relentings

sauce: saw his parents and clan murdered at like 8, was manipulated and groomed by someone he idolized, got re-traumatized by that someone at 12, killed a couple of the people who had a hand in the genocide of his clan, practically begs someone in power to change the system that produced the problem but instead is fed platitudes about “darkness” and whatever dumb idiocy naruto coughs up and is then portrayed as a demon by shitimoto for wanting some kind of revolution to said system in order to uplift naruto’s character. gets beat down by his gay ex-friend and finally relents. goes on some bullshit journey and becomes a shill for konoha. doesn’t seem to get any mental health counseling.

sakura, apparently: Yes he will be a good father and I fully expect this without a hint of irony

INFERNAL QUESTS
When Renegade Knights gather in great number they are
compelled to swear grim oaths to the Dark Gods. In a twisted
parody of their former nobility, they vow to complete mighty
tasks on pain of death and dishonour. Such deeds may include
the burning of a cardinal world or other great place of faith, the
hunting of some feted Imperial hero, or the wholesale butchery
of a star system whose defenders have offended the Dark Gods
with their resistance. Once they have set themselves to such an
Infernal Quest, Renegade Knights will not relent until either
they emerge victorious, or they are slain to the last.
—  Index Chaos (well there is a cool idea)
the signs and what they remind me of:

Aries- being hard on the outside and full of softness inside, never saying how you really feel, sex in the backseat of a parked car on an empty street, thinking you don’t need another soul on earth.

Taurus- satan, feelings buried in the backyard, leaving without saying goodbye, video games, soft voices, blue eyes, running away from home, old cars, cigarettes lit in the morning.

Gemini- seedy hotels, driving down the highway with the windows down screaming your favorite song, feeling guilt when you see an old person eating alone, violent fire one minute and a lonely wave crashing the next, moving away and starting over, making out so hard you run out of breath.

Cancer- dead flowers hanging for decoration, a soft corner of a warm house, gentle pats of comfort on your leg, holding hands, crystals and open windows, being there for someone when they don’t deserve it, storytelling, designer boots clanking on hardwood, too many pillows, a love that doesn’t relent.

Leo- Fleetwood Mac on vinyl spinning all night, an empty stage with hot lights pouring down, filling an empty room with the sound of your own voice, hurting others before they can hurt you.

Virgo- eyes that understand, eyes that do not stop looking at you when you’re talking, plaid shirts, hardwood floors, the sound of an old acoustic guitar, IPAs, wanting to be there for someone but not knowing how, putting so much weight on your shoulders that you feel like you’re going to collapse.

Libra- running away when things get hard, rough hands, being outside, fresh grass, the smell of coffee, loving the idea of something, being in love with the idea of love.

Scorpio- secrets, whispers, long brown hair, pale skin, reading books about witchcraft and astrology, pursed lips, not knowing what to say, eye contact, changing your mind, regret, standing still, telling stories when you’re nervous.

Sagittarius- only hearing what you want to hear, wanting to be alone, reading in a busy coffee shop, inside jokes, guilt, sacrifice, moths, smirks.

Capricorn- soft voices that are drenched in sarcasm, plants in the window, books that have been read so much they’re falling apart, cold air, minimalistic bedrooms, wanting to be touched but not knowing how to ask.

Aquarius- running fingers through someone’s hair, the feeling that no one understands, isolation, black and white films, buying a last minute plane ticket to anywhere, crying in front of the person you love for the first time, being so nervous your voice cracks, being so confident you could walk on water.

Pisces- holding onto something so hard you’d rather lose your teeth than let go, family, crying by yourself in the bathroom, snorting when you laugh.

A Crooked Way to Fly (15k)

“We can’t just leave him here to die.”

“He’s an emissary, Scott.” Derek tried to make his tone empathetic, but Scott’s tendency to fight back on everything always grated on his nerves. “His pack is gone, he won’t survive more than a day or two either way.”

“Then we should stay with him.”

Derek sighed as he studied the man for a moment; he was too pale against the fur rim of his hood, almost grey from lying out in the snow, and his cloak was stained with dark dried blood around a protruding arrow shaft. It was unlikely he would even last the night. They would probably be able to carry on in the morning with little time lost, if any.

It wasn’t a horrible idea, Derek decided reluctantly. They hadn’t been able to set up a real camp for a few weeks in the open foothills, and they were all on edge from sleeping in exposed areas. A defensible place to sleep would be good for them, even if they were surrounded by death. They would be able to give the pack proper burials, at the very least.

“Fine. One night,” Derek relented, already moving away to check on Isaac. “He’s your responsibility.”

Inner Demon

Sun in the 8th (or Leo in the 8th house cusp): The will, that brilliant and majestic will. That will that is equally driven toward self destruction, the will that is relentless about fighting for the right to live. The individual bonds with lovers so profusely that they imbibe the purpose of their lover as part of their own

Moon in the 8th (or Cancer on the 8th house cusp): The inner demon waits and expresses through emotional energy, deceiving the individual into believing they are at hostage to these wild emotions. Through the ego-loss of the 8th, the individual can separate the self from the emotion, understanding emotion as transforming, insightful experience and not the captor 

Mercury in the 8th (or Gemini/Virgo on the 8th cusp): The demon resting in the mind, crawling into thoughts to contaminate them, easily destroying others with words. The individual may identify these thoughts as part of themselves. Realising the inner monologue is separate from the self deflates these mental experiences opens the door of free flowing intuition from the unconscious

Venus in the 8th (or Taurus/Libra on the 8th house cusp): The demon is projected onto lovers, the demon waits in the heart’s desire, its compulsion its consumption, can harmonise the forces of light and dark. They can sensitively draw lovers into a magic cauldron of sexual experience, revealing everything including soul 

Mars in the 8th (or Aries/Scorpio on the 8th house cusp): The rage, the carnal urges, the desire to consume. The swords for invisible battle are raised, but in this the individual accomplishes great feats in the material world, especially in terms of relationships. The intuition is focused toward exhuming connections with other people, settling for nothing less than magnificent 

Jupiter in the 8th (or Sagittarius/Pisces on the 8th house cusp): The desire to know, to have the answer, to relentlessly pursuit spiritual desires in the material world. The inner world is a portal to the ravaged and raised guru. Intuition conduits through the higher mind directly from the underworld, ready to cultivate the purest wisdom  

Saturn in the 8th (or Capricorn/Aquarius on the 8th house cusp): The ego, it’s grip on the self and its refusal to let go. The fears of relenting and giving into insanity. Vulnerability, letting go, and trusting the universe with its astral body is the place where the individual can master both worlds. Intuitive capacities can be mindfully developed and primed

Uranus in the 8th (or Aquarius on the 8th house cusp): The tendency to hold onto lost life, lost circumstances, lost loves, and lost lifestyles. The overturn of change is tremendous, when the person submits they can experience multiple lives and conscious experiences that become purely elevating, facilitating bursts of ingenious psychic activity  

Neptune in the 8th (or Pisces on the 8th house  cusp): The desire to seduce the feeling of death, of seeing how far they can go teasing the ledges of consciousness. It’s about extracting wisdom, healing, and peace through the quality of these experiences rather than destructing through quantity escapism. This sense of elevation they experience must be transmuted into everyday life  

Pluto in the 8th (or Scorpio in the 8th house cusp): The allure and reticence associated with union. The individual must be mindful about sharing spiritual resources with other people, they can introduce something sinister. They can live from chaos to chaos, or they can charter their sensitivity toward conscious transformation of the whole spirit, as new energy flows, perspective must become renewed

C

dating peter parker...

let me know if you liked this it’s tragically long i went overboard haha

  • first and foremost, peter would be the most loving/attentive/caring and overall best boyfriend to ever exist, ever 
  • he’s also a needy baby who likes attention 
    • “Y/N”
    • “Yes, Peter?”
    • “You haven’t kissed me in, like, five whole minutes” 
  • majority of the time you make peter very flustered so you’re usually the one to initiate the kisses because he’s a blushing mess 
  • he thinks you’re the most gorgeous person to ever walk the earth
  • he cannot believe you’re as in love with him as he is with you
    • “How’d I get so lucky”
    • “Peter stop it it’s not like I’m a magical princess I’m normal stoppp” 
    • “But are you sure about that”
  • he will adamantly deny that he likes staring at you but that’s all he does when you’re with him
  • he prefers to call it gazing because it sounds less creepy and the last thing he wants is for you to think he’s a creep
  • he likes to tease you about the fact that you had a crush on him for most of your freshman year and it annoys you endlessly 
    • “That’s so cute Y/N how adorable”
    • “I will literally break up with you right now”
    • “What no no I’m sorry I love you don’t do that” 
  • the first time he told you that he loved you he stuttered for a solid ten minutes, almost cried because c’mon Peter just tell her you love her you idiot she’s gonna hate you if you keep stumbling over your words like a madman oh my god you haven’t said anything in five minutes no one has ever been silent this long
  • finally he closed his eyes and choked out the words and when he opened his eyes he swore that he had never seen anything as beautiful as the way you were smiling at him in that very moment 
  • after that he has no problem saying it to you whenever he can no matter where you are or what you’re doing
    • “Mr. Parker can you please share what you were just whispering to Ms. Y/L/N with the rest of the class?” 
    • “Oh yeah I was just telling her that I love her because I do and I need to make sure that she doesn’t forget” *cue adorable smile*
    • Oh my god Peter please be quiet I love you too you weirdo” 
  • he kind of lives for embarrassing for you, he thinks it’s the funniest thing 
  • you love Ned too and it kind of makes Peter jealous sometimes which is just hilarious to witness
    • “You’re spending an awful lot of time with Ned” 
    • “…………..I spend every waking moment with you and Ned hangs out with us dummy” 
    • “Just checking”
  • you’re the only person he tells about being Spider-Man because you’re you and he can’t keep something like that from the love of his life that’s just not how it works
  • when he sends Happy voicemails every day he makes sure to update him on how you’re doing and whatever thing you do that day that Peter found adorable
  • when Happy finally texts Peter back he doesn’t ask Peter how he’s doing he asks about you 
  • Peter introduces you to Tony with a proud smile on his face as he practically shoves you at him 
    • “Mr. Stark Mr. Stark Mr. Stark this is my girlfriend the one Happy told you about I wanted her to meet you isn’t she cool Mr. Stark”
    • “As long as she’s not as hyper as you are I think I’ll like her very much”
    • “Oh great ‘cause she’s very calm right Y/N?”
    • “Peter babe please stop yelling in my ear” 
    • “I like her already!”
  • he’s very big on calling you my love because it makes you get all shy and you turn away from him since you’re getting embarrassed
  • he proudly talks about you to anyone within earshot and everyone comes to love you because adorable, precious Peter Parker does too
  • Aunt May might love you more than Peter does 
  • sometimes Peter will come home to find you already sitting at the table with her sipping coffee out of his favorite mug and talking about your days and he just lights up with happiness 
  • you yell at him every time he loses yet another backpack 
    • “when will you learn your lesson about webbing your bag to the wall in dark alleys where thieves and probably murders hang out”
    • “that’d be a never” 
  • you kind of hate that he’s Spider-Man since the job is extremely dangerous and he literally almost died fighting Vulture
    • “are you sure you’re okay? i don’t want you dying on me”
    • “i would never leave you my love i promise” 
  • you yell at him whenever he comes back to his house with new bruises and injuries but he knows you’re just yelling because you care and so he takes the yelling and the angry crying from you and hugs you really tight and strokes your hair and tells you that he’s fine and it’s just a scratch and gives you the whole you should see the other guy spiel 
  • he draws engagement rings on your ring finger and swears he’ll make sure it’s a real one day and not just a shitty circle drawing because yeah he’s fifteen and so are you but who cares you’re the one for him and living without you is a life he doesn’t want to even imagine 
  • it’s just not an option and never will be
  • he gets anxiety whenever you have to ride the train out of Queens and back into Manhattan alone since that’s where you live
    • “but what if something happens and i’m not there and you get hurt i wouldn’t be able to live with myself”
  • he goes through metro cards like water in the summer when he doesn’t have his student one because he refuses to let you take the train alone 
  • he never lets go of your hand when you’re together… so basically he’s never once stopped holding hands with you unless absolutely necessary
  • you telling him to ask Tony to let you become an avenger
  • you want to be Black Widow 2.0 
  • or maybe Scarlet Witch but you don’t have powers like Wanda does so Black Widow 2.0
  • Tony actually says he’ll think about it because whenever he goes to see Peter or Peter comes to see him you tag along ( “we’re kind of a package deal Mr. Stark” ) and you’ve grown on him considerably 
  • after Peter meets the Avengers for the first time you plead with him to let you meet them too and when he finally relents you almost faint in front of Cap and have a heart attack in front of Natasha 
    • “Sorry she’s a little excited she’s not usually like this” 
    • “I think I need a glass of water or an oxygen tank”
    • “Mr. Stark do you have an oxygen tank”
    • “She didn’t faint in front of me I’m offended Y/N”
  • Cap offhandedly says you and Peter are cute kids and you almost die
  • Peter is definitely not jealous aT ALL
  • you reassure him that you love him more than Cap and always will
  • you would never want Peter to think for a second that anyone else could ever take you away from him you love him too much to think about that
  • he’s just ridiculously head over heels beautifully in love with you and he wears that love on his sleeve for the entire universe to see and doesn’t care if he’s called “whipped” because hell yeah he is 
  • he managed to become the boyfriend of the most divine person he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting
  • who wouldn’t be a lovestruck mess over you is the better question
  • at least in Peter’s humble opinion
Singapore Sling

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader

Rating: NC-17

Character count: 35,696 / Word Count: 6,521

Your duties as maid of honour were fairly simple: maximise alcohol and minimise stress, keep an eye on the bride-to-be, and above all else, have things under control. You’ve promised yourself to keep this wedding a fuckup-free zone, anticipating smooth sailing from the moment you land in Antigua. When danger emerges on the horizon in the form of a denim-clad devil dressed in Gucci and gold, things take a turn—nothing in the MOH handbook has prepared you for what to do in the event that you unwittingly sleep with the best man.

Keep reading

your 3 a.m. thoughts
can never change
how much i love you.
.
i knew all those secrets
you hold so close,
the weight on your shoulders,
the reasons behind the slouch in your back,
and i want to carry them for you
.
(i love you)
.
whatever it is,
it cannot stop me
from pursuing you
.
(i love you)
.
whoever you think you are
i know you better,
i am what you need
.
i love you
even if you forget
.
(i love you)
.
this is not guilt tripping,
it’s a reminder
of the truth
.
that will never change
—  (last night, You eclipsed my anxiety with so many i love you’s)
Some of the worst things Ciel has done to people

Everyone knows that Ciel isn’t exactly a good person, yet I often overlook what awful things he has actually done! So it seemed like an interesting idea to compile them all for reference.

NOTE: It goes without saying that Ciel is a young teen who is being manipulated by a demon and has a lot of mental health issues to boot - so his actions are hardly “evil” but highly complex. Ciel also feels remorse for many things and does have a moral compass even if he chooses to ignore it. However, that is not the focus of this post so I will not be exploring that.

In order of least to most offensive:

Insulting Agni (right before he died)

Ciel was clearly broken up over Agni’s death and couldn’t have known he was going to die, but that doesn’t make his harsh dismissal of Agni’s words any less cruel - especially since Agni was more than justified in his complaint to Ciel.

Removing “Colett” from Weston College simply to take their place

We don’t know what Sebastian did to ensure Ciel gained a place at Weston College, but it probably wasn’t anything good. This is pretty minor in comparison to the other things Ciel has done (and it’s hard to care since we didn’t even see it happen) but it’s still pretty bad!

Threatening Sieglinde with her life

Even if he was never intending to follow through it’s undeniably harsh to threaten an 11 year old with a gun; it was hardly the only solution.

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Title: At Last
Summary: The day Sakura found out she was pregnant was quite one to remember indeed.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto.
Prompt: That Day
Rating: M
A/N: While I don’t believe they planned to have a baby on the road, this is still a fun and cute scenario to think about. I had lots of fun writing this :)


It wasn’t exactly how she’d ever pictured she would find out: sitting in the middle of a forest, tending to a campfire, watching the love of her life training aggressively against the trunk of an old tree, the warmest smile to her lips—and then, a faint thrumming sensation, odd and completely unfamiliar, sparking low in her belly.

Bemused, Sakura looked down on herself and blinked, touching a palm to her abdomen. An infection, perhaps? she mused, brows furrowing. Shaking her head, the thought was dismissed near-instantly; no, that wasn’t possible—in all her years of experience, she knew with certainty that infections had never been capable of throwing chakra paths off route so much.

Growing evermore perplexed, Sakura simply summoned forth the most basic of her medical techniques, setting about a curious exploration to her body. It was only seconds before she found herself stiffening rigidly, brilliant mind blanking and green eyes snapping wide, rendered entirely speechless by her discovery.

It wasn’t an infection—she’d been right about that. And it wasn’t an instability in her chakra channels either—in fact, there was absolutely nothing wrong with her.

No, she was simply… pregnant.

Her heart stuttered in her chest. A flurry of warmth washed over the whole of her. Pregnant, she thought again, feeling the sweet pulse of this new chakra.

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anonymous asked:

Sterek, Glasses. Magic. Diner.

Filling Prompts Live Nightly!

——-

Derek fiddled with the fragile pair of glasses Stiles had unofficially borrowed from Deaton after Allison had borrowed them without permission from her father. They were, according to Allison, a magical artifact that was somehow supposed to help the wearer to see the truth. As this would more than likely reveal werewolves without any guesswork, it was understandable that none of them wanted such an artifact in the hands of hunters, even one that had agreed to a tentative truce.

So now they were here, hiding at a diner Derek normally wouldn’t be caught dead at, looking for answers. Stiles was flipping through pages of a book he had also questionably borrowed, reading about curses and enchantments, so that they could tell if the glasses were even safe to put on at all.

“Wow, it’s like really unhelpful,” Stiles said around his mouthful of curly fries. He laid the book down and spun it so Derek could read, even though he said it aloud anyway. “Enchantments aid the intended user, curses aid the original caster. For example, a truth enchantment would reveal the truth to the user, where as a truth curse would force the user to reveal the truth to the caster.”

“How do you tell the difference, if you didn’t cast the spell?” Derek asked, glancing down at the flowing script.

“Exactly,” Stiles said, like he won an argument, even though for once they were not arguing. “It doesn’t say. I guess someone’s just going to have to, like, put them on.”

“Are you volunteering?” Derek asked, raising a brow.

“To test unknown magic on myself?” Stiles returned, then scoffed. Derek could see him shifting to get ready to make a grab for the glasses, so he moved them enough Stiles had to reconsider. “Oh, come on.”

“And what if they’re cursed?” Derek said, reasonably.

“Then you ask me embarrassing questions until I take them off,” Stiles answered immediately. He had thought about this, clearly. “They can’t be that dangerous if Chris didn’t lock them up.”

Derek relented with a sigh, because he really did not think that the glasses were actually harmful. And they did need to know what exactly they did. Stiles snatched them up greedily, unfolding the delicate arms with a grace he seemed to reserve only for magic, and slipped them onto his face. Derek couldn’t help the stray though zipping through his mind, that Stiles really did look cute in glasses.

“Oh,” Stiles said, small and big, when he looked at Derek. He swallowed, looking like he could see ghosts currently, and Derek figured that meant they’d been right. It would reveal werewolves.

“You’ve seen me wolf out,” Derek told him, holding out a hand to take the glasses.

“You love me,” Stiles said, hushed, and Derek’s blood ran cold as he looked up to meet Stiles’ eyes.

Oh, no. No no no.

“What?” Derek said, mouth dry, mind tailspinning.

“You love me,” Stiles repeated, reverently, not looking away.

“Stiles, I…” Derek shook his head, not sure what he could even say. Of course he did. He had for a while, but he’d never intended to say a word. He’d never intended to ruin what they had going, like he had ruined so many other things.

Stiles snatched the glasses off his nose like they’d burned him, and if they hadn’t been sitting in a booth, he’d have knocked the chair and table over in his scramble to get to his feet. Derek pulled back a little when Stiles came at him with the glasses, but he froze when Stiles did, and then allowed Stiles to place the glasses on him, instead.

With a heavy whump, Stiles sat back down across from him, staring at him with wide, urgent eyes. Derek blinked once, twice, and then he suddenly understood how Stiles knew. He could see it there, plain as day, in the way Stiles looked at him. In the beat of his heart, in the catch of his breath, in the quirk of his smile. Nothing had really changed, Derek couldn’t see anything actually different about Stiles while looking through the glasses, but he knew.

Stiles loved him, too.

Alright but I just noticed the neat parallel between Sven and Romelle and Keith’s parents–and I think it’s a tradition that might carry over to Shiro and Keith, so real quick:

In 80′s Voltron, Romelle gives Sven this knife/dagger for protection. They end up being love interests in the dub. But even that aside, Romelle caring so much about Sven’s safety and wishing him well is kinda seen as a romantic gesture. Real quick, but Romelle is also an alien princess (from Pollux, Altea’s “twin” planet) and Sven is of course human. 

yOU KNOW WHO ELSE THAT SOUNDS LIKE,,,

Yeah, Keith’s alien mom also gave her partner a thematically important knife before parting ways. So, wouldn’t it make sense that, if Keith ended up having a human love interest who was about to head out into danger–that he’d maybe give them the knife before they left? As a sign of good faith and for luck if nothing else; carrying on his mother’s tradition. Considering how important the knife is to Keith, I can see him giving it away as a measure of the depth to his devotion–I’m lending this to you for luck. But you know how important this is to me, so I expect you to come back alive and return it–something like that. 

But now, couldn’t Romelle also appear later as part of the Blade of Marmora, and give Shiro her own knife? Perhaps. But two things–one, Shiro is already associated with Keith’s blade. And two, of all the blades we’ve seen so far, Keith’s is actually the only one that really resembles a dagger, which is what Romelle gave Sven. Antok, Ulaz, Thace, Kolivan, ect–all their blades look different in their deactivated forms. Here’s a good reference showing how unique Keith’s blade is.

Now as for Shiro, the first he hears of Marmora is right when he escapes. 

“The blade of Marmora is with you,” Ulaz says. How fitting then, that it’s a Marmora blade that cuts Shiro free when he crashes back to Earth. On a thematic level, I think this is so much more than just The rebellion is with you. It’s the narrative saying–Don’t worry, Keith will always be there for you. Because, of course it’s Keith’s blade that frees him; of course, Keith is running to his rescue. Like he always does. Of course, out of everyone, it’s Keith and Shiro who keep crashing back together whenever they’re torn apart. It’s like fate.  

Not only has Keith’s blade saved Shiro once already, but Shiro has defended Keith and his right to keep the knife in turn. If Keith is going to pass on his blade at some point like his mother (whether temporarily or not), thematically, I think it’s just a logical conclusion that that person has to be Shiro. After all, I think he’s the only one that would really understand the depth of such a gesture. Because who was there with Keith in the Blade of Marmora, who saw him fight tooth and nail and nearly die for this? Who was the one that took the form of Keith’s greatest hopes and dreams–who did he fear losing the most? Who was the person he most desperately wants to see

Ulaz was right; Shiro does have the backing of the Blade of Marmora–and his fate appears inexorably tied to one blade in particular. That Shiro was there for Keith’s trial, that he witnessed Keith bare his heart and soul and saw himself reflected there–their endurance of the trial binds them together in a way I don’t think anyone else could ever fully grasp. 

And I mean, I think it would speak volumes about Keith’s trust in Shiro if he were to offer the blade to him willingly. After all, a big part of his trial was Shiro trying to force him to give it away.

Seeing Keith give Shiro the knife to safeguard him on a mission before they parted ways would be especially endearing becuase, well–when he does give in during his trial, he only agrees because he’s so afraid of losing Shiro. 

Shiro threatens to abandon him if he doesn’t relent, and so he does. To see the blade offered then as a sign of their bond, to show just how close they are and that this isn’t goodbye forever, that Shiro will still come back–I think that’s just the kind of closure for them I want to see. 

nerd!jimin + unknown territory (pt3) 

Jimin stared at the larvae sitting across from him, warily, it was currently trying to eat spaghetti with a knife. He should probably stop it, but that meant touching the thing and then he would—

“Stop looking at my kid like that.” You roll your eyes before replacing her knife with a fork and watching a happy little grin stretch across her face.

“Like what?” Jimin clears his throat.

“Like you’re having an entire internal monologue listing all the reasons you’ll never have kids.” You mutter, using a napkin to wipe stray sauce from Mina’s face.

“I’m not doing that.” He says and he shrinks when you pin him with a hard stare, “What? I’m not! I did that on the drive over here – now I’m just watching in mild fascination at the eating habits of—”

“Oh my God.”

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” He laughs when you move to get up, he tugs you back down by the wrist and you ignore the butterflies erupting your chest when he takes a second too long to remove his hand, “Will you relax already? You’ve barely spoken to me since we’ve ordered. Tell me about yourself, how have you been how did all of this happen?”

“It’s not exactly exciting.” You sigh, “It’s actually a very long story.”

“Let’s start with the basics then – are you still with her father?” Jimin lowers his voice, sparing Mina a glance.

“He left about as soon as I took the pregnancy test so no.” You laugh bitterly, picking up your own slice of pizza to dig in.

You watch helplessly as Mina nearly swipes her pasta off the table but Jimin is on top of it, grabbing her bowl before it makes its crash landing and sending the little girl a stern look before handing her back her fork. She grins unabashedly.

“Do I know him?” Jimin queries, keeping a careful eye on the brat now that she’s decided to make toys out of the cutlery. He sighs but waves over the waitress, “Do you guys have like one of those coloring sheets for kids or something?”

“Sorry sir.” The waitress sends an apologetic smile before moving to refill everyone’s water. Jimin glares but begrudgingly unlocks his phone before opening one of the few games he has stored.

“She’ll crack your phone.” You say mildly, watching in only half amusement as Jimin glares at your daughter when she keeps pressing buttons.

“I’ll buy a new one.” He snaps before he remembers he supposed to be wooing you.

It was too easy, too easy to fall back into the pattern of your old friendship.

You had begrudgingly agreed to dinner with him, only because in turn he allowed you to pick the restaurant, a quaint little mom and pop pizza parlor not too far from your office that you frequented. It wasn’t anything he was used to, at least not in light of recent events and his acquisition of millions, but it was good. One of those places that hand made their crust, they were popular and bustling with business but still managed to find a seat for you. Jimin took quick notice of the warm, familiar smiles sent your way from the old man working the front of house, going as far to boop the little girl you were toting, on one cherub cheek.

He was scared someone might break into his car in this neighborhood and you could only roll your eyes because this place was a suburban dream compared to where you stayed.

“No you don’t know him.” You say when you find your heart doing weird floppy things at the sight of your daughter and Jimin interacting so causally – it was something you wanted to erase from your memory because it hurt. “He was some guy I met at college, well before I dropped out to take care of Mina.”

“And your parents?” He asks, a frown marring his face at the thought.

“Disowned me when I wouldn’t abort her.” You shrug as though the words didn’t feel like nails clawing their way up your throat – an old wound re-opened but you feigned indifference pretty well now a days. Even you almost believed your lies.

“So who helps you? You don’t get child support or—”

“Jimin.” You say softly, because it’s in your nature to treat him with kid gloves on, even if he is overstepping, “I’ve been doing this for a while now. It’s tough but I manage. I’m fine – we’re fine. Now can we talk about something less, I don’t know, depressing.”

Jimin lets out a long suffering sigh but he relents with a curt nod, you don’t miss the way the muscle in his jaw jumps – and what a chiseled jaw it’s become over time. You nearly lose track staring at it.

“Where do you work at now?” He asks, momentarily distracted by a piece of cheese hanging from his chin. He lets out an expletive before wincing at Mina.

You stifle a grin because it’s so much like the old Jimin you couldn’t help the elation that bubbled over in your chest. Instead you choose to rest your chin in your palm while watching him.

“I sale time shares at a realty office, though I’m sure you already know that since you tracked me down and sent me gifts.” You murmur dryly when he smiles, “It was very Tony Stark of you.”


“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me.” Jimin says honestly, putting a hand over his heart.

“Mmm.” You hum sarcastically, “So how are your parents, living lavish at the hands of their millionaire son I assume?”

“Living lavish.” He scoffs, “You’ve met my parents. My mom barely let me renovate our old house and only did so because I threw a bitch fit that she wouldn’t accept the beachside bungalow I had lined up for them.”

You grin at the thought of a very stern and self sufficient Mrs. Park arguing with her mogul son, because she probably won… but still you making tsking noise anyway.

“Well, in her defense you can be a bit… frivolous with your spending.” You say, nodding towards the bag of gifts seated next to him.

“I work damn hard to be frivolous. You two always did love ganging up on me.” He glared, “You’re so much like her it’s scary.”

“It’s why she loved me.” You tease back. “I’m her favorite child, even Jihyunnie has accepted it.”

Something changes in his face and his expression is softening. You scramble to change the topic because you knew how easy it was to get caught up in the old days, where things were much easier and there was less pressure on you, less weighing on your mind.

“How is he now?” You ask suddenly and Jimin’s features shutter closed – back to the calm, cool and collected Jimin that had picked you up.

“He’s doing good. He’ll graduate in a year.” He says mildly, “He’s still a brat and beating me up on visits.”

“I would hope so. You need someone to keep you grounded, remind you where you came from.” You harrumph.

“They miss you, you know.” Jimin says quietly, suddenly unable to meet your gaze. He’s taken to staring at Mina who was currently taking about a thousand pictures with his front camera. “My mom misses you. You know how she always complained about being the only woman in the house.”

He looks up at you and it’s your turn to look away. Because you had shoved back so many memories that were associated with him, but now sitting here at dinner, reminiscing it was easy to remember the bond you shared with the elder Park. It was something you also couldn’t have back and again, it hurt knowing that.

“I’m sure she’d love to see you again—love to meet Mina too.” He says softly.

“Jimin.” You say curtly and he returns your tone.

“____.”

“I don’t think that's—”

“You think too much is the problem.” He sighs, before signaling the waitress for the check, “Just because you… because we ended on rough terms… I know it’s a lot to ask but, I hope you don’t hold that against my parents. You were great to have around and they miss you. I’ve never gotten so much shit over something in my life—you would think that we were actually dating.”

You averted your gaze for the millionth time that night because it was true. Though there was no official label between the two of you, you were caught in an open limbo between more than friends but not quite dating. Even if Jimin couldn’t admit a lot of things to himself he was forced to acknowledge that things had been almost domestic between the two of you – between the sheer amount of time you spent over at each other’s places, or in his bed, lazing around doing nothing. When his parents would ask for his whereabouts it was always the same—

“____.” He says quietly, before handing his credit card off to the server, “Think about what I said, yeah?”

“I will.” You reply with a stiff smile.

The silence that was once comfortable between the two of you had some how shifted to a stilted, and unwelcome one at the mention of the past. You find yourself fidgeting in your seat at the weight of his words, because despite it all it was something that you desperately wanted as well.

“Tell me more about your job,” Jimin says, returning the topic to a lighter subject, it didn’t take a genius to notice how tense you’d gotten at the mention of seeing his family again.

“I’m sure it’s not as exciting as being a billionaire.” You say off handedly, going to sip at your wine.

Millionaire.” Jimin corrects and you scoff at him, “But being rich isn’t as exciting as you’d expect either.”

“How very modest of you,” you roll your eyes before sucking at your teeth, “I would kill for middle class these days.”

“I could help you get there.” He says lightly with a shrug and your spine straightens, “Not a hand out, a job, ____. I looked into your company the other day—”

“You did what?” You ask, indignantly.

And just like that the switch had been flipped again and you were on your guard.

“Is this really a surprise, you knew I was looking for you, it only makes sense that I would check the companies shares and stocks while I was at it. I know you don’t believe me, but we’re friends and I wanted to make sure that you were doing okay for yourself.”

“No Jimin, we were friends ten years ago.” You correct, ears turning pink at his audacity, “And I know you’re out of practice but friends ask friends how they’re doing, they don’t run a financial background check on them.”

“Hey, I didn’t run a financial background check on you,” he scoffs, “I didn’t even peek at your credit score even though it was right their in front of me.”

You threw your napkin down on the table before narrowing your eyes at him, “You’re a real ass you know that?”

“That may be true but you know as well as I do that you wouldn’t be half as defensive if it weren’t for the fact that the companies going
bankrupt.” He says calmly but his knuckles going white around his grip on the table cloth, “They’re going under and you have—”

“Five maybe six months left there, I’m well aware.” You scowl, “but that doesn’t give you the right to invade my privacy like this. And besides, a job? Let me guess you want me to be your assistant so you can bend me over and —”

You chance a look at Mina, who’s still well engrossed with the apps on Jimin’s phone and let out an exasperated sigh.

“You’re lucky if you have four months there.” He says mildly, “Looking at their financial statements I can tell they barely have enough to pay you minimum wage, so let me guess you’ve been working there for going on six years and you’ve yet to get a pay increase am I right?”

“God, you’re so condescending.” You laugh bitterly.

“Only when I’m right.” He says, “And for the record, you wouldn’t be working for me. If you think I stand chance getting any work done while you’re around you’d be delusional. I have a friend who owns a small law firm, he’s looking for a secretary and you’ve had more than enough experience doing clerical work.”

“Your head must be impossibly thick if I have to say this again but I don’t need your help,” you glare.

“Think about Mina.” He argues.

“I am thinking about Mina,” you say, much louder than you intend. You clear your throat before lowering your voice, “She’s the only thing I think about and you don’t get to bulldoze in ten years later and try to pick up where things left off. We’re not in high school anymore. This is real life, it’s my life.”

“You’re right, we’re not in high school anymore but things sure haven’t changed, have they?” He spat, “You still have to be in control of everything.”

“Of my life? Yes! Of my daughters life? You bet your ass.” You scowl.

“Fine. You’re coming across loud and clear, you don’t need or want my help.” He says, pinching the bridge of his nose, “But at least—”

He stops mid sentence when the shrill ring of your phone pierces through the otherwise comfortably quiet restaurant and you’re shuffling through your purse for your phone. You look up at him before sighing, “It’s work. I have to take this.”

“Hello? Yes, hi Mr. Kim.” You’re already rising to your feet when one chubby hand comes up to clutch your shirt.

“Momma,” Mina calls and it garners both your attention, “It was an accident.”

“Oh no.” You sigh, a frown marring your face as you go to your knees to collect the remainder of spaghetti off the floor, the rest found their way all down the front of her little tank top and you groan, “I’m sorry not you sir, I just—yes I understand the severity of this contract I…. yes sir I'm—”

“Go.” Jimin mouths, before shooing you away with the flick of his wrist. You stare up at him wide eyed, phone still pressed to your ear and an indecisive look marring your face.

Jimin sighs but rises to his feet, lifting you with him and all but pushing you in the direction of the exit before he’s turning to Mina. You send a curt nod of gratitude at him before bustling out and attempting to placate your boss on the phone.

Jimin has never carried a child before. He has especially never carried one covered nearly head to toe in an Italian red sauce delicacy. He had however carried a sack of potatoes and gauging the insufferable little brats weight, she was about the same size. So he applies all the knowledge he’s accumulated in twenty some years of carrying groceries into the house for his mother and keeps the little girl at a giggling arm’s length from his body while he fast walks into the men’s room.

He’s already had her set down on the porcelain countertop before his gaze catches on something in the mirror. A man maybe in his mid twenties is staring at him from the urinal. Jimin’s brows slash down at the inquisitive look before sending him a nod, “What? You’ve never seen a kid before?”

The man is a flurry of movement, zipping up his jeans before sending an apologetic bow at Jimin and shuffling out of the room.

Jimin sighs at the sweet smile Mina’s sending his way, an adorable dimple winking at him, before he rolls his eyes and swipes at her glasses lens where a stray splatter of meat sauce has found its way. He sends her a stern look, “Yah. I bet that smiles gotten you out of a lot of trouble. It won’t work on me.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation as you try and explain to your boss for maybe the millionth time (that night) why the Henderson case you got handed a week ago wasn’t moving as quickly as he’d like it.

For all it was worth your boss wasn’t a bad guy, and the company you worked for didn’t cheat you out of money the way Jimin had made it sound. Now, did you deserve a raise after all the time and hours you had put in? Did you need it? Hell yes. But things weren’t always black and white, in fact your entire life seemed to be sat in one huge area of gray.

The company you worked for was family owned and every person in it was sweet, soft hearted, and genuine and all things considered those were good traits to have—except when you were working in the realty field. It was cut throat and competitive. More than once you had seen your boss caught up with loan sharks, renting out time shares at a discounted price to homeless shelters. And then there was the fact that he was just a tad dimwitted, but your heart had gone soft for the old man that had taken both you and Mina under his wing. So you owed him that. You couldn’t give him much but loyalty anyway.

When you returned to the restaurant with a headache you hadn’t had five minutes ago, you look for Jimin to apologize but your footsteps stutter and your heart drops to your belly when you see the two seats still vacant. You turn to the hostess and nearly fall into hysteria when she tells you they left.

Your phone chimes.

Unknown [7:23:45]: meet us at Fro-zone

“What did I say?” Jimin scowls, “One scoop.”

“But Jiminnie,”

“Your moms gonna kick my ass if I—”

“Jimin.” You call out, hair wind blown from the jog over here and when you meet his gaze he tips his head up at you in acknowledgement.

He was hunched over a whining Mina who had shed her white tank top in place of a pink shirt with a sparkling heart in the middle. He was looking at her sternly and if you weren’t careful you would mistake Mina for one of his business associates with the way he was carefully explaining to her why she couldn’t have more than a handful of sugar before bed—it involved you and him in an oiled up cage match which he would inevitably lose.

You took that as your cue to step in.

“Momma!” She cried gleefully, “Where’d you go?”

“Where did you go?” You retort, poking a finger at her protruding belly and making her jump back with a giggle, “I like your shirt.”

“Jiminnie picked it out!” she grins proudly and Jimin sends a dry look your direction.

“It was either this or the neon pink sweater with seven bows on it and a giant pop up unicorn head—I don’t care how old your kid is, not even she could pull off something so ridiculous.”

“She likes pink.” You shrug but Jimin spots the mirth in your eyes.

“Jiminnie knows a lot of bad words.” Mina tattles and Jimin glares at the little demon. “He owes like ten dollars to the swear jar.”

“The fee’s twenty five scents a swear word just how much did you cuss with my kid?” You cock a brow.

“Is that the only way you’re accepting money?” He retorts with a snarky expression, “Let me stick around after you put Mina to bed and I’ll give you enough material for her college fund.”

You grin but don’t say anything as he leads you to his car.


It isn’t all that much later when he pulls up to your car in the parking garage. A glance back in his rearview tells you that Mina is out cold and you sigh with the thought that she is way too big to be getting carried anymore. You turn in your seat to wake her up but Jimin shakes his head at you before opening his car door and heading to the back.

It’s probably the fact that a man hasn’t carried Mina since she was born that attributes more to the pain in your chest than it is that it’s Jimin. Jimin of all people putting a sturdy hand on the back of your daughters head and tucking her tiny glasses in his hand so she doesn’t hurt her face. He waits for you to unlock the door to your car before setting her down in her car seat and leaving you to buckle her in.

He’s still holding her specs when you turn back to him, fiddling with a small scratch on one of the lenses before handing them back to you.

You can’t quite put a finger on the atmosphere that resonates in the otherwise abandoned parking garage—nonetheless words find their way to your lips that you had no intent of sharing with him.

“I’ll take you up on your offer.” You utter.

“The job?” He brightens at your words and you wince.

“No,” you say quietly. “I… maybe if me and Mina have time we’ll stop by your parents sometime. I’m sure your Mom would love to meet her.”

His expression doesn’t dull at your words, if anything it only gets that much brighter at he mention of his parents and for the briefest of moments your caught up in your old feelings, because this was too much like the old Jimin. The one who wore his heart on his sleeve, and was never sly or cool or charming in a way that wasn’t dorky.

“You really mean that?”

“It couldn’t hurt to rekindle that relationship.” You shrug.

Could it?

Temptation

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Words: 909

Warnings: Implied sexy times, a few curse words, Bucky is a suave lil shit  (now there’s another)

A/N: I saw the last two lines on Pinterest and I couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky…..

also can we appreciate this gif his smile is worth all the burpees in the world

BEEP BEEP BEEP  

You move to press the snooze button, but a strong arm prevents you from going too far.

“Where you going?”  Bucky gripes.

“I have to get up babe, I’m training this morning.”

Stretching your arm in a futile attempt to stop the irritating buzz, you yelp as your boyfriend takes advantage of your ticklish underarm, then he gathers you back in his arms.

Keep reading

Waiting

Request: Hey! I loved your last Tom Holland imagine! And I was wondering if you could make another one where he and the reader are friends (or better friends) and the reader has feelings for Tom, but he is with Zendaya (or other person) so she spends more time with The rest of the cast, then after a long day of shooting, Tom goes to see her and they have an argument then make-out follows! Please? Thanks! Sorry, English is not my language! :)

Requested by: anonymous.

A/N: Thank you, love! I altered your imagine a bit where he isn’t with Zendaya, and because of speculation of them dating, I want to respect both Tom’s and Zendaya’s privacy. Even though I doubt either will see this, I don’t want to speculate, so rather I just made it where the reader is jealous because he spends so much time with Zendaya. Hope you don’t mind!

Pairing: Tom x Reader

Warnings: making out?


“Y/N!” At the sound of Tom’s voice, you picked up the speed in your step, desperate to get away before he could catch you. You knew what he wanted, and you knew it wasn’t good, especially since you’d been avoided his company for well over a few weeks. The only time you actually allowed yourself to be near Tom was when filming, and your two characters had a scene together. Otherwise, you spent most of your time with the other members of the cast, namely Laura.

“Y/N, slow down! Just wait a minute-”

But it seemed finally Tom had been able to catch up to you. You cursed yourself, because it was mainly your fault why he’d been able to reach you after filming. Today had been a particular exhausting day of filming and instead of rushing off home or to hang out with friends, you’d toddled, hung around set for a bit because you were tired. And now, after days of trying to catch you before leaving or running off, Tom had managed to reach you.

For a second, when you reached the doors to your car, you’d thought you had managed to get away. You’d even sighed a breath of relief, checking off that you’d been able to avoid awkward confrontation another day. But then a hand fell on your wrist, snatching it from the car door handle and twisting you so you were facing him. You gasped, shocked but then you found Tom’s face and you froze. He was the same height as you, maybe a tad bit shorter, so there was no way to get away from his gaze on you.

“Jesus Y/N,” Tom sighed, panting heavily. He’d been running to catch up with your rather fast and lengthy steps. You avoided his eyes, looking down to your right as you leaned against your car door. What Tom lacked in height he gained in… well everything. And it was hard to hide the fact that the reason you’d been avoiding him was because you were jealous his attention had been on another girl when you were faced with his rather attractive… everything. “Look at me.”

You bit your lip, relenting; “no.”

“Y/N.” 

“No.” You raised your voice slightly. And despite your previous one worded response, you turned your gaze to him anyway, tears in your eyes as everything that had been cooped up the past weeks came to resurface. Tom’s rather annoyed face dropped and was immediately replaced with worry when he saw your expression, pausing in his efforts. You, though, continued. “No. I won’t look at you. Why should I? It’s not like you even gaze my way.”

“What do you mean?” Tom’s breathless voice echoed, and you had to restrain yourself from melting at the sound. Tom had that effect on you. “All you’ve been doing for the past weeks is ignore me!” His voice raised considerably, his cheeks flushing in anger. You found yourself stunned, the realization that your decision to ignore Tom had not only hurt you, and may have hurt him more than yourself. “When I show up at an interview, you leave. Show up at work? You leave, saying some excuse. Show up at Jacob’s, or Laura’s, or Zendaya’s house? You leave. So how am I in the wrong?”

You bit your lip, shaking your head as you felt yourself get all riled up. Zendaya. “Have you taken the time to consider why I might have done this?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tom sighed, shaking his head. “Yeah.” He mumbled, “a hundred times. Wanna tell me?” You said nothing, shaking your head stubbornly. After a minute of complete tense silence, you heard Tom sigh once again, more frustration behind his breath. Then he let go of your wrist, looking to the side. Though he didn’t step back, he was still as close as he had been before, trapping you against the side of your car. “You know what? Why do I even care? You’re the one acting like a crybaby because you need attention.”

Your mouth fell open in indignation, shocked that he would say such hurtful words. You paused, turning to look at him and you could see his face fall when he realized just what he had said. But before he could say anything, you interrupted him; “you’re right. I do need attention-”

“That’s not what I meant. Y/N-”

“No,” your voice was sickly sweet. The tears coming back full force, as you stared at Tom in hurt. “You’re right. I do. Just not the kind of attention you think. I want attention from you.” You watched Tom’s face fall in bewilderment but you were too riled up to care. “But you’re too busy with Zendaya to care.”

“What do you mean?” Tom asked hesitantly.

You dropped your hands in a fit, shaking your head; “I mean I love you! I have for so long and every attempt i’ve ever had in trying to get you to know or even look at me, you’re too busy laughing or chatting with Zendaya. So yeah, I did avoid you, but only because it was clear you didn’t need me in the beginning.” You finish with a huff, calming down the second you spoke your last word. Realizing that you had just up and confessed everything, your eyes fell on Tom, gauging his reaction. He said nothing.

You then, tired of the whole day in general, shook your head. “Forget I said any-” Before you could finish your words there were warm, soft lips on your own. Hands fell on your face, cradling it with such care but Tom kissed you with such force. At first you were too shocked to do anything, the sheer reality that Tom was kissing you keeping you still, and then you found yourself in the moment. Pressed up against your car, Tom’s body covering your own, you kissed him back with such force.

The kiss lasted a few moments before you both separated, panting breathlessly. You said nothing, rocking with his movements as you held the back of his head. He leaned forward, pressing another kiss against your lips before whispering; “I love you.”

All anguish had vanished, and you found yourself smirking against his lips. “Oh, you do, do you?”

“Have everyday.” Tom grinned, “and will everyday.”

“I think that’s a sufficient enough apology.” You considered teasingly, nodding to yourself. Tom leaned back from your embrace, opening his mouth in mocked shock towards you. “Apology? And why should I be the one to apologize? You’re the one who ignored me.” He reminded, poking at your stomach. You giggled, grabbing ahold of his stomach and sighed.

“Because, you kept me waiting.”

DÉPAYSEMENT | 05

| Fluff | Comedy | Smut | Slight Angst | Nerd!Hoseok | Braces!Hoseok

word count: 5k

❝ An engineering prodigy and your resident college loser, Jung Hoseok coerces you into teaching him the ways of the dating world. 

trigger warnings: bullying, mentions of suicide


“I don’t understand why we had to come here first, why couldn’t we all head to the field and meet there?” Jungkook huffs before throwing himself down on your couch.

Jimin only grins at the younger boy before shoving him playfully, “Yah. Your noona wanted you to stop by it’s the least you could do.”

Jungkook glares at him ruefully before turning to Yoongi, “You got roped in too?”

“Would I ever be around you people of my own free will?” Yoongi grumbles, his arms crossed in a pout but it doesn’t fully reach his eyes when he’s met with Taehyung’s smiling face.

“I brought company! I hope she doesn’t mind.” He smiles, offering Namjoon a seat next to him, he’s only partially startled when Yoongi’s foot stretches out, successfully kicking the chair before the younger boy can steal a sit next to Taehyung.

“Trade seats, I’m sitting closer to these rodents than my designated three feet rule allows.” Yoongi mutters but Taehyung’s heart does weird flip flops in his chest.

“So why are we all here?” Namjoon queries.

“You are all here because I’m doing Hoseok’s official unveiling.” You grin excitedly, jogging out of your bedroom long enough to check if everyone’s present. You frown, “Where’s Nayeon?”

At the exact moment Nayeon comes running in, toting several shopping bags before nearly collapsing on the kitchen table, panting and sweaty.

“Sorry! I’m late! But I’m here… I got caught up at the mall.” She grins sheepishly.

You match her smile for all its worth and almost miss the slightly disgruntled expression Jungkook is sporting. You swallow a sigh but not before sending him a stern look and a promise of addressing the issue later. But for now… for now you had other things to deal with.

You shuffle around with your phone before finding the perfect song and set it on the table, next to your Bluetooth speaker.

“Why are we listening to Sixpence?” Yoongi frowns at your theatrics.

“Have you never watched She’s All That?” You scoff at Yoongi’s blank expression, “If you must know peasant I’m paying tribute to the most iconic makeover unveiling in movie history. Now shut up so he can make his entrance.”

It takes but all of one minute to quiet the groaning room with an angry glare but they can’t help it not when you were so… corny.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” you begin theatrically, a grin tugging at your lips, “I’d like to present to you the new, not improved but different—Jung Hoseok.”

A pregnant pause followed your declaration and everyone stared expectantly at your bedroom door, but lo and behold no Hoseok was in sight.

“Hoseok you punk there almost at the,” You tapped your foot expectantly, “…. chorus.”

You finish lamely but in your defense Hoseok had finally made his grand entrance from your room and despite having been in there with him for the better part of the day, his transformation was still shocking to you because who knew that underneath all that he was—

“Blonde.” Taehyung says dumbly.

“Hot.” Nayeon grins.

“A work of goddamn art.” You agree.

Hoseok fidgets under close scrutiny but it doesn’t take away from the overall presentation you had cooked up on a small budget. It wasn’t much and you hadn’t been expecting Hoseok of all people to be able to make a black t shirt and some light wash jeans look like it came off the cover of a goddamn GQ spread but it worked. A lot of it had to do with the fact that you managed to shove his fat head under a dad cap and tweeze those godforsaken eyebrows. He wouldn’t go as far as to let you fill them in but he was at last wearing a moisturizer today.

Baby steps, you reminded yourself.

“Not bad.” Jimin muses before turning to you, “It’s actually really not bad, Jesus Christ what are you a fucking magician?”

You take a grandiose bow before turning to the silent participants in the room, cocking a brow at them and reaping Hoseok’s praise as though it were your own.

“You look completely unrecognizable.” Yoongi says, muttering a curse when Taehyung shoulder bumps him, “It’s a good thing, okay?”

“So you look like this,” Namjoon began slowly, “underneath all that… gross… and you choose to hide it because?”

“You’re all a bunch fucking critics, aren’t you?” Hoseok seethes.

You roll your eyes at him before turning to Jimin, “Are we all set to go?”

“Nayeon’s changing and she’ll be out.” Jungkook says closing her bedroom room, and you raised a brow at that because you hadn’t realized he had followed Nayeon into her room.

You had so many questions.

All of which took a backseat to the current stud sitting next to you so you shrugged and began collecting your purse to leave.


“You’re glaring.” Yoongi notes lightly as he pushes you further down the bench room for himself.

You school your features but not well enough that Yoongi doesn’t pick up on the snarl you barely bite back. It only takes a moment under close scrutiny for you to be turning to take it out on the nearest victim—it just so happened to be Jungkook.

“Close your fucking legs, Jeon do you think you own the entire goddamn bench?” You growl, glancing at his legs that were spread so wide his thigh was tucked firmly against your own.

“What are you even doing in the dug out? Go sit with the rest of the crowd.” He rolls his eyes at your outburst but obliges, turning to talk to Jimin and ignore you.

“Is there a reason you’re so testy?” Yoongi queries, raising both hands when you pin him with a look, “Not that you need one. I’m all for bitching at unsuspecting victims.”

“I’m not bitchi—you know what, never mind.” You scowl and Yoongi scoffs.

“Is it because you’re boyfriends garnering so much unwarranted attention?” Yoongi hums, “Because if you didn’t want that to happen then you shouldn’t have done such a good job. Though even I wasn’t expecting that kind of transformation from him of all people, Jesus.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You snap, arms crossed.

“Is that why you’re mad?” Yoongi sing-songs.

You open your mouth to let out a biting remark but the words get caught in your throat when the sixth girl today in the span of an hour, approaches Hoseok, sat perched in the bed of Jeon’s truck with Taehyung and Namjoon. You had been sitting there too but after the first three girls approached him, one even using you under the guise of friendship when you took like one class with her sophomore year, you had been out quicker than Ellen Degeneres during Pride.

You really should be over there coaching him, because all things considered, he was still a nincompoop when it came to girls – unable to look them in the eye or not stammer, unless of course the girl was you then he’d tell you to fuck right off and stop irritating him.

Brat.

“I’m not mad,” you say, plastering on a fake smile and grateful for the sunglasses you had donned after his comment because at least he couldn’t see the the spiteful glare you were sporting.

And you ask yourself, not for the first time today why you’re feeling so… weird.

“Okay, I lied, I am mad.” You relent finally, “I’m mad because I did all of that and the brat still has the nerve to feel insecure as though he doesn’t look like the poster boy for orthodontists weekly.”

You said it through barely clenched teeth, praying you did a good enough job of not wearing your feelings on your forehead like an idiot. But if Yoongi noticed he either didn’t say anything or didn’t care enough to mention it. (It was more likely the latter).

“Speaking of which, here comes the cheese grater now.” Yoongi snickers at his own joke and true to his word a very flushed and frazzled Hoseok is making his way over to you.

You frown at his expression before asking the obvious.

“Are you okay?”

No. I’m not okay.” He hisses, before glancing down at Jungkook’s thigh which had found its way back to yours.

Why the hell wouldn’t he close his goddamn legs?

“What’s your deal?” You nod and watch as Hoseok exhales warily.

“Is this seat taken? No? Perfect!” He grimaces, shoving Jungkook’s legs closed before squeezing in between the two of you.

Jungkook glares at the older boy for a brief second before continuing his conversation with Jimin.

“I can’t do this.” Hoseok says harshly, pinning you with a scowl. Your reaction is delayed when you get caught up in his eyes, brows slashed down angrily and no longer playing the victim to a horribly overgrown fringe.

He had a really nice fucking forehead.

“D-do what?” You clear your throat, going to sip from your beer.

“This. Talking to them!” He says vehemently, gesturing to a pair of scantily clad girls leaning against the truck, he waves weakly at them when they brandish a grin in his direction. “I’m not a social person and they… are very forward?”

“Forward?” You squint your eyes at him with a frown.

“One of them grazed my dick when they put there hand on my thigh.” He hissed.

What?” You don’t realize your shouting until your lips already curled and Yoongi is cocking a brow at you. You clear your throat before averting your gaze, “I mean… that’s so rude?”

“Anyway, let me stay here,” he huffs out, “You’re really good at scaring people off.”

“Hey!” You cry out indignantly before narrowing your eyes at him, “No offense my guy but wasn’t that the whole point of this entire thing? Getting you laid? Those girls want you to fuck them. I can tell!”

“Okay that’s great but I’m nervous and I… I know as soon as I open my mouth it’s game over. They’ll ask me to eat their pussy and I’ll start nervously spewing out Overwatch facts.” He groans, “Besides! Aren’t you supposed to be helping me?”

“What the hell have I been doing the past two weeks? Twiddling my thumbs?” You whisper harshly, glancing over your shoulder to see if the boys had heard anything. But they all carry on obliviously save for Jungkook who hasn’t stopped glaring at you since you left the apartment.

“Look I’m just not ready for this yet,” Hoseok sighs, “I don’t think I have the confidence to really… talk to girls yet, much less go on a date or… fuck them. Is it okay if I just hang out with you for today?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation but it’s no use feigning disappointment when a small voice in the back of your head is rejoicing at the prospect of having Hoseok to yourself.

Quit being weird, you chastise yourself.

“I won’t pressure you into anything you don’t want to do, you know that.” You sigh, “So if you want to sit here and drink cheap beer while listen to Jeon make fart jokes then by all means.”

Hoseok doesn’t say anything but he does visibly relax which is a good sign and for some reason you find yourself grasping at a conversation.

“So ugh,” you clear your throat, “how’s being a TA?”

Hoseok blinks at you as though he’s only just realized your talking to him before shrugging, “It’s fine I guess. I’m surrounded by idiots 24/7 but I at least get paid for it so I can’t complain.”

“And what you’re not surrounded by idiots when you hang out with us?” You snort.

“It’s different though,” Hoseok murmurs, nursing a beer. He squints his eyes thoughtfully, “Believe it or not I actually enjoy your guys’ company.”

“Well shit, I hope so – here I was thinking we were like friends and stuff.” You snort.

“Are we though?” He murmurs thoughtfully. “I mean, I’m not just inexperienced with girls. I’m sure it’s obvious but I don’t exactly draw in a lot of fans what with being you know, me and all.”

“Will you stop doing that?” You asked, suddenly annoyed at his self deprecating tone.

Hoseok jumps, startled by your outburst, “Doing what?”

“Being all like down on yourself and shit. It’s like pathetic,” you grumble defiantly, “You don’t need fans in life or people who’ll kiss your ass—you’re not an idol. Real people need real friends to make fun of them and like talk shit to them and stuff, you know?”

“Why are you always doing that?” He implores and you raise your gaze to his, only his expression isn’t one of defense, only pure curiosity lies in wait.

“The same reason you gave me that whole spiel about not giving up on life and shit.” You say, “Because friends talk shit to you and about you but they don’t kick you when you’re down and it really, really bugs me to hear you say stuff like that about yourself, yeah? Leave that to me.”

Hoseok stares at you for a beat too long, taking in the angry slant of your eyebrows and the way your lips purse in respite.

Hoseok’s cheeks burn red hot, tears pricking at his eyes and despite how they beg to be freed from their confines, to run wet tracks down his cheeks he doesn’t let them. His lips purse in an attempt to choke back a sob and he stares down at the linoleum weakly.

“What are you waiting for? Pick them up.” Someone snickers behind him.

He blinks down at his hands questioningly, because what was the point? The hallway seemed to be cloaked in a silence that screamed at him, despite the many people crowding the space.

His books lay scattered around him, and his chest hurt with an agony he was all too familiar with, the sheer overwhelming pity he felt for himself was almost debilitating. He cleared his throat to cover a sniffle, another weak attempt at biting back tears before he’s moving to collect his belongings.

He’s barely on his feet again before they’re being knocked out of his hands with too much force.

A crowd was forming now, and he closes his eyes to try and block out the whispers, the looks of pity because despite how bad everyone felt no one was willing to help. No one ever helped. It was all the same to them, he was there for their entertainment.

And not for the first time, he wondered why.

Why he kept trying. Why he didn’t end it all when he would lay awake at night with a sadness that brought him to his knees. Why he was deemed so unworthy of kindness by people that barely knew him. Why he pushed through when he knew nothing but bruises that pierced deeper than skin and a crippling sadness that only his shower walls would ever hear.

Why, why, why, why me?

“Stop it!”

Hoseok is too dazed, too caught up with disgust and the need to shed his skin, to vomit a sickness that knew no cure.

His heart hurt.

“I said stop!”

When he looks up again it’s you, the girl from the locker the other day and you’re… crying.

Your eyes are bloodshot and your chest is heaving. He wants to know why. He wants to tell you you’re too pretty, even blubbering, lips quivering. You’re too pretty to cry, too pretty to be on your knees, but he’s overwhelmed. By everything, by the silent on lookers, by the almost painful embarrassment.

He barely realizes you’re shoving books back into his bag for him, before you swipe at your nose and drag him along by the wrist. He doesn’t have the mind to ask questions until you’re out in the courtyard, it’s the middle of classes so it’s empty, save for a few stray butterflies that linger.

His feet hesitate by the fountain and you stumble by the sudden halt, turning to face him inquisitively.

“Why are you always doing that?” He whispers, jerking his hand back from yours.

“D-doing what?” You stammer.

“That. Back there.” He says, jaw clenching, “Why do you keep helping me? Why do you care?”

“Because I’m human,” you say indignantly, “and so are you – not a dog to be made to sit and roll over why don’t you act like it?”

“You think I haven’t tried?” His lip curls in disgust, “What would you know anyway, you’re just some stupid cheerleader, you’re just like the rest of them.”

“Really? Because I didn’t see the rest of them stepping into help you!”

“I didn’t ask for your help!” He yells back.

“You didn’t have to!” You say over him, and tears are rolling down freely, “I helped you because it hurt to see you like that! Maybe everyone else can look away but I can’t! Tell the principle, tell your parents, fuck tell anyone! But don’t… don’t take that.”

And just like that your lip is quivering again, only he doesn’t get a chance to see the tears fall this time because you’re storming off, leaving him there to stare after you.

Hoseok blinks himself back to consciousness when he catches sight of your fingers snapping a hairsbreadth from his face, trying to garner his attention.

“Don’t look now but more of your admirers are headed over.” You say quietly and Hoseok visibly stiffens.

“What do I do?” He whispers harshly.

You bite your lip in concentration, debating the consequences of your action before finally relenting when they neared the dug out. You were a flurry of motion that Hoseok’s sluggish, intoxicated brain couldn’t keep up with – but suddenly you were dropping yourself into his lap, his legs spreading on instinct, you grip his frozen arms until they wrapped around you begrudgingly.

“What are you doing?” He hisses.

“Getting those girls off your back,” you scoff, but you have to crane your neck back to speak to him and he suddenly realizes just how pretty your throat is—why could he never tell before now?

“Hey Hoseok,” one of the girls begins timidly, trying to catch a glimpse of him from in back of your body.

“Uh…. hey hi,” he clears his throat.

“You just left us over there with your friends.” The shorter girl pouts and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah sorry I—”

“He’s kind of busy.” You say brightly, leaning back until your back was pressed to his chest, Hoseok grunts over the unexpected weight. “Did you need something?”

“Oh I… sunbae… sorry,” the tall brunette clears her throat as though she’s just noticed that your sitting dead center on top of Hoseok. You frown when you recognize her from one of your economics courses, “I didn’t realize you… and he… were—”

“For tonight we are.” You shrug, gesturing towards Namjoon, deciding to throw him a bone, “but that guys free over there, I hear he drives a Range Rover, you should chat him up.”

The brunette smiles brightly, if a little bit nervously at you but grips the shorter girls arm, dragging her along but not before she withers you with a narrowed glare. You cock a brow at her audacity before she’s turning around with a huff.

Sunbae?” Hoseok queries from behind you, and you barely conceal a shiver when you feel how closely he’s speaking to your ear, his breath smells like beer but when you try to pull back his grip tightens around you.

“Yeah,” you say indignantly, “I know I’m not shit in the science world but I’m in a league of my own in my major.”

“I can see that being true,” he nods, lips turning down, “You’re good at what you do. Just look at how you made me over.”

You try to ignore the fact that his arms are still glued to your waist, hands going to clasp just over your mid section, but it’s hard and he smells so good.

“I had a good base to work with,” you hum, going to sip at your beer and feigning nonchalant.

“Is that a compliment from the ice queen herself?” Hoseok snorts, hooking his chin over your shoulder and your thankful not for the first time that he can’t see your reaction.

“Not a compliment. Just the truth.” You murmur, “Your friends are long gone you know, there’s no need for me to sit here anymore.”

“Mm,” he hums, “so get off then.”

You don’t say anything, just take another sip of your beer, but Hoseok hears your answer loud and clear.

“For someone who’s nervous with girls you sure do seem to feel awfully comfortable with me.” You chastise, watching the field carefully when Nayeon makes an appearances.

“It’s because I know I don’t have a shot,” he shrugs impishly and you know he’s smirking even without looking at him, “It makes it a lot less scary when you have nothing to lose going in.”

“Who says you didn’t have a shot?” You ask, but it’s followed by a startled yelp when a cheer erupts from the bleachers, a bunch of drunk frat guys parading onto the field naked and covered in paint.

“The universe.” He snorts.

“You underestimate yourself.” You note.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” He queries, a hesitant hand going to rest on your thigh. He doesn’t know where the burst of confidence came from. Maybe it’s from the beer, maybe it’s from the new clothes, or maybe it’s from the way your stares seem to linger these days—whatever it is you don’t reject his touch either way.

“Exactly what it sounds li—”

“Hey lard ass,” someone calls from above you and you turn your head to glare at Jeon Jungkook, “Nayeon scored the winning point, we’re all heading to the bar are you coming or what?”

“I’m coming, you insufferable little brat.” You hiss.

Jungkook stands there when you don’t move right away, you raise an eyebrow at him.

“What?” You scowl.

“Is that the only seat?” He queries, lip curling, “Is it proper for you to be like that?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“What would your parents say if they saw you sitting like that, huh?” He asks, eyes wide as he gestures to your seat on Hoseok’s lap.

Your face flushes deep before you stand up and glare at him, “Are you really scolding me on propriety? You of all people.”

“Yes and so what?” He says, chest puffing or indignantly. He takes a cautious step back before pointing an accusing finger at you, “And sit with your legs closed!”

He ducks when you go to hit him, sticking his tongue out before he races clear across the field and out of your violent reach.


“One more round!” Jimin shouts, shoving a shot glass in your hand.

You lift your head from the table long enough to flick Jimin off, all he does is grin while you groan and lay your head on Nayeon’s shoulder.

“Rock, paper, scissors over who gets to kill him.” You say to Nayeon.

She points a drunken finger at your face, “we… can’t… kill him ’s illegal.”

“It’s self defense. We have to kill him before he tries to poison us—alcohol poison us!” You shout desperately.

“You guys are all pussies!” Jungkook yells, ever the bravado drunk. Hoseok barely keeps him in his seat, halting him from clambering onto the table top, to make what you were assuming he thought was a profound speech—for the umpteenth time that night.

“Hyung,” Jungkook slurs, clapping a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder, “I once finished a twelve pack of beer in one sitting and that was, before the Hoover game, I even broke the QB record at our school that day.”

“Was anyone there to see it?” Namjoon asks, sipping at what had to be the girliest drink you’ve ever seen in your entire life—it was fuschia and he was sipping it through one of those skinny black straws.

Fucking weirdo.

“No, it was just me but I swear it happened!” Jungkook yelled vehemently.

“Dude,” Namjoon sighs, “in life, whatever you do, it doesn’t count if your friends aren’t there to witness it.”

“I second that.” Jimin says, raising another shot glass to his lips. It pisses you off how sober he still is when he drank twice as much as you.

“Why aren’t you fucking drunk?” You scowl.

“On the contrary I’m very much fucked,” he says, “I’m what the people call… a functioning alcoholic.”

“Let’s play another game!” Taehyung whines from his spot.

“Let’s fucking not because you’re all a bunch of dirty cheaters!” You hiss, gesturing to the table.

“You’re just saying that because you lost every single time.” Namjoon rolls his eyes, “I even won once.”

“I won a game too.” Taehyung pipes up.

“Me too.” Hoseok shrugs.

“Great,” Yoongi mutters from the inside of the booth, “You’ve each won a game and I’ve lost what feels like a year off my life spending time with you people—we’re all going home winners tonight.”

“I want a recount!” You say.

“There’s no recount in Most Likely.” Jimin points out. “If we find you most likely to do something we point at you, the person with the most fingers pointed at them has to drink.”

“Yes, and every single time you threw out a sentence I had to drink—does it make sense that I would be most likely to do all of the things that were named?” You growl.

“One of them was most likely to win in a cage fight amongst the eight of us, so yes it does make sense.” Yoongi snickers.

“I have a better propositions you limp noodles.” Jungkook says from his spot and all seven of you turn your attention to the drunken boy, “Body shots.”

“There’s two girls and six guys.” Hoseok snorts, “Don’t you think the ratios a bit uneven.”

“Okay shut the fuck up with your math lingo first of all—”

“Ratio isn’t just a math word, dumbass.”

“—second of all two of the six are gay so they don’t count.”

“What makes you think I want to do a body shot off of any of you animals?” Yoongi sneers.

“Because who the fuck wouldn’t want to do a body shot off these smokin’ abs?” Jungkook scoffs.

“I’m in.” You say suddenly, garnering six wide eyed looks.

“Are you serious?” Nayeon giggles, “You queen of ball busting are gonna let one of these morons do a shot off you?”

“It’s all in good fun, right?” You say, catching Hoseok’s eye before turning back to her.

“If you do it then I’ll do it too.” She grins.

“Well I’m out,” Yoongi grunts, “you vagina baring cretins can have at it.”

“Me too.” Taehyung shrugs before sending an apologetic look that you and Nayeon both wave off, “Not my cup of tea.”

“Not your cup of tea or not your cup of genitalia?” Jimin snickers, earning a flush Taehyung. “You all know my answer – I never mind an extra chance to get my lips—”

Disgusting.” You cut him off.

“As much as I would love to lick any part of anyone’s body right now, I gotta run.” Namjoon sighs, before brandishing a notification on his phone, “Duty calls.”

“Are you gonna be okay to drive?” You frown.

“Dude I’ve been sipping cosmopolitans since we got here, I’m pretty sure I’d pass every sobriety test ever.” He rolls his eyes before waving his goodbye.

“And then there were three.” Jungkook says, clapping his hands together, “That is assuming your game?”

His question was directed at Hoseok who seemed to be staring off into space unknowingly. The older boy clears his throat and meets Jungkook’s challenging stare—it annoys him for some reason, and has him sitting up straighter with a curt nod.

“Great,” Jimin says, breaking the tense atmosphere, “Since there’s three of us and two of them, rock, paper, scissors.”

You watch on in silent amusement as they go through three rounds of the game, each boy eyeing the other with a competitive glare, it isn’t until the third game when Jimin’s eliminated that Hoseok meets your eyes.

You take a long gulp of beer to try and hide the flush burning bright on the apples of your cheeks, only hesitating a little when Nayeon drags you to your feet.

“Where do you want it Jeon?” Jimin asks when he comes back baring a tray, brandishing small ramekin of salt, two shots and lime wedges. He’s standing in front of Nayeon when he’s asks the question.

“I’ll do it.” He says, rising to unsteady feet when he grabs the ramekin from Jimin—

And heads straight to you.

You stare at him wide eyed when he goes to drag a finger through the salt, “What are you doing?”

“My body shot.” He shrugs, before sprinkling the salt all down the front of the v in your t shirt. You can’t even glare at him because you were still trying to catch up with his thought process.

“So go do it over there.” You hiss, letting out a small yelp when he plops a lime in your mouth to shut you up.

“Maybe I want something different.” He says, breath fanning over your face due to his close proximity.

You clench your jaw but frown when a little of the lime juice dribbles into your mouth down your chin. You chance a glance at Hoseok but the older boy looks well engrossed in his preparations, allowing Jimin the honors of setting Nayeon up for him while he rubs a hand over his neck awkwardly.

A finger on your chin has you returning your gaze back to Jungkook who’s looking at you with a glint in his eye you weren’t entirely comfortable with.

Your comfortability takes a backseat when the audacious brat goes to shove his shot glass between your breasts, a small smirk quirking at the sides of his lip.

“Ready?” Jimin calls, before patting a hand on either boys shoulder, “Remember this is race – the partner of the loser has to take a penalty shot. Got it?”

Both of them nod and Jungkook tongues at his cheek cockily, making you roll your eyes. You drag one last look at Nayeon and Hoseok who seem to be in their own little world, deep in conversation.

What the hell were they even talking about anyway?

“On your marks. Get set,” Jimin begins, “Go.”

Jungkook’s hand find purchase on your waist and your attention is drawn back to the boy in front of you, his head dips to press a lascivious if unnecessary kiss to your right breast before his tongue is swiping over the sensitive skin, your tummy dips at the sensations. But then his lips are roaming down your cleavage before his mouth is working on sucking back the shot glass and finally he’s setting it down with less haste than someone in a competition should be allowed. Two wide palms come up to cup your face while his lips find yours in a sour kiss, the lime wedge between your teeth drops when your jaw goes slack and Jungkook is swiping up the juice at the corner of your lips with his tongue.

Time seems to slow with his mouth on you like this and you find yourself kissing him back, forgetting for the briefest moment who he was, who you were and where the hell you were at. All that mattered was the way his belly seemed to clench under your hesitant hands and his mouth worked over yours.

But all too soon it was coming to an end and when you pull back Jugkook is panting and Jimin is grinning at the both of you.

“What an unexpected turn of events,” he snickers, but you don’t have half a mind to insult him. Instead you’re still blinking at Junkook who licks at his lips like he’s trying to preserve the taste of you there.

Jimin rolls his eyes, “Alright love birds, as wonderful as that show was, you lost – so take your shot like a big girl.”

His words bring you back to focus and your gaze shoots back to Hoseok, only his features are schooled in a composed mask and he’s carrying on a conversation with Taehyung as though nothing out of the ordinary just happened. As though you made out with Jeon Jungkook on a regular fucking basis.

Jimin shoves at your shoulder when you don’t respond right away and you stare down at the shot glass for a moment before someone else is grabbing it out of his hand. Your eyes lift to Jungkook and the way the column of his throat works when he throws it back, not even wincing from the burn of tequila.

He sniffs before swiping at his lower lip, “’s my fault we lost anyway.”

Jimin cocks a brow between the two of you, “Jeon Jungkook taking a penalty shot for someone else? This is a first.”

“Fuck off.” He rolls his eyes before he gathers his car keys and phone, “I have two a days tomorrow so I gotta be heading out before coach rips me a new one for showing up hung over again.”

He’s already to turning to leave when your hand shoots out to grip his wrist (without out your fucking consent.) Jungkook raises an eyebrow at the limb before you’re letting go, swiping your hands down your jeans nervously.

“I… uhh… you,” you shake your head, “Are you gonna be okay to drive?”

“Are you worried?” He grins.

You scoff at that, “No but it’d be mighty inconvenient to have to plan your funeral during mid terms.”

“I’ll be fine, Princess.” He tsks and for the first time in…. well ever, you find Jeon Jungkook attractive in a way that might just be worthy of contracting a minor STI.

Hoseok watches the entire exchange from his post in the booth, and for some reason a feeling of unease is clawing at his stomach.

He hadn’t anticipated Jungkook doing a body shot off you because well why would he? But the more Hoseok thought about it was more like – why the hell wouldn’t he?

You were gorgeous and you had a body that men would kill for the chance to worship, and it only set you that much further from himself. Paranoia and self doubt find their way back into his brain, where they’ve made a home for themselves, reminding Hoseok to take heed, remember his place, always remember where he stood with you. It was only made worst by the look that Jungkook sends you when he rubs an apologetic hand over your hipbone before bidding you adieu.

The action nags at Hoseok more than should and he finds himself shooting to unsteady feet before his mind has caught up with him. You yelp at the sudden action and catch him before he goes tumbling off the platform the booth is sat a top.

“Alright there, big guy?” You grin, holding him steady, and you pat a patronizing hand over his belly, “Let’s get some food in you and get you home, yeah?”

“I don’t need any fucking food,” he scoffs, annoyed by your sudden caring behavior.

Is that all you saw him as? As someone who needed to be looked after, cared for, handled with kid gloves? Did you not see him as a man, because fuck… fuck if it didn’t feel like it sometimes. When your touches or your glanced would linger he was able to delude himself into thinking that maybe you had wanted him too—when you were at the field and in his lap he thought that maybe… maybe there was something there but—

Leave it to him to read to deep into something that meant nothing to you. In fact, the thought itself angered him, had him flushing with embarrassment.

“I don’t need to fucking go home and especially not with the likes of you.” He sneered, breaking out of your grip irritably.

You call out to him but he’s already made it across the bar, storming off angrily. To his credit he makes it exactly two feet from you before he’s collapsing, the evidence of his low tolerance catching up to him, making his legs wobble unsteadily and the room spin before his eyes.

The last thing he sees is you rushing to his side before everything’s going black and he falls into a deep sleep.


There’s a pounding in his head that just won’t seem to stop, and Hoseok probably could have done without the sour taste on his tongue, every inch of his body is screaming at him to go back to sleep but he’s already penetrated the first barrier and all dredges of slumber leave him, instead nausea and indigestion take its place.

Hoseok rubs at his eyes with the back of his hands, trying to discern his current location, but alas they’re all failed attempts when he realizes the room is pitch black.

He’s just about to get up and investigate when a sliver of light breaks through a crack in the door and your silhouette appears before him.

“Morning sunshine,” you whisper, and he can barely make you out but he can tell that you’ve changed into pajamas and if he squints just enough he can see pink tinged cheeks on a freshly scrubbed face.

“What time is it?” He croaks, annoyed at the revelation that all liquor from earlier has yet to leave his body, courtesy of the woozy feeling in his stomach.

“It’s four am,” you explain, “you weren’t asleep very long but you blacked out at the bar and I told Jimin to just take us here. He’s crashed out on the couch with Taehyung.”

“Oh,” he says before trying to stand, wincing when a wave of vertigo knocks him back on his ass.

“Chill out dude.” You say before diving into the confines of your bed, your body relaxing against the cool duvet.

“I’ll just… I’ll show myself out,” he clears his throat. He hesitates when your grip on his t shirt yanks him back down to your mattress.

“Don’t try and be a martyr tonight, will you?” You sigh, “Just relax.”

How the hell did you expect him to relax when he was laying next to you? Smelling like heaven and looking like sin. Your sleep shorts did little to hide the plump curve of your ass, and your tank top was so low he could make out the beginnings of a hickey—reminding him why he had stormed off in the first place.

Jeon fucking Jungkook.

“What part of relax is lost on you?” You ask, turning on your side to face him, and alternatively giving him a better view of your cleavage. “Never had a co-ed sleepover before?”

“Do I look like I’ve had a co-ed sleepover before?” He snorts.

“Here we go again,” you sigh, looking up at him from under your lashes, “Do you mind telling me why you’re always so down on yourself?”

“You mean other than the obvious?” He scoffs.

“I’m serious I mean, you’re in the top 1% of the country, you’re about to be rich if you think about the fact that you’ll succeed in whatever field you’re about to pursue and now Hoseok, you’re hot.” You say and he tries to ignore the way his cheeks flush at your compliment. “Even when you dressed the way you did before you were still handsome I just don’t see why—”

“Why what? Why I have such a low fucking self esteem?” He snaps, before rising to his elbows to glare at you, “Why are you always pushing this why can’t you ever mind your own business?”

“Because you are my business. We’re friends and—”

You said we were friends, I never agreed to any of it.” He grits out and he doesn’t miss the flash of hurt that crosses your features, even in the dim light of your bedroom.

You stare at him for a beat before letting out an annoyed huff and turning on your side, actively blocking him out. Hoseok sighs before carding a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“___.. I… Didn’t mean that I—”

“Of course you did.” You laugh bitterly, “Because no matter how much I think we’re progressing you’re always there to remind me that this is just a debt owed. That every time you spend time with me is purely obligatory with only your end goal in sight.”

“Well why the hell would you want to hang out with me otherwise?” He scowls, “It doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t have to make sense. But don’t worry because I heard your message loud and clear: I won’t bother you unless it’s related to getting you laid.”

“____,” he groans, “that’s not what I meant!”

You turn back to face him, angrily, eyebrows slashed down in a frown as you glared at him. Even then you still looked beautiful, like a really pissed of fairy laying next to him with the moonlight draping over your fine features.

“I’m going to sleep.” You say, shutting your eyes.

Hoseok rubs at the back of his neck, wondering how he managed to wind up in this position – with you, always with you. And for someone so smart, he didn’t understand anything these days, you had a special way of efficiently fucking him up, confusing him until he was grasping at strings for reason.

The silence in the room was deafening, the only thing keeping him from slipping out was the way you seemed to be pouting, even with your eyes closed and it was so fucking endearing to him. It had his drunken mind reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear—the move was so intimate and uncalled for even to him, so he wasn’t all that surprised when your eyes shot open at the gentle caress.

Hoseok clears his throat, looking for something, anything to say when his hand is frozen in mid-air.

“My parents,” he blurts out.

“Huh?” You whisper with a frown.

“They’re really ,,, demanding,” he explains and when he starts he can’t seem to stop, “you know how you said they’re assholes? Well they’re worst than that, asshole is too nice a word to describe them. They’re really unfeeling, cold, clinical with everything—including their kids.”

“Oh.” You say.

Because really what could you say?

“Yeah oh,” he agrees, “I don’t mind being an engineer, I like it, I like math and science and I like making robots but even that… it bothers them. There’s no time for recreational things, for fun. It’s all about work to them.”

“You build robots?” You implore.

“I find time for it.” He shrugs, “it relaxes me, a lot like dancing but I don’t really have time for either these days.”

Your hand finds his way to his cheek and he lets you soothe over the skin there, acting as though the alcohol is urging on both of your actions. His hand goes up to catch yours, but he leaves it there.

And you both pretend. For now.

“Will you ever let me watch you dance?” You hum, smoothing one of his sideburns gently, and Hoseok lets his eyes flutter shut, “You’ve piqued my interest and now I just feel like you’re doing it on purpose—leaving me waiting with bated breath.”

He chuckles but it’s short lived and suddenly he staring at your lips. “I’ve been too busy for anything that’s not work or school related. I haven’t found anytime to go the studio.”

“Let me tag along when you go,” you yawn, letting Hoseok’s fingers lace with your own.

“I will.” He replies.

“Promise?” You query, but you’re fighting sleep, your eyes are heavy and begging for you to give in to the temptation of a good eight hours of rest.

You never do hear a reply because you’re already dead asleep in a matter of seconds.

Hoseok stares at your sleeping figure for longer than is necessary, taking in the silent rise and fall of your chest, to the soft skin of your cheeks. He waits a beat before letting his finger catch on your lower lip, to swipe there. So lush and full and bruised red with your natural tint.

How is anyone this pretty when they sleep?

It’s but a moment before your own hand is going up to grip his wrist and he freezes with the realization that you’re doing it to keep it there instead of push him away. A sigh leaves him as he watched the way your lashes are fanned down against your cheeks.

So beautiful it hurts.

“You’re too good for me,” he says, but he knows I falls on deaf ears, “in more ways than one. You always were too good for me, even back then. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

He stares at you longingly, checking to make sure if your breathing is still even, to see if he should date carry on. He makes the decision with a small smile when a soft snore leaves you.

“Back then you felt like an angel—it’s corny, right?” He whispers, his hand going to push the hair back from your face, “but you were the only good thing I had going for me. Even now, none of this feels real. I hope you’ll forgive me when you find out the truth, I won’t try and keep it from you. I hope you understand that I needed to be with you like this, even just once.”

A mumble of words slip past your lips and Hoseok is frozen stiff by the thought that you might have heard his confession, but you don’t say anything in reply only continue to mutter on about a toaster before you shuffled closer to him and shoved your hands up his shirt.

Hoseok cringed when he felt your frozen skin press against his own and he gently tugs them out from underneath his t shirt before he’s warming them with his own, coaxing you back down from the surface and into a deeper state of sleep. He lets you curl into him, even if he knows it’s only for his body heat, he would take whatever he could get.

Obligatory cuddling was still cuddling after all.


a/n: this chapter was really hard to write for me. i know i mentioned being bullied growing up but a lot of the feelings expressed are things that ive dealt with the loneliness/desperation and i hope if any of u feel like that u feel comfortable enough to talk to me about. that’s all ok ❤️

Egg Substitutes and Smiling Prostitutes

                                              SUGAR PT.3

Bucky Barnes X Reader

A/N: You guys are so sweet omg

Words: 985

Prompt: Struggling with the pressures of running a bakery in New York City, [Y/N] [Y/L/N] is your average, flour-covered baker. Bucky Barnes is your no nonsense, sugar-hating guy. What happens when the two get closer than Fate intends for them to?

Warnings: none i think

A huge shoutout to @redgillan for being an actual angel and beta-ing this for me.

Catch up: Part 1 | Part 2

Sugar Masterlist

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I Know Your Wife (She Wouldn’t Mind) - Part Seventeen

Summary: You clear up your misunderstanding with the Ackles’ and things are finally looking up.
Words: 3.6k
Jared x Reader x Gen, Jensen, Danneel, JJ
Warnings: mild angst, feels
Beta: @blacksiren

I Know Your Wife - Masterpost

Your name: submit What is this?

“We need to talk.”

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