navy white polka dots

Painted Hearts (6)

part one; part two; part three; part four; part five; part six; part seven; part eight; part nine;

You awoke mid morning to golden sunlight filling up your room from a crack in the curtains.

Rolling over onto your stomach, you propped yourself up on your elbows and wiped the sleep from your eyes, immediately spotting the bright blue sea through the sliver of window exposed. You sighed softly, dropping your head back onto your pillow with a faint smile on your lips. So this is what it felt like to wake up in paradise.

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The Fake Boyfriend (Part 4)

Originally posted by mavibu97

Summary: Reader bumps into a stranger and her life gets flipped upside down…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,500ish

Warnings: language

A/N: I love all the feedback and support this has been getting! I especially enjoyed this part…

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Too Hot To Handle: Chapter Seventeen

So I kinda wrote a different kind of fanfiction. It’s nothing as in depth as my other fics so I am going to post it here. ENJOY!!

***Actor, Real Person Fanfiction, Walking Dead RPF***

Featuring: Jeffrey Dean Morgan X Original Female Character, Norman Reedus and others.. (FYI this is total fiction, as in I know nothing about JDMs life or that of his real SO and son etc. Because of this, for this work of fiction, they don’t exist. Jeffrey’s been a typical actor playboy dating fellow stars etc. This is written for sick daydreaming pleasure.)

Aria St. James is a busy woman with a thriving restaurant. She thought she had everything she needed until a few famous faces visit her dining room. A tall, dark and handsome actor decides Aria’s just what he’s been looking for.

Rating: Mature : NSFW

Originally posted by maritamorgado

“What the fuck was I thinking?!” Aria exclaimed after standing in the staff bathroom with Cheryl for close to an hour. The hair and make up woman had taken over to prepare them for the shows background interviews and Aria was second guessing her decision to participate.
‘It’s for a good cause.’ She kept repeating to herself as the director went over all the questions they would ask and what areas of the restaurant they’d set up in.
“You weren’t.” Cheryl quipped, her grin widening. “You were staring at your boyfriend’s stupid, handsome face and nodding.”

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we'll still have each other| kiane

summary: now that it’s raining more than ever, know that we’ll still have each other. [yes rihanna trash leave me alone]

pairings: king/diane, sorta one-sided diane/meliodas.

sidenote: *slides in* wow. Something with an actual story and not just pointless drabbling?? i thought this day would never come. dedicated to my DEAR friend Kiri, sorry this took me so long bby. have some cavity kiane.


A single rain drop hit her nose. Another slid down the expanse of her cheek, laughingly slow, like a tear drop paving a path for its brothers.

She had been expecting rain. She was even wearing her black rain boots, with bright white polka dots, and a light navy blue jacket to cover her school uniform.

She had forgotten an umbrella. How stupid of her.

She stared down at the sidewalk, watching the pale cream color dull into a deeper beige as the raindrops coated it, slowly at first, then all at once, like someone had decided to pour a bucket over the entire city.

Pieces of her hair became plastered to her cheeks from the force of the rain she didn’t care now, nothing mattered anyways.

The day had started off so well, too.



“What are you going to do today Diane?” Elizabeth asked her, school had just ended and they were on their way home to start the weekend.

“Nothing,” she replied, clutching her lunch box anxiously. She wasn’t going to tell Elizabeth what she had planned, she’d probably end up interfering anyway.

“We should go shopping tomorrow, I need new socks.” Elizabeth chatted. Diane wasn’t really listening, she had too much planned today, too much going on. She loved Elizabeth, but she sure could be oblivious sometimes.

When they got to Elizabeth’s house, Diane was all too eager to say goodbye to her. She had been waiting weeks for this day, and finally, she was going to confess. She was going to confess her love to Meliodas, it was all happening today.

She had snuck a note asking him to meet her after school at the football field. Football practice was cancelled because of the rain that was scheduled, already the clouds were beginning to darken, but it didn’t dampen her spirits one bit.

The trip to the fields took less than a minute, and the butterflies in her stomach were stirring up a ruckus. She was nervous, and excited, and hopeful all at once. She felt like she was in elementary school again, seeing him for the first time.

She grabbed a silvery section of the bleachers and hoisted herself up to see better. The metal was cool to the touch, and she eagerly scanned the field.

There he was. He had actually came! He was standing by the scoreboard on his phone.

She wondered who he was texting. Probably Ban.

Another part of her brain said that it was Elizabeth, but she swept the nagging thought away quick enough. She had noticed their closeness over the past year, and it had ticked her off a bit, since she had him first, technically, but she loved Elizabeth, so she’d never confront her.

She inhaled deeply and began the trek to the goal post. Everything would be ok.

When she was halfway there, Meliodas hadn’t even looked up from his phone. She felt her heart tighten and she weighed the option of running away.

But it wasn’t worth it, she’d run away too many times. This was her last chance.

“Meliodas,” she called when she was within earshot. He looked up from his phone and threw her a casual wave.

“Yo, Diane. What are you doing here?” He asked, looking mildly confused. He must’ve not realized she was the one who’d asked him to meet.

“I wanted to meet you here.” She said, folding her hands behind her back anxiously. Hi eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“That was you? What’s up?” He wondered allowed, still keeping that dopey curious face.

“I wanted to tell you something…” she closed her eyes and summoned all of the courage she had in her. “I…”

“Is it going to rain?” He interrupted her suddenly, holding his hand out, almost waiting for a raindrop to fall into the palm of his hand.

Frustrated, Diane puffed out her cheeks and decided to go out on a limb.

“I love you!”

It took a few seconds to affect him, he curled his hand into a fist and dropped it back to his side. Then, he sighed, like he had been expecting this whole ordeal to go down one day, and leaned his back against the goal post. It was old, so it made a small squeaking sound in protest.

“No you don’t,” he responded simply. Flabbergasted, Diane opened and shut her mouth, hoping for intelligent words to pour out with no avail.

“Wh-at?” She barely managed to annunciate. He shrugged.

“Come on Diane, you don’t really love me. And I don’t love you, not the way you want me to. I think you know that.” He told her softly.

“That’s…” she digested his words slowly, painfully, like needles sinking into her flesh.

He didn’t love her. He didn’t like her back, not at all…

“You’re my friend, Diane. And you always will be. But you don’t love me, you should realize that. It’s pointless to pin after me when you could do so much better.” He spoke with such resounding confidence, Diane wanted to believe him. But she was too hurt to even speak.

She had spent so long loving him, it didn’t seem like there’d be any world for her to return to after this rejection.

“Hm. It is going to rain, you should get home.” Meliodas said before inhaling and turning around to walk home.

She stood there, in the football field, watching him walk away.

That couldn’t be it. That couldn’t be all. This was her moment, her time to shine, it wasn’t supposed to be this way-

She looked down at her hands in awe.

What was wrong with her?



She wants to walk home, but her feet are frozen, the rain just falls harder and harder and somewhere along the line she starts crying, too.



Puddles begin forming on the street beside her, and cars fly by, eager to get home, to see their families after a long day at work.

She just stares at the ground, like she is waiting for it to grow a pair of lips and give her some decent advice.

What could possibly come next? Every chapter of her life up until now had been next chapter, you’ll live happily ever after, with Meliodas by your side.

But the chapter was over, and she had no happily ever after. She had no prince.

Maybe she was the dragon in this story, and everybody knows dragons don’t get happy endings.

But didn’t she deserve one too? Dragons want a happy ending, just like any princess.

She steps in a deep puddle and some water drips down into her socks. Great.

She’s sure she smells like a storm and looks like one tore right through her, but she doesn’t really care.

What was the point of looking pretty if you had no prince to be pretty for?


Her heart pauses at the sound. Could it be, Meliodas had come back for her?

She looks up, eyes wide with wonder, but blinks in confusion when she sees someone else running towards her.

“Good god, you’re soaked! Here,” he remarks,  holding his umbrella up higher, just so it covers up her dripping wet body.

King is not built for running, he is tiny for a boy his age and is wheezing like a dying hamster. It’s somewhat endearing, partly because she knows she looks no more attractive than he.

“Thanks King.” She speaks hollowly, making no movement to indicate genuine gratitude.

“Are you…?” He stands up after a few seconds of heavy breathing. “Ok? Are you ok? Did someone hurt you? You’re-“ his hand stops a few inches from her face. “You’re…crying…”

“I’m fine.” She assures him, in the least reassuring voice she’s ever conjured.

“Who did this? Who made you cry?! I’ll-“

“King, it’s fine. It doesn’t matter.” She makes a tiny effort to wipe her tears away, but frowns when nothing but dark black smudges on her hand. Right. Her makeup.

“No! If someone hurt you, that’s not ok! I…” He trails off again and it’s then Diane realizes that neither one of them are very good with words.

“It’s my fault,” she admits, trying her best to wipe her sopping makeup off. “I was dumb.”

“You…you’re not dumb, Diane.” He tells her, adjusting the umbrella to it’s a little bit higher. She is a few inches taller than him, but it was still endearing to see him try.

“I really am,” she sniffs, looking down at him sadly. “He never loved me, did he? I never stood a chance, you know that King.”

His face contorts in realization. Diane wonders if everyone did know about her crush, it seemed like Meliodas was the one who new more than anyone else.

“Well – yeah, maybe he doesn’t like you now, but that’s not because you’re bad, or anything!” King says, his tone is rushed, and she can instantly tell he’s just trying to cheer her up. He’s always done that, always been the one to pull her back on her feet. It’s selfish of her to want to keep King to herself sometimes.

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” She asks him, but it’s more directed at herself than anyone. What flaws did she have that drove Meliodas away? Was she too tall? That had always been a problem in her life…

“N-no! There’s nothing wrong with you! I mean-“

She raises one of her eyebrows at him. He blushes, and looks down.

“I mean,  you’re just…” He stops, almost like there’s a word lingering on the tip of his tongue.

“I’m just…what?” She asks him, looking down with blatant wonder and curiosity.

He smiles at her nervously and shrugs.


She stops walking for a second, and so does he. It seems like both of them are equally embarrassed.


“I mean…I just…”

“Thank you.”

He looks up at her, worried expression slowly fading.

“Thank you King, really.” She wipes her eyes again, only minimal dark smudges appear. She’s sure they make the weirdest pair, a sobbing, raccoon, faced girl and a small, fairy-faced boy.

“You’re…welcome, Diane.”

“You’ll always be my friend, right?” she asks, a wide smile gracing her cheeks.

His heart stops. She is so beautiful.


Because for her, he’ll be anything.

“Good, because I think I need a lot of ice cream,” she laughs a little bit, peeling a bit of wet hair off of her forehead.

He laughs along with her, tightening the grip on his umbrella to make sure she isn’t getting any rain on her.

They walk home to the beat of the falling rain, and the sunshine on Diane’s horizon is just a chapter away.



Don’t you dare let him ruin your favorite song. Do not turn on the radio and when the first note comes out you change it. Scream the lyrics as loud as you can.

Do not let him ruin your favorite panties. The navy blue ones with the white polka dots and the lacy edges. Don’t think of the times he’d run his hand up your thigh and tell you absolute sweet nothing just to make you fall for him. Wear those panties, you spent a little more money on them than you would have ever on a pair of panties.

Do not let him ruin your favorite perfume. Don’t think of the times that his lips were in the crook of your neck taking deep breaths, inhaling every bit of you. Wear that perfume, overdo it. Do whatever the hell you want. But don’t throw that 75 dollar bottle of perfume away.

Do not hate your passenger seat. Do not hate where he stopped you midsentence in the parking lot of a diner to give you a kiss. Do not hate that seat, someone else will sit there and hold your hand and sing along to the radio with you one day.

Keep your head held high, baby girl. It takes time. Do not hate these things, they are what are YOURS. Not HIS.

Drunk Confession (Woozi)

Hellooo, Sabrina here! This is something I came up with after talking with @softsnuper and @sunshinehosh because they are brilliant. I’m not supposed to be Jihoon biased, but here is a fluffy college!au Woozi!

Lee Jihoon is not a man of vulnerability.
In fact, he’s quite the opposite. He maintains his composure, keeps his guard up, and leads his dongsaengs responsibly.
I’ve come to admire him from afar, tiny but tough with a sweet voice and a contagious laugh. He’s a year older than me, but I went to high school with his good friend Seungcheol, so we are relatively acquainted.
Except he refuses to make eye contact with me for more than .05 seconds and says about seven words to me every time we meet.
“How are you?”
“Bye, Y/N.”
Spring on campus means cherry blossoms and exams, and then a necessary break from all things academic.
It’s a little past eight in the morning when I emerge from my cozy studio apartment and meander over to campus.
The sun beams down cheerily upon the sidewalk, but it’s just chilly enough for a sweater.
This week is exam week, a whirlwind of worksheets and caffeine and numbly turning textbook pages.
I find myself outside of the campus coffee shop before I can discourage myself from consuming coffee.
The shop is quaint, and the windows are large, welcoming sunshine and students. The members of the Environment Club planted sunflowers, roses, tulips, and hydrangeas. Despite the misery of exam week, the coffee shop is a happy place.
It’s not extraordinarily busy, as most students are not eager to drag themselves out of bed on a Monday morning, but I push open the glass door and still wait in line behind two girls.
Seungcheol is a prized employee at the shop. The managers are absolutely in capable of understanding why he attracts so many patrons, but I understand perfectly well—Choi Seungcheol is greasy. But, the female race is easily deluded, so many girls on campus fall victim to his suave words and, admittedly, sexy smirk.
“Wendy? Yerin? Pretty names for pretty girls.” Seungcheol winks and I can’t help but roll my eyes. The duo giggles and thanks him, leaving what I assume is a hefty tip in the jar.
“Good morning, sunshine!” Seungcheol grins when he sees me, leaning over to rest his elbows on the counter and his chin upon his hands.
“Yeah, good morning Greasy.”
“You know you love it.”
“If by ‘love it’, you mean I ‘want to vomit’, then yes.”
The door jingles happily from behind me.
“Hey! Jihoon, Wonwoo! What’s up?”
I turn to glance at the pair. They look equally murderous.
Jeon Wonwoo’s hair is disheveled—but attractive, as always—and his eyes are barely open, face devoid of any emotional inclination except, say, homicide. He dons a pair of joggers and a sweatshirt, but still manages to look like a model.
Lee Jihoon appears slightly less agitated—his hair is styled rather neatly, the bags beneath his eyes aren’t that heavy, and he’s not glaring at Seungcheol. He wears a pair of dark wash jeans and a blue striped button up. In fact…Lee Jihoon looks quite handsome.
When the thought dawns on me, I flush red.
“Wonwoo is really pissy this morning, so I don’t suggest talking to him until he consumes something.”
“Jihoon I will kill you.”
“See, even more murderous than I am?” Jihoon laughs and it rings like bells. He’s happy, and my heart swells a little bit.
His smiley gaze flickers to me and his beam falters. Uh-oh.
“Hello, Y/N.”
I offer a bright smile in return. “Hi Jihoon!”
“How are you?”
“I’m okay. Not having a mental breakdown. How are you?”
His eyes are round, and his cheeks are vaguely pink. “Good.”
Seungcheol clears his throat. “This isn’t social hour. Jeon Wonwoo is going to murder me with his eyes, so I need to get him his coffee as soon as possible. What do you want to order, Y/N?”
I tell him black tea and offer Wonwoo and Jihoon a brief smile before walking to my favorite corner booth.
Jihoon and Wonwoo slide into seats closer to Seungcheol, so that they can talk with their friend.
Unable to execute any self-control, I strain my ears in an attempt to listen to their conversation.
Seungcheol yells my name, and I jolt out of my eavesdropping haze.
Jihoon’s immersed in conversation with Wonwoo, who is still remarkably unresponsive.
I’m walking back towards the booth when I hear Seungcheol. “Wait, Y/N!”
“Come sit by us.”
I don’t notice the way Jihoon’s face pales or how he shrinks, just a little. I also don’t notice the scowl Jihoon shoots a grinning Seungcheol because I’m too focused on not spilling my tea.
“Pull up a chair next to Jihoon. We were just talking about Minghao’s dance performance next week.”
“Oh! How has he been doing? I haven’t talked to him in ages. I miss seeing him at the library. He was so stressed out about practice, I was worried!”
Seungcheol grins. “You should stop by to visit some time. I know he really values your support.”
I nod. “Of course.”
I don’t see the way Jihoon purses his lips, or the way his knuckles turn white around his cup of hazelnut coffee.
“Jihoon, are you okay?” Wonwoo’s voice is a deep rumble, and I jump in surprise at the sudden sound.
Jihoon, for a brief moment, gasps for breath before jolting out of his seat.
“I need to, um, drop something off at my, uh, psych professors office! See you guys around!” His voice cracks a little at the end, and I tilt my head as I look up at him, concerned and curious.
He hightails out of the coffee shop.
I turn to Wonwoo. His eyes are shut, but he’s taking slow sips from his coffee.
He drinks it black. Like my soul, he’d muttered.
“Is he really okay?”
Wonwoo’s eyes slowly open, dark and deep, watching me inquisitively.
I might feel self-conscious if I didn’t know that he sleeps with a Piglet plushie.
“Probably not.”
Seungcheol pipes up, “Jihoon has a little crush. But he’s not very good at talking to girls he likes.”
Seungcheol smirks.
“You have no idea.”

Monday and Tuesday drag, vaguely painful and undeniably boring.  

Tuesday evening finds me in the library, sprawled out in a private study room, with only bio textbooks and colorful pens to keep me company. 

By the time I decide to call it quits, my phone reads 11:32 PM. The library was merciful, open until midnight during exam weeks.
My head throbs slightly, and the section on cellular respiration suffocates me.
Dismally, I stuff my belongings in my backpack, slinging it over my shoulder and grabbing my jacket before exiting the room. The halls are quiet—everyone has either gone to bed at home, or knocked out here.
I take a swig from my water bottle when I see familiar patch of white polka dots on navy blue cloth.
I backtrack a little and turn down an aisle filled with books on Roman history.  
He’s slumped over his textbook, an empty cup of coffee, several highlighters, and notebooks splayed across the table.
He looks oddly peaceful; as if the paper is a worthy pillow, lips slightly parted, steady breaths. Cute.
Sometimes the most important decisions in life are the ones you don’t have time to analyze.
I pull his bag up off of the ground next to him, and onto the table, stuffing his supplies into the backpack in a relatively unorganized manner.
I breathe once before I press my fingers gently to his arms, and shake him slightly. He isn’t even awake, but the blood has rushed to my face.
“J-Jihoon? The library is almost closed.”
He sighs.
“Jihoon? You should…wake up now…”
He makes a sound in his throat and turns to face the other way.
“Oh my god. Jihoon, please get up now.”
I jump in surprise at the sudden negation.  
“The library closes soon.”
“The library can suck my—
“Jihoon!” I squeak.
He turns to face me again, cracking one eye open. “What?” He whines.
“Let me, um, take you home.”
“But it’s so comfy here~”
He snuggles the book and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous.
“Your bed is even comfier.” I argue.
“…You have a point.”
“So just, um, stand up, put on your coat, and let’s get out of here.”
“Fine,” He huffs, moving at a sloth-like pace.
Jihoon seems to be in absolute daze. There is no blushing or avoiding eye contact or awkward smiles.
“I’ll carry your bag, you wear my jacket.” I smother him as we exit the library.
“But what about you?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Can I lean against you?” He sighs, pressing his body up against mine, not waiting for an answer.
“Sure, go ahead,” I grumble.
The walk is inundated with sleepy silence. “Are you warm?” He asks.
“Yes.” I answer, because I am. In fact, I’m burning up because Lee Jihoon is cuddled against me and I’m walking him home and he seems completely unaware of the way my skin is tingling beneath my sweater.
Unable to help myself, I ask, “Will you remember this in the morning?”
“Do you want me to?” His voice is startlingly clear, void of all traces of slumber.
I think about how soft his hair is against my cheek, how his arms are wrapped around me, how adorable he looked asleep, and tell him, “I don’t know.”
Getting up the stairs is a bit of a struggle, but we make it into the apartment building, up the elevator, and reach his apartment door without falling.
I knock adamantly on the door and it flies open.
Seungcheol, clad only in pajama pants, blinks blearily at me for several moments before he snaps out of his daze.
“Y/N? Jihoon? What the hell?”
Jihoon makes to move to go inside his home, and nuzzles my cheek.
Quite literally, my knees wobble at the display of affection, and the air leaves my lungs in a sharp exhale.
“He…um…fell asleep in the library.” My voice shakes as Jihoon exhales, his breath against my skin wreaking absolute havoc in my heart.
“Y/N walked me home. Isn’t Y/N the best, Seungcheol?” Jihoon hums.
Seungcheol’s eyes widen for a moment, before smirking at my flaming cheeks. “Yes, Jihoon. Now, Y/N needs to get home, too. So you should let go of her, and go to bed.”
“Okay. But make sure she gets home safe.”
And then Jihoon presses his warm lips to my cheek.
“Sleep well, Y/N!”
Removes himself from me, takes his bag, and brushes past his roommate.
We hear a door slam.
“What the hell?”
I shake my head drowsily. “I don’t even know…”
Seungcheol looks at me through narrowed eyes. “Do you like Jihoon?”
The sleepiness removes my filter and I blurt, “Yes.”
“Oh my god.”
“If you say anything, I will join Wonwoo and kill you.”
Seungcheol chuckles.
“My lips are sealed.”

Jihoon hides from me for the remainder of the week. When I walk into the coffee shop each morning, he flees. When I pass him in the library, he ducks his head.
If I wasn’t oblivious, it might hurt. But I wasn’t oblivious, so I new that there was a possibility that Jihoon harbored romantic feelings for me, and the thought made me squeal.
I was okay, though. The lack of Jihoon was unpleasant, but I fought my way through exam week without any tears.
Saturday, I wake up at noon, shower, eat, and crash in front of the television, in capable of thinking.
I order Chinese for dinner, exhausted but happy in my solitude.
I’m beginning to doze off in the midst of a romantic comedy when my cell phone rings.
My eyes fly open and I sit up, rummaging around the couch for my phone.
“Hey, what are you up to right now?”
“…Nothing. Is everything okay?”
“Well, actually—
“Cheollie, who are you taaalking to? What about meee?”
My mouth forms into an o.
“Jihoon give me—Ouch! Wonwoo! Put that down!”
“Nooooo. Cheollie, I waaant Y/N.” And then Jihoon starts to weep. “So beautiful and sweet and nice smelling and strong—
“Y/N!” Seungcheol’s voice is laced with hysteria. “Can you be at the pub in fifteen minutes? Please? I really—WONWOO I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU POKE ME WITH THAT ONE MORE TIME—
“I’ll be there in ten.”
I slam my cell phone down, heart racing.

My driving is considerably reckless, but after throwing on a sweater, tugging on a pair of sneaker, and grabbing my car keys, I rushed out the door. I screech to a halt in an alley near the pub in ten minutes.
It had begun to rain, the kind of drizzle I would fall asleep to if Lee Jihoon and Jeon Wonwoo were not shitfaced and wreaking hysteria upon Seungcheol.
Slamming the car door shut and locking it, I tug the hood of my sweater up and begin walking towards the entrance. The queue is a relatively short, tangled mess of squeals and sequins and deep laughter.
This pub is certainly the most popular among the students in this college town, and therefore perpetually filled to the rim with beer, dancing bodies, and retro music.
I have absolutely no intention of entering the chaos, so instead I dial Seungcheol’s number.
The longer it rings, the more my stomach twisted in distress.
Salvation appears in the form of Jeon Wonwoo. “Hey! Look! Isn’t that Y/N in the ugly sweater?”
Too stunned to frown, I gape at the sight before me.
Seungcheol’s hair is disheveled, and his face pink, even in the glow of dim streetlights, Jihoon clinging to his arm and resting his face on his left shoulder, while Wonwoo grasps Seungcheol’s forearm with both of his hands, waddling unstably.
Seungcheol wheezes, “Help!” and I rush over, splashing in several puddles and fighting a laugh.
Wonwoo lunges towards me, and I squeak as he wraps his long arms around my shoulder.
He towers over me, leaning easily against my comparably smaller, but steady frame.
“Wonwoo, you ARE GOING TO CRUSH ME.”
“But Y/N~” He whines, rubbing his cheek affectionately against the top of my hooded head. “You’re so comfy.”
Jihoon makes a strangled noise of protest. “Wonwoo, SHE IS MINE!”
He attempts to extricate himself from Seungcheol, but Seungcheol pats Jihoon’s head soothingly. “When we get to the car, you can sit next to her, okay?”
Jihoon pouts, plump bottom lip jutting out, and my heart is in my throat. “Fine.”
Our quartet shuffles to the car, ungainly and uneven.
Wonwoo has shifted, arms wrapped around my waist, chin atop my head, and the brief but painful walk is filled with Jihoon’s adorable complaining.
“Cheollie! Look at that! Only I can hug Y/N like that! It’s not fair!”
“We’re almost to the car, Jihoon.”
“Maybe I should fight him.”
“I want to snuggle Y/N and back hug Y/N and nuzzle Y/N. Wonwoo is stealing her, Cheollie!”
Grinning painfully, I manage, “Jihoon, I’m yours, don’t worry!” Verbally verifying the thought was satisfying, but I am left jittery.
Wonwoo is unconscious, for all intents and purposes. We reach the car and it is a challenge to stuff Wonwoo into the passenger seat. He hits his head on the door, protesting in momentary agony.
Seungcheol all but dumps Jihoon in the backseat and after giving him my car keys, I crawl in beside Jihoon.
He chortles happily, stretched out his arms, and tugs me flush against his side.
“Jihoon, we should put on our seatbelts.”
“I’m your seatbelt. I’ll keep you safe and secure.”
I laugh breathily, balling my hands into fists because otherwise they will shake uncontrollably.
“Seungcheol, how much have you had to drink?”
Seungcheol huffs. “Not a drop. These two were piss drunk before I got there.”
Exhaling in slight relief, I accept his position as driver.
There isn’t much to focus on now, except Jihoon. 

My hood had fallen down some time during the bedlam of getting into the car, and my hair is slightly wet.
I might be cold, but a certain Lee Jihoon radiates warmth.
Arms wrapped tightly around my waist, cheek resting against my shoulder. I’m relatively stable until he shifts his head, so that his nose is buried in the crook of my neck.
Aware of my internal tension, he breathes, “Relax.”
My cheeks flame.
Each of Jihoon’s exhales results in a rush of goose bumps.
“Y/N, do you know that I like you? I really like you.”
Smiling vaguely, I answer, “Yes.”
He nuzzles further against my skin, pulling me impossibly closer, his soft skin burning my own.
“You’re so pretty, and nice, and you smell good, and your laugh is so cute, and when you talk to me I feel like the happiest Jihoon in the world.”
And then he sniffles.
His tears are warm against my skin, fluttering eyelashes and deep breaths.
“But you’re too good for me! You could never…like me back, right? But…I like you so much. I want to make you happy…because you make…me so happy.” He blubbers, pulling away from me to rub his eyes.
From somewhere upfront, Seungcheol mumbles something about the sacrifices he made as a good friend.
Startled at the sobbing, I place my hands on his cheeks and force him to look at me.
“Lee Jihoon, stop crying!”
He blinks at me, dark eyes wide and innocent, despite his perfectly exposed, perfectly sculpted collarbones peaking out from a worn V-neck t-shirt.
“I am not too good for you. In fact, you’re too good for me. But I really, really like you, too. Okay? So there’s no need to cry. Everything is going to be okay.”
His face is a ray of sunshine in the darkness, lips curling into a gleeful smile that reached his warm eyes.
And then he kisses me.
It’s sloppy and brash, but affectionate, soft lips and slow movements. He slides his hand to the back of my neck, pulling my mouth closer, chasing my lips when I gasp for air.
Curling my fingers in his shirt as he threads his calloused fingers through my hair, I find myself inebriated simply by the taste of his lips.
“Y/N,” He breathes, resting his forehead against mine.
Breathing raggedly, I bury my face in his chest because holy shit, I just kissed Jihoon.
“Do you want to know a secret?” He mumbles, lips brushing my earlobe.
“What is it?”
“I don’t drink.”

When Lee Jihoon rises from his deathly slumber the next morning, his head pounds violently before he opens his eyes. This is not a hangover caused by the overconsumption of alcohol—excessive studying and raging emotion cause the throbbing pain, instead.
Groaning in misery, he tosses and turns on the bed, jolting in surprise when he hits something solid and startlingly human.
Peaking around the room through one eye, he scans the bed, a lump splayed beneath the blankets next to him.
Tentatively, he pokes it.
When he receives no response, he carefully peels back the blanket, gasping in surprise.

Let me know what you think! And feel free to message me with requests…I quite enjoy the whole writing thing. 

Anguish Pt.8

Originally posted by ky-ngsoo

Genre: Angst/fluff

* Warning * : swearing

Word Count: 3321

What’s worse than falling in love?
Falling in love with your best friend
But what’s worse than being the best friend?
It’s being family zoned

| Chap O1 | Chap O2 | Chap O3 | Chap O4 | Chap O5 | Chap O6 | Chap O7 | Chap O8 | Chap O9

A/n : LOL This chapter is more of Moonbin than Jungkook . _ . and it’s lengthy sorry ;U; Also i’m sorry for making you guys wait as well! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter ! Thanks for the Feedback ! <3

The pains that were emitting from your chest wouldn’t go away, no matter how many times Moonbin had whispered sweet nothings into your ear. They say that you can die from a broken heart, and at this rate you were for sure going to.

“Y/n, please tell me what’s going on. I haven’t seen you cry this much since I made you watch Marley & Me.” At this point Moonbin’s a bit scared. You’re so fragile, physically and mentally. He wants to continue to question you but what if he says the wrong thing and hurts you more than you are already are? He pulls you away, not caring about the huge wet spot you had made right in the middle of his chest. He wipes away the tears, noticing the gauze on your cheek about to fall off. Moonbin grabs your hand in his as he walks to a nearby bench, carefully pushing you down to take a seat. He internally thanks himself for grabbing extra before he left the hospital, not wanting to pay 5 bucks for one measly gauze at the local store.

Carefully, he peels away the plaster before replacing it with a new one, taking a seat on the floor in front of you. “Yoona I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” He coos, engulfing your hands in his as he rubs his thumb along the top of your hand. You continue to stay silent, not trusting your own voice just yet. He lets out a soft sigh as he sees the bottom of your lip quiver. “Alright I won’t pester you anymore, I’ll wait until you’re ready to tell me okay?”

He looks to his left before looking to the right and notices that the park had gone eerily quiet. He pulls out his phone to check the time and nearly chokes on his own saliva, it was past midnight. Moonbin has a small panic attack; not because it was late but he was worried about you. He wanted to know whether or not your mother knew where you were. Moonbin gets up from his spot, dusting off the dirt that might’ve stuck onto his bottoms and held out his hand.

“Come on I’ll walk you home.” You sit there in silence again, his hand still out for you to take.

“I…I don’t want to go home, he’ll be there.” You whisper. His eyebrows furrows, he? He thought to himself. It takes him a few moments to register who this ‘he’ was, forgetting the whole reason why you were so dressed up nicely. Just like in the movies, the boy himself arrives on queue.

Jungkook was drenched in his own sweat, hair strands sticking to his forehead, his button-up was clenching onto his body showing a small outline of his abs, and at least three buttons were undone from his shirt. He ignores Moonbin as he crouches to your eye level, hands clasping around yours. “Y/n, let’s go home.” he coos. Moonbin noticing how tense you went underneath his touch, stepped up.

“She doesn’t want to go home.”

“Come on let’s go home,” He stands up, hands still clasped around yours but your still rooted to your spot. “Y/n.” He says in a more aggravated tone, he’s forgotten how stubborn you could be and how much patience he has. Your hand is being grasped back by Moonbin, irritation had taken over his face as well. “Are you deaf or purposely ignoring me? She doesn’t want to go home!”

“Her mother is worried!” he yells back through gritted teeth.

“I don’t want to go home.” You whisper, bringing the tension down from both of the boys.


“I’ll let mama Park know she’ll be staying over,” Jungkook can’t even believe his ears right now, were you really going home with another boy? A raging hormonal teenage boy? “Don’t get your panties wrapped in a bunch, she’s slept over my house countless of times.” Jungkook could only stare at your intertwined hands. He’s trying so hard not to lash out on the both of you, especially not in your current state.

Moonbin smirks seeing how ticked off Jungkook had become, “What, are you mad that she’s sleeping over at another boys’ house and not yours?” and before Jungkook could say something, Moonbin is already walking away with you. He watches until he can’t even see a glimpse of your form before walking back to his home. “What a brat.” He spats to himself.


“Don’t worry Mama Park, she’ll come home in one-piece I promise.” He says through the phone as you both enter his apartment. He leads you into his bedroom, seating you down on his bed and disappearing into his closet. Moments later he’s dressed in his pj’s, which only consisted of a white tank top words ‘Run DMC’ plastered on them and navy blue bottoms with white polka dots. “According to Mama, Doc says you’re supposed to take your meds before bed but since she has them, pain killers can substitute for tonight.” He says as he hands you some extra clothes.

He lets out a sigh before throwing, what you believe is the school uniform, into the trash. “Looks like we’re going to have to go get new uniforms tomorrow.” He turns back towards you and has his hand out, which you take this time. He carefully helps you up and turns you around, figuring out what he was doing, you immediately held the front of your dress.  You’re trying not to shiver as his finger glides down the spine of your back as he unzips your dress. “I’ll be in the kitchen.” He says before closing the door.

You’re surprised at how easily you managed to slip onto the clothing, despite not being able to not move the right side of your arm. You make your way down the hallway, not forgetting to stop by every frame and examine it. There were a few baby photos of him and his parents, a handful of ones with his students and other choreographers, and you even managed to make it onto his little wall of fame. As you finally make it to the end of the hall, you notice that Moonbin isn’t in the kitchen like he said he’d be.

You hear the door creaking open and bags rustling, “I was going to make Dakjuk for you but I didn’t have the ingredients,” he lets out a chuckle before settling the bags down onto the coffee table. “So I paid a visit to Grandma Lee down at the restaurant and she gave me some.” he plops down onto his couch as he pats the seat next to him, gesturing for you to sit down. He opens up the containers, steam rising, and the smell flowing into your nose causing your stomach to let out a growl loud enough for him to hear.

He lets out a chuckle, “I was debating whether or not to go, but I’m glad I did now.” he blows on the spoon a couple of times before raising it towards your lips, “Say Ah.” He coos, you let out a giggle before obliging. He continues to feed you more than he feeds himself, the majority of the container going to you. “Don’t worry she gave me another container.” He chimes as he opens the next one, continuing the same process over.

You can’t help but wonder how on earth you’ve met someone like him. You wonder how an 18 year old boy can live on his own without his parents, but then you remind yourself its Moonbin. He’s more mature then he lets on; he makes his own money by being back-up dancers for idols and celebrities, and teaches classes on choreographies he’s made on his own. Last summer he was asked to teach a class in China, tickets and hotel were all paid for him. Not to mention he gets sponsored left and right, mainly from clothing companies, he even gets emails from modeling agencies.

Despite how famous he was, Moonbin also had his angelic side.

He’s always paying for your food, walking you to and from work, taking you along with him for business trips, putting up with your fails whenever he tries to teach you a new routine, dealing with your mood swings whenever the time of month drops by, he always greets you with open arms that are filled with so much warmth and love, and he has that smile that’s so darn contagious.

Moonbin noticing your stares, wonders if he has something on his face. He wipes around the side of his mouth and there’s nothing there, until he figures out you’re in your daze again. He chuckles as he sets down the container staring back at you, loving it when you’re in your own world like this because he can stare back at you without feeling embarrassed.

He’s glad he’s met you, and he doesn’t regret one second of every moment he’s spent with you. You don’t really have the greatest life but you don’t have the worst either. Despite your monotonous look which was actually you’re resting face, he loves the way your face contorts whenever you don’t understand something, the way you’re completely blunt despite your quiet exterior, but the number one thing Moonbin loves about you is that you’re always smiling and giving off this happy aura but, that’s also what worries him the most.

You’re always happy. You tend to hide your feelings, not wanting others to feel burdened because you know that your friends have their own problems. But on days like today in particular, when you finally break down, he feels relieved. He’s glad that you’re letting out your sadness rather than keeping it in where it makes you feel worse and worse, eating you away at your happiness the longer you keep it in.

He contemplates on what he should talk about. He can’t talk about Jungkook just yet knowing you’re not mentally prepared and he doesn’t want to talk about the encounter with Jiwon. It hurt his pride that he got saved by Hulk Kook. He can’t ask about how your day went since you spent half of it in the hospital. Moonbin looks back at you to find your head lolling forward, as you try to keep yourself awake. He chuckles at how adorable you look in your drowsy state. He slips his arms underneath you, lifting you up bridal style as he makes his way to his bedroom. He lays you down onto the bed pulling the blankets over the both of you,

“Thank you.” you whisper as you cuddle deeper into the sheets. Moonbin kisses the top of your head before smoothing down the strands of your hair that stuck up, “Anytime Jagiya.”


“Look can you keep your voice down, you’re going to wake her up.”

A little too late for that, you thought to yourself as you groan sitting yourself up. You take in your surroundings remembering that you had spent the night at Moonbin’s place. Remembering what the doctor said you outstretched your right arm, letting out a sigh of relief now that you were able to move it. You slide out of bed, dragging yourself into the living room after hearing the irritation in his voice.

You’re met with a shirtless Moonbin, back facing you until he hears the padding of your slippers. You’re rubbing the sleep from your eyes, head hanging low because it takes too much energy to have it up. “Is everything okay Binnie?” you whisper, finally feeling the energy coming back to your body you look up only to find Moonbin’s abs in front of your face. You feel the blush creep onto your face, heating it up in the process. You’ve seen him shirtless more than you can count but this was your first time actually paying attention to them. “Sorry for waking you, go back to bed.” He ushers you back down the hallway.

“Y/n.” your foot stops in its track, and you can hear Moonbin cursing underneath his breath. You already know who it is without even having to turn around and you have an internal fight with yourself. To see or to not see, were you even ready? “Go home Jungkook.” You spat.

“Not until you tell me what the fuck I did wrong!” You almost grabbed the frame off the wall and flung it into his face, hand already holding onto one. He seriously doesn’t know what he did wrong?

Moonbin immediately grasped your hand, as much as he would’ve loved to see you hit him, he wasn’t going to take anyone to the hospital again. Jungkook was losing patience. He didn’t get any sleep last night and not to mention how he literally had to beg Hoseok this morning on where this Moonbean or Moonbine whatever his name was lived.  “You’re being really immature right now. Why don’t you grow up and face you’re problems? Why do you keep running away from me–?”

“Shut up!” you yell out, eyes burning from the tears. You run back into the room, slamming the door shut and locking it before throwing yourself on the bed.


The word had repeated in your head over and over again. With each repetition, a shock of pain emitted to your chest. It’s not the first time you’ve been called immature, but it’s the first you’ve been called that from the last person you thought would never call you that.

“Leave before I call security.” Moonbin spats, using all his willpower to not drag Jungkook out of the door himself. He was surprised to see that he didn’t have to repeat his words as he watches Jungkook slam the front door with a frustrated sigh. Giving out a sigh himself, as much as he wants to barge into the room and comfort you right now, he knows that you need some time alone.

At least that’s what he thought hours ago.

It’s 5:30 pm already. Within the hours you’ve locked yourself in the room, Moonbin managed to get some errands done: paying the bills, buying groceries, and picking up his uniform also picking up your spare as well. You never opened the door for breakfast nor lunch, no matter how many times he pleaded. He heard sniffles every now and then, putting his heart at ease knowing that you were still alive.

By 7 o’ clock, he pulls out his spare key and unlocks the door. He finds you on the floor, legs dangling out of the window, hair being displayed on the floor, and his headphones on your head. Your eyes are puffy and nose red from all the crying you’ve been doing. He walks over to you, hands pulling off the headphones. He chuckles as you furrow your brows in irritation, before opening your eyes to see who the intruder was only to relax when it was just Moonbin.

“Come on we’re gonna go eat.”

“Not hungry,” you mumble before closing your eyes again and before you could get comfortable, you’re being lifted off the ground. “Moonbin I’m wearing boxers,” you whine.

“It’s not like anyone is gonna see, you’re wearing a shirt that could pass as a dress.” He says as he places you down by the front door. “My eyes are puffy.” You continue to complain. “It’s getting dark, no one is gonna notice. Besides you haven’t eaten anything and you’ve been stuck in my room all day long, you need some fresh air.”

“There was a reason why the window was open.” You spat as you cross your arms around your chest, Moonbin pinches your cheek. “Don’t try to smart mouth me and lets go.” He chuckles as he pushes you out of the door.

You both stop by Grandma Lee’s restaurant, grabbing take-out before heading down to the park. It didn’t occur to you that Moonbin was still in his Pj’s until you noticed passerby’s giggling as they walked by but Moonbin seemed to not care and as long as he was okay, then you were too. You finally found a bench to eat on and you watch him as he happily sets the food out. He looks up at you, a huge smile plastered on his face and you can’t help but smile back, thanking him for the meal before digging in.

Not even 20 minutes into eating and you’ve lost your appetite the minute you see a couple sucking each other’s face off being reminded of that day you had caught Jungkook and Jieun kissing each other. Sensing your discomfort, Moonbin lets out a sigh before extending his hand and placing it on yours. “Y/n tell me what’s wrong.”

You let out a chuckle as you force back the tears, “I thought you said you’d wait until I was ready.”

“You obviously know I can’t do that, remember that one time I tried making you cookies.” Oh you remember that memory all too well, the recipe clearly said to bake the cookies at 400 degrees for 9-11 minutes but Moonbin had the greatest idea that if he raised the temperature to 500 degrees then the cookies will cook faster. Indeed they did cook faster, but so fast that they burned within the first two minutes. You let out a sigh, giving into the puppy eyes he had attacked you with.


“I don’t like him.” Moonbin spats the minute you finished your story, and you chuckle “I know you don’t.” You feel a bit better after getting some weight off, but the thought of facing Jungkook wasn’t lifting your mood up. “If you want to know what I really think, I think you’re both at fault.”  

It’s silent between the two of you, Moonbin shifts in his seat before continuing. “You’re mother isn’t at fault, since she doesn’t know scrap about what went down between you and Jungkook. It’s been two years since your confession y/n, the boy thinks you’ve moved on already and from how he lashed out on you earlier he seriously doesn’t know what he did wrong. He’s an amateur when it comes to girls, it’s written all over his face. He lashed out on you from desperation and frustration when really he should’ve gave you the space that you needed.” Its gone quiet between the two of you again until Moonbin’s phone goes off.

“And as much as I would love to have you over again, mama wants you home.” You start to throw a small tantrum, not wanting to return home and face your problems just yet. “Come on, I’ll walk you home. You can probably spend the night again if you get your medications.” He says as he throws an arm around you.

The walk home was spent talking about the future and mostly what we had planned after high school. You weren’t surprised when Moonbin had told you he had planned going abroad to learn more dance techniques, in hopes of becoming a full time choreographer. “I’m still waiting for the acceptance letter from Julliard–.” He makes an abrupt stop before turning towards you, “Hey why don’t we go get ice cream first!”

“What why? We’re already here Binnie.” You say as you try to walk around him, only for him to block your path again. You try to walk the other way but he blocks it again, letting out a sigh you cross your arms. “Oh Rocky what’re you doing here?” Moonbin turns at the name and you run around him, giggling and sticking out a tongue at him for falling for your trick.

You stop laughing almost immediately as you see why Moonbin had decided he craved ice cream all of a sudden, and Jungkook was there. You wouldn’t have minded if he was alone, but here was the past repeating itself all over again.

Something Beautiful

The final chapter in the First Step series is set a just over a year after Ellie’s birth.

Thanks to the anons who sent the following prompts:

  • Baby Hood’s first word is ‘mama’ and she says it to Regina
  • Robin tells Regina that he regrets not being able to date her
  • The line: “You raised me. You can only blame yourself for my sass.”
  • Mary Margaret discovers that Regina’s middle name is Mary
  • Mary Margaret suggesting the name Hope, and Regina responding with, “Now I know you work for the Hope Commission.”

Also, thanks to @mearcats, @voguevamp and @sometimesangryblackwoman for all helping me get through this chapter, in one way or another. :)

Earlier chapters: Taking the First Steps, This Time Around, and Love is Limitless.

Keep reading


My inspiration for this look was the reservoir. It was such a marvelous afternoon on that slightly warm Saturday, If I had owned a little boat I would have gotten the mates together for a round of fun on the water. 

Spring is very much here and it’s time to let those colors shine through! 

Look Deets:

Red Blazer - Forever 21

Blue/Green Polka Dot Button down- Old Navy ( women’s section)

White Jean Pants Rolled - Thrifted

Brown Loafers- Thrifted

Belt: Thrifted- Goodwill


Serene be it large or small, a well-designed bedroom can be your oasis. Create a room that feels both spacious and intimate with layers of your favorite colors and architectural detail like your headboard. Go for scale in a large bedroom with an oversized headboard. It will create the illusion of height as it draws the eye up to the ceiling which feels even higher when painted a lighter color.