom, as if you can’t believe that the words came out of your mouth.
It’s quiet again. The sour look evaporates from Jungkook’s face as he watches you suppress your sobs on your mattress. The room seems devoid, sucked out of its color as you’ve cleaned up most of your things, the only thing left being some plain grey sheets and a pillow.
Jungkook’s mind is absolutely reeling, playing back memories from a different point of view.
“When Jisoo told me she sabotaged our relationship so she could date you, I was so upset and didn’t know what to think,” you manage to place the lavender note on your wooden desk, making sure no tears could mar it. “And I thought I could move on and eventually stay friends with the both of you, but the next day Jisoo put all her attention on you and completely ignored me or any attempt to salvage our friendship. She only told me to forgive herself,” you’re hugging yourself, wrapping the blankets around you like a weak embrace, “so I thought if I cut myself out of the picture and forced myself to move on like I should’ve, everything would’ve been okay.”
“So, you would’ve rather kept all this pain to yourself?”
“Yeah,” you give him a teary smile, “because I wanted you to be happy.”
And with an equally sad smile he murmurs, “But I’m not happy.”
Your face falls, and you really look at Jungkook. He’s exhausted as well, slumped in his chair. Has he been trying to grapple along the threads of his relationships, while you’ve been trying to loosen them?
“What a waste of two years,” he slumps in your chair, letting the pieces click into place, “a relationship built on fake love. I was really trying, y’know. I thought I was going crazy.”
The three of you have unknowingly been playing a futile game of Cat’s Cradle, a game that no one wins.
Jungkook looks wistfully out the window, noting the pleasant day that fails to present itself in your tiny room. It feels simultaneously satisfying and bitter when it falls into place, your thoughts finally fitting together for the first time in months. “We could’ve loved each other. For real,” he says, and you silently agree.
You’re still crying, shaking like a leaf in autumn. Jungkook’s arms hover awkwardly over yours, his warmth palpable despite the fact that he hasn’t touched you yet. With a timid smile you allow consent, and you melt like putty in his arms.
“Kookie, ‘m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you murmur into his shoulder, not caring if it hurts when you press your chin into his skin. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”
It’s been so long to have him close like this, the friend you’ve always wanted but never needed. Since college you’ve always imagined a life without him doing just fine, but that doesn’t mean you want to live without him, roommate’s boyfriend or not.
“I’m sorry too,” he sighs back, “this sucks right now, but we’ll be alright.”
The two of you sit in your room until it turns dark and the sky muddles into shades of twilight and egg yolk orange. There’s lulls in the conversation, the two of you filling in the gaps and making sense of the mumbo-jumbo that’s been going on in your consciousness up until this point. Your insantities turn sane, and by the time Jisoo’s making her way back inside with the smell of pad thai, Jungkook is ready. With a squeeze to each other and a press of your lips because you don’t know what to say, you tuck yourself in and pretend to fall asleep.
“Messy, messy, messy,” Vernon sing-songs, knocking his heels against the wall.
The both of you are sitting upside-down, butts attached to the wall connecting to his mattress and your feet hanging in the air. Your mint floral organza socks pad against his Pink Floyd poster, while his yellow tube socks are heeling against some old Polaroids from college. There’s no prospect of sex today, not when shit just hit the fan.
Today you and Vernon are just two old friends and very close co-workers.
“Tell me about it,” you bemoan, frowning at the beige wall, “this whole week’s just been a whole mess. It’s like, warm tuna salad.”
“Gross,” Vernon grimaces at the apt comparison, “so what happens now?”
You sit up on your elbows, looking down at Vernon’s peaceful expression, “What do you mean?”
“Like, are you gonna get together with him?”
You snort, flopping back down on his bed. The blankets fluff around you and you inhale the pine scented sheets. “After all that? No.”
“But you still love him?”
It must sound dumb to still love him after all this time. You wouldn’t be surprised if Vernon thought you’re silly to still hold a place in your heart for someone who has fifteen million things on their plate now. After all the physicality and the space Vernon gave you in his home, your feelings haven’t wavered.
Your companion doesn’t bother waiting for your answer, hearing your answer somewhere in the air as he gets up and throws on his denim jacket. Rolling over your stomach you ask, “Where are you going?”
“Some friends down in printing want to meet up for drinks,” Vernon messes up his hair, making the waves part in that little coiff that makes his jawline look sharp. “I heard Yerin really wanted me to come, so.”
You can’t help the little middle school coo that comes from your lips, causing Vernon to giggle and throw a pillow at you. “Yerin’s cute!” you declare, remembering the petite girl in overalls who’s all about pops of yellow and violet, “you're into her?”
“Nah,” Vernon holds up two hats in his hands, gesturing for you to pick one. “Just figured it was a push in the right direction.”
Crawling out of his bed you stumble in your oversized t-shirt, tucking a finger under your chin as you decide between the emerald bucket hat and the red Ralph Lauren baseball cap. You pull out both hats from his hands and set it down on his vanity, opting to smooth out the flyaways and ringing your fingers through his soft curls. “And what direction would my free-flowing friend be going today?” you ask aloud, “you look better with your hair out,” you declare firmly, “makes you look like a fluffy CEO.”
He laughs at your silly comparison, and he gently moves your hand away from his hair when you linger a little too close to him. His gaze is solemn as he regards you with a gentle smile, “Keep your distance, I’m tryna get over someone,” he says simply, and your arm falls limp at your sides.
Your heart thuds in a different direction, your mouth parting but no words coming to the surface. When was the last time you asked about Vernon’s needs, wondered if he was doing alright, making sure you two were on the same page—
“You’re spiraling,” he reads you like a playbook, smoothing down your hair to press a kiss to the crown. Suddenly you feel guilty for not having sparks in your belly, shaming your conscience for not even considering his sacrifices in your self-absorption these past few weeks. “Like I said, I wanted to help you. Stop looking like a kicked puppy, it’s okay to be selfish.”
With transparent tears the two of you pack up and head to your next destination. Hands ghosting between each other you make your way to the exit of Vernon’s apartment, him to meet up with his friends while you have to unpack your new apartment. With a hug you tell each other you’ll see them on Monday, and as easy as that you go your separate ways.
Hey Pretty Girl—
I kinda wanted to tell you this in person but I know how much you liked Mamma Mia and all those other movies that have grand gestures in writing so I thought hey, might as well shoot my shot on paper.
Not gonna tell you all the details, because you deserve to hear it in-person. But mayhaps this letter has something to do with how much I like studying with you, watching movies with you, doing absolutely nothing with you and all of that in-between.
There’s a gift card to our spot attached. Meet me at McDonalds @12 tonight, so I know it’s real 😎
Hopefully yours, Jungkook
P.S. if you haven’t noticed already, I sprayed a little cologne and stole Taehyung’s fancy paper from Muji. That’s how serious I am about you.
“Joon, we live in a bonsai garden. We’re like giants in a forest.”
“Can you—can you stop spitting at them? Let them breathe, dammit.”
“Not my fault they’re so tiny! I literally have to zoom 200% just to get a good look at ‘em.”
The two of you are huddled in what used to be Namjoon’s balcony, now a sunroom for his succulents and bonsais. Your heart feels pink and swollen with affection as you regard Namjoon with interest, absorbing every bit of information you can as he teaches you how to care for his plants. After all, you’re co-parenting now.
Having your Wusband co-sign as your roommate for the next year is probably the best decision you have made this year. Everyday is like a breath of fresh air. With Seokjin gone for the year to tour his restaurant franchises, his room is yours for the taking. The two of you are easy going roommates, filling the apartment with color and vigour whether it be in the form of baking sweets or watching Netflix documentaries.
The only drama you ever have is when you two are having a meltdown over the same work-related issue, as if you two somehow share the same brain cell. It’s significantly less stressful, no need for unnecessary anger when you have someone as mediating as Namjoon.
After today’s plant lesson, you two go back to the living room to finish up your work for the evening. Another perk of living together is that you can go home at normal work times and continue where you left off with the comfort of your couch and eating a whole pizza pie with no shame.
Namjoon’s phone pings with a new email from corporate. “We got the new concept for next month’s spread,” he gestures to you with a grandiose wave of his arm, “drumroll please.”
He pulls up the newsletter from corporate with a flick of his thumb. Your company put out every month’s concept out in an Evite, like every month was a themed party. A stressful, month long work party. In seconds, the page loaded and you’re met with next month’s title bathed in electronic glitter.
The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth
The two of you say silent, absorbing the concept like a cookie to milk. It’s a personal spread this month, a real treat for the team to show off their normal non-professional life. A spread that reveals the masters behind the ink and text. Last year’s personal spread was about the staff’s vacation destinations, but this year’s is much more intimate. You can imagine all the ideas that will be thrown around on Monday’s meeting: pinning down shared ideas like Throwback Thursdays, late night munchie runs, drunk stories, and all the crazy college nostalgia that you’ve been trying to avoid as of late.
But now it’s presented to you in a gold chalice, and while you’re sick of the past you think it’s about time to face it. You’re excited to tackle the dark monster you’ve suppressed since Jungkook and Jisoo’s breakup.
“Did I ever tell you I was president of my university’s Mock Trial?”
“No, I always thought you’d be president of the Comparative Literature Club or whatever. But Mock Trial is equally as nerdy.”
“I’ll have you know Mock Trial got me tons of action,” he winked, “made me very convincing.”
“Gross,” you sneer, “so that’s what your spread will be about? How the co-editor of the Arts & Entertainment section managed to bag with his skills from Mock Trial?”
“Nah, I went on a penniless journey with Jin during spring break. Six days around Malta.”
“That does sound so you,” you sigh, fingers slipping between the cracked screen as you mull over the overly happy Evite, “sounds like a cool story.”
“I know that look,” Namjoon quips, snatching his phone under his nose, “don’t overthink your spread just yet, it’s still the weekend. Now to more important things, what do you want from Taco Bell?”
And because you can’t refuse the combined efforts of nachos and Namjoon’s dimples, you relent for the night and tack the unmade idea to the next workday.
Unfortunately the next workday is just as disheartening. Today’s work meeting is the antithesis of icing on the cake. While your college life isn’t anything remarkable, you didn’t think it was a painfully dull time. With every passing moment and every excited co-worker throwing memories back and forth like ping pong balls, the more you felt inferior by competing with their amazing memories.
“Who can even afford Aruba at twenty-one,” you mutter under your breath, stalking back to your cubicle.
Filling up a whole spread is daunting to you, the thought of Victoria popping her head in your cubicle to ask what you’ve got for the day is practically eating you from the inside out. Maybe your college life was in actuality, super boring? You have no crazy drug trips to tell, any vacations that gave you a life-changing perspective, or an epic love story.
“What’cha got there, partner?”
The third musketeer of your editing team’s caramel eyes peer into your cubicle, causing you to jump in your chair. Vernon wheels around, chair and all to push you into your already cramped space. His gold button up gleams in the sunlight, effectively blinding you.
“If by something you mean nothing, then yeah I got nothing,” you frown, spinning around your chair. “What are you writing about?”
A fond smile melts onto your friend’s face, and you can’t help returning a smile that mirrors his own. You two have fallen back into a good place, as far as you know. He’s still easy, simple, sweet Vernon. When you dropped some boxes off in coloring, you heard that Vernon and Yerin have recently started seeing each other.
“Thought of the idea as soon as the Evite came out. It’s more of a photo spread, but I’m gonna write about my study abroad in NYU,” Vernon ticks a pencil on his forehead, “a self-identity piece talking about how I felt like, not-white around my family n’stuff. And then felt not-Asian at the same time, s’complicated but I think I can make it work.”
“Deep,” you pat his shoulder caringly, knowing that Big Hit is a good outlet for these kinds of subjects, “alright City Slicker, since you’re so full of ideas then tell me what to write about.”
Vernon sits up straight, regarding you with narrowed eyes, “Aren’t you gonna write about your little love triangle with Jisoo and Jungkook?” and it seems like he’s already storyboarded the idea in his head, gesturing to the air as if he’s writing down a timeline, “I can see the headline now: How to Steal a Heart,” he’s grinning, nodding fervently as you cross your arms in distaste.
“Vern, are you suggesting that I exploit Jisoo and Jungkook’s personal lives?” while the journalism business didn’t pride itself on sincerity, it did feel wrong to drag in your personal life to that extent.
“Babe, you don’t understand. You have the perfect slice of life story. Everyone’s writing about expensive vacations and that one time they got cross-faded and ended up in Busan,” he squeezes your hand, “but your story, it’s relatable. It’s romantic. It’s angsty. It has closure. No one’s gonna be able to relate to an impulse spending on daddy’s money to Aruba. But first loves? Unrequited romance and all that ish? Everyone can speak to that. And you’re a beautiful writer, they’ll eat up that story like honey.”
“I don’t know, it still doesn’t feel right.”
“Change up the names, twist the story,” he offers easily, knowing you’d put up a fight, “besides, it’s not like you’re planning on talking to Jisoo or Jungkook ever again,” you open your mouth to retort, but Vernon’s phone beeps to the Star Wars theme song and he’s flying out of his chair. “Shoot, gotta go help Joon upstairs. Just think about it, okay? Good luck!” and he’s kicking his chair out with a brown loafer, leaving you with breathing room in your cubicle.
Five seconds later Vernon is jogging back, pointing a finger at you, “And if you do choose to write it, you have to add that Jisoo copped your McDonalds gift card. Like, who does that shit? Couldn’t she have just given it to you and say it was from her and not Jungkook? Seriously fucked up.”
For the next ten or so minutes you mull. Out of all the memorable college events you’ve participated in, the largest one by far is your (now defunct and debatable) friendship with Jisoo, and your (un)requited love for Jungkook. Reluctantly, you must admit Vernon has a sharp idea, busting in like a hero and offering you the most writable piece on a silver platter.
It doesn’t feel morally right just to start writing, because ultimately you can’t feel comfortable until you get the consent of Jungkook. While you don’t want to touch Jisoo with a ten-meter pole, you do want to start talking to Jungkook again now that the waters have calmed.
Your life has moved gracefully up until this point, and you’d like to start being friends with him again. Decision made, you pull out your phone and make an important call.
“Hey Yoongi,” you say nervously. Min Yoongi is Kim Namjoon’s equivalent, Jungkook’s Wusband and former upperclassmen in college.
Said man hums noncommittally on the other line, “Whaddya want, it’s been awhile.”
You stifle a giggle at his apathetic attitude, knowing he’s someone who wastes no time in getting straight to the point. “I just wanna make sure Jungkook’s address is still the same? I know it’s been a couple months, but I need to send him something and I wanna make sure it gets to him ASAP because—”
“Because last time something was sent, your crazy roommate intervened and Jungkook ended up in a two-year half-toxic relationship? Yeah, let’s make sure that doesn’t happen again.”
“Yoongi,” you say slowly, “where are you?”
“Working in the studio,” he tuts, “Jungkook says hi, by the way.”
Typical, cat’s out of the bag. With a roll of our eyes you reply, “Thanks for outing me, Yoongi. Talk to you later.”
“And y/n? Jungkook says he’s waiting.”
With a stupid smile slapped onto your face, you hang up the phone and pull out your stationary kit from under your desk. You pluck out a vermillion red envelope, a color so bold and begging to be seen, you know it can’t possibly get lost in transit. Feeling a little bit like a high schooler as you pull out a glitter jelly pen, you get to writing.
Hey Pretty Boy...
Jungkook and Jisoo are no longer together, evidently.
Their social media runs in different directions, with Jisoo sporting absolute elegance in her work at her family-owned boutique. Her posts are full of shiny outfits and soulless gazes, betraying any pinch of emotion she may have felt over these past few months. Her profile is wiped of any personal posts, all traces of you and Jungkook evaporated from her page. You must admit that she looks good, like a real fashion mogul, but only at the surface level.
Conversely, Jungkook is thriving. It’s evident. Normally he isn’t the type of guy to post so frequently, his habits being often sporadic and limited to sweaty gym stories. But whenever you scroll, it’s pictures of him smiling. Big bunny teeth broken into a genuine, full-bellied laugh. Cute selfies of him and his co-workers. You notice two familiar co-workers in those posts, Irene and Seulgi, two beautiful women Jisoo always felt intimidated by whenever she ranted to you. You conclude positively that Jungkook doesn’t feel tethered and can hang out with all the friends he wants, female and male alike. Jungkook looks free, and you’re happy for him.
It’s another Instagram-worthy moment tonight at McDonalds, where you and Jungkook proposed to meet each other at 12AM.
This time, the letter makes it to its desired destination. You make sure of that because this time you hand-deliver it, slipping under his apartment door knowing he lives alone and no one would be able to access it except him.
You’re parked in an obscure corner, but you can see that Jungkook is currently having a great time with his co-workers for an after work meal. Yoongi is unbothered on his phone, while Jimin and Seulgi are taking turns throwing fries into each other’s mouth. Jungkook is squished between them, scrunching his nose cutely as he tries not to get in the fray of their fry-war.
Your phone pings, and you laugh at what pops up on the screen.
Yoongi: come inside, u loser.
You: can’t ur friend group makes me nervous stop being so dang cute
You: dw i’ll wait, it’s only 11:50
Instead of replying, Yoongi puts his phone down and resumes eating. In turn you pick a playlist, deciding that “summer time high mix✨✨✨” is a theme you need to subscribe to for the rest of the weekend.
Busying yourself by sending some texts to Namjoon and checking some emails, you relax in your seat as you let your brain turn to sludge for the weekend. You’re tired, eyes glazing over as you watch Yoongi elbow Jungkook harshly, forcing him to look out the foggy window.
Jungkook’s eyes light up like it’s Christmas Eve, but instead of Christmas lights it's your car’s lowlights. The graphic designer pays no mind to his friends as they wish him goodbye and goodluck, throwing on his jacket with a wave.
The night air whizzes by, Jungkook’s floppy black strands bouncing with each step as he bounds to your car. He throws your door open, bringing in the cold air as he regards you as easily as an old friend would.
“Hi,” he chirps, placing his tattooed palms by the air vent, “c’mon, let’s order.”
“You know, you could’ve ordered inside and brought it in here.”
“Yeah but then it would take longer to get to you,” the cheeky grin that Jungkook throws at you is unmistakable, “c’mon, get out the car and let’s switch.”
“Huh?”
“You look tired, you didn’t come back from the office again, did you?”
“I did tonight,” you say, “I just really wanted to get the soft copy of the article done and—”
“Out, out!” Jungkook clicks your seatbelt off and he’s coming out of the passenger side, opening your car and pulling you out by the hand, “c’mon, I’ll drive.”
You shake your head, hiding your smile in your hand as you let Jungkook do what he wants. Normally you’d be insulted that anyone suggests they should drive your car but Jungkook would always drive you around, saying he loved long rides. Above all, if you could trust anyone to drive your car, Jungkook is at the top of the list.
Buckling in, you bite the inside of your cheek as Jungkook easily pulls out of the parking spot one-handed. His jacket is pulled up to his elbows, exposing his veins as he expertly whirls the wheel in the direction of the drive-thru. Since college he’s always looked very attractive driving.
Doesn’t mean you have to act like you’re still in college. You tamp those feelings down, knowing that your article probably has you feeling stuck in time.
“—coming along?”
“Wha?”
“I said, how’s the spread coming along?”
“It’s pretty much done, I think. I’ll send you the hard copy when it’s ready,” you tap your fingers against the dashboard, “but are you sure you’re okay with me writing it? I know I’m using a pseudonym and everything for you two but I still feel weird—”
“It’s fine, I think it’s a good thing,” and you still squirm in your seat when he flashes you a genuine smile, “I mean, it kinda is a funny story and I think it’s good for both of us. Like closure, y’know? Moving on and—hi, can I get two Oreo McFlurrys and a large fry? Thanks!” he pulls out his wallet to scan the total on the e-reader. “I mean, didn’t it feel good writing it?”
“Yeah,” you replied honestly, relaxing in your seat, “like, college was fun and all, but when Jisoo kinda ruined all that… after awhile I didn’t think it was ruined after all, y’know? I still made amazing friends and ended up where I wanted to be. I want to show the readers that shit happens, and that’s okay. And if things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.”
The summer playlist hums in the background as Jungkook pulls up to the pick-up window. He thanks the worker and hands you the tray, and you make quick work to put the fries in the first cup holder for optimal sharing. He doesn’t park at McDonalds, but instead smoothly pulls out of the restaurant into the direction of his apartment. It isn’t a particularly long drive, but you figure it would be easier for Jungkook to go home first if you’re already parked at his complex.
“What do you mean by that?” Jungkook parks in the driveway of his apartment, taking his McFlurry from your hands.
“Mean by what?”
“If things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.”
“Well, we’re here now, right?”
Jungkook pops his spoon in, swallowing vanilla and a silly smile through his coral pink lips, “We’re here now,” he repeats.
The night air is cool and your conversation is warm. You promise Jungkook that you’ll send him the final copy of your spread as soon as it’s done, and you two eagerly deviate away from the past and focus on the present.
You can’t help the eagerness that flows between you, as if you’ve never spent time apart like this and it’s only now that you’re reuniting. It must be absence that makes the heart grow fonder, because you swell with affection and you find Jungkook’s presence sweeter than any kind of ice cream.
Are you dating now? Maybe. You and Jungkook are going on dates, everything without the title. McFlurry runs, marathons of HGTV’s Design on a Dime, having lunch at each other’s respective buildings with the Wusbands. Whether these dates are exclusive or not is unknown, but you figure the question will present yourself one way or another.
You’re in a good place right now, potential relationship or not. After all, your priorities are simultaneously positive and in order: family, work, friends, and any potential romantic trysts are at the very bottom. You could kiss the cover of this month’s issue (and trust, you have kissed your own copy multiple times) if it is not for the fact that this specific issue is for Jungkook.
So, romantic trysts and friends have a tendency to flip-flop on your priority list, but only because it’s Jungkook.
Unsurprisingly, there’s no guilt knowing that you’re dating your former best friend's ex-boyfriend.
After a much deserved early work day, Namjoon and the crew arrange a hearty happy-hour filled with good food and enough relaxation to last the weekend. With your combined successes, your team felt like they made the best issue yet. At the heart of it, The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth became a reckoning of each other’s young life. Despite the love and the growth that occurred from your college years up until this point, you’re glad to close that chapter and move forward.
You did not tell Jungkook when the issue would come out, so you think it’ll be a fun surprise for him when he sees it magically show up at his apartment. Bending down you move to slip the issue under his door, one hand pushing it under while one hand braces against the frame to steady your balance.
Just as the shiny cover glides under the door it swings open, and you fall flat on Jungkook’s feet.
Being the little shit he is, he simply giggles at the blunder, looking at you with excited eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he says.
“Creepy as hell, Jeon,” you mutter under your breath, brushing the dirt off your aqua pencil skirt. Looking at him from your spot on the floor and his large height, you grimace. “You look like a middle-aged serial killer looking outside your peephole.”
“Now, we know that’s not true.” he finally offers his hand, easily pulling you up to your feet. You follow him into his kitchen, where he’s cutting up fresh fruit. He throws your issue on the counter, gentle enough so it doesn’t slide off the granite. He gestures to himself with both hands, “me, a dashingly handsome late twenty-something in Nike sweats who can bench-press two of you? Totally not a middle-aged serial killer.”
“It’s in the eyes,” you chastise, “you look crazy.”
“Maybe I’m just crazy excited to see you,” he says with a cheeky grin.
You try your best not to choke on your spit at the cheeseball comment, throwing a blackberry in your mouth. Savoring the burst of tart flavor that fills your mouth, you wait for Jungkook to plate the fruit before meeting him on the couch. He’s holding a prettily arranged plate of berries, bananas, and mango with a huge dollop of whipped cream in the middle. In his other hand is Big Hit’s magazine.
Throwing your blazer on the couch’s arm you don’t hesitate to cuddle up next to him, eagerly waiting for him to read your spread.
The cover gazes back at the two of you like a reflection. The entirety of the staff is posed on the cover, made to look like a class photo. Some of you are holding balloons in your respective school colors, many of you grouping up with whoever happened to go to college together. You and Vernon are wearing matching university sweaters with silly grins on your faces. In the middle of the issue is the editor-in-chief, Victoria Song holding a placard that reads: Class of Youth.
Jungkook spares you a glance from the corner of his eye, your head naturally tucked into his shoulder. With an exaggerated sigh, he fiddles through the glossy pages, “Hmm, which one should I read first?”
“Of course you’ll read mine first,” you pout.
“Ah, Namjoon’s looks really fun. Or Vernon’s? New York looks pretty cool,” he flips to a random page, “wait, Yerin’s spread is a Korean cookbook! I definitely want to make some tuna rice...”
“Jungkook,” you whine, “read mine.”
“I don’t know,” he taps his finger on his lip, “I mean, I pretty much know your spread because I’m already in it. It would be kind of redundant to read it.”
“Kook, you’re being mean,” you glower, rubbing your cheek against his soft sweater. He’s just so damn comfy.
“I’m kidding,” he tugs at your cheek, “where’s the table of contents, first page?”
“I’m on page eighty-three.”
You speed up the process like an impatient child, leaning over to brush the pages to the desired spread. You even dog-earred it, a habit that drives Jungkook crazy as he immediately fiddles to iron out the crease.
“Are you gonna read it to me too, mom?” he teases.
“Okay fine! I’ll be quiet, but don’t take too long.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Eyes fluttering, you let Jungkook take his time to absorb your piece. A roommate by any other (rude) name: the lost letter. A cheesy, gimmicky title that Victoria insisted upon that you had no choice but relent to. The rest of the spread thankfully has a very authentic edge to it, your story laced with photos of you and Jungkook, your internship with Vernon, and most importantly, a scan of the lavender letter that got left in the past.
Jungkook’s not silent through his read-through, either. He laughs at all the right parts, fueling your ego as his smile grows at your favorite lines. While he doesn’t directly engage in conversation, his positive energy is enough for you to make you feel like you’ve done your job right. It’s one thing to write about unknown celebrities and unnamed artists, but for people like Jungkook, the validation is personal.
“It’s beautiful,” Jungkook says when he’s read it thrice through, running his thumb over a picture of you. “Really organic. Really, real.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he chuckles, having run out of adverbs. “It’s funny, too. I liked your little internal monologue. I wish I knew how you felt back then.”
“I wish you did, too.”
You’re quietly munching on a strawberry, looking over a polaroid Jungkook took. It was sometime in the beginning of senior year, where you’ve fallen asleep on his mattress, drool drying on your mouth. Normally you’d be opposed to having such unflattering, grainy pictures amongst your writing, but it encapsulates the youth you’ve tried so hard to chase away.
“How do you feel?” Jungkook says, switching out the magazine for the plate of fruit, placing it on his side.
“Feel great, actually,” you muse, smiling to yourself. By no means are you a hero writing some grand gesture in an entertainment magazine, but you feel like you’ve saved yourself. You’ve savored your youth in four thousand words, cutting out the poison and keeping the moment as sweet as it can be.
“I’m proud of you,” he reaches to ruffle your hair, and you don’t even get mad when it tousles out of your pinned style.
Reveling in the attention, you simply close your eyes and feed yourself a handful of blueberries.
“Love that I make money, but I definitely miss college from time to time,” Jungkook stretches, jostling you out of your comfortable position. “Like I remember Taehyung and I would take turns bringing backpacks to the dining hall so we could stuff fruit in it for later.”
“Yeah, but as much as I loved college I wouldn’t go back,” you nod to yourself, “I’m happy where I am now.”
“What about when we stayed up for midnight breakfast? The dining hall was filled to the brim with food. Remember when I tried to eat a whole stack of pancakes?”
“Jungkook…”
“Or when our classes got cancelled and we went to Lotte World? You ate way too much funnel cake and I had to carry you to the car!”
“Jungkook—”
“And that one time we snuck out to the music hall’s rooftop?” words gush out of Jungkook’s mouth like a waterfall, unable to relent, “that’s when I realized I liked you. I liked you so much, I tried to tell you that night but choked—”
“Jungkook!” and he immediately zips up, frowning. You straighten up, on your knees as you reach over to run your hands through his onyx tresses, moving the styled strands to the back of his pierced ears, “Jungkook,” you repeat softly, “I’ve heard all these stories, I was there for most of them. As much as I love the past… can we talk about something else?” you give him a small, tentative smile to show him you’re not mad, but a little uncomfortable at his reminiscing.
He leans into your touch, pressing your palm against the soft swell of his warm cheek. “Okay,” he agrees, resting one hand on your thigh.
You’re roped in his gaze, and you have to force yourself to breathe when Jungkook moves closer to you. He hooks a leg behind his back, and another across his lap. A cool breeze kisses your inner thighs when your skirt exposes your cotton underwear. You should be embarrassed but instead you’re fixated, unable to understand what he’s trying to accomplish.
“Then I’m gonna talk about the future,” Jungkook traps you between the couch, his thumb running hot circles to where your skirt has hiked up. It exposes a slip of the thigh that Jungkook has seen a million times. He’s seen you walking around your apartment in a large shirt, ridden up to your boyshorts. It’s different now, you feel exposed and tingly, thrumming with excitement. “I like you, obviously anticipated news and old news. I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to go on dates with you, re-watch Avatar, grumble when I force you to come to the gym with me,” he bumps noses with you when you scrunch yours, “I wanna be with you. Heck, I’ve even cleared space in my spare room so you’d have closet space for all your fancy designer suits if you ever need it.”
“You cleared space?” you manage to choke out. Visions of a shared apartment roll through your brain. Cooking meals together, having two toothbrushes side by side, and waking up to his face.
“Of course I did. Do you know how financially attractive you are?” he says lightheartedly, “you’re a sexy working woman and it’s crazy to imagine you’d want to settle for me and my little apartment. But I have to try now because if I don’t, it’ll be too late.”
“That’s not true,” you retort, “you’re not someone I’d settle for. I want you, and no one else.”
He chuckles, running a thumb over your cheek. “Then what are we waiting for? Your key’s hiding under the mat.”
“Jungkook…” on the tip of your tongue lays the words you’re going too fast but it doesn’t make its way to the air.
“But do you really think it’s too fast?” he reads your face clearly, “these feelings never went anywhere. They were locked away, sure. And I loved her,” he can’t even say the name, not when you’re warm and flush against him, “but I loved our friendship more.”
“I… I don’t know what to say,” you breathe, letting the cogs in your brain roll until sparks develop.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he concedes, “I just wanted to let you know. Could’ve done the letter thing all over again and let the past repeat itself. I know Namjoon wouldn’t hide a love letter for two years, but if I left another damn letter he’d definitely make a copy and tease me about it.”
You snort, pressing your forehead to his. You’re practically buried in the couch now, tingly and vibrating with happiness. “And I’m not going to leave you hanging. I do want to say something,” and he looks at you expectantly, licking the leftover berry juice on his lips, nearly making you miss your train of thought, “I like you too,” you say, the other L-word is also applicable, but you feel like that phrase is reserved for another time, “I want to show you off on work vacations, bring you along as my date and show them you’re my muse,” you confess, “I wanna play video games with you ‘till 2AM, and eat ice cream in the comfort of our apartment instead of our cars because we’re too stubborn to admit we don’t wanna go home without each other.”
Jungkook absolutely preens at the affection, sending you a heart melting smile that has your stomach doing backflips.
“Jungkook, I want to fall in love with you again.”
Your squeal of surprise is swallowed by Jungkook’s lips, tasting of mangoes and berries as strong hands cup your backside, easily lifting you onto his lap. You plop under his strong thighs, feeling them flex against yours. The both of you are pouring in this kiss, raining with promises and hopes for a future with each other. His taste is concentrated, and you can feel the devotion practically injected in his embrace.
When he pulls away his lips are cherry-red and shiny, looking up at you through clear coffee eyes. “This isn’t a dream, right?” he looks at you up and down, unable to decipher fact from fiction, “because I distinctly remember two wet dreams that involve you looking like this.”
Looking down, you heat at the disarray you’re in. Hair wild and parted in different wavelengths, tired of the day’s efforts. Your slightly sheer dress-shirt is rumpled, the lace collar opened with two popped buttons revealing your cleavage, and your skirt is stretched so tight that it’s ruched all the way up your thighs. Sprawled across Jungkook’s lap, you’re dangerously close to something long and hard.
Emboldened, you clutch at Jungkook’s collar, pulling him closer.
“Show me what happens in your dream,” you whisper into his ear, barely brushing your clothed core against his crotch, “maybe we can make it come true tonight.”
You can’t see his face, but you feel something dark and sensual overtake him. The grip on your ass tightens, a delicious pain that has you pressing your breasts against him and nipping on his ear, your tongue darting sensually through the cold silver hoops that dart through his skin.
Within seconds, he rips you away from his neck and demands, “Open.”
Dazed, you barely get a centimeter of your mouth open when Jungkook presses something cold and sugary against your lips. Whipped cream. You manage to take a small bite of the tart strawberry that he holds by the viridian stem, rolling the flavor between your mouth as Jungkook paints the leftover whipped cream over your lips. Once he’s satisfied he then creates a white trail that leads to your cleavage.
Better than any dream, his eyes drink you in like the last glass of water in a desert. Your lips are swollen and parted like a baby kitten, covered in the creamy confection. “So pretty,” he exhales, his hot tongue licking from your cleavage to your lips, swallowing the flavor of you and strawberry juice, “such a pretty girl you are, and all mine.”
“Yours,” you submit easily, rolling your hips against his.
At that moment you think you’re meant to fall in love this way. You can’t imagine the shy, fumbly Jungkook and your equally confused self waltzing around a relationship when you barely had your lives together. The two of you still had growing to do. The wait is certainly worth it, because as you feel his arms tighten around you, you’re sure this love will stay strong.
It’s difficult for you to find a rhythm at first, what with Jungkook’s strength and need to be satiated, both of you are sloppy but the friction is nothing less than delicious. Your finger reaches over to swipe at the leftover cream on the plate, and you press your finger to Jungkook’s mouth, and he immediately complies. A dollop of sweet cream leaks out of his lips and your panties dampen further when you feel his tongue lick you clean, imagaining how good it would feel if it was your pussy he was licking.
Your mouth waters at the feeling of his dick lining up against your core, as sticky as the strawberry juice that clings to your bodies.
“C-can I make a confession? I—oh, Jungkook…” your mind is all fuzzed up when he snaps his hips against yours, causing you to shamelessly bounce on his length.
“Yeah?”
“I… I like it when you use all your strength like that,” his hips slow as your words sink in, but you don’t mind as it gives you time to make a long drag along the entirety of his member. “Everytime you pull me up when I trip, or you come back from a workout, I like it when you carry me around like I weigh nothing.”
“Do—do you think about it a lot?” he grunts, and you stifle a moan when he does a slow, hard drag against your wet folds. “Tell the truth.”
“It’s, it’s embarrassing,” you whimper, unable to think straight with the amount of stimuli you’re receiving.
“Please, baby.”
“Yes mm—oh! I do,” you try to get the words out as quickly as you can. He stops moving, and you groan in frustration so you just lay it all out on the table. “I, I love it when you hold me in your strong arms. And, ah, uh w-henever you come back from the gym you just look so sexy fresh from the shower. Sometimes I think about how you’re too damn nice for your own good but I bet you’d be so rough in bed.”
“Really?” and then he’s shoving you onto the couch, air brushing against your bare thighs as your back hits the beige throw pillows. He’s hovering, dark eyes starting from the tip of your toes to your damp lips. “You like it when I manhandle you? Throw you around like a little doll?”
“All that strength, and for what?” you try to keep your snappy remarks in check, but it’s hard when he’s pressing his straining dick against your thigh, weeping and needy.
“You’re not gonna be joking about my strength anytime soon, baby,” emblazoned, he easily throws your leg over his shoulder, pushing your panties to the side to let your wetness leak out and onto his fingers, “are you gonna complain or be a good girl?”
“Yes, I’m ah—” you wince when he inserts a finger, “I’ll be good for you,”
“My good girl,” he revels in the way you melt under his touch, your previous sarcasm quickly dissolving into a puddle. You always had an inkling that Jungkook would be a sneaky fox in bed, all that muscle hidden behind a kind smile and a penchant for tea with milk and honey.
Jungkook slips in another finger, stretching you and preparing you for what’s to come. He’s scissoring you at a sensible pace that has you squirming and wanting more. To prevent you from shimmying off the couch he holds you down with his free hand, and you love the way he practically feeds you to the couch, hands dancing over your neck as he shoves you further into the furniture.
“You look so gorgeous,” he says, causing you to moan and keen at his attention, “you’re such a strong, gorgeous woman. Having you sprawled out like this, ready to do whatever I want to you is so fucking hot.”
“I’m—I’m only weak for you Jungkook,” you say honestly, tears pricking when he dips another finger. The stretch burns deliciously, and your folds eagerly swallow him up until you’re filled to the brim. Your fingers or toys cannot compare to flesh, and you sigh in relief when you see his inked fingers pick up the pace once more.
“You’re damn right,” Jungkook husks, and with a grain of love he murmurs in your ear, “I’m only weak for you, too.”
And that’s when he snaps, thumb rolling against your bud as he slams his other fingers against you, going at a brutal pace. You cry out, not caring whether his neighbors hear as he pulls you back and forth through pleasure and pain.
“T-too much, Kookie,” you mewl, your hand warbling to find his, “I, ah, ‘m gonna cum!”
“That’s the plan,” he only goes faster, stretching your band further and further before your desired high is reached. His hand trails up to force your chin straight, looking up at him, “let go for me, baby. Wanna feel your pussy clench around my fingers.”
In seconds, you gush. It has you in a slight panic, drunk on endorphins as you try to lift your head up but Jungkook’s hand is firmly pressing you on your shoulder as he fingers you efficiently through your high, the wet squelching sounds only increasing with your cries. His lap is drenched in your arousal, along with his chin and lips glistening with your essence.
He finally releases you when you’re practically shaking, his hands sticky and creamy. You moan when he shamelessly licks them within your view, making sure to wrap his tongue around his ink-stained digits.
“I,” your mouth is dry when you feel the dampness that hits your bottom, “I’ve never, I don’t remember ever—”
Your babbles are lost between your throat and Jungkook’s tongue, shoved deep into your mouth. Tasting your arousal has you practically vibrating in your place, as you two rut against each other like hungry bunnies.
“God, you’re amazing,” he says between pecks, kissing away your face of any tears you may have pricked, “Amazing, adorable, absolutely beautifulIadoreyousoso—”
“Pleasepleaseplease,” you press your hips up, wiggling for more attention, “please fuck me, Jungkook.”
You can’t help the witchy, satisfied smile when Jungkook’s eyes darken to a thick coal, “Anything for you,” he murmurs, swinging your legs between his arms as he lifts you like a feather.
On his lap again, you soon accept that the way you two mesh like puzzle pieces is one of your favorite positions as it gives you both equal space to ravish each other.
Just when your hand trails to the waistband of his boxer briefs and you’re rolling your thumb over its collected moisture, the moment is shattered when the doorbell rings. You jump in his arms, unprepared for your moment to be interrupted.
He groans into the crown of your hair, and you soften in his relaxed hold, “I ordered us pizza,” he nearly forgot.
Perking your head up to look at him you regard him innocently, as if you didn’t release a waterfall on his sweats two seconds ago. “You got us pizza?”
“I knew you’d be coming over tonight,” he’s pouting into your neck, regretting ever having called the pizza guy if he knew this would happen, “Victoria posted the publish date on Twitter. I just didn’t think,” he gestures vaguely to the mess on his pants, “this would happen.”
“Damn, and here I thought I was being sneaky,” you chuckle, flicking his ear playfully.
He gives you an uncharacteristically subby whine, shamelessly upset he has to let you go so fast after he’s given you your first of many highs. Before he weakens further under your beauty, he unceremoniously shoves you off. “Sorry, pretty girl,” you melt at the easy way his pet name rolls off his lips, “can you wait in my room for a bit so I can pay the delivery guy? I don’t want them to see you like this.”
“But I want to eat pizza,” you declare stubbornly, standing up to button your blouse and pull down your skirt.
Before you could fasten one button or pull down one centimeter, his hand darts out to snatch your wrist away from your body. It doesn’t hurt much, but it causes your body to heat in more places than one. He’s sexy like this, demanding your attention. “No,” he rumbles definitively, “my room. Now.”
“Why?” you throw your hands in the air, yelping when he slaps your ass. He makes sure to make it sting, cupping you fully.
“Because,” he says firmly, “you don’t get to eat until I eat,” you whimper when his hand reaches to cup your sex, panties wet and cold without his warmth as he pushes you in the direction of his bedroom.
Oh, you can’t wait for both of you to eat tonight.
some time later.
“Ohmygod the view is beautiful!” Krystal, who works in advertisement, squeals. “No filter needed!”
“Alright alright, make room Princess,” Namjoon teases. With a bump to Krystal’s tiny hips Namjoon shoves you two across the pavilion, putting his arm around you once he finds the perfect angle, “Umji, can you get a pic of me and my Work Wife? I want this on the Big Hit Instagram!”
You hold your straw sunhat down from the salty wind, smiling beautifully as Umji takes multiple pictures of you and Namjoon from her Nikon. Another successful year under your notch, ending with a successful work retreat.
“Namjoon, can I take a picture with my actual wife now?”
“We’re not married, Jungkook,” you chastise, patting the chest of Namjoon’s floral printed Hawaiian shirt so he can switch. Instantly, Jungkook slides up next to you like a picture perfect stock model piece, and you wrap your arms around his trim waist, “we’re not even engaged.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he pouts, looking over the pavilion and adjusting the both of you so there’s a good amount of you and the resort in the background. The sun may be scathingly hot, but it looks beautiful perched over the crystal clear waters. “Namjoon, you got it easy,” Jungkook says when he hands him your phone, “every angle is our good angle, so you can’t mess it up.”
Being the honest man he is, Namjoon knows better and doesn’t say anything to that. Instead he shoots down whatever pineapple-flavored concoction is offered to him on a silver platter, and starts shooting.
“Is this swimsuit new?” Jungkook murmurs into your ear between shots, flicking your little red number by the strap connecting the back, “because I didn’t see this in the luggage.”
You smile big, pearly whites as Namjoon demands to pop out your butt and work it, pressing your body closer to Jungkook’s. “Tiny enough so I could hide it in my purse,” you reply proudly, voice low for only each other’s ears, “why, surprised?”
“Definitely not prepared,” his fingers dig deliciously in your bare flesh, “would Victoria fire you if she catches us doing it in the cabana?”
Amused that your boyfriend now shares your combined awe and fear of your boss, you twist his nipple lightly. He yelps, and from Namjoon’s guaff he’s definitely got that on camera. “We didn’t come to Boracay to fuck in the cabana.”
“Then the hotel room?”
Namjoon hands you back your phone when he considers his job done, letting you and Jungkook have some alone time. You wave your phone in his face, trying to get him to focus on the task at hand. You wanted to post some cute pictures of you and your boyfriend, one to impress the family back home and the Big Hit interns back in Seoul who are absolutely pining for your position.
“Jungkook, they have the water ski thing where you can flip in the water mid air! Doesn’t that sound fun? Or we can go scuba diving, have Filipino food, or get massages. LIterally, we’re on Big Hit’s dime, and the first thing you want to do is go back to the room?”
“Yes,” he pouts petulantly, leaning into the hollow of your ear and whispering, “got a chub on.”
Discreetly so, your hands brush against his navy trunks and you note yes, he’s half hard. “No!” you shake your head definitively, pushing him out of your arms. You’re not letting sex get in the way of your hard-earned vacation, you’re on company dime and you intend to milk every peso of it. “Namjoon, take him away!”
You blow him a kiss and follow another group who’s decided to go eat, watching your boyfriend get dragged away by Namjoon’s long arms. Krystal, who’s been mildly watching the whole ordeal in-between taking selfies, looks at you in awe, “You got it good, bosslady,” she says, and you happily link arms with her in the direction of the restaurants.
You and Jungkook definitely have it good. You don’t see him until dinnertime, looking utterly relaxed as he sips on a mango-muddled concoction. He must’ve gotten a couples massage with Namjoon, cute. Splitting up was definitely a good idea, by the time your meal arrives the two of you are practically leaning against each other, telling each other what events you need to do tomorrow and events you think will be fun to do together.
“Joon,” Jungkook is throwing an arm over your Wusband’s shoulder, mildly tipsy. The image is adorable, as Jungkook long ago previously confessed that he felt a little jealous of Namjoon’s work relationship with you before you were dating. Now, it feels like they’re best friends and you’re third-wheeling. “What do you think about having halo-halo tomorrow? It’s like bingsu but with a bunch of other good stuffs. There’s red bean, mango, ube, ice cream…”
Just as Jungkook begins his tirade of dessert ingredients, you pull up your phone to check on your social media. You smile back at your profile, seeing your latest Instagram post at the very top of the feed. Not to flex, but the two of you look pretty smokin’ since you’ve been keeping up with Jungkook’s insistence to join him at the gym. Jungkook and you are leaning against the pristine veranda, overlooking the clear blue water and a cloudless sky. The smiles you two sport are genuine and utterly in love.
You scroll down the comments, most of them filled with sweet messages but one of them has you doing a double take.
@sooyaaa__: 😒😒😒 knew something was goin on behind my back… good riddance
The smell of Jungkook’s detergent overtakes your nostrils, and you turn to him. He’s stopped talking, now immersed in whatever’s going on in your phone.
“The nerve of her,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, disgusted at her latest comment. “As if anyone would believe her.”
“Yeah,” you echo, “I feel bad for her, though. She’s probably lonely.”
“Her loss, she put this upon herself. Not us.”
You pout, “I know, but she was my friend at one point.”
He frowns, putting an arm behind your backrest. It would be easy for him to say yeah, and she was my girlfriend and one-up you, leaving it at that. But now he knows better, and that friendship is a much better value than an ill-fated relationship. “Sorry baby,” it’s not his fault, but he sees your disappointment in putting out hope for an old friend. He gives you a little smooch on your temple, “do you miss her?”
“The old her, yeah,” you sigh, clicking on her profile, “but now? I can do without her negativity.”
“Okay,” he takes your phone from your hand, “have you ever blocked a person before?”
“No.”
“Well, today’s the day,” he says it so coolly, you barely have time to think when he clicks the ‘block’ button on Jisoo’s profile, then clicking off his phone to put in his pocket. “No more phone for today,” he proceeds to take your plate that was recently served, taking the time to cut your large vegetables into smaller portions. “Like you said, we shouldn’t waste your vacation time.”
Your heart swells with butterflies for Jeon Jungkook, who’s meticulously cutting your food and telling you to relax and stop dwelling on the past. He’s right, if Jisoo’s not going to stick around for the future and continue to cause negativity in your life, why not keep the positives in the past while it lasted?
“You know I love you, right?”
He ceases cutting, and looks at you to pop a sweet potato in his mouth. “Love me enough to do it in the cabana?”
He’s still on that? “Jungkook,” you warn, pretending to get up, “forget I said anything. I’m gonna go karaoke with Umji.”
“Kiddingggg,” he whines, pulling you back down with an outstretched hand, “you know I love you too.”
“You’re terrible.”
“Only this way because I’d know you’d totally be into cabana sex if we were vacationing by ourselves.”
“Yes, but you’re still terrible,” you giggle when Jungkook steals a kiss, just as easy as he’s stolen your heart.
#jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#gcn23#goldenclosetnet#btsghostie#jungkook fic#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#bts fic#bts smut#a big weight is off my shoulders
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
The Other Woman
Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader
A/N: Soooo. No one asked for this one and I have prompts in my inbox and a multi chapter Billy x OC story I'm working on. Yet… this happened. I was working on an assignment for uni and this popped into my head. Billy lives in my head rent free and I'm not even mad about it. Enjoy lmaooo
Warnings: cursing, slight angst but not really, lots of fluff (literally and figuratively). It's just a bunch of cute bullshit, don't mind me looool
---------
Your nails tapped the coffee cup as you sat outside the cafe deep in thought. There was only one thing on your mind. Billy was cheating on you. There was no other explanation for his behaviour the past week and the knowledge of what he'd done was eating away at you. It started a week ago. He'd slip out after work hours saying something came up. Sometimes he wouldn't even tell you where he was going and when you asked, he'd say 'work' as he avoided your gaze before slipping out. Billy couldn't lie to you, you knew him too well for that. You knew his tells and he didn't really lie to you. But you knew when he wouldn't look you in the eye that he wasn't being honest.
Then there was his phone. He'd be on it more than usual and it was distracting him. The night before, Frank had called him and you knew it was Frank because you'd seen the name popping up on his screen. You'd both been watching a movie on the sofa together as you tried to convince yourself that Billy wouldn't cheat on you. But when he excused himself to the bedroom, your curiosity burned. Why would he need to sneak off to speak to Frank?
So you'd crept over to where the door was open by a crack and held your breath as you listened.
"Yeah, I know…. I'll just tell her I need to work again… I don't think she knows… yeah, yeah, I know… I can't wait for you to meet her, man. She's perfect,"
Those words felt like a slap to the face and a punch to the gut all rolled into one. Billy was cheating on you. Billy was cheating on you and Frank knew about it. Frank who was one of your closest friends, the one who introduced you to Billy in the first place. You'd gone back to the sofa as you dwelled in your misery and betrayal and when Billy had come back out with a wide smile on his face you'd felt sick. But you couldn't bring yourself to ask him, to question him or tell him what you'd heard. You were scared of what he might say. Scared of what this all meant.
You and Billy had been together for almost two years now and you lived together. You knew of his past but never once had you felt insecure about being with him. He loved you, and you wholeheartedly believed he did. So this felt like it completely blindsided you and your head was all over the place.
That morning Billy was gone by the time you woke which was nothing new since he often let you sleep when he got up to work. But you'd come to the cafe by lunch because you were drowning in your thoughts back at home. The home you shared with him.
You blew out a breath, grabbing your cell from your pocket as you rang Anvil. You had a gut feeling and you wanted confirmation. His secretary picked up the phone and you sighed before asking something you dreaded the answer to.
"Hey, Annie. Is Billy there? I need to talk to him," you said softly. The older woman cleared her throat down the phone before speaking.
"He's not here, Y/N. He took the day off," she said warily. Well then. You thanked her quickly before hanging up, the lump lodged in your throat getting bigger.
How could it all have gone so wrong? You stood, tossing the half drank coffee in the trash as you made your way home with a broken heart. You hardly expected Billy to be sitting on the sofa when you got home. But there he was in all his glory. A burgundy sweater with his jeans and boots, hair slicked back like always. You felt like you were hanging on by a thread.
He smiled when he saw you, standing up and making his way over.
"I thought you had work," your cold tone stopped him in his tracks as he looked at you cautiously.
"I took the day, had some things I needed to do," he replied easily. Things he needed to do. More like someone he needed to do. Tense didn't even begin to cover how you were feeling.
"Look… there's someone here I want you to meet," Billy said hesitantly, glancing to the closed bedroom door. He really wouldn't just… The string of composure you were holding onto snapped.
"Is this some kind of joke?!" You yelled. He looked shocked, eyes wide and confused as he tilted his head.
"Uh… what?" He asked carefully.
"It's bad enough you're having an affair that apparently Frank knows all about but you've brought her here?! You want me to meet her?!" You were incredulous at his audacity. You wondered if he'd suffered a head injury a week ago or something.
Billy blinked at you with his dark eyes for a moment before he burst out laughing. But when he saw your tearful eyes glaring at him, his laughter died instantly.
"You… you think I'm cheatin' on you?" He asked slowly, like he was talking to a toddler. Your brows furrowed watching him warily as he walked over to you.
"You've been acting weird all week, Billy. And I heard you on the phone last night. I heard you talking to Frank," you muttered, hating how your voice wobbled.
Billy looked stricken at how upset you were and wrapped his arms around you and you melted into him despite yourself. He stroked your hair soothingly with one hand as the other rubbed your back.
"I'm not steppin' out on you, Y/N. I'd never do that," he sighed. He moved away, cradling your cheeks as his obsidian gaze looked over your face like he was searching for the answers of the universe.
"Not gonna lie, I'm a little offended by your lack of faith, but I have been actin' weird so I'll let it slide," he murmured with a soft smile.
"But then… what was that all about?" You asked, deflating a bit as he wiped away the couple of tears that had fallen. He leaned in and kissed you softly, one of the rare tender kisses he'd give you if you were upset. You were incredibly confused and maybe also felt a little guilty that your mind went there.
When he pulled away, he shot you a grin, looking almost like a kid on Christmas which only furthered your confusion.
"Wait here," he beamed, dashing off to the bedroom. You really felt like you'd been transported to another dimension where nothing made sense. But then Billy came back out with what you could only describe as a living, breathing, real life Pokemon in his arms. It was a Pomeranian puppy that just looked like a cloud with two shiny back eyes peeking out.
You made a noise that you couldn't even describe. A mix of a whine and a coo that people often reserved for cute animals and babies as if they couldn't help themselves. Your feet took you over to where Billy was grinning at you and the ball of fluff was nibbling his hand.
"Billy…" your voice was still a little high, a little pout on your face as you reached out and stroked the fluffy fur on the puppy.
"Meet Cotton Ball. Cotton Ball, meet your mom," he smirked, grabbing a tiny paw and making it wave at you. It was something to behold seeing Billy like this and you almost melted right into a puddle.
"Wait so… this is the other woman?" You asked with a snort, feeling so utterly stupid for how your mind went there. Billy rolled his eyes with a laugh as he handed over the bundle of cloud to you.
"Do you like her?" He asked hesitantly, looking almost unsure as he glanced from the puppy to you.
"I love her. Thank you, Billy," you murmured, cuddling the tiny puppy closer to you.
"I uh… I know that you said you wanted a dog," he started, his shoulder rolling a little.
"Which you shot down immediately," you cut in, raising a brow at him. He chuckled, rubbing his beard a little with a nod.
"I know. But… I saw how disappointed you were and I decided I never wanted to see that look on your face again. Especially not 'cause of me. She hadn't been fully vaccinated and stuff so I've been waitin' to bring her home. Been to see her a few times to get her used to me," he shrugged, looking almost bashful which was a strange look for him. It was cute.
"I love her. And I love you," you smiled wide at him. His insecurities seemed to wash away at your bright smile and he returned it, leaning over to kiss your forehead.
"I love you too. Come here, lemme show you somethin','' he took your free hand and led you to the bedroom. On the floor next to your bed was what looked like a queen bed shrunk down. It was a dog bed but a fancy one and the cozy sheets looked expensive too. There was also a basket filled to the brim with dog toys. You looked at him incredulously with a laugh.
"And here I was thinking you weren't a dog person and you're spoiling her already," you teased. He chuckled, a slight pink tint to his face you couldn't remember ever witnessing as he bit his lip and smiled at you.
"Yeah well… my girls gotta have the best. And… I mighta got attached to her," he shrugged easily.
"Billy Russo has a heart after all. Who knew?" You snorted. He gripped your jaw gently, giving your lips a firm peck before smirking down at you.
"Don't tell a soul or I'll have to kill you. I got a rep to keep," he smirked devilishly. You snorted again, shaking your head as you took the now sleeping puppy to her lavish bed and set her down.
When you walked back over to Billy, you wrapped your arms around his middle and he responded in kind and held you close.
"I can't believe you thought I'd cheat on you," he murmured, nuzzling your hair. You felt your cheeks heat up as you moved away and looked up at him.
"I know. I'm sorry, I just… you'd been acting weird and then the phone call, I didn't know what to think," you said softly. He frowned a little, tucking some of your hair behind your ear before resting a hand on your jaw.
"You know I love you, right?" He asked with a furrowed brow.
"I know. Honestly… I've never questioned it. I've never felt like that before. My mind just ran away with itself," you felt bad now and really fucking stupid but he had been acting weird. How were you to know that he was secretly procuring you the cutest puppy to exist?
He kissed your forehead softly, lips lingering a moment before he cupped your cheeks, tilting your head to look up at him. His dark eyes were full of many emotions and you got lost in them.
"You're the only one I want. Ever since I met you, I never wanted anyone else. I ain't ever felt like this before but all I know is… I'm yours. I love you, Y/N. There'll never be anyone else," he murmured sincerely. You couldn't help the dopey smile on your face as you leaned up and captured his lips in a soft kiss.
"I love you too, Billy. But… I will have to share you now with Cotton Ball," you teased against his lips. He chuckled, nipping at your bottom lip.
"You'll always be my best girl," he grinned, rubbing his nose against yours.
One hand dropped to your neck, the other slinking around you and settling on your ass as he kissed you deeply. Just as you were really getting into it, he hissed, cursing and moving away as he lifted his foot. The foot that had tiny razor teeth latched onto it as the dog dangled off his toe. You couldn't help the bubble of laughter that came out of you as you pried the dog away from his foot.
"Feel like I might end up regrettin' this decision," he huffed, eyes narrowed at Cotton Ball who was now happily in your arms. He wasn't really mad though, his lips were slightly upturned as he reached out and rubbed the dogs tiny head.
"Awww. Is the big bad marine scared the lil doggy might bite his ass when he's having sex?" You mocked playfully.
Billy's mortified face had you in stitches. He looked like he'd not considered it until you said it and now he was glaring at the dog like she'd ready done it.
"We're gonna need some boundaries," he muttered to the dog as he pointed at her, then his piercing eyes turned to you and you bit your lip to stifle your laughter.
"And for the record, I am a big bad marine and I ain't scared of a fuckin' dog," he smirked with a raised brow. You rolled your eyes goodnaturedly as you turned, dog in hand, and left the room.
"Mhmm. Just wait until I tell Frank how you're scared of a ball of fluff. Or the guys from Anvil. Or maybe I'll tell them just how much you love her already," you grinned, laughing when he gripped your hips and dragged you so your back pressed against his front.
"What I tell you? You tell and I'll have to kill you. I don't wanna do that, I might just miss you," he murmured with a smile as he nuzzled your neck.
"Russo's going soooft!" You teased with a laugh, squealing when his hands dug into your sides to tickle you.
Honestly, you never really thought Billy would be a dog person. But you never thought he'd be the type to live with someone and here you were. You never thought he'd be the type to use the L word yet he did with you. He was full of surprises and this was way better than you anticipated. You never expected the other woman to be so cute.
461 notes
·
View notes
Text
Stuck on You (Levi x Childhood Friend! Reader) Part 2
A/N: Hey guys! It’s been kinda a while but here is part 2~ I have this habit of writing and rewriting my pieces since I’m never fully satisfied by them, but overdoing that is just as bad so I’m going to leave this as is ajflkajada
The amount of love my first part recieved was so genuinely heart warming and I cannot express my gratitude enough. I’m nervous to post this because of it, to be honest, because I hope it lives up to the expectations. Thank you to everyone who has shown me support, it means so much! If you guys want a part three, or maybe just a short epilogue, I will consider it so let me know! Also if you would like to be tagged in my future works, comment below or send me a message <3 I hope you all enjoy!
Warnings: Angst, Season 1 and No Regrets ova spoilers
Word Count: 4k
If you haven’t already, read part one here
As a former member of the Scouts yourself, you knew the ins and outs of the military’s regulations. Because of this, you also knew your request was a strange one, seeing as soldiers weren’t typically allowed visitors, but you hoped your letter appealed to the more personal side of Commander Erwin. Apparently it somehow moved the man, seeing as you had been brought by carriage to the legion's base the following night.
The clopping of horse hooves eventually stopped, and you were currently being escorted into the building by another familiar face, her hand already outstretched to help you out of the vehicle as soon as the door swung open.
“I understand your reservations about this, but you’re brave for coming here. I think he’ll be relieved to see you, (Y/N),” Hange spoke, her fingers hovering over the small of your back as she guided you down one of the many hallways, lantern swinging in her free hand. “I think he could benefit from seeing a familiar face.”
Your eyes were downcast, staring at the floor as rooms upon rooms passed by along your path. You couldn’t speak if you tried, words seemingly stuck in your throat and unable to keep up with your racing thoughts.
Deep breaths, (Y/N).
For better or for worse, there was no need to reply, as Hange came to a halt not a second later. She squeezed your shoulder gently before bringing her knuckles to the wooden door, knocking once, twice.
Your hands were clammy, heart thundering in your ears as you tried to steady your breathing.
“Levi, someone is here to see you,” Hange’s voice rang out firmly.
There was a distinct sound of a chair being pushed back, and footsteps growing nearer. Time slowed down, and you began to second guess every decision up to now. Would Levi even want you to be here? Will he be angry? You felt like bolting away and forgetting about the whole idea, suddenly afraid of his reaction. Afraid that your presence would only make everything worse.
Your eyes were widening as you realized the possibility of leaving was too late to explore, Levi already turning the handle from the other side. So instead, you swallowed your pride, stood up straighter, and pushed away the growing sensation of nausea in your gut.
“Who could possibly be important enough to interrupt my--”
The second his eyes met yours, Levi halted in all movements. Your gaze was fixed on him as well, every bit of longing settling back in your bones the second it did.
He looked nearly the same as the last time you saw him, clean and kempt as ever, hair styled the way it always was-- the same way he’d keep it when he used to chastise you for running your fingers through it.
And those stoic, gray irises that drew you in your were fierce, yet somehow emptier. At the sight of you, his flooding emotions became too much to properly register, unlocking every moment you’d ever spent with him as they replayed all at once.
“(Y/N)?” He couldn’t hide his disbelief, eyes widening ever so slightly.
“Hello, Levi.”
~~~~~~~~~
Never did Levi think he would grow to care for another group of people the same way he had for you, Farlan, and Isabel. But sitting around Petra, Gunther, Eld, and Oruo, he found their excited chatter over the dinner table endearing more than anything. The ever stoic look on his face didn’t change, and he would never openly admit it, but it felt reminiscent to be surrounded by trusted company like this. All of Squad Levi had full faith in one another; it was necessary for the battle field. This created an unspoken bond between all of them that the unreachable Ackerman did not picture building with others again.
Fate worked in funny ways, he supposed.
Sounds of clinking silverware and chatter filled the mess hall, sun setting outside of its many windows and painting the expanse in an orange light. The males eyes drifted towards the entrance of the room expectantly, where a clock rested above the doorway. He took a sip of his tea whilst squinting at it, attempting to get a better read before feeling a slight jab in his side.
“Looking for someone, sir?” Petra inquired, with a hint of deeper emotion in her tone that went right over the male’s head.
He glared at her in annoyance, having almost spilled his drink as the thought of you returned to the forefront of his mind.
It was strange, seeing how capable you had become after spending those months by yourself in the Underground. They made you a bit more calloused than when Levi last saw you, carrying over to your skills as a Scout. You never used to be skilled at riding ODM gear, not even when Levi tried to teach you in your youth. Seeing you slash Titans without blinking an eye was like watching someone completely different.
But you had to learn, since you had no one to protect you.
Your open displays affection had grown fewer and farther between as your time in the Survey Corps dragged on. At first, Levi thought nothing of it. Truthfully, the Captain had hardly noticed, with how busy the both of you were. He wrote it off as stress, or the workload catching up to you. Or, maybe, it was that nagging thought in the back of his conscience he dared not dwell on: he had turned you into this, after being away for so long and then failing to protect your friends.
But as your words replayed in his mind like a broken record, too late he realized this wasn’t the case.
“I see the way you look at her. I see it because you used to look at me that way.”
“Captain?” Petra repeated, leaning forward to study his distant countenance and successfully pulling the man out of his thoughts. “She’s probably just training.”
He rested his hand on top of her head, turning it away from him and sighing.
“Eat, Petra. I don’t need you to be whining about hunger during our patrol tomorrow morning,” he chastised, forcing his eyes away from the doorway.
After that talk, Levi had watched you go, telling himself that you’d return soon enough. Yet could not shake the feeling in his gut that there was something amiss. He pushed away the pit in his stomach. You were safe, you were healthy, and that was all that mattered. Humanity’s Strongest had other things to focus on, after all, and tuned back into his comrades’ conversation. The man blended back in easily, occasionally offering a few of his own comments as the meal dragged on.
Every so often his thoughts would shift back to your conversation earlier that day, and he realized that you were wrong. As close to Petra as he had gotten, there was a stark difference between you and her:
No matter how strong you’d get, and no matter what you thought of him, Levi would always shield you from as much of this world as he could.
But it was better this way. Better if you moved on from him and easier to do if you thought it was because he wanted Petra.
If only he knew your last words to him “I’ll be back for dinner,” had been a lie.
It had been strange for him when you didn’t return. Levi tried not to think about how Kenny had done the same, instead grasping for a reason. For once, he could not read your thought process. The male had no idea why you’d voluntarily leave, after everything. He knew better than to hold onto certainty, but you’d thrown him for a loop. You were always the one to communicate, the problem solver, the one who understood him without much direction. Didn’t you know that you were irreplaceable? He should have come clean: told you that he didn’t see Petra that way, and just didn’t have the heart to admit he didn’t feel good enough for you anymore.
Did he ever even get the chance to say “I love you?”
His regret multiplied tenfold as he began to understand that maybe if he had, you would’ve stayed.
~~~~~~~~
A strange sense of comfort washed over the man as you smiled softly, small hands clasped together in front of you. He blinked, wondering if you were simply a mirage caused by his sleep deprivation. But you remained where you were, after all this time, standing at his door. For once in the man’s life, his mind was drawing a blank.
“I’ll leave you guys to it, then,” Hange stated, excusing herself and soon disappearing out of sight.
Her statement pulled the both of you back into the present, and you were suddenly self conscious of Levi’s stare. You tucked your hair behind your ears and gestured towards his office, unable to gage his reaction to your presence.
“Would it be alright if I came in?” you asked shyly, astonished he hadn’t slammed the door in your face the second Hange left.
To your shock, Levi simply nodded, stepping aside to let you through. Your movements were unsure and hesitant, stark in comparison to his: calm and collected as ever.
Just like any space Levi occupied, the area was clean and tidy, a lantern sitting upon his desk the only source of light against the cloudy night sky. It smelled like tea leaves, sandalwood, and disinfectant, a signature scent that made you fill with nostalgia. As the click of the door echoed behind you, the reality of your situation set in, and you turned around to face the man you were here to see.
His gaze had never left you.
“You’re hurt,” was the first thing that left your mouth, concern evident as you studied the bandaging that peaked above his knee length shoes.
“Long story,” Levi offered curtly, eyeing you up and down from a few feet away. “One I don’t particularly care to tell you.”
“Of course, that’s fine,” you agreed softly, a weak smile pulling at your lips.
You did your best to mask the hurt, knowing you deserved to feel it. It hurt to be here, the fear that Levi hated you previously keeping you away. Now that you were facing the music, that fear seemed more realistic than ever. Your brain wracked to change the topic before your mind could continue overthinking; desiring instead to cut the unbearable, building tension that never used to exist between you two.
“How are you, Levi?” it was a stupid question, but you no longer knew how to talk to him.
“(Y/N).”
The way he said your name was sharp and challenging. You quickly cleared your throat and looked away.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Of course you’re--”
“--Why did you leave?” Levi effectively cut you off, orbs narrowing as you dared to come closer.
The question caught you off guard. You thought you’d made it obvious with your last conversation with him those years ago. Surely, he had some idea, although his pained expression said otherwise. His fingers twitched at his sides, a movement you didn’t miss as your eyes flickered back to his in surprise. He had been so composed just a moment ago, that the sudden shift gave you whiplash.
Now his fists were clenching, as he waited in the painful silence, knuckles turning white.
“Why did you leave?” The phrase echoed tauntingly in your ears, over and over again.
You don’t know what came over you. All you knew was that you needed to rid him of the rare, defeated look etched into his countenance. To purge him of this feeling you caused. Whether reaching out would help or hurt, you didn’t know.
But you needed to be near him.
Levi’s eyelids screwed shut as you brushed your thumb across his cheek. The action was so simple, so delicate, so unsure and so familiar all at once, and at the feeling, the Captain’s composure finally came undone.
He reached up and gripped your wrist, as if you’d fade away if he let go. In previous years, it was always you who craved skinship, yet it seemed as if a weight had been lifted off Levi’s shoulders to have you this close. Your touch still felt like the comforting warmth of a campfire; the type that would make anyone want to stay forever.
“I’m sorry. I thought you’d be better off without me,” you whispered. “I didn’t want to cause you any pain.”
He let out a breath.
“Then why are you here now?” his question was more defeated than hostile, which you hadn’t expected.
If someone asked a few hours ago, your answer would have been much clearer. But now, the logic that brought you here seemed overshadowed by doubt. After all this time, and after everything that had happened between you and Levi, any semblance of a relationship with him seemed unsalvageable. You told yourself this mantra over and over until it stuck. So why were you here?
Levi must’ve thought it audacious, for you to run away like a coward and still think you were relevant to him.
“I owe you so much. Whether I ended up being wrong or right, I’ve always acted with your best interest,” you sighed, thumb brushing over Levi’s dark circles. “Truthfully, I don’t know if I’m any use to you now. I might be the last person you want to seek comfort from, but on the off chance that I still matter to you, I’ll always come back,” you whispered earnestly.
Levi’s grip on your wrist tightened imperceptibly, and you longed to bury your face in the crook of his neck; to feel him wrap his arms around you in his embrace once more. It seemed as if Levi was staring into your soul, his shallow breaths mingling with yours at this close proximity as he opened his eyes to fully drink you in.
“I’m here to tell you that if you need me, I’ll stay.”
He looked to the side as if brushing aside your touch, hand falling away from the raven-haired man’s face as he did so. It felt like rejection, as if he was brushing all of you away with a simple turn of his head.
Silence.
“You’re a real idiot, (Y/N),” he spoke finally, voice nearly out of place against the stillness.
Moonlight suddenly peaked through the window, showering you in a bath of silver light. Levi recognized this look. You were wearing your heart on your sleeve, offering everything you had to give; eyes wide and honest, shining with a vulnerability that even after a lifetime of knowing you, he had never seen before. The man felt conflicted at the sight, annoyance prickling under his skin as you somehow managed to hold him together and tear him apart all at once with your presence.
Losing his squad twist that knife in his heart, convincing him that he was cursed to be left by everyone and his superhuman talents only doomed him to live a life alone.
But now, here you were, standing within arms length: despite the pain you caused, still the only person he had left. Only you could draw this much emotion out of the typically monotonous man. He couldn’t tell if you were a blessing or a curse, but in the moment, all he knew was that he didn’t want you to leave again. He needed you to stay here, with him, the way it should be. Because you were family.
And true to your word, you did.
“You should really get some sleep, you know,” you stated after a while, closing the door with your foot as you entered with two fresh cups of tea.
You watched Levi fill out paperwork on the other side of the desk, bringing the cup to his lips in the strange fashion you always teased him for. His gaze flickered up boredly.
“You know I don’t sleep. You go on ahead, though. The bed’s behind that door,” he paused, gesturing somewhere behind him. “I hardly ever use it.”
You shook your head, reaching forward and plucking Levi’s pen from his hand.
“What you’re drinking is caffeine free. I switched it, so you have no excuse now.” You ignored the indignant scowl growing on the Captain’s face, urging him to listen. “Please, you really should rest. You know you need to.”
It took an entire hour of imploring and convincing for the man to finally give in, him grumbling as you helped take off the boot on his injured foot and ushered him onto the bed. You knew you were the last person with any right to tell the short Captain what to do, but knowing Levi, he was running on an hour or two of sleep while his body was begging for rest. And yes, you were very much hypocritical, draped across the couch in Levi’s office, staring at the ceiling. But none of that mattered to you, as long as he was okay.
You had been lost in introspection, being a room away from your childhood best friend and first love after so long a surreal experience. It felt strange to be back here, but you were too tired to dwell on how strangely out of place you seemed in a place you once called home.
The weight of your abundant emotions from the day finally crashed down, fatigue settling in. You rubbed your eyes, and snuggled closer to the cushions, letting the darkness claim you.
And in the other room, as Levi slipped out of his uniform, shaking his head in exasperation. His last thoughts while he inspected the door as if he could see you through it, was that of course only (Y/N) (L/N) could be more stubborn than he was.
As he slipped under the covers per your command, the ghost of a smile spread across his lips at the thought.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Perhaps it was the constant danger of where you grew up, and the need to always stay on your toes, but for as long as you could remember, you’d been a light sleeper. If someone so much as stared at you for too long, your body would jolt awake, ready to take action within a moment’s notice. There had been many instances where this came in handy in your past; even after years of seldom disruption in your now boring life within the walls, this was a trait you never seemed to grow out of. So it wasn’t hard to notice the heavy breathing and panicked movement from behind Levi’s closed door.
Just like for you, some things never changed-- when it came to old habits, you knew the man like the back of your hand. The reason he rarely ever slept was one you were quite familiar with. One both of you struggled with, and probably always would. Nightmares never seem to stop. You’d gotten through so many of your own rough nights with your friends by your side.
Levi, however, always refused to admit how they affected him. Insisted on going through it by himself.
The subconscious urge to look after one other was most likely one you'd never grow out of, even if Levi had. You didn’t think twice before making your way across the office, swinging your legs across the sofa, awake within seconds. Without missing a beat, you stood up and made your way to Levi’s personal sleeping quarters, knuckles rapping against the frame twice. Levi’s shallow gasps quieted, and when you realized he didn’t plan on opening the door, you steeled your nerves to do it yourself. This was what you were here for, wasn’t it? To offer some comfort?
He did want me to stay.
“Levi?” You called into the darkness gently, feet padding foreword as your eyes adjusted to the lack of light.
His silhouette was upright in the bed, no doubt staring at you menacingly.
“I'm fine, (Y/N). Go back to sleep,” he snapped.
That didn't deter you, for he would never openly admit vulnerability. This was by no means new behavior. Besides, the strong emotion behind the Captain’s voice was an easy tell that betrayed his words. You pressed on, sitting on the edge of the mattress.
“Do you remember the time we were teenageers and you got sick, but couldn’t afford medicine so I took that sketchy job you specifically told me not to?” Your back was to him, yet you could feel Levi peering at you.
“Obviously,” he humoured you with a reply, knowing you weren’t going to leave. “You came home half alive and I felt like the most useless piece of shit in the world.”
You chuckled, fingers fiddling with the white sheets beneath them.
“Yes, which was unfair to yourself but also something I did not realize since you called me pretty much every name in the book,” you smiled, the memory oddly fond despite its events. “You were so angry, but I was also scared out of my mind... which was more important than your anger, I suppose. So you let me lay next to you that night. That was all it took to make me feel safe again.”
There was a long pause, you trying to get your words together in a way that could allow Levi to understand how you felt right now.
“I know what you’re thinking; what you’ve been thinking your whole life. You haven’t failed anyone and that stupid idea should be the furthest thing on your mind. Take it from someone who knows, alright? So many lives have had meaning because of y--”
His hand closed around your wrist, the grip much like it was the day you left him.
This time, he would not let go.
“--Stop, (Y/N). Don’t.”
You hadn’t realized there were tears falling down your cheeks until Levi turned your face to look at him. Trying to look away in your embarrassment, you laughed bitterly. His grip did not budge as he examined you sternly.
“Just be quiet and go to sleep, alright?”
You wiped at your face, determination etched into every fibre of your being.
“Mark my words, Levi, I will make you believe me.”
Levi rolled his eyes but tugged at you once more, opening the duvet in an invitation. When he sensed your uncertainty he simply nodded, arms winding around your waist as you finally crawled in beside him. Both of you knew that there was so much that still needed to be said; so many buried feelings and pain that would only take time to unravel. It felt like a miracle to find yourselves in this situation, pushing aside the thousands of emotions and questions and misunderstandings the two of you had, if only to stay together in this moment.
You didn’t need Levi to know that you still loved him; not while he was coping with another loss. It would be selfish to spring that on, and that was not what you were here for. But you had to tell him:
“I missed you.”
Levi hummed, nose brushing against yours in the close proximity.
“You better not be gone when I wake up,” he chided in response, orbs fluttering shut.
Your fingers threaded through his onyx black locks, brushing through the knots soothingly. Knowing you’d help this man heal no matter how long it took, you took comfort in the realization that he’d finally let you do just that.
“I’ll be right here. You’re not alone, Levi. I promise you never will be.”
He pulled you closer, thankful that there was at least one source of warmth left in his life that he could hold onto-- especially after coming to terms with and almost having been certain he’d never experience this feeling of contentment, again. But here you were to prove him wrong, a living slice of home in his arms.
It may have been wishful thinking, but you could have sworn you felt Levi’s breath fan across your hairline, a soft voice whispering “Thank you, (Y/N).” before you felt yourself slip away into slumber once more.
taglist: @asterroidd @chucky-26o1 @silversxble @belovedwindermere @christina-mj-stan @leviackerrman @cravrat @thekohakuriver1 @batakprincess @sunisenpai
#snk#AoT#shingeki no kyojin#attack on titan#levi#lance corporal levi#levi ackerman#levi ackerman imagine#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman fanfiction#snk levi#snk fic#aot fic#levi x reader#attack on titan imagines
772 notes
·
View notes
Text
Love Game (James Potter x reader)
Summary: Remus has spilled the beans about you having a crush, and James is determined to find out who it is.
“So, Remus says you’re in love with someone.” Sirius came up behind you as you sat in the shady corner of the common room, reading quietly. You were out of the way, but still able to keep an eye on everything going on.
“Does he now?” You turned the page, finger tracing the words as you continued to read.
Sirius flipped a chair round, sitting down in front of you and tipping the top of your book down towards him. You finally glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Who is it?”
You gave him a confused look. “Why would I tell you?”
“Because you told Remus?” Sirius stated, as though it were the simplest thing in the world.
“I told Remus because he asked me out just so he’d have a date for Hogsmeade, and I felt bad for not being able to accept.” You returned your gaze to your book, trying to signal that this conversation was over.
“So, what you’re telling me is that I need to ask you out?” Sirius grinned at you and you shook your head, knowing exactly what that smile meant. You’d seen that exact smile 5 minutes before your best dress had been covered in mud, aged 5. And then again before you got caught playing the Muggle sport ‘football’ at age 12. And yet again before you went swimming in the canal and your brothers yelled at you for a solid two hours at age 16. Nothing ever good came of that smile. “Y/N Prewett, would you do me the pleasure of going on a date with me?”
“Well that’s not very romantic. No.” You shook your head, trying to concentrate on the words on the page in front of you. You had reread this line at least 5 times and it still wasn’t making sense.
Sirius sniffled, faking tears, and you glanced up at him, giving him an unimpressed frown. “Why not?”
“Because I’m in love with someone else,” you sighed, feeling a very uncomfortable sense of deja-vu.
“Who is it? Who could this man be, that has stolen your affections away from me?” Anyone who said Sirius Black was a serious bore should see him now; he was being a right dramatic pain in your arse.
“Not telling you,” you replied in a sing-song voice. He snatched your book away and you scowled. “Give it back.”
“Not until you tell me.”
“Don’t be an arse Sirius.”
He gave you a look.
“It is so bloody obvious!” You threw your hands up in the air. “If Remus, Marlene, and Lily were all able to guess, so should you.”
Sirius thought for a second, his eyes lighting up as he finished scanning around the room. “No fucking way. How did I never notice?”
“You’re oblivious.”
“It’s James, right?” He grinned, making eye contact with someone behind you and you hushed him furiously.
“What’s me?”
You froze, sending Sirius a sharp glare. Turning around slowly, you smiled up at him as you shook your head and rolled your eyes. “My least favourite Marauder, apparently. But don’t worry, Sirius has definitely filled that spot because he’s being a right pain in my arse.”
You snatched your book back from him and settled down into your chair, focused on returning to your reading. You just wanted to finish it, for God’s sake. You only had a few more pages left and so many other books to get started on.
James stared at the two of you a moment longer, suspicion brewing in his eyes, before he lowered himself into the chair next to you. You assumed he was going to drop the subject. “So, Remus told us about someone you’ve got your eye on.”
You slammed the book on the table. “Has Remus gone round telling everyone?”
“Probably, it’s Remus,” Sirius sniggered at your exasperated expression; you’d told him to keep his mouth shut but you really should have known better. Remus had never been good at keeping secrets from his family; he always managed to blurt them out, accidentally or not.
“So are you also in love with a Hufflepuff?” James crossed his legs, the silky fabric of his trousers tensing around his thighs and your gaze flickered downwards unwillingly. You blinked, quickly looking away, as a soft flush crept up the back of your neck. Sirius grinned at you, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and you rolled your eyes at him. The teasing was going to be incessant. Remus had already started making snide comments.
He raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer, and you sighed. “No, surprisingly the only thing Marlene and I don’t share is our taste in men.”
Sirius laughed again and you pulled a face. If he continued being so obvious, James was sure to guess he knew.
“Does Sirius know who it is?” And there it was. The surprise was evident in his tone, his voice tinged with barely audible hurt, and guilt shot through you. Sure, if the man in question had been anyone other than him, he would have been one of the first to know. But you couldn’t afford to affect whatever friendship you had with your silly feelings.
You nodded, sending Sirius a poisonous glare, and placing your hands flat on the table. “Sirius guessed. And I’d say it was pure luck, judging by the way he stumbled on the name.”
“So if I guess, you’ll tell me whether I’m right.” James steepled his fingers together, eyes sparking, and your own widened. If there was one thing you knew and always abided by, it was to never challenge James to a game. Although his competitive nature translated well into his work, you had seen him and Sirius fighting to win, and learnt.
But it would be unfair in his eyes if he didn’t get a shot. You could always lie if he ever guessed correctly. “…Fine.”
He grinned; teeth almost sharklike. This was a bad idea. His eyes darted around the room, appraising every guy slowly before stopping on a pair playing Wizard’s Chess. You stifled a laugh as one got splattered with slime, wiping it off his face with a grimace. “Diggle.”
You shook your head, wrinkling your nose. Diggle was in the year below but only a couple months younger than you; you weren’t into boys who still had the mental maturity to find fart jokes funny. James glanced at Sirius who shrugged in response, at least he wasn’t going to give it away.
“Is it someone close to me?” James asked, fiddling with his watch as he watched for your reaction.
You hesitated, looking to the side as you thought of how best to answer. “I don’t think I said I’d answer your questions.”
He gave you a long hard stare and you met him with equal determination. You weren’t prepared to let yourself be thoroughly embarrassed that easily. James glanced away, slender fingers tapping against the table and your mouth was suddenly dry.
“Podmore.”
“No, however, I need to go talk to Marlene,” you hesitated, fumbling with your excuse. “About my Alchemy essay, so I will see you around.”
You brushed down your skirt, tucking your book under one arm as you waved them goodbye. James looked as if he were about to say something before he hesitated and thought better of it, resorting to a nod instead. Sirius waved you a cheery goodbye, the most evil twinkle dwelling in his eyes, and you returned him a bitter smile.
You managed to avoid James for the rest of the day, darting round corners and forcing Marlene to sit in between the two of you in any shared lessons. But you knew you couldn’t keep this up for long; Lily and Mary had started to give you weird looks.
“Shingleton.” James murmured as he passed you on the way out of Potions, and you shook your head with a grin. At least he was no closer, he was suggesting people from completely the wrong House.
The next time you saw him was dinner, a vacant space left beside him. You narrowed your eyes as he patted it cheerily, waving you over. On the other side of it, a seat up from where he usually sat, was Remus and you shot him a glare, huffing out a breath. Trudging over to James’ side, you slid onto the seat, flinching as your leg brushed against his.
“Toots.”
You scoffed. Of course he didn’t want to just spend time in your wonderful company. “Nice to see you too, James.”
“Come on, please give me a hint.” He sent you a pleading look, eyes big and round, and you couldn’t help but feel a little tempted to tell him. But again, you had enough self-preservation instincts to realise that immediate rejection was not what you were after.
You turned to Remus, giving him a wry smile. “Hello Remus. How kind of you to save me a seat.”
Sirius snorted from his seat across the table, turning it into a cough as you scowled at him.
“You’re welcome. Besides, I’m really enjoying watching James trying to guess,” you raised an eyebrow, “and you squirming.”
There it was. You hated them all; this was absolute torture. You could have, in theory, not sat with them, but you knew James would have made enough of a scene to fully embarrass you either way. Lily, Mary, and Marlene were at the end of the table, where you would usually be, and you sent them longing looks. If only.
Marlene caught your eye and smirked, glancing suggestively between you and James as she wiggled your eyebrows. For Merlin’s sake, of course she was in on this ridiculous match-making plan too.
You sighed. “Remus, I thought when I told you about my crush, you’d keep your mouth shut.”
“They were ragging on me about not ever having a date for Hogsmeade, and apparently we look like we’re dating already so I should ask you out. I told them I already had and that you’d said no because you like someone else,” Remus rattled off what had happened, and you rolled your eyes. Stupid boys and their stupid pride.
“You could’ve just said that I wasn’t interested. And left it that.” You knew why he hadn’t, that was obvious, but it still infuriated you. You’d said it in confidence, feeling a little guilty, but knowing that you were doing the right thing by not leading him on. Now you strongly regretted it.
“Stebbins?” James interjected, having been barely paying attention to the conversation. He’d been too busy scoping out the room for potential crushes, dismissing them for being too ugly, not good enough for you, too dim, too dull, and soon made his way around the room without finding anyone that fit his criteria. So he had to go back round and lower his standards for who you might like, although they clearly weren’t worthy. He wasn’t sure why he cared so much that you liked someone who he thought was miles below your league.
“Nope.” You barely spared him a look, deep in conversation with Remus. For some reason that stung.
The plates in front of you filled with food, but even the delicious meal couldn’t distract you from the bitter mood you’d settled into. You pinched roast chicken between the tongs, ladled peas onto your plate and settled on baby potatoes to make up the rest of your meal. It looked deceptively bland, a white hunk of meat and boring vegetables but you could barely stomach this.
“Gravy?” Sirius offered you the spoon and you shook your head, prodding at your plate. James looked at you weirdly, but you brushed it off as you used the food as an excuse not to talk.
You decided to skip dessert, main course being sufficient to sustain you for the rest of the evening, and headed back to the Common Room. Slughorn had set you yet another essay, this time on the properties of Angel’s Trumpet Draught, so you’d already taken out a couple of the thick tomes in the library that might contain information. The rest you hoped was in your class textbook; you really couldn’t be bothered to trawl through book after book to find enough information to fill the required space.
You set yourself up quite nicely in the corner of the Room, books spread out around you and taking up the whole table. You hoped that was enough of a hint to leave you alone. To add to that, you had your back to the room so that you really looked unapproachable.
Remus was first back from dinner, making a beeline for you as soon as he stepped through the portrait hole. “I’m sorry about dinner.”
You groaned, shaking your head. “It was awful, it was so unbelievably awkward.”
“Yeah, I could tell.” Remus, not taking the hint from your piles of work, settled into the seat next to you. He grimaced. “James is so oblivious.”
Laughing, you nodded in agreement, quickly scribbling out notes on a relevant paragraph before returning your focus to Remus. “Tell me about it. James was just listing off all of these names and I can’t believe he can’t see that he’s the one I like.”
Remus’ eyes darted to something behind you, and you turned round, expecting to see Sirius pulling a face, or something of that kind. He was insufferable in that way. Instead, your heart dropped.
James stared at you, mouth dropped open, making it abundantly clear he’d heard your conversation. Oh Merlin. You swallowed, feeling your eyes prick and heat rise up the back of your neck.
“I’m going to my dorm.” You swept everything off the table into your arms, ignoring how pages bent and parchment crumpled. Side-stepping James neatly, you ducked your head as you passed Sirius and Peter, and headed up to your room. That was mortifying. You couldn’t ever show your face again.
You heard James shout behind you, but you just picked up the pace. You were not going to get rejected in front of your entire House. His shouts grew louder as he caught up with you, but you hopped on the stairs before him, breathing a sigh of relief. As a boy, he wouldn’t be able to reach you; the stairs were charmed to make sure he couldn’t go up them.
Your feet slipped from underneath you. But of course he knew a way around that.
You slid down on your stomach, papers and quills spilling from your grasp. Tumbling into the grasp of two broad arms, you took a moment to reorient yourself before quickly breaking free. James had been the one to catch you and he now helped you up, stacking your sheets untidily.
“Y/N, please don’t run now.”
You blinked, breathing harshly as you pursed your lips. You nodded, feeling eyes on you from all around.
“Go on, scram.” Sirius yelled at the onlookers, who were mostly from younger years, and even if they weren’t, they were scared enough of the Marauders and their tricks to obey instantly.
James grabbed your hands, waiting for everyone to leave, as he rubbed a calloused thumb over your skin. “I heard what you said.”
You smiled waterily, breathing out a laugh. “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, James, you don’t-”
“Wait,” he interrupted. “Let me talk first. I like you too so will you go on a date to Hogsmeade with me this Saturday?”
“You like me too?”
James almost chuckled at your gobsmacked expression, before realising that probably wasn’t the right response. “Yes, you fool. Have done since about fifth year, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“Oh,” you breathed, speechless. Your lips moved soundlessly as you tried to think of what to say, mind blank with surprise.
James brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes, hand moving down to cup your cheek. “The only thing I want to know is if you’ll go on a date with me to Hogsmeade.”
“Yes,” you grinned. “Of course!”
-
-
hp taglist: @missmulti @dreamer821 @1marvelavengers1 @samnblack @neymarlionelmessi7 @okkulta @gredandforge @yourenotafailureoverall @milkshakelol @natblidaclexa
james potter taglist: @methamphetaminee @thefernandasantana @uglipotata72829 @lozzybowe @persephonehemingway @sunandmoonchild158 @blisfvlll @mads-bri @fific7 @ccosmic-illusion @icareabouteverythxng @blackblossomqueen @wheezyreads @tugabooos @atomic-chickenwings @its-evita-here @inkandpen22 @rue-123 @emilianamason @mesmerisedalien @frecklesandfirecrackers @aspiringsloth20
be added here
#james potter x reader#james potter#james potter/reader#james potter x you#james potter x y/n#james x reader#james x you#james/reader#james x y/n#prongs#prongs x reader#sirius black#sirius#remus lupin#remus#peter pettigrew#marlene mckinnon#lily evans#mary macdonald#hp#marauders#marauders imagine
284 notes
·
View notes
Text
gave me no compasses, gave me no signs
Read on ao3
Summary: It was the one time her hunch had been wrong.
In which Han Joonhwi is acting suspicious, and Kang Sol A intends to find out why.
Rating: T
Word count: 3,848
Notes: Title taken from Taylor Swift’s ‘invisible string’: “Time, curious time, gave me no compasses, gave me no signs; were there clues I didn’t see?”
~
As promised, here is the Solhwi fic that I had hoped to be up before Episode 7 airs. I went straight to work after receiving positive feedback from an interest check post. As I mentioned there, the story isn’t necessarily dwelling on the current timeline, but is, for the most part, still canon-compliant. I totally made up all the legal jargon, so please bear with me. And, like the show, I decided to do ‘cutscenes’ instead of one unilinear fic.
I had a lot of fun with this little project for the past two days, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it :) I’d also love to hear your thoughts, please do send me a message or feel free to comment, it would mean the absolute world to me. Thank you and let’s all look forward to Episodes 7 and 8 this week!
The fic is under the cut. As a sidenote, this fic is un-beta’ed. All mistakes are mine.
~
I.
Kang Sol A swears she only drifted off for a second.
She had been burning the midnight oil for the past few days, well into the weekend, so much that the tension was radiating into her atmosphere, so much that the heat was starting to get to her head. Her Civil Code paper may not write itself, but neither could she if it took every ounce of her energy just to even sit up. So she plopped down on her bed, head heavy on her pillow, still fighting the urge to doze off.
She blinked, slowly, and as her eyes fluttered at an alarming rate, they eventually closed — just for a moment, I’ll count to ten and then wake up again — and stilled.
Birds were chirping outside her window when her eyes shot open, and that’s how she knew she messed up big-time. She woke with a start, frantically shaking off the books and papers off her person and frisking for her phone, silently praying that she wasn’t too late for her meeting with her project partner Seo Jiho, who she knows absolutely despises latecomers.
Sol A felt something vibrate from behind her, and an incomprehensible sound escaped her lips as she checked her phone. There were mountains of notifications that prevented her from checking the current time: self-set alarms, e-mails from her professors, reminders about today’s meeting with Jiho, and missed calls from a certain Han Joonhwi.
Clearing all of them at once, she finally reads: 9:07 AM. She was supposed to meet Jiho at 9:15. Sol A breathes a sigh of relief, but her momentary celebration is cut short when her phone starts to ring.
Han Joonhwi was calling again.
She didn’t even get a chance to speak yet when the voice on the other end asked, “Breakfast?”
Sol A put him on speaker phone as she packed up her things. “Can’t,” she replied mindlessly. “I have to meet with Seo Jiho and I’m already late. Eat by yourself.”
A few seconds of silence went unnoticed as Kang Sol A zipped up her knapsack and wore it over her shoulder. She finally picked up her phone and switched back to the handset. “Don’t skip breakfast, you hear me?”
Still nothing. “Joonhwi-ah.”
“Walk fast,” was all he said. And then he hung up.
That caught Sol A off guard, but she heeded the advice anyway.
She made it to the study room at exactly 9:13, only stopping by the entrance to catch her breath and tie her hair back into a ponytail. It was silent, so she half-hoped that no one would be there, but half-expected nothing less from Jiho. So she walks in, footsteps heavy, only skidding to a halt when she sees Jiho staring someone down, someone whose back looked all-too-familiar.
“You like her, don’t you?” she overhears from Jiho. “Kang So-”
Jiho suddenly fell silent at the sight of Sol A, and the man opposite him suddenly turned his head towards her. She was right about who it was — it was none other than the person she spoke with on the phone just a few minutes ago.
If Joonhwi was surprised, he didn’t show it.
But Kang Sol A did. She blinked once, and with a hint of dubiousness, she asked, “Who likes who?”
The men shared a look, and she was met with silence again, which was beginning to irk her. But she bit her tongue, took a seat across Seo Jiho, and grinned cheekily at him. “Sorry I’m late.”
“You aren’t...” Jiho replied, trailing off.
“I am by your standards. I know you,” she said matter-of-factly. “For Seo Jiho, ‘on time’ actually means ‘thirty minutes early’. Which means I’m late.”
Sighing wistfully, Sol A added, “I learned that the hard way.”
She locks eyes with Joonhwi momentarily, but he averts his gaze, expression unreadable. Sol A ignores this and tries her luck once more, eyes flitting from Jiho to Joonhwi and back. “Who were you guys talking about?”
This time, almost with no hesitation, Joonhwi finally spoke up. “No one,” he answered. “My roommate was just practicing his cross-examination skills on me.”
He stood up, giving Seo Jiho a final staredown. “They’re very poor at the moment. Help him out, will you?”
Then, without looking Kang Sol A in the eye, he gave her a soft squeeze on the shoulder, and promptly left.
Sol A’s eyes followed Joonhwi’s back, and stayed there even after he left. His touch lingered on her shoulder like a ghost, but instead of comfort, all she felt was fear. Suspicion. Restlessness. That maybe he was hiding something, and whether it involved her or not, she was keen on finding out just exactly what it was.
II.
“I’m telling you, Yeseul-ah,” Sol A insists. “Something’s up with him.”
They link arms, walking past the school entrance and into the lobby. Jeon Yeseul turns to her, hair falling perfectly into place as she lets out an angelic laugh. God, Sol A thinks. Even her laugh is perfect. But past the admiration for her Aphrodite-like features, Sol A feels like she’s being mocked.
She pouts. “You don’t believe me.”
“I do!” Yeseul defends. “You think he likes Kang Sol B.”
Sol A slides her left hand off Yeseul’s arm and holds her friend’s right one lightly. “So why are you laughing at me, then?”
“Unnie.” Yeseul wraps an arm around Sol A’s shoulder. “Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe Joonhwi-oppa likes you?”
Sol A almost choked on her spit. Of course she’s thought about it — after all, she’s a hundred percent certain that it was the name Kang Sol that slipped from Seo Jiho’s mouth a few days ago. But none of the evidence so far points to it being herself. And anyway, it’s not as if he’s shown any interest in Sol A as a woman. In fact, all he does is tease her. And she’s okay with that. And Sol B already likes Joonhwi. And they seem to be a far better fit than Sol A and Joonhwi. And it’s not like she harbors any romantic feelings for him, either.
She pushes the thought away before it could become bigger.
Sol A denies, deflects, and defends. “That can’t be right.”
“Why not?” her friend challenges.
“Why would he be avoiding me if that were true?” Sol A counters.
“People do that when they feel awkward around their crush,” Yeseul rebuts.
This is starting to feel like a game of chess rather than a conversation between best friends. “I think he’s just scared I’ll tell my roommate or something.” Before Yeseul could say anything else, by some stroke of luck, Sol A spots Joonhwi from her peripheral vision, walking past Lady Justice.
Yeseul smiles kindly at Sol A. She doesn’t doubt its genuineness, but she feels like it’s laced with mischief. “Should we test your theory, then?”
What does that mean?
“Joonhwi-oppa!” Yeseul shouts, waving at him from across the room.
She’s not going to ask him, is she?
Yeseul runs to Joonhwi, a light skip in her step. “I have something to ask you.”
Wait.
“Wait,” escaped from Sol A’s lips, barely a whisper before it started registering on her what Yeseul was about to do. And when it does, she finally sprints. “Jeon Yeseul, wait!”
“Oppa.” Yeseul bats her eyelashes at Joonhwi. Sol A was in tow behind her, feeling small but unsure why.
“Oh, Yeseul-ah,” Joonhwi greets. His eyes lit up at the sight of his friend and classmate.
While it pained Sol A to just sit back and watch, knowing that Joonhwi had been purposefully avoiding her, she let the scene unfold, trusting that Yeseul knew what she was doing.
“You haven’t been going to the study group sessions lately,” Yeseul starts.
Sol A hoped it would get a rise out of him, seeing as he was the one who started the group to begin with, but was barely showing up these days. Instead, all he said was, “The pair project in Civil Code has been holding me up.”
Yeah, right, she thinks. A second-round judicial exam passer and a former police academy student having a hard time in Civil Code? Why do I find that hard to believe?
Sol A scoffs, and Yeseul pinches her side. “Sol-unnie and I are meeting the others for lunch. You should come join us.”
“Ah,” Joonhwi drawled out slowly, as if coming up with an excuse to say no. Sol A expects it to be his next move. “I wish I could, but-”
Knew it.
“Kang Sol B will be there,” Sol A blurts out, fully aware that it’s a total lie. Still, she had to try.
Something in Joonhwi’s mood changed, and his face hardened. Still not making eye contact with Sol A, he excuses himself from Yeseul. “I’ll take a rain check today, okay?”
And without another word, he left again, leaving Sol A with the same emptiness that she had felt in the study room the other day.
Yeseul finally turns to Sol A, crossing her arms. “You’re right. He’s being weird.”
III.
A few more days without Joonhwi’s company, and Sol A was starting to feel its ill effects on her. She hadn’t realized just how much she took him for granted until he was no longer around to challenge her ideas, to annoy her over the littlest of things, to calm her down when she’s freaking out, to be her drinking buddy, to be someone she could tell any and every stupid story to, with the utmost confidence that he’ll keep it to himself or that he wouldn’t belittle her for it.
They’d been through too much together now, and even their fateful first meeting all those years ago didn’t faze him from her. In fact, her little scheme, no matter how deceitful at the time, brought him closer not just to her, but to Byeol, her mom, and to an extent, even Dan.
So what changed? What on earth did Seo Jiho say to him, and what on earth did she walk into, that made him close himself off from her? Proximity may not breed familiarity, but right now she wishes nothing more than to be in his orbit again.
Arguably the worst consequence of the lack of Joonhwi in Sol A’s life right now is having no one to eat with.
During one of her all-nighters at the dorm, she found herself with an intense craving for some ramyeon. She removed her earphones, partly to pull herself back to reality, but mostly to ask her roommate to have a meal with her. As if Sol B would say yes, but it was worth a shot.
“I’m going downstairs for a bite. You wanna come?”
No response, as expected from Kang Sol B. Sol A inwardly rolled her eyes, spinning in her chair to tease her roommate, only to find the desk empty.
She scratched her head while walking, wondering where Sol B could be at this time of night. And without a heads up, too… She was getting worried.
But it seems like her concern was all for naught, because Sol B was right where Sol A was headed.
And she was there with Han Joonhwi.
She was laughing. It was the first time that she saw Sol B laugh, maybe ever, and to see that Joonhwi could be someone who could do that for her, made Sol A feel proud. Like knowing Han Joonhwi was a privilege, not only because of the way he could make people comfortable around him, but also because Sol A had once been on the receiving end of it herself.
She should be relieved. In fact, she should be happy. Because it means that her guess was right, which means she doesn’t have to keep digging anymore. She could just tell Joonhwi that his secret’s safe with her, and they could finally go back to the way they were before... Right?
And yet something about witnessing the pair interact as a mere bystander didn’t sit right with Sol A. There’s a pang in her chest that she can’t quite comprehend — maybe she just misses him, or maybe it’s something else completely. Because if Han Joonhwi has feelings for Kang Sol B, and they’re together right now, then that leaves only one explanation: he must be avoiding her, and for a completely different reason.
It was the first time her hunch had been wrong.
Needless to say, Sol A lost her appetite and trudged back upstairs lifelessly, a bitter taste in her mouth and an ache in her stomach that she couldn’t quite place where it even came from.
IV.
Come Friday, Sol A was too exhausted to even think about Han Joonhwi. Between the endless deadlines and papers to write, her job in the copy room, and the Seo Byungju case, her energy had been too depleted and her social battery too worn out to even care that her relationships could be falling apart.
The only thing she has going for her now is the Legal Clinic, the one place where she could bury her nose deep in case digests and law readings and she would absolutely never get tired of it, because it’s the one place where she feels like she’s making a real difference, especially when people’s lives are at stake. It was the remaining part of her life where Sol A felt like she was in control, so these days, all her emotionally-charged passion was focused on this one thing.
But of course that had to fall apart too, when Professor Yang asked for her to stay after class.
He cut right to the chase. “I’ll be meeting with my defense lawyer today so I need you to consult with the client in my stead.”
Count on Yangcrates to always give Sol A a heart attack in under two seconds.
“M-me?” she stuttered.
The professor’s face twitched, ever-so-slightly, which Sol A took as a sign to backtrack and confidently proclaim that she’s up to the task. She knows there’s nothing Yang Jonghoon hates more than a quitter.
“Ah, yes, of course,” she accedes, with a little more verve.
He nods once in her direction. “And take Han Joonhwi with you,” he commanded.
She’s doomed. Not that she wasn’t doomed before, but now that Professor Yang had to drag her personal life into this, she was really in shambles.
Sol A clears her throat. “With all due respect, Sir,” she laughs nervously, “don’t you trust me?”
Professor Yang takes a moment to think about it. Sol A wonders if today’s the day she finally gets a definitive answer. But Yangcrates is as sly as ever. “This is your chance to get back at him for the Bad FaMa case. Make him your assistant this time.”
He walks away, leaving Sol A dumbfounded once again, but not before he adds, “Under my orders, of course.”
Sol A’s knees buckled at the thought. Normally, she would find this predicament to be absolutely funny, a chance to bicker with Joonhwi and learn something from him at the same time. But he’s angry at her, and she doesn’t even know why, and even merely approaching him has turned into a problem.
Everything in Sol A’s life right now is a problem. She wonders if it's getting Joonhwi back that would fix everything.
Upon leaving the classroom, she spots him getting a drink from the vending machine. She has to slap herself twice, just to mentally prepare herself, to muster up the courage to approach him again.
“Come on, Sol,” she whispers to herself. “This isn’t hard.”
Shaking off the nerves, she takes a step forward, but in a momentary state of weakness, takes another step back. “So what if he’s mad? That’s his problem. I’ve never given him a reason to be angry. He should suck it up. Not me. Come on. Just do it.”
A step forward.
“Just do it.”
A step back.
“Goddamn it.”
One final step back to boost herself forward, and she’s running towards him, pretending to be as casual as possible. “Han Joonhwi!” she calls out to him.
His eyes widen at the sight of her, knowing he has nowhere to escape.
“Did you get my text? Professor Yang needs our help at the Legal Clinic.” She smiled at him. “Let’s go.”
Joonhwi scratched the back of his head, and Sol A just knows it’s about to be another lame excuse. “I can’t. I’m meeting Sol B for our Civil Code term paper.”
He can’t even look at her, and Sol A wonders just how bad she had hurt Joonhwi for him to feel like this towards her. But that only lasted for a second, when she realized just exactly what he said. Then, her pity turned into irritation, as she accused, “Liar.”
Sol A crossed her arms, and glared at Joonhwi. “Did you forget that I’m her roommate? She went home today.”
V.
Sol A sat across Joonhwi inside the Legal Clinic, her eyes narrowed to slits. A profound silence enveloped the room, interrupted only by a sharp inhale from her.
“You like Kang Sol B, don’t you?”
The only response she got was Han Joonhwi’s signature smirk, playful and taunting, one that said, ‘You don’t know me, and you never will’.
She hated that.
She slammed a hand on the table, and pointed at him accusingly. “Don’t look at me like that. I would have kept your secret if you just asked. Is that why you were avoiding me? Because you think I’d tell her or something?”
The same smile painted on his face, Joonhwi exhaled defeatedly. “Kang Sol A, I thought I taught you to never make any claims with unfounded bases.”
An eyebrow perched up on Sol A’s end. “It’s not unfounded,” she argues.
“Where’s your evidence, then?” he dared her.
Sol A had been waiting for this. She listed everything he had ever done — or refused to do, which was spend time with her, speak to her, or even look at her, which was absolutely the bare minimum — since the incident with Seo Jiho up to this very moment.
He waves his hand dismissingly. “That’s all speculative.”
If his goal was to rile her up, then it’s definitely working. “Then what about what I heard Seo Jiho tell you that one time? And most importantly, you straight up lied to my face.”
“Circumstantial,” he quips. “That would never hold up in court, especially not when the only witness is yourself. How are you going to be both the defense lawyer and the sole witness?”
Han Joonhwi should be at the edge of the precipice here, and yet he has managed to flip the situation over and turn it into an interrogation for Kang Sol A.
Nothing can hide her frustration anymore. “I would never be the lawyer in my own case. Look, it’s still evidence. You asked, and I gave it. Seriously, Han Joonhwi, what’s with you?”
Instead of a direct answer, he points out, “You rely on your emotions too much.”
Almost immediately, she shoots back, “And you rely on the law too much. This isn’t a courtroom. This is a human conversation.”
He purses his lips, unable to say anything, and Kang Sol A continues. “You’re too stubborn.”
“And you’re too nosy.”
“You’ve benefited from it more than once.” Sol A’s patience is getting thinner by the second. “Can’t you just tell me what I did so that I can either apologize for it or call you out for being wrong?”
“You and Sol B are hardly friends. What reason would I have to be afraid?” Amusement gleamed in Joonhwi’s eyes; Sol A was astounded by how he could stay so nonchalant about this. “Think.”
She glared at him, but still ceded. Damn his tenacity. “Fine, I’ll play along.”
She rolled her eyes, and in a blasé manner, started to think out loud. “I overheard Jiho ask you if you liked Kang Sol, and then you started avoiding me. Yeseul asked you to join us for lunch, and when I said Sol B would be there, even though she really wasn’t, you declined. So I thought it was her that you liked. But it doesn’t make sense, because I saw you two hanging out at the cafeteria that one night-”
His arrogant expression changed to one of shock. “You did?”
“-and then you straight up lied to me about your plans. Unless you two are already dating-”
“We’re not,” he interrupts once more. Sol A eyes him with suspicion. “We’re not,” he repeats indignantly.
“-it could only mean that you do like Kang Sol…”
Joonhwi starts slowly nodding, face a little flushed, but somehow urging her on to continue.
“...just not B. You like-”
“Kang Sol A.” Professor Yang enters the room, calling out her name.
She’s sure her professor asked her to do something, but she was unmoved. At this point, she doesn’t think anything could pull her out of her reverie for the rest of the day.
A veil that covered her eyes was lifted, and she had never been so pitiful of the blindfold that Lady Justice wore. The scales Kang Sol A carried, as heavy as the burdens she was facing, balanced with Han Joonhwi holding them up with her. She wanted nothing more than to take his hand right at that moment, to feel the heaviness in its entirety, and thank him for staying anyway.
They don't talk for the rest of the day, but Kang Sol A is unbothered.
Her questioning attitude may have always gotten her in trouble in school, but this was the one time she was glad to be wrong.
Epilogue
Han Joonhwi fell asleep on his desk again.
He normally finishes up all his revisions early, but because of his agitation, the cold table seemed to be more inviting than the bed, where he simply ends up tossing and turning.
Despite the stiff neck it was bound to cause, he’s been doing it for days, only being woken up by his constant 8:30 alarms. This time, however, it was his gracious roommate Seo Jiho who finally interrupted him from his slumber.
Jiho slammed a sealed instant ramyeon pack on Joonhwi’s desk. He groggily looked up at his friend, whose hair was still disheveled, and asked, “What’s this?”
“It’s from Kang Sol A.” Before walking away, he deadpanned, “Do your own bidding next time. I’m not your messenger.”
Joonhwi took the cup ramyeon, spotting the bright yellow sticky note on it, not unlike the ones he’d put on Sol A’s notebook, or occasionally, her forehead. He smiled to himself as he read the message, walking out to heat up some water for breakfast, but not before carefully displaying the note on his bulletin board for the whole world to see.
Han Joonhwi,
For a second-round judicial exam passer, you can be so dense.
I like you back, you idiot.
Now stop sulking and have breakfast with me.
Idiot.
~
Send me your thoughts/fic requests here!
#jtbc law school#law school#kang sol a#han joon hwi#solhwi#kim bum#ryu hye young#kang sol a x han joon hwi#fics#kang sol b#lee soo kyung#seo jiho#david lee#ko yoon jung#jeon ye seul#yang jong hoon#kim myung min#jtbc#kdrama#korean drama#mine
248 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
fluttershy-loves-bunnies
H-Hi, I'm F-Fluttershy.
mrsnitroglicerina
Walk little walk. Small talk, big thoughts.
poliseestlased
PERE
veeveetheheretic
Vee Vee the Heretic
veratridine
Abandoned to DIE