#i hope **** explodes. thank you for your time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hongjoongscafe · 4 months

Text

Peach.

One-Shot.

Pairing: professor!jungkookxcamgirl!reader.

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, forbidden au, uni au.

Summary: where his lust and admiration fell for a camgirl.

Word count: 15.4k+

Warnings: age gap (oc: 21, JK: 30), masturbation… lots of masturbation, sort of online bullying(?), kind of public masturbation, toys, name-calling, sir/daddy, pussy eating, fingering, unprotected sex (Namjoon will bonk your head if you don't use a contraceptive), spanking, spitting kink, cum eating, choking, overstimulation, a little bit of degradation, pussy spanking. (and that anime-ish picture has nothing to do with the fiction. Imagine the characters however you want!)

Masterpost

“Oh fuck!” Jungkook's voice trembled as he palmed himself through his sweatpants. The thin shining layer of sweat made his face look sexier. His teeth were gritting and his eyes could barely focus on anything but the screen.

He had sworn to make himself wait until he could not wait anymore. He wanted to tease himself until he felt like bursting through his high. He wanted the pain of pleasure to run through his muscles and explode when it was too much to fill his body.

His ears were red from arousal and his veins were popping from lust.

He waited for a whole day to end just to tune into his favourite girl's livestream and tease himself as long as she teased herself.

Through his screen, he admired how her legs were wide open with a camera between them showing her gushing core. The livestream only started about five minutes ago. And he was already so ready to burst in his pants.

He was packing (giddily) to go back home after his day was over at the university to watch her, he was smiling widely. However, his smile dropped when he saw Mr Jameson (the director of the university) standing on the threshold of his office room.

“Mr Jeon, kindly visit conference hall 2 for a staff meeting in ten minutes.”

His lips frowned but nodded and sighed thinking that he probably wouldn't be able to make home soon enough to watch his MissPeach.

The meeting went longer as expected. It was nothing but about exchange students. Jungkook had ten exchange students in total and about three in each lecture he was assigned.

He made it home just in time. While he was juggling the key in the keyhole, he opened the stream and it was on its final countdown till the stream started. He sighed with relief and finally went inside and jumped on his bed, not bothering to turn on his lights. The burnt yellow guiding lights in the hallway and in his room were enough for him which turned on automatically when the sun kissed the ocean through his window and the night began to fall.

“Today, I thought I must not make you all wait,” Miss Peach's soft voice finally speaks. “So I’m going to skip teasing and just jump right into it,” she giggled when the chat went crazy with thank yous and asking for more or some who loved to get teased were upset but so ready to see.

Jungkook’s cock twitched after hearing her seductive yet innocent voice. She never showed her face but he knew she was smiling.

“I’m tired today, so I will use my sex machine instead. I hope it is alright,” she hummed.

Jungkook quickly tapped his screen with a frown of worry.

Bigdaddyj: Baby, it's alright. Relax and just let go, yeah? Don't worry<3 If someone has any problem, Daddy will handle —$200

The ping on Peach's side made her look at the chat. “Thank you, Daddy,” she chuckled. “You are always so generous.”

Jungkook could see her pussy throbbing as she said daddy. He bit his lip and saw a fake cock attached to a machine. Peach rubbed the lube all over it and aligned it with her pussy. She started it at a slow speed.

“Oh,” she gasped as it slowly started to push in. “This feels so good.”

He whimpered imagining his cock pushing into her pussy. Lowered his pants and pulled out his throbbing cock and squeezed the head, trying to feel how it would feel if he were that fake cock. His cock would look prettier and feel better than that thing. But at the same time, he wanted to suck that toy and lick all of her sweet juices, too.

“You fill me up so good,” she rasped. “Please fuck me,” Peach panted as she raised the power and the thrusts got faster and wetter.

“Fuck,” he couldn't control and gave in. His fist picked up the pace of the toy and looked at her pretty pussy swallowing the toy. Her sweet moans and whimpers only fueled his desire.

Not much later, he came all over himself, ruining his white shirt and black pants. But it was worth it.

“That was quick,” she giggled as she panted. Her pussy was red and swollen just how he loved it. “I hope you all came as well… tomorrow I was wondering if we could do qna type of thing? Not the usual stream but just something. I kinda wanna talk. I don't get to do that enough so…”

Jungkook was quick to reply.

Bigdaddyj: aw Peaches I would love to talk to you, baby girl. It will be fun. ^^ –$300

Reading the chat he sent, she hummed cosily. “You think so, daddy? I'm glad. I'll be seeing you all tomorrow then.”

With that, the stream ended and Jungkook slumped against the headrest.

Jungkook used to share a staff flat on campus with two other professors. It was going fine until he found MissPeach. Watching her was becoming a huge task with the other two men in that small flat. It was always obvious whenever he would jerk off.

On many occasions, his roommates would catch him after looking at his flushed face after one of his “sessions”. They said that his face could never hide the fact that he just jerked.

He started to wear makeup but it was frustrating and ended up moving out and eventually purchasing his own apartment off campus. It was rather convenient.

His obsession, however, grew ridiculously embarrassing. And having his own apartment helped him live it. Whenever MissPeach would go live, he would watch without caring about someone disturbing or making fun of him.

Sometimes he felt utterly embarrassed whenever he sat in front of his gigantic TV in his living room with a football game, his one hand holding his mobile with MissPeach's livestream on it and the other hand wrapped around his aching cock. He couldn't miss either.

It all worked out for him.

…

The next morning, Jungkook walked into his lecture hall dressed in a black shirt and black pants, his feet clad in the infamous black boots that made him look professional at the same time a character out of a dark romance book.

“Good morning, class. I hope you all had a long night. I have a job for you all,” he cleared his throat. “I'll be handing you guys a worksheet. You have this whole lecture which is sixty minutes. Take help from your sources and complete it. It's been one month and four more to go. So I want you all to revise what we did this month. I think there is no better way than this. What do we say? Do we agree?” he asked with his bubbly smile that he knew no one could resist.

The students agreed. Soon enough, everyone had two sets of five-page-long worksheets on their desks. In this specific batch, he taught biology. But he had chemistry as well.

You loved biology. And even more now because Jungkook was your professor. You were an exchange student and joined this semester.

On your first day, when he walked into the class, you were positive that he was one of the students but when he stood behind the teacher's desk and started his lecture, your jaw was barely holding up. He looked ripped and broad. The buttons on his shirt were fighting against the monstrosity of his chest. You swore you saw his nipples poke through his shirt at some point.

Even now, when you are sitting in your seat you can't help but look up and steal some glances towards him. He was sitting on his chair, reading something on his laptop with his glasses perched up.

You felt your pussy tingling. Since the first day, you have been masturbating to him. But your pussy just wanted his finger, mouth, and cock.

He never noticed you. You preferred to stay at the corner at the back and just exist. Socializing was not your forte. You had one too many insecurities to even say hi to someone. Even when some of the girls approached you for you to join them around, you always politely declined.

And the rest were not as nice. The thing was that you were a scholarship student at a private university. You barely afford to live. And the others barely kept money in their banks but still had too much money. They were everything you could never be and sometimes they took it as an advantage.

So you preferred to stay away and not get involved with anyone.

You were focusing on your worksheet when Jungkook’s chair screeched against the floor, looking up, you saw him slowly walking around and inspecting if someone needed help. So far, it was not bad. He had taught everything perfectly.

You focused back on your work. You could hear his footsteps. Here and there, the girls asked him some silly questions. You wanted to ask, too. But your confidence was a bit above -200.

So no, you weren't going to ask.

Soon enough, the musky scent invaded your senses as Jungkook was closer to you. He stood by you and looked at your work. You hid your hands under the desk to hide the trembling. It was the first time that you saw him up close. He never took a round, most probably because it was never needed. On the other hand, there weren't any emergencies or something that would make you knock on his office door.

Your eyes met with his as he asked “Miss Park, do you need any help?”

You shook your head, not trusting your voice.

“As expected,” he smiled. He fucking smiled at you. You bit back a silly smile, cleared your throat and looked down.

He moved along and you finally took a breath. He is rather enchanting and you just couldn't rebel.

How could you? That big Professor was a god himself.

“After you are done, you can hand your sheets to me and leave,” he said and took his seat.

You had completed the worksheet about twenty minutes earlier but there was no way you were going to get up and attract any attention. So you started to go through Chemistry.

Chemistry was not your best subject but it meant another hour in Jungkook’s class.

Your concentration enveloped you and made you lose the passage of time. You slightly flinched as Jungkook called your name.

“Miss Park, it has been ten minutes since the lecture got over. You can take the worksheet home if you want and submit it tomorrow if you are finding it hard. Or I can help if you want,” Jungkook offered.

You looked around the empty class and back at your professor. “Ah,” you nervously chuckled and started collecting your stuff. “It is all done,” you said in a small voice and finally gathered everything.

You walked towards him and handed him the sheets. Awkwardly, you bowed and stepped away. However, Jungkook stopped you.

“Miss Park, please write your name and ID number over here, please,” he smiled… again.

You could feel your ears heating up with embarrassment. “Sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s alright!” as you were writing your name and ID number on your sheets, Jungkook took notice of your hands. They looked familiar. Way too familiar.

The images of his MissPeach flashed in front of his eyes. That glistening, pink pussy. His cock twitched in his pants. He shook his head to get the images out. “There are many similar hands, JK!” He scolded himself.

“How are you keeping up, here?” Jungkook asked to distract himself.

You slid the now-named sheets back to him. “Um, it's nice here.”

Jungkook’s eyes twitched at the familiarity of your voice as well. “That’s good. If you ever have any problem, you can come to me. We have two classes so feel free to reach out. You are already so far away from your home so don’t hesitate to ask for help.”

You looked him in the eyes and smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.” with that, you finally left with a racing heart and wet panties.

Jungkook looked at the closed door. “Ah, I should stop watching her. She is messing up my brain. Y/n can't be her. She is too innocent for that… right?”

But who was he kidding, he was obsessed with MissPeach.

You felt embarrassed when you walked out. His mere smile and thick voice made your pussy clench around nothing and your panties wet. You could feel the wetness on your thighs.

He had an effect on you more than your body could handle without making you feel like his whore.

But you knew he would never look at you the way you wanted him to. To begin with, you were his student and if there was any chance that he would get involved with one, that certainly wouldn't be you.

There were many painfully beautiful girls around you who had maintained themselves like Queens. They had proper skin care, a pretty makeup routine before they came to university and a relaxing night routine. Whereas you, you splashed your face with water and soap and slapped basic cheap face cream on your face.

Most of your money from your “job” was sent to your parents and for your apartment rent. And not to mention, that where you came for an exchange programme, even farting costs money.

Sighing, you walked through the crowd of students and looked around. Everyone was busy with their stuff. In the canteen, groups of friends were sitting and enjoying the food. You brought your own meal but today you were running late and packed nothing. So you walked towards the cheapest of the options, a vending machine.

You bought some rice balls and a can of Sprite. Quickly, you left the canteen and sat on the empty staircase which rarely anyone visited which led to the abandoned old green room.

It didn't take time for you to finish your food. The thought of your hot, ripped professor was still fogging up your mind and probably the sane side of your brain, too. And the more it did, the more your panties became wet.

The image of his beautiful long fingers teased you. You wondered how his tattooed fingers would look while playing with your pussy. Oh, you just wanted just that.

His lip ring was the end of you. You wanted to sit on his face and feel the piercing over your pussy. You always paid attention to when he played with his lip ring with his tongue and just wanted to know how it would feel teasing your clit.

You couldn't take it anymore so you opened the secret pocket of your bad and took out a tiny bullet vibrator that you carried after realizing that Mr Jeon was a sexy man that you just wanted fuck.

Looking around the empty staircase and hallway above, you opened the button of your pants and slipped your hand inside your panties. You positioned the toy over your clit and buttoned up your pants back on.

From your mobile, you turned it on. The low vibrations of the toy shivered you up. You closed your eyes and rested your head against the railing, slowly turning up the power.

It was a perfect gift from one of your viewers who watched almost every stream, Bigdaddyj. You loved this toy the most. It didn't make any noises and was easy to carry around in your bag… or inside your panties.

Soon the vibrations got stronger, leaving your mouth wide open. Your hips thrust in the air and your legs trembled.

A strangled moan forced out so you slapped your hand over your mouth to make no noises. You imagined Jungkook between your legs fingering your hole and sucking on your clit. Thinking of him humming and moaning on your pussy sent you to the edge.

Not so long after, your body seized up and climaxed.

You whimpered at the sensitivity and turned off the toy. It was hard to bring your breath to normal but you somehow managed and stood up yet again questioning your existence.

…

“So I see many of you tuned into this live… I was not expecting this,” you giggled looking at the viewer bar. There were about one thousand viewers. They could only see your boobs clad in a black satin tank top. “Shall we start with the QnA?”

Jungkook was lounging on his sofa with a glass of whiskey. He looked at MissPeach’s boobs. He just wanted to squeeze them and pamper them with kisses and just… keep on worshipping her.

Bigdaddyj: You look fabulous, pretty. How was your day?

You looked at the chat, it wasn't as crazy as when you bare your boobs and pussy. Your heart fluttered when you saw the name of your regular who insisted you call him daddy. “Thank you, Daddy! I'm fine, just a bit tired. It was a long day,” you hummed.

Bigdaddyj: Aw, baby. You should rest. Drink something warm and sleep.”

You smiled at his chat. Playing with the top of your tank top, you replied, “I will. But I have some other things to do and study for a bit.”

Jungkook watched MissPeach play with the top. He couldn't help but pay close attention to the hands. They were similar, he was sure of that. However, he shook his head and paid attention to MissPeach’s chat.

Cummingdick: show face

Natehell: Do you meet in private?

She answered that question, “No, I don't meet in private.”

Then Jungkook asked the question that had been bugging him all-day.

Bigdaddyj: Baby, yesterday you said that you don't get to talk a lot. What is that? Do your friends don't listen to you?

You looked at the question. Your smile faded, lucky you never showed your face. What were you supposed to answer? But it was Daddy who asked it so you had to answer.

“Well, I'm not a very social person. Plus I moved to a different country recently. So I don't have friends here. I prefer staying by myself anyway. It works for me!” you tried to be enthusiastic.

Patrick: show tits, bitch

Fuckboi2000: it's always the quiet ones who whore around

Lovethatpus: I thought you had fucked the whole campus

Jungkook didn't feel good. He heard that strained voice and could tell it was deeper than that. He felt rage reading mindless chat, on top of that. He always saw that innocence in her. Even though she was a camgirl, her demeanour reflected the innocence that he wanted to protect.

Bigdaddyj: it's alright, baby. Try to get along slowly. I'm sure you will make a good friend. Don't be alone, my darling.

The chat from Bigdaddyj brought a smile to your face. Where everyone was requesting you to remove your top and spread your legs, he was making sure you felt heard.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Daddy.”

The chat progressively got disappointing and soon turned into a mess. The viewers dropped down when you didn't remove any clothes.

There weren't many questions, in fact, nobody asked a proper question except Bigdaddyj.

Cummingdick: this sucks

Fuckboi2000: Man, you wasted my time, you fucking stupid cunt.

Ridemycock: never turn up if you not gonna show that pussy

Hideme: You're not as interesting as your pussy

Lovethatpus: No wonder why you don't have friends, bitch. Other than your pussy and tits, you are fucking boring

Boobieman: I would just use you and throw you. Boring ass bitch

You sighed. Maybe you shouldn't have done this. What did you even expect? Talking on a porn website? You shook your head and just looked at the chat, not answering any questions.

Soon, there was only one viewer left. And you were certain who he was.

“Daddy?” you called in a low, soft voice.

Jungkook's eyes widened when MissPeach called him. He wasn't expecting her to know that he was still tuned in. Half of him was burning with rage because of those stupid assholes who had to degrade you instead of going somewhere else.

He quickly typed.

Bigdaddyj: yes, baby?

“Do you wanna know a secret?” she hummed.

Bigdaddyj: yes, of course, baby. What is it?

You didn't say something for a few seconds and then stood up. Taking a tissue next to you, you poured some micellar water on it. “Look here, okay?” you said and took a deep breath.

Jungkook typed a yes and looked where she had lowered her pyjama shorts, brought the tissue and pressed for a few. It was above her hip bone on the left side.

Slowly, the tissue swapped and showed a tiny coloured tattoo. It was a cute little pastel pink peach.

Jungkook's mouth parted and looked at the tattoo. He felt his cock twitch in his sweats.

“I got this when I turned nineteen. But I always hid it. It's tiny but I always feel like not wanting to show this to anyone. But I only put on concealer whenever I come live or when I wear cropped tops or something like that,” MissPeach said.

Again, Jungkook’s fingers tapped across the keyboard.

Bigdaddyj: That has to be the most adorable tattoo I've ever seen, baby. I wanna kiss it.

A soft giggle left her. “You can kiss it, Daddy.”

Jungkook smiled.

Bigdaddyj: Tell me, pretty. What other secrets are you hiding?

She sat down again. Her delicate fingers tapped the tabletop. “There are some secrets that I have that no one knows. Will you keep them as secrets if I tell you them?”

Jungkook didn't need to think at all.

Bigdaddyj: Of course, baby. I'll keep them for you.

At this point, Jungkook just wanted her to talk about things that she couldn't talk about or didn't have a friend to talk to. He loved this. Just talking and existing at the same time.

He knew he was fucked. How could he get attached to a faceless person like this?

“I used one of your toys today…” she rubbed the back of her neck. “At university at lunchtime.”

Jungkook’s cock hardened right away. She used his toy at her university.

“And you know what's worse? I've been taking it every day with me and using it often at the university. I keep it in my secret pocket in the bag. I always feel dirty using it,” she confessed.

“Fuck,” Jungkook cursed.

Bigdaddyj: You always feel that horny, baby? What do you think about when you use it?

She paused for a moment, “will you be angry if I tell you the truth?”

He frowned. “So not me,” he mumbled. “Why would she? She has never seen me before.”

Bigdaddyj: Not at all, pretty.

“Hm… I always think about my professor,” she revealed.

“Fuck me,” Jungkook moaned. Even though it wasn't him, the thought of her masturbating to a professor made his cock harder.

Bigdaddyj: You are one nasty little girl, baby.

“I can't help it, Daddy. I really can't.”

…

Your morning class was supposed to be Chemistry but Jungkook couldn't show up for the lecture. Instead, he sent the worksheet to the students through an adjusted professor.

The instructions were similar to what they were for biology. However, this was not easy for you.

It took ten extra brain cells to solve one damn equation. There was no way you were going to get this worksheet done in time. You scolded yourself in your mind for taking this ungodly subject just to spend one more hour with Jungkook who truly never noticed you.

Later in the day, it was your Biology lecture. And to your luck, Jungkook was present in this class and had brought back the worksheets with him.

“You all did an excellent job with this worksheet,” he said as he stood up and smiled at all. Oh, that fucking killer smile that you wanted to eat up. “However, there was one person who did an exceptionally great job!”

His eyes roamed around and stopped at you. “Miss Park,” he called, making your breath stop. “Not a single mistake. Everything was written so beautifully and accurately. I'm impressed by your work. That one diagram was drawn with perfection even in a limited time. And all those diagram with other processes were great addition. One could tell you know what you are doing. Keep working like this,” he gave you a toothy smile and thumbs up.

Your cheeks turned into rosy red. Not trusting your voice, you quickly bowed to him from your seat and gave him an awkward smile.

The lecture passed by with him starting a new chapter and passing on the introduction of sub-topics to make everything easier when studied in detail— one of his tricks for learning that was your favourite.

As the lecture ended, everybody started to leave and you were packing up as well. It was only 2:00 PM and you were planning to go back to your apartment.

“Miss Park,” Jungkook called your attention. “Do you have time for a moment? I've something to discuss.”

You nodded.

Soon, you found yourself sitting in front of your professor. The same one who made you masturbate in public and that you confessed to a stranger who watched your stream regularly.

“Miss Park, you did an outstanding job in Biology. I'm impressed, actually. When I was handed your performance chart from your university, I knew I didn't need to be worried about you. No one gets into this university without any reason. It's harder. You either need too much brain or too much money,” he said. “I was actually quite eager to go through your Chemistry worksheet.”

You dug your nails into your palm, knowing well that you had disappointed him.

“I can see that Chemistry is difficult for you. Or if I rephrase it, you are thinking that it is difficult for you,” he pulled out the worksheet. “You haven't answered all the questions and there are some mistakes. From the look of it, it seems you have a problem with your basics. I'm pretty sure it will be all right once the lab starts but I think it would be much helpful if you understand things in theory better.”

You fumbled with your fingers and avoided his eyes. Your body was tense and he could see right through it.

Jungkook removed his glasses, “Miss Park, May I ask why you opted for this subject? I see you only had Biology before. Why the sudden addition of Chemistry?”

Taking a deep breath, you finally spoke up. “I'm sorry, Mr Jeon. I didn't mean to disappoint you in any way… I just took chemistry for extra credits.”

You lied. Oh, you fucking lied to your professor and you wanted to run away. Lying to him hurts you more than it should have.

Jungkook chuckled, “I’m not disappointed in you, Miss Park. I think with a little extra attention, you will be able to perform just as well as you do in Biology.”

You looked into his twinkling eyes. “I-I’m not sure if I can be that good in Chemistry. It's- it’s stupid, I should probably get it crossed. I think I still have time for that. Yeah, that, I'll do that,” the panic settled in.

Jungkook looked at you and found you a fragile little thing. He had never paid much attention to you knowing you were all good in your studies.

But right now, he wished he did.

You were a simple girl with a straightforward goal. He never saw you messing around or heard any gossip about you other than that you do not get mixed up well with others. Considering the fact that you had just moved out and still settling in, it was normal for not mixing up. It takes time.

“Miss Park,” Jungkook leaned in and patted your shoulder. “You don't need to panic. How about we try solving this problem for a couple of weeks and then see if you get any better, hm?

You sat frozen in your seat and just took in the feeling of his hand on your shoulder trying to calm you down. “What if I don't?”

Jungkook smiled, retrieving his hand and making you want more. “Then you can get it cancelled from your major.”

You nervously asked, “When can we start?”

“If you don't have any other class for the day, we can start right now! Do you have any classes?” you shook your head. “Alright, follow me to my office, Miss Park.”

Almost an hour since Jungkook has been focused on you. He was damn sure that your hands and voice were similar to MissPeach. He has been watching her for a month and he knows her perfectly. Her moans, whimpers, begging, sniffles, everything to the point she showed or let him see, he noticed.

However, he couldn't risk any false situations.

The picture of the peach tattoo flashed in front of his eyes. How MissPeach confessed to masturbating in university and that too while thinking about a professor… right into feeding his fantasies.

Not that he dreamt of that before but since MissPeach and you blocked his mind, he couldn't help but want this to happen. As forbidden as it was, you were a fully grown adult.

His pants started to tighten, his cock begging for a touch. But he pushed the need behind his head. He shouldn't think such filthy things while you are struggling to solve the equation in front of him.

He loved how your bangs caressed your soft cheeks. He wanted to caress your forehead to get rid of the tension lines you got while concentrating. He loved it when your nose scrunched up whenever you got stuck on a specifically harder equation.

He wondered why you had tiredness kissing your face. He hated that and wanted to take you in his arms and hum you to sleep in his lap.

Oh! He would do anything just to free your lower lip from the confines of your teeth and caress it with his thumb… kiss it with his lips and taste your pretty mouth.

His eyes widened at his wild thoughts. Fuck. He thought.

But something in his mind said that he needed to know if you were MissPeach or not.

Tattoo… he needed to keep an eye for it. She herself said that she always hid it whenever she came live or when she wore something like cropped tops.

…

It was the fifth day of the extra classes. You were waiting for Jungkook in his office with your notebook and textbook out as commanded by him. He informed you earlier that in this extra class, you will be joined by someone. You had no idea who this person was.

After about five minutes, the door opened. Along with Jungkook, another girl walked in. Margot.

There was nothing good about her. At least when it came to you, it wasn't. She was the only daughter of a realtor father and an advocate mother. Her nose was always high in the sky and her eyes looked down on people like you.

For her, you were not worth the hassle.

“Miss Park, Miss Bell was having trouble with the topic we are going to cover today. So I thought maybe we could work on it together!” Jungkook said as he took his seat in front of you and Margot on your left.

You nodded.

“Oh, well… I would have preferred this to be a private session, Mr Jeon. You know, it's better with personal attention and not,” Margot looked at you with a side eye, “share it with a scholar.” She spat the word scholar as if it were a pesticide.

Her voice was animatedly high-pitched and it annoyed you to no end.

“Really? I don't think so. Instead, I think that this is better. If you have any doubts, it can help Miss Park as well. And if Miss Park has any doubts, it can help you. Knowledge is never private, Miss Bell,” Jungkook sweetly said. You admired his thinking. He wasn't only hot and intelligent but also highly respectful as well. “Now without wasting time, let's start, shall we?”

It was only fifteen minutes in when Margot started to shit from her mouth.

“Mr Jeon, are you single?” she asked.

Jungkook looked up from his laptop and lowered his glasses. “Why do you ask?”

“You don't look single. There must be someone just as hot as you that you are dating,” your eyes widened at her choice of words.

Jungkook chuckled. “No, Miss Bell. I'm single.” His eyes stole glances at your face. You were buried in your book but he knew you were listening.

“Such a waste of hotness,” Margot tsked. “I think you deserve someone with pretty eyes, a sharp face and an intelligent mind, and money as well— ‘cause you know, there are many who would anything for money if they don't have it themselves! I'm sure you will go for someone who looks like a princess. With dusty blond hair,” At this point, she was just pointing out her own features.

“Miss Bell, I don't think you should be discussing such stuff. Plus, Miss Park must be getting disturbed,” his reply made your butterflies jump.

“Who cares? This is not all, you know? A girl must keep herself up to standards. No one will look at her if she keeps on being like this. A girl must wear good clothes, wear shoes that have solid soles and not hang by a single thread. Get a proper manicure done. Have some sense and class with good brands. And knows how to properly use make-up and not just use some cheap ass shit that cakes up,” you fisted your hands to hide your chipped nail paint as you felt the redness and shame crawling up your neck.

“Stop, Miss Bell! Thi–”

“I- I need to go,” you interrupted Jungkook and stood up. You messily collected your books and ran out without even putting them in your bag. You felt suffocated.

Jungkook could never be yours. You had nothing. You were average-looking, had no money to buy big brands, and had the most average life. and not to mention how you chose to bare yourself on the internet in front of strangers for money instead of going for an actual job.

You had nothing against people who did this with choice but you had never been this open-minded about it. Hell, you were still a virgin.

Long ago, your parents had a small business which earned enough for a healthy living. But because of your father's sudden illness, everything went to nothing. To pay the bills, your parents had to sell almost everything little by little and in that, the business went crashing. They sold the house and moved into a smaller house. It was still expensive. Hospital bills were stacking up. Most of your money went into that. It wasn't your choice to move away and stay like this. But desperate times bring desperate measures.

Why would Jungkook like you when you had too much shit to handle? He would probably walk away. Would he even look at you like you wanted? Never. You were his student, a twenty-one years old but still a student. While he was thirty years old successful professor.

…

It has been a week since MissPeach last came live.

You were kind of not feeling going on live after your qna. People, other than Daddy, made you feel like a worthless object that deserved nothing but to bare herself for the world to see. They had forgotten that there was an actual person with a heart that gets hurt as well.

So when you went live without any previous notice, you preferred to not talk at all and just release your stress. Plus you needed money to send it to your parents.

After coming back from your extra class with Jungkook, you could feel your arousal running down your thighs. Even though you weren't feeling good, your pussy had its own mind.

You were going to take care of your problem in private but you needed that money.

When the notification popped on Jungkook's phone, he quickly turned off the heat under the pasta and sat on the couch. He wasn't expecting you to go live but it was more than fine. He gets to talk to you.

The live started. You were sitting on your chair, wearing your underwear. A pastel blue set. Jungkook was quick to type the compliment and donate some money.

Bigdaddyj: My pretty baby looks so beautiful as always <3 –$300

He waited for you to say something but it never came. It was odd, you always replied to him.

You didn't say hi or ask how everyone's day was. Nothing.

Bigdaddyj: Baby? Everything alright?

You leaned back and sighed. Hooking up your thumbs with the corner of your panties, you removed them showing glistening folds.

Cummingdick: thank fuck this slut decided to show some pussy.

Randomdude: wanna fuck that hole so fucking bad💦

You slid your hand between your legs and teased your folds, not touching where you needed them the most. The slick was dripping down on your bed.

A blissful sigh escaped your throat when your cold fingers finally touched your throbbing clit. “Daddy,” you whimpered. It was your way to make him know that you acknowledge him and him only.

Jungkook’s cock hardened embarrassingly quickly. He knew something was not right and that MissPeach was feeling off but now when she moaned what she called him, he couldn't resist. He was sure that she was thinking of that professor but fuck he would be lying if that didn't just make him want to be delulu.

You picked up a lipstick and opened it. Dropping the cap, you picked another big blush brush with a metallic multi-coloured stick.

You pressed the button at the bottom of the lipstick and it started to buzz. Bringing it down to your clit, you gasped and moaned lewdly when the high vibrations buzzed through your veins.

“Oh my god, fuck,” you moaned.

Jungkook took out his cock from his sweatpants and stroked himself. This was one of his favourite toys that you owned paired with the brush wand in your hand. He always complimented her about it.

Bigdaddyj: Such a good girl, you are. Using Daddy's favourite toys. Hm? –$500

The ting of the donation made you look at the screen and made you moan knowing it was from Daddy. You turned on the brush and teased your hole with it. The double vibrations left you with your mouth wide open in a silent scream.

Slowly, you pushed the brush inside you. “Ah, Daddy please fuck me!” you screamed.

You closed your eyes and imagined Jungkook. He has been leaving subtle touches– not sexual. But they were enough for your weaker self.

You imagined his fingers rubbing your clit, spitting on it as his cock plunged into your filthy cunt. The vibrations against your G-spot made you see the stars.

It was embarrassing to admit that you had seen his huge bulge in the classroom sometimes.

You imagined how his hot cock would feel in your pussy as you rode him while his hands played with your tits, pinching your sensitive nipples. You just wanted him to wrap his hands around your throat and choke you as you lay under him with your knees touching your chin.

The overwhelming feeling of vibration from both the toys and the image of Jungkook ruining your cunt.

Jungkook matched the pace of your hand thrusting the damn thing in your swollen pussy. He was so close.

He had never seen MissPeach so out of it. He loved it.

His balls tightened, ready to burst anytime. Soon enough, his cock twitched and he emptied himself all over his white shirt when you moaned out loud and squirted. The brush slipped out of your cunt.

You dropped the lipstick thing and slapped your pussy as you squirted more and more with the image of Jungkook between your legs, lapping up your juices like the gentleman he is.

Your eyes and breath took time to adjust and when you felt normal, you turned off the live and sat there thinking about what just happened just like Jungkook who was hard again after seeing you squirt like a broken faucet.

You had never squirted in your whole life.

…

There was complete silence in Jungkook’s office. You were sitting in front of him, working on some theory. Your concentration was strong and you grasped everything perfectly.

Everything about you was quiet. You walked quietly, talked quietly, and even your breath was quiet. Not a single noise that you have ever made. However, you were even quieter after that class with Margot and that didn't slip from Jungkook’s attention.

Whenever you had any doubts, you would just slide your notebook or textbook across the table with a circle around the doubt.

He missed your voice.

Subconsciously, he noticed everything about you. You never talked to anybody. Never hung out in the canteen. Heck, he didn't even see you outside of these classes. It was as if you vanish after classes and only appear in the class.

Considering your age, he expected to catch you with a boy or a girl here and there. He had caught almost the rest of the students in such a compromising state. And he wasn't too old himself, just thirty years old, he knew what this generation's needs were.

He was, to say the least, concerned about you.

“Miss Park?” He called.

You looked up from your book and waited for him to continue. “I know it might come out as inappropriate but I couldn't help but notice how you are always on your own. Like, I've never seen you with someone else before and never outside of the classes. Is everything alright?”

You were wondering why he was suddenly interested in your pathetic life. “I don't think I get along well,” you whispered, thinking it should be enough and focused back on the book.

“Why not? You are smart and intelligent. I'm sure there are many who would want to be friends with you,” he said with enthusiasm to encourage her to have friends.

You just looked up at him again and shook your head and looked down again.

“That’s not the spirit, Miss Park. Trust me, friends come a long way. I have my childhood friends and other friends still in contact. Any need? They are right there for me,” he tried to reason.

You sighed, “Mr Jeon, I'm happy that you have such friends. But it's not everyone's thing. Not everybody is able to make friends. Sometimes it's better to be just… left alone. I would rather focus on studies, pass, and get out of here. I have no time for anything else.”

There were unspoken words left. Jungkook wanted to hear those. But he didn't press you much. He could see the wave of sadness that shifted on your face. He hated it.

He still blames himself for bringing Margot with him to the class. There was too much that these rich students (of course, not all but some) didn't understand. And he could see the maturity that you attained. He knew things were much deeper than mere relatability.

“Do you bring your lunch from home, Miss Park?” he abruptly asked.

You frowned but nodded.

“Did you bring it today as well?”

You nodded, again.

“Great! You should eat here. With me. I made some Jjajangmyeon and was wondering if I could have some company during lunch. It doesn't feel right without sharing… you can share your lunch with me!” he smiled, closed his laptop and placed the book he was going through away.

“I don't think you would want to have my lunch,” you nervously whispered.

“Oh, hush! Now pack up, it's lunchtime!”

Not even five minutes later, there were two bowls with noodles in it. Jungkook started to mix his bowl and pointed his eyes at yours with a smile, asking you to eat as well.

Jungkook had happily taken half of your sad American cheese sandwich and ate it with a huge smile. He had said that it was really good and you didn't believe him at all. But his following lines almost made you cry. They were— “You know, Miss Park, I always love food. It could be as simple as bread and butter or as complex as Korean BBQ. In the end, it's food. Not everyone gets to eat it. So I'm thankful for what I have and what I eat. No one should be ashamed of what they eat. As long as it fills up your stomach, it is good.”

This only added another reason why you loved hi–

Loved?

…

The moment you and Jungkook stepped into the library, he kept his eyes on you while you tried to find a specific book for your extra class.

Ever since he started giving you extra classes, he has paid more attention to you. And not from an academic perspective but as in you. He was hurt, to say the least.

You were alone. And he saw that right through your eyes.

Being away from one's home country and staying with ruthless rich young adults was not something as pleasant for someone from the working class. He felt for you. No details were needed to know that these people must have made your time here harder.

Since Margot, he had seen an utter decline in your health as well. Even in the stream, he noticed how your body had gone thinner.

Yes, he was certain that it was you, the MissPeach. But still, the odds were there.

After that lunch from yesterday, he had been thinking about you without any break. He couldn't even set the worksheet for juniors just because he was consumed by you. He kept seeing your tired eyes and the dark circles that stuck to them.

It took all the will to keep his fingers from caressing them and kissing them away. A strange wish to protect you and keep you arose within him that he never felt before.

It shook him, how much he had grown to care for you in just two weeks. He was afraid that you might break down at any moment.

You were this fragile little doll and yet so strong. He admired you. You were everything he ever wanted… scratch that, you were more than what he ever wanted. It was like he asked for an Apple but he got a basket full of apples with an apple pie. And love beside it.

Jungkook kept looking at you from where he was standing and smiled as you looked through the shelves of books to find what you needed. The tiny scrunching nose and your baby hair falling over your face… just adorable. He wished he could thread his fingers through them and tuck them behind your ears as his fingers brushed your nape, raising your goosebumps.

He smiled when he saw your eyes light up after you spotted the book you were finding. It was way above the shelf and you tried to reach it.

You looked too good to be true.

You tried reaching it with your right hand, and when failed, you switched to your left. As if that arm was longer than the other.

Jungkook chuckled and took one step to help you but instead, he froze in his place. His eyes wandered down and stopped at the naked skin just above your left hip. There it was. The pretty peachy peach sitting on your skin, taunting him.

His heart stopped for a moment and then ran faster like the wind in the thunderstorm.

Something feral ticked inside his guts.

You tried to reach for the book but it was too far up. Just as you were about to turn around and fetch the stool, a warm body pressed against your back and a hand rested on your covered right side. You didn't need to know who it was… that musky earthy scent was enough to make your heart beat like crazy knowing it was Jungkook.

You dumbly looked at his hand slowly grabbing the book and bringing it down to you. His hot breath fanned against your ear and his lips brushed against the shell of it.

And then he said in a deadly deep, low, and raspy voice, “I think, next time, you need to be more careful with your tattoo… MissPeach.”

The book dropped on the ground. Your eyes widened and your mouth parted open. Daddy. No one but Daddy knows.

Millions of haunting thoughts swirled in your head making you feel lightheaded. You were sure he was going to expose you and get you expelled.

“Meet me in my office, Miss Park,” he said and lightly kissed your ear. “Right now.”

The coldest warmth disappeared. So did your last brain cell.

You were doomed.

…

When you knocked on the door to the office, your soul almost left your body, trying to free itself from the humiliation.

The ever-soft “come in” made you realize that there was no going back. You fucked up.

How could he be Bigdaddyj? That shocked you to no end. You shouldn't have revealed that fucking tattoo of yours that night. But you felt a need to share at least one thing with that faceless stranger to feel something. To feel like you, too, had someone who knows your dirty secrets. Oh! The worst of all… the confession about masturbation.

Talk about sharing secrets. You scoffed at yourself.

Hesitantly, you opened the door and entered the room without looking up. You shut the door behind you extra tightly, making sure no one on the other side could hear anything. Unless they stuck their ears to the door.

Your body trembled as you stepped in front of his desk and stood there like a shivering statue. The inner screaming made you restless. This was too embarrassing to handle.

Your professor whom you have been crushing over since day one has seen you masturbate on the internet and the worst part is, he donated you good money as well.

He was going to ask for money, wasn't he? You cringed at yourself. How were you going to repay?

“Miss Park, I guess we both know what we are going to… discuss,” he started. You nodded. “Words… Miss Park.”

“Yes, Mr Jeon,” you whispered.

Jungkook stood up from his chair, “We had a nice talk in that stream, didn't we?”

The tears pricked your eyes so you kept your head down, keeping the sight of your face away from his expensive eyes.

He slowly walked around the table and stood behind you, caging you with his arms around you and placing his hands flat on the table. “It’s interesting, you know? To know that one of my students is a camgirl,” he whispered in your ear. “Do you want me to keep this dirty little secret for you, too?”

You nodded to you a few times, praying so that he could indeed keep this a secret. “Please,” you whispered in a weak tone.

“Hmm… but I want to know one thing in return, MissPeach…” his chest plastered with your back.

“Tell me one thing. Who is that professor whose thoughts make you wet, hm?” his jealousy made his brain fog up and let it out on you. “The one who gets you so fucking horny that you play with that pretty pussy in university with the toy that I sent you. Who is he? Is it Jimin? Or Namjoom? It has to be Namjoon. Big, ripped. He is the definition of hotness. I'm sure you imagine him licking your pretty pussy,” you couldn't imagine yourself. You felt dirty thinking about the image he was pasting. The only time you didn't feel dirty was when you imagined Jungkook and only Jungkook. The idea of being with any other professor made you cringe harder.

The more he talked about you being with some other person, the more tears dropped down your cheeks. You didn't want to admit that it was him. You promised yourself that you would let him paint whatever picture he wanted and never tell him the truth.

“Imaging his dick in your pussy? Isn't it? You would love that, wouldn't you? Having Namjoon’s dick in you and just ju—”

“You!” you screeched when he didn't stop. Into the well went the promise. It was too hard to listen to him.

Jungkook went rigid, “what?”

Your body trembled violently, “it’s you that I think about!” you let it out as your voice cracked.

“Y/n,” you felt his hands on your arms turning you around to face him. “Look me in the eyes, please.”

You looked up and he felt his heart break. Your face was red with tears running down. “Please, Mr Jeon. I beg you to keep this a secret, please! I will do anything you want. I-I’ll do better at Chemistry. But keep this to yourself. I can't– I can't afford to get kicked out. Everything will get ruined. Please n—”

Your words died when your face squished against his warm and hard chest. His one hand threaded through your hair and the other one rubbed your back.

“I’m sorry, Princess,” he whispered. “I won't ever tell this to anyone, baby. There is nothing wrong. I may have– no… I definitely let my jealousy take over and act like an idiot. You have done absolutely nothing wrong.”

Your eyes were wide open but they relaxed. Your shaky hands reluctantly circled around him and hugged him back. You felt warm. Not only on the outside but inside as well. The ice of burden melted for a while with the warmth he gave you. His fingers caressing your scalp made your head feel better. His hand running along your spine calmed your inner screamings.

Strangely enough, he was all you needed at that moment.

You just wanted to melt into his warmth and become a part of him.

As ridiculous as it looked, it was magical. Healing even.

You felt his nose against your head and he sniffed before pulling himself away just a little to see your face.

Jungkook gently wiped your cheeks and tucked your loose locks behind your ears. Your soft gaze softened his heart and he kept looking into them.

His hands cupped your face and pulled you closer to his face. Your nose touched with his and his minty fresh breath fanned your face.

Without using any words, he asked for your permission. As much as your brain was screaming to push him and run away, your mind made your head nod.

His eyes smiled.

And then he let his soft lips be on yours. Everything about him was warm and soft.

His lips lapped yours in a slow kiss. It was not lusty or heated but the one where he expressed more than he could say. The care, the love, the admiration. He didn't only kiss your lips but your soul. Dramatic but made sense.

Your lips moved in sync.

Jeon Jungkook was your first kiss.

He was careful trying not to hurt you. He held your face as if it was made of glass. Your hands were clutching his shirt as if you let go, you might actually break. It felt like a fever dream, the one from which you never wanted to wake up.

Your lips parted away from his and your forehead rested against his. You opened your eyes unhurriedly and saw him already looking at you.

“Jealousy?” you asked.

Jungkook’s hands slid down and held your waist, “you might have stolen my heart, Princess,” he deeply whispered. “Let it be MissPeach or Miss Park… your both of those sides snatched my heart. You have no idea how bad I've been wanting to be with you, baby,” his thumbs drew circles on your waist. “At first it was the fascination of MissPeach but since I have started to get to know you, I've been dying to make you mine, Princess. You fucked up my mind… And I love it. I love it more than I should,” he breathily chuckled.

“How did you know it was me?” your mind was blurred with proximity.

“Believe me or not but it was your hands that made me realize and when you talked, I knew it was MissPeach,” he said and kissed the tip of your nose.

“My hands?” you frowned and looked at your hands. You turned them around to see what gave them off.

Jungkook chuckled and held your hands in his large ones. Bringing them closer to his lips, he pecked them. “Everything you allowed me to see and hear, I know them. A single look and a single noise of you will always make me know that it's you, Princess.”

You were at a loss for words. “But why would you pay attention to a girl who fucks herself for everyone to see?”

With two fingers, he lifted up your chin and looked into your eyes, “You are not just a girl, Y/n. You are my girl. And don't think of yourself any less just because you are a camgirl. I know you and know that you are better than anyone I have ever known.” You could see the concern swimming in his pebble eyes. “I want you to be mine, baby. Is that too much to ask?”

“You are my professor,” you voiced your fear. “What if someone finds out?”

“Not forever,” he kissed your forehead. “And no one will find out. Just one and a half more years, baby. Then we can be free and be ourselves. Give it a try, okay?”

You had nothing to lose.

“Okay.”

…

Little peeking and pecking kept going on between Jungkook and you. Small smiles and reassuring pats on the back were a new routine that the two of you followed.

There was no need for any extra classes anymore but it only felt right and it was the only way to spend some time without anyone interrupting or feeling highly alerted.

You were sitting on the chair, working through some practical problems on your own. Nothing was better than this. Sitting in your professor's office, studying peacefully, stealing some kisses and praises, and just existing together— no more existing alone.

Jungkook was leaning against the table next to you, running his fingers through your luscious locks. It was his newly found habit that he loved the most.

His fingers traced your forehead, moving along your temple down to your chin, he raised your head and looked deep into your eyes. His thumb grazed your lower lip. His eyes were taking in the softness of your lips.

Leaning down till your foreheads touched, he said, “Have I ever told you how fucking beautiful you are, Princess?”

“Like ten minutes ago,” you closed your eyes and took in the closeness.

“Really?” he gasped. “I should tell you that more often than that,” you giggled. Something in his chest warmed up. “You are the most perfect person I have seen, baby.”

“Yeah?” He hummed in answer. “But don't you think that other girls are perfect and I’m nothing in front of them? They have perfect features and perfect bodies. Their hair is always well-styled and their makeup is seamless. And their skin looks baby-soft all the time.”

It was odd to unfold your insecurities like this.

Jungkook inhaled, “look at me, baby,” he asked in the softest voice. When you opened your eyes and looked into his eyes, he began, “They are pretty and perfect. Just not for me. Everyone is pretty and perfect in their own little ways. And you, my darling, are the most perfect and breathtaking woman I've ever seen in my life. They are pretty in my eyes, but you are prettier. They might have the softest skin but I only want to caress your sweet cheeks. Their hairstyles take much effort, probably but yours are the ones that make my heart flutter. Everything you do is far better than them for me. So, never say that ever again. Of course, if you feel insecure, you tell me. I'll make sure to make you feel like the queen that you are. And if anyone touches you to tell you otherwise, they will be seeing a version of me that nobody asked.”

Your heart quivered. No one has ever made you feel the way Jungkook did. Older men like him always know how to be a gentleman. Nothing compares to him. You were sure that he was a cleaner version of Zade Meadows.

Something else has been bothering you. “Mr Jeon…”

“Yes, baby?” he caressed your cheek.

“I–I masturbate on live streams. Doesn't that bother you?” you looked everywhere but his eyes.

Jungkook straightened up and walked back to his seat and sat down. “Come here,” he patted his lap.

You stood up and shakily walked to him. His hands clutched your sides and made you sit on his lap, your legs on his either side and back against the table.

His hands rubbed your sides to calm your trembles. “Why do you ask that?”

“I don't know,” you whispered.

“You didn't go live since that day, baby. Why is that?” you rested your palms on his shoulders.

“I wasn't sure if you would like that, me going live after everything happened between us,” you hated to talk about this but it was necessary. And the sooner you talk about this, the better.

“Do you enjoy doing lives? Tell me honestly, okay?” he asked. His eyes held nothing but understanding. That made it easier for you. But you still took some time. Were you really into this whole ordeal? “Baby?” Jungkook shook you out of your head.

“I don't,” you blur out. Jungkook's eyebrows raised in half surprise and half question. “Well, not as much. I guess the more I did the more I became used to it. There are things I don't like about it. And if I had other options, I would have never gone this way.”

His hands moved to your back, and seeing your shiny eyes made his heart ache. He pulled you closer to his chest, your head resting in the crook of his neck. “Then why are you doing this, pretty? Why is there no other option?”

You inhaled his intoxicating scent before you began, “My father had a business. It had about two million worth of average turnover. It was going perfectly. My mother was a housewife. We were living a perfect little life like any other middle-class family. We had a two-story house in the city and two cars. Nothing else was needed. However, everything came crashing down one day…” Jungkook felt wet against his neck, it squeezed his heart but he kept listening as he rubbed your back.

“He was rushed to the hospital and we got a call. My father had a brain tumour. It was bad. It affected such parts of the brain that made his body non-functional. I was still a minor and wasn't aware of much. Things took a great turn and in a span of a few years, everything that my father built from scratch was gone.

His medical bills were amassing up. We had to sell everything. We sold one car. A year later from that incident, we sold our house,” you choked on your words. Your hands clutched Jungkook's shirt tightly in your fist. “We moved closer to the hospital but outside the city. It was a one-room apartment. It had no rooms. Just a space which had one kitchen and one door that led to the bathroom. Nothing else.

We lived there. My parents still live there. I worked hard every day to get a scholarship. I forgot what it was like to sleep or have fun. In that little space, three of us were… we were just there. Not really alive. But just three beating hearts. I passed my exam. I got the scholarship,” you took a deep shaky breath.

“I got into the University I always wanted. I maintained my grades so that I could change my and my parents’ lives. My professors there were impressed with my performance so they persuaded me to give my name in the student exchange program. I wasn't sure before but they said that it was only going to help me and make my resume look like a quote-unquote shining star

“Good things come with their own bitterness. Even if the fee was forgiven, I still had to reach here. We didn't have enough funds for that so we ended up selling our second car. I preferred to live off-campus. It wasn't the most sane idea but it was harder to be in a dorm.

“So when I came here, I found a job as a barista but that didn't pay any of my bills. And my parents needed money as well. My mother couldn't work because she needed to look after my father all the time. So, I took responsibility because they spent too much on me for me to come here. And I didn't want to be a burden.

“So the only option I was left with was live streaming. It pays my rent and the rest goes to my parents. For hospital bills and all. Nothing else earned me enough but this. So I had to do what I do now.”

It was a dead silence. Jungkook's hands on your back stopped moving somewhere in between. You wanted him to say something or at least run your back to comfort you. But when you raised your head and looked at his face, silent tears were running down his closed eyes. He was biting his lip so that no voice escaped him.

He wanted to comfort you by staying strong but it was harder than it was in his head.

“Jungkook,” you first time took his name. It made his heart flutter. He opened his eyes and just looked at you. You looked tired and it all made sense to him. You stayed away from everyone and closed yourself off just so you could work hard towards your goals and make something out of your life. To make a difference in the family and help them.

You took steps out of your liking and comfort zone just so your parents could have a little bit of ease on themselves. You were beyond perfect. You were more than an angel.

You were too good to be true.

He choked on his words, “I’m sorry, baby. I didn't mean to cry but I just can't help,” his last three words were almost inaudible.

Your heart clenched and fresh tears poured out of your eyes. Holding his face in your tiny hands, you wiped his tears and kissed the tip of his nose. “Thank you,” you whispered.

“For what, baby?” he sniffed.

“…just take it,” you kissed his cheek.

He smiled and pecked your glossy lips. “You know that I’m so proud of you, baby. And you just keep on making me prouder every single day. I admire your will and strength. There is nothing that can stop you from chasing your dreams, pretty girl. And I'll be right next to you to make sure that you have everything in the world you need to keep you happy. I'll take all of your tensions and work on them with you. You don't have to worry about anything. Let me know the bank details and I'll take care of your parents’ expenses from now on.”

“No,” you said. “I don't want you to do that at all. All I want from you is to be here. Let me take care of my parents, please. I don't wanna take anything from you. The only thing I want is you and nothing else,” you were aware of the blind money that this university paid to their A-listed professors and Jungkook happened to be one of them. But you weren't here for money but for him.

“I will be always here with you just like right now,” he whispered against your lips before joining them.

He bit your lip lightly making you gasp. The innocent kiss turned into a heated one. Taking the opportunity, he shoved his tongue inside your mouth. You let him explore your mouth as you did his. He sucked your lower lip and let it go.

Your jaw was littered with kisses and licks as he found his way to your neck. It took him two seconds to find your soft spot and sucked on it, making you hum. Your hands threaded through his hair and fisted them.

Your nails against his scalp made his cock twitch in his pants and it got harder the more you moaned. He looked into your eyes. “Baby, we need to stop before I do something else,” he warned you.

You whined, “No, please don't stop now,” you begged.

“But you are not fine right now,” he tried to reason.

“I won't be if you don't touch me! Make me forget everything but you, Mr Jeon! Make me feel free… Please fuck me!” you begged.

Something ticked inside him. His eyes went feral. The blood left his brain and rushed straight into his cock. He swiped everything from his table and dropped you on it. He hastily removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. He came closer and attached your forehead with his As he looked into your eyes.

In a low, deadly voice, I’m going to fuck you senseless, baby. I'll make sure we leave this campus with you in my arms and not on your feet.”

Jungkook removed his shirt and shortly his pants followed behind. He lets you take in his body. Your jaw slacked open. He had a murderous figure. His chest was big and his abs were defined. What made your pussy throb like a bitch was his right arm which was adorned with tattoos. You knew about the hand tattoos but you never knew about the arm. He was full of surprises.

His thighs were big and stiff. You knew it. Every time he made you sit on his lap, you knew they had their own glory and you wanted to ride it anytime.

It looked like God himself— no, the Devil himself carved this man. There was no way that God would create something this sinful.

“Like what you see, Princess?” if you knew his voice could go any deeper, you would have controlled yourself better. But you let out a loud moan just by hearing his voice while shamelessly looking at his body. The outline of his humongous cock didn't go unnoticed.

“Oh my God,” you shakily whispered.

Jungkook didn't wait any longer, his patience was already running low. His fingers played with the hem of your blouse, waiting for you to give him the green light.

It took a shy smile and a nod from you for him to go wild. He removed your shirt and captured your lips between his. Your tongues fought for dominance.

The bra was next to go. Your sensitive nipples hardened as the cool air touched them.

Then his eyes fell on that little tattoo that made him untamed. That little peach above your hip teased him. “That is going to kill me someday, baby,” he grunted.

Jungkook cupped your tits and kissed his way to them. He pushed you down on the table and lapped on your left nipple. His left hand cupped your other tit and his right hand fondled with your pants button.

He opened it and slid his hand in your panties. His fingers touched your leaking pussy and slid lower to your hole. He brought his wet fingers to your clit and rubbed it slowly making you moan out his name.

He chuckled darkly, “Look at you, all wet for me,” he teasingly bit your nipple as his eyes were fixed on your face. He loved how your face scrunched up with pleasure.

He took the other nipple in his mouth and repeated the assault on them. Slowly, he kissed down your sternum. His warm lips hovered above your tattoo and then he kissed it. You thrashed under him as he kept licking and sucking the spot. He was satisfied when the pastel colours of your tattoo had a deep red and purple hue around it.

He waited for this, to see your face while the tremors of pleasure ran through your body. None of your lives could compete with the real thing that you had. And Jungkook worshipped it.

He pinched your clit and made your back arch, pushing your breast more into his hungry mouth. He loved how your body reacted to his touches. And the forbidden nature of the relationship made him hornier.

It was so wrong yet so right.

“This needs to go, baby,” he rasped. His hands impatiently removed your pants along with your panties. “Fuck,” he grunted.

No, seriously… the real thing could never match the screen.

Jungkook took a seat and pulled you closer by your legs. He dropped your legs on his shoulder, kissing his way up to your pussy. Your legs trembled around his head as he got closer.

Supporting yourself up with your elbows, you looked into his mischievous eyes. You had never seen such a look in his eyes. Your heart felt glad that it was that way. Not in a million years, you wanted him to give this look to someone else.

He teased your pussy by giving light kisses on your folds. But he gave in as you started to whine. The moment you felt his hot lips pressed onto your pussy, your eyes rolled back as you fell back. His lips wrapped around your throbbing clit and sucked it.

Your nails scratched the wooden table as his tongue played with you. He lapped your dripping hole and moaned as your sweet taste coated his mouth.

The vibrations of his moans made your legs wrap around his head harder but he slapped them away. “Be a good little kitten for me, baby.”

“Please,” you moaned.

“Please what?” he bit your clit.

“Please, sir.”

“Oh, fuck!” he grunted as he found out his new kink. His cock got harder, which surprised him. “What do you want, Princess? Tell me, baby. Tell your professor what your needy cunt wants.”

Another wave of sinful shocks travelled your belly as he talked dirty making you cry out in bliss, “Your fingers! Please, sir!”

He smirked at you and licked your clit just as he pushed two of his fingers in your cunt. Your brows scrunched up and your mouth fell open.

His long, thick fingers filled you up. They moved along with the rhythm of his tongue and did come hither motion, teasing your g-spot.

His fingers picked up the pace and fucked you. He could feel your climax coming closer as your pussy throbbed around his fingers. He didn't stop and soon enough, your back arched, your mouth opened in a silent scream, and came all over his fingers.

Jungkook almost came in his boxers when your needy cunt squirted all over him. He didn't stop sucking on your clit and plunged his fingers until he got everything you had for him.

He removed his fingers and looked into your eyes as he licked his fingers clean. He bent over you with his arms next to your head, “You taste so fucking sweet, Princess. So fucking pretty.”

You pulled him in and smashed your lips against his lips and tasted yourself. “You know, that day on live, it was my first time squirting and I was thinking about you doing exactly this.”

“Baby, you are going to fucking kill me,” he said as he cock twitched and begged to be released. He made a quick move in discarding his boxers and freed his cock as it smacked against your pussy.

You pulled apart and looked down at his angry, throbbing cock. Your eyes bulged out at the length and the girth of it. His cock was bigger and fatter than any of your little toys. You weren't sure if he was going to fit.

“I don't think that will fit in,” you whispered, still glancing at his monstrosity.

He chuckled darkly and pecked your lips, “Baby, my dick was made to serve your pretty little cunt,” he hummed in your ear as his hand slid his cock on your slit, making it slicker with your cum. “So, your cunt will take,” he aligned his cock with your hole, “this,” he pushed his angry head in, “fucking,” your eyes rolled as his cock practically ripped your insides, “dick,” he shoved it to the hilt.

His breath came out in pants. He kissed your lips as you got used to his size. “So fucking warm and tight,” he mumbled against your lips. “It’s all mine… all mine.”

“More,” you gasped. “Fuck me like I’m your slut!”

Jungkook smirked as his cock twitched in your cunt. He slowly pulled out a few inches and shoved his cock back, making you moan. His veiny cock rubbed your walls perfectly and the curve of his cock made his hot head caress your G-spot.

It was an overwhelming feeling but in a good way.

Slowly he picked up his pace and fucked you. His right hand went between your body and rubbed your clit. “Oh my God!” you moaned.

He looked between your bodies where you were sucking him in. His cock twitched seeing how your pussy was all spread open around his cock. The velvety warm walls of your cunt made it harder for him to stay sane. He was trembling just like you.

“So perfect for me, baby. So perfect,” he whispered as he kissed your neck. “I’m gonna fuck you do good. I'm gonna fuck my pretty little slut so good that she forgets everything but me.”

“Jungkook!” your moan turned into a gasp when you felt a sting on your ass cheek. Jungkook rubbed the area where he had just spanked you. He looked you in the eye with a murderous glare. He stopped his thrusts.

“What do you say, slut?” he growled. “I think you are asking for a punishment. Hm?” you screamed when his heavy hand landed on your sensitive clit.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whimpered as another hard blow landed on your other asscheek. Your pussy clenched around his cock. He loved it. He loved how you took everything he gave you. Such a pretty little slut for him.

“You like being spanked, don't you?” His thrusts were slow and hard. Your tits jiggled with each stroke. “Look at you, your cunt is practically suffocating me.”

You cried, “Please, sir. I'll be a good girl. Please, harder.”

He leaned in, shoved his tongue down your throat and pushed your legs up. He picked up an animalistic pace and fucked you to oblivion. The sound of skin slapping got louder. His balls slapped your ass.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered.

Like an obedient little slut, you opened your mouth and slipped your tongue out. He collected the spit in his mouth and spat on your tongue. “Swallow,” he moaned as you clenched so badly around his shaft. You swallowed his spit and showed him your mouth. “Good Girl.”

He wrapped his free hand around your neck and squeezed it just enough for you to breathe properly but tight enough to make your pussy throb like a bitch.

“Such a perfect little slut for me,” he grunted. “So fucking kinky and dirty. Just as I love it,” he pinched your clit.

“Only for you!” you gasped.

“Yes, baby. Only for me. I'm never gonna let you go. Do whatever you want, pretty. Do as many lives as you want but only I can touch and fuck this pussy. Only mine,” he bit your lips.

Jungkook could feel you throb around his cock, telling him that you were close. “So close,” you whimpered against his mouth.

“Cum, Princess. Cum for Daddy,” your legs trembled and your back arched as let you cum all over his cock and helped your ride through it.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you screamed.

Jungkook held your legs and fucked you ruthlessly as he chased his own high. He could feel your cum coating his cock. His head felt light as he finally came inside your pussy.

His hot cum filled your pussy to the brim. You felt a small wave of orgasm hit you as he came.

He panted and hugged you closer. His head rested on your chest and listened to your running heartbeat. He loved it. He loved feeling you all naked on his desk. Your hands found their home in his hair as they caressed his scalp. “Baby, are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you panted. You took in the closeness and appreciated every moment with him.

After a moment, Jungkook pulled and looked at your pussy leaking your and his mixed cum. If it were someone else, the thought would never have crossed his mind but looking at your pussy, he wanted to eat it clean. It looked so delicious and creamy. It was as if she was inviting him and taunting him. He needed to eat you.

So he did that.

He sat on his chair and pulled you closer to him and without a warning, he licked your sensitive pussy from your hole to the clit.

You whimpered as he overstimulated your pussy. “Too sensitive.”

“Give me one more, Baby. Just one more. I know you can,” he said and shoved his tongue into your hot cunt and ate till you came on his tongue once again.

You were a trembling mess. You could still feel his cock in your stomach as he got up to clean you. When he gently wiped your pussy with a wet tissue, you flinched but he rubbed his free hand on your side, down to your leg, soothing you and getting you through this.

You looked at his face which was glowing and had an admirable smile on his pretty face. His cheeks and ears were red. He looked at you with stars in his eyes and felt like crying.

Nobody had ever looked at you the way he did. But again, nobody was Jungkook but him.

“Let's go to my place, yeah? I don't want to leave without you. I need you to be closer to me. We can cuddle, watch movies, have dinner, and do anything you want, okay?” he said as he cleaned his softening cock and got dressed up.

You thought for a moment, “Okay…” you didn't want to be alone either. You craved his touch and warmth. This was your first time, it only made you want him more.

“Let's get you dressed up as well,” he smiled.

Jungkook held your hands and helped you off the table but your trembling legs gave up. He caught you and hugged you against his chest. You looked up with your mouth open as you felt sore. He gave you a knowing smirk.

To say the least, he ended up carrying you out of the university to his car.

…

“Oh my God!” you sulked in the corner of the couch as you curled into a ball. “Someone could have walked in!”

It was amusing for Jungkook to watch you just realize that you two had sex in his office at the University. He wondered how only now you registered it and not before while he was buried in your pussy.

“I had my door locked, sweety. Don't worry,” he chuckled as stood by the dining table, mixing the chocolate cake batter.

“Some could have knocked or worse,” you looked up at him with eyes wide open and your expression morphed into horror, “heard us!”

He left the bowl on the dining table and sat beside you, pulling you on his lap. He cupped your pouting face and kissed your lips softly. “Nothing happened, right? So don't worry, my love. Come help me bake the cake and then we will have dinner.”

You hummed and pecked his lips. “Okay, Mr Jeon.”

“Jungkook. It's Jungkook for you, Princess… or Daddy. The choice is yours,” he winked, making you laugh.

Later that night, Jungkook kissed every inch of you. He started from your forehead to your toes. He loved the idea of having you in his bed. He lent you his shirt that was too big for your frame. You wore nothing else under that shirt. He fanboyed over you and worshipped you.

“You look effortlessly beautiful,” he mumbled as he kissed your jaw. “You have me wrapped around your pinky finger in just a couple of weeks, hm.”

You giggled as you rubbed your hand along his tattooed arm. “I never knew you had tattoos.”

Jungkook laid beside you and in his arms and looked at his right arm. “I never show them in the University. When I had recently joined, everyone used to stare. It was a distraction so I started wearing full sleeves.”

“Of course, they will be distracted. And now I will, too! Now whenever I'm going to see you, I will see what's beneath your clothes,” you said.

Jungkook smirked, “Yeah? You will imagine me naked in the class now?” he teased. “I’m your Professor, Princess. Have some shame.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Where was your shame when you ripped my pussy with that sinful thing you call your dick?”

His chest rumbled with a laugh, making you smile. “Touché… I can't really complain, can I? I'll be seeing you naked, too,” he kissed your lips tenderly. “You fucked me up, Princess. I thought it was just lust for MissPeach but fuck, I would be lying if I didn't say I feel more than that and feel like protecting you from everything… Thank you for giving me a chance, love. I'll make sure that you are happy from now on. I'll take care of you from now on.”

“But—”

“Shh,” his finger on your lips shut you up. “I know that it is too soon but please move in here with me, yeah? You don't have to worry about the rent, I own this place. I don't feel good about letting you live alone. It is too soon but you can try, please. As I said before, you can stream as much as you want and support your parents. But let me take care of you. It hurts me to see you tired and not taken care of. So, let me do it. And if someone suspects something. Just say that I rent you a room in the apartment and if they still have any issues, bring them to me and don't hide if someone is rude to my pretty girl, okay?”

“I don't deserve your kindness, Jungkook,” you smiled with watery eyes. “But I'll be selfish for once and take it.”

He smiled and kissed you again. “That's my good girl,” he whispered and turned you around.

Your back was plastered with his warm chest. His arm circled your body and his hand pathed its way between your legs. He cupped your pussy and shoved his two fingers in. His other hand slid under your shirt and groped your breast.

You gasped, “what…?”

Jungkook kissed your shoulder, “you will sleep better. And I get to be closer to you,” he whispered. “Now sleep, Princess.”

You bit your lip and melted in his chest. Your insides exploded with giddiness. It did indeed feel good to have his fingers in your pussy as you fell asleep.

It was the best night ever.

“You deserve all the kindness in the world, Baby.”

…

Epilogue.

12 years later.

The heel of your red bottoms tapped on the floor as you walked down the corridor and you reached your apartment door.

You weren't supposed to go but there was an emergency at the hospital where you were an Oncologist. Luckily, everything was under control and you got to leave sooner. But it was still late.

You entered the passcode and opened the door. However, you were left surprised.

The lights were off but the living room was blooming with candle lights. The floor was covered with roses. There was a lingering scent of your favourite candle along with the mouth-watering aroma of the food.

You walked in and saw Jungkook standing in the middle of the living room. His face was glowing with a perfect toothy smile. “Happy 10th anniversary, Princess.”

You dropped your bag and ran into his arms. He chuckled as you jumped on him. He caught you, spinning you around. Yours and his giggles filled the happy place.

“Happy anniversary to you too, love,” you whispered in his ear. “You didn't have to do any of this.”

“But I wanted to,” he smiled. “Did I tell you that you are gorgeous?”

“About billions of times,” you giggled.

“Ah, still not enough,” he kissed your lips with passion. “I need to tell you that even more.”

“You will go crazy,” you cupped his face.

“I went crazy the day I actually looked at you, Baby,” his nose touched yours. “I love being crazy for you. I love being crazy in love with you. The day you let me have you was the day you made me go insane. I still cry thinking about how the fuck I got so lucky to have you. You are so intelligent, smart, and strong. You did everything for your parents and I don't know how I got you but it's all I ever wanted. Being in love with you makes me realize how addicting you are. All I want is you for me to settle my cravings.

A shy smile tugged at your lips as your eyes watered. “I love you so much, Jungkook. I have no words for it.”

“I see it, Love. I know it,” he hugged you tightly. “Come on, dinner is getting cold.”

In these years, you have come so far. You were no longer a streamer but a well-known Oncologist.

You worked hard towards your dreams and Jungkook stood by your side and supported you. You had nothing to worry about because he was there. Everything fell into one place.

Your father got operated on. Things turned out to be better. He was recovering. But he was fine. When you were settled enough, you asked them to come here. They did. It was the best feeling ever.

Through physical therapy, your father was able to move his body and showed a huge difference in a small amount of time. However, he was still suggested to keep the wheelchair around outside. He was weaker but better.

They were living at the apartment where you lived with Jungkook in University. Along with them, Jungkook’s parents moved into that apartment to help them around. It was fun to have them around, all four of them. They formed a perfect bond in a blink of an eye.

You both bought a new apartment when you found out about your pregnancy four years ago. Jungkook was over the moon and stuck by you like a monkey. He took care of you and the baby.

Two years later you gave birth to another baby. It was a complete family and nothing else was needed.

Jungkook always wanted two kids, a girl and a boy. Now that you had them, he was satisfied with his life. He bragged about you and the babies to everyone. Even at University, he would show baby videos to all of his colleagues.

He proposed to you for marriage right after you completed your degree. He was excited to make you his. He spent hours planning for the wedding that you both wanted.

Everybody teased you about how crazy he was for you.

In the beginning, everyone was disgusted and unaccepting of your relationship. However, everything settled when they saw how genuine you two were. It was as if you two couldn't breathe without each other.

When you became a Doctor, Jungkook cried happy tears and told you how proud he was and that he knew you were going to do big things in life.

That night he showed you so much love.

“Where are Seol and Jae?” you asked about your kids.

“I dropped them at our parents’. I wanted to have you all by myself. In the end, it is our anniversary,” he winked at you with a devilish look on his face.

“Is that so?” you smirked.

“After dinner, be a good girl and go into our room… naked and ass up for me,” his hand grabbed your ass and squeezed it as you looked at him with a slutty look.

“Yes, sir.”

…..

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes @chimmisbae

Have a nice day/night💓

#bts #bts smut #bts jungkook smut #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff

4K notes · View notes

suguruplsr · 7 months

Note

i need gojo to absolutely destroy me like i need this man to degrade me to fold me into half to spit on me. to laugh in my face after he literally explodes and ruts into me in oblivion. are u kidding he's rich he's tall he's hot PLEEEEASSSE i need a man like him. (maybe this is a request. a tiny drabble, if you will, if you can. please and thank you, love u :))

professional milker !

✰ ✰ ✰ his little whore’s gone dumb , but it’s okay , her pussy still milks him every time !

જ⁀➴ ughhh same like the way he was so condescending and mean to hanami and jogo 😓

,, mean!satoru x fem!reader , degradation (heavy) , overstimulation , dumbification , choking , slapping , creampie , spitting , mention of reader being a pillow princess , too many pet names (& used as degradation) , idk , drabble.

divider from @/benkeibear

“what a fucking whore. cummin’ on my cock like no tomorrow..” satoru snickers, ignoring your crying blabbers and giving a rough slap on your ass. if only you hadn’t fell for his charming attitude, him personally inviting you to his large party. the gojo satoru, inviting you? you couldn’t believe it. maybe you did when you fell for him again, his bright and piercing eyes catching you in the kitchen while you were grabbing drinks for you and your friends. if only you had stopped him when his touches began to linger. then you wouldn’t be here, in some random guest room he tucked you in, folded and milking his cock just like the sluts he keeps in his bed.

“hope you’re not goin’ dumb on me..” satoru chuckles, reaching down to rub your clit and watching how you squeezed your eyes shut, yet clamping around his cock so nastily. “i can’t do it anymore.” tears slip from your eyes, mewling and clawing his chest as he only leans further down on you to fill you up with even more of his cock. “you were just begging for it though. what’s with all this whining huh?” satoru meets you with a cheeky smile, a hand going to wrap around your neck and kissing you. “my thighs hurt..” you whimper, stuttering when he gives a long drag of his cock, squeezing your neck tight enough to make your eyes momentarily roll back.

“so that means i just need to make you cum fast enough..can’t have you in pain right? don’t worry, heh, i’ll do all the work. what a pretty pillow princess i got.” satoru pulls back and holds your thighs, playing with the plush as he eyes the cum that coated the area of where you two met, some of it dripping onto the bed as he slowly rolls his hips. “toruu..” you were in complete bliss, and despite being totally fucked out your mind, everything single thing he did still had your pussy throbbing around him, and you couldn’t help it.

“shh, gotta fill you up again. gonna be my personal cock sleeve— oh i felt that, bet you’d like that huh?” satoru chuckles when you tighten just from his words, he might’ve even imagined the way your folds visibly twitched. “y-you sure do talk a lot.” you stammered, only for him to suddenly give a sharp thrust, both of you moaning from the feeling of your shared cum sloshing in you, some of it trickling out from the abrupt movement. “a-and you’re talking too much for a dumb slut.” he sneers, using your thighs to help guide his length in your hole.

it was brushing along every inch of your walls, pressing right at that gummy spot in you that has you throwing your head back, clutching his arm with a cry. “satoru! um, t-too deep.” you’re already crying, teary doe eyes looking up so prettily at him. satoru groans, his cock was throbbing inside you and your firm walls weren’t doing much to help that. “yea? ya gotta feel me at the fucking brim. hope you’re on the pill— or else i’ma fuck a baby into you” satoru laughs, you didn’t have a single worry in your mind about it, and who knows if you remembered to take your birth control today. that’s a worry for another day at least.

satoru begins to set a steady pace, not too fast, yet sharp enough to pump into you every time his hips snap against your skin, his lengthy cock dragging and rubbing against your walls. “wanna feel you cum in me again toru..” you mumble mindlessly, whining when he seems to drive into you faster from your words. your nails grips the sheets as he chuckles, his voice husky and raspy. “a real fuckin’ cumdump. only thinkin’ of me filling you up with my hot n’ sticky cum.” satoru smirks, his cerulean eyes having a dim look in them that makes you whimper. he looks so intimidating, and it so hot.

“d-didn’t even s-say all— toru!” he stuffs you up completely, folding you back in half and ignoring your whine of pain. he steals your moans with messy kisses, “clearly not fuckin’ you good enough if y’r talkin’.” satoru huffs, his strokes were deeper than before, and as much as your thighs ached, you’d choose the feeling of his girth hitting you deliriously over being able to walk anyday. your words turn into weak murmurs of his name as he holds your jaw open, pretty blobs of tears rolling down your face.

“my dirty girl huh? gonna keep you after this, my little slut to come home to.” satoru chuckles before letting a thick glob of spit fall into your mouth. you look so cute, face twisting in disgust as you swallow it so obediently. “toruuu..” you can barely even protest when he cuts you off with open mouthed kisses. your pussy was throbbing as he gave short and fast pumps into your pussy. your brain was mushy at this point, his sweet and honeyed perfume invaded your senses, the sloppy sounds of your flesh’s meeting only added on to your ditzy haze.

“bet that dumb head of yours is empty. but it’s okayyy~ gonna make you feel so good with my cum all deep in your cunny.” satoru grins wickedly as you whine, his cock was almost bruising your insides but you couldn’t care. not when he was saying such filthy words to you as his cock twitched inside you. “m’gonna cum. cum with me toru..wanna feel you..” you managed to get out, voice whiny and soft in his ear. you flutter around him as he kisses around your neck, mumbling as the familiar coil in your stomach builds. “pretty girl’s gonna cum f’me? go ahead, cream around my cock.” and you do exactly that, eyes rolling back so sweetly, losing your voice as he fills your cunny up with his thick warm load.

satoru finally pulls away to eye the creamy substance around his cock, your pussy wasn’t able to hold your shared cum even if he stretched you out, trickling down his length and falling to the sheets. he hums, swiping it up and smearing it along your folds and ignoring your weak pleas of being too ‘sensitive’. he thinks there’s no such thing, considering you’re still squeezing his cock. “tsk. now i gotta clean it all up. don’t pass out yet, gonna have a good meal. hehe.”

3K notes · View notes

atlabeth · 2 months

Text

geyser

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: percy learns about the first girl luke castellan ever loved.

a/n: this is a lil sad. sorry about that. but i really like it and it came out of nowhere in like 2 days so i hope you enjoy despite the sadness. title from the mitski song

wc: 6.5k

warning(s): major character death; not shown but hangs over the whole fic. angst made angstier by fluffy flashbacks. mostly told through percy’s pov but includes luke, annabeth, and reader povs

also if you saw this before on another account DONT WORRY... that account was also me. im just doing some stuff behind the scenes right now as i figure stuff out lol i promise no plagiarism is going on

Percy thought that his head might explode.

He didn’t know how he was still walking, honestly. His mom died, he killed a— no, the— Minotaur, all the Greek myths were real and his dad was one of them, and now he had to deal with that freak accident with Clarisse and the toilets.

At least he would be ready next time she tried to beat him up. Percy had been the new kid enough to know there would be a next time.

All he could do was stare at the Minotaur horn in his hands, the only sign that what happened outside the border was real. The horn in his hands and the hole in his heart.

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d been thrown into the deep end, and the only thing on his mind was when he would start to drown.

“Hey.” Percy looked up to see the counselor he’d met earlier with Annabeth—Luke. He tossed a ziploc bag at him and he caught it, taking a moment to look at what was in it.

“I stole you some toiletries from the camp store,” he explained. “Thought it might make you feel more at home.”

“…Thanks.” He didn’t know if Luke was joking, but the damage had already been done. And it was the nicest thing someone had done for him so far. He set it down next to his Minotaur shoebox. “Is this the best that it gets?”

Luke’s lips quirked up in a slight smile. “For now. We’re a little crowded, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Just a little bit.” Percy stood up from his sleeping bag and worked out the knot in his shoulder. “Where’s your bed? Assuming you have one.”

“I couldn’t wrangle all these cats without some back support,” he said, and he pointed to a bed in the corner. It was the only one on its own without a bunk, and he had a fair amount of decorations. Counselor privileges, he figured. Percy walked over, Luke trailing behind him.

“Nice place,” he said. Percy picked up the Yankee’s cap on his bedside table and nodded as he looked back at him. “Nice taste.”

“It’s for Annabeth,” Luke said. “She wanted us to match.”

Percy nodded again in approval. “Good taste for both of you.”

Luke had various other things around — an alarm clock knocked over next to the baseball cap, a huskie sticker on the wall half-scraped off, a poster for an album he didn’t recognize.

But the thing that caught his eye was a polaroid hanging on the wall, surrounded by a smattering of others varying in size.

The first one had to be an old picture—Luke didn’t have his scar, and the biggest smile stretched across his face. He had a girl close with an arm slung around her waist, and she might’ve been smiling even more than Luke. A bright energy emanated around her, something that must have transferred through the picture, because Percy found himself feeling a little better just looking at her. He wondered if she was a camper.

His eyes flicked to the next picture, which was another one of Luke and that girl. They were both laughing as she tried to put a blue hat on Luke’s head, and he protested with a hand on her wrist. They were in the forefront of a baseball game, Percy noticed.

There were other pictures, too—Luke, a girl dressed all punk, and what looked like a young version of Annabeth, most notably—but a majority of them were either Luke and that girl, or the girl all on her own. In every single one, she beamed brighter than the sun.

Percy pointed at the picture of Luke and the girl at the baseball game, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Who’s that?”

That seemed to catch Luke off-guard, his lips parting for a moment as if he wanted to say something. It barely took him any time to get back on track, but Percy found himself frowning.

“That’s…” Luke cleared his throat, wet his lips, shook his head. “A friend. A very good friend.”

“Does she go here?” Percy asked.

“She did.”

He frowned. “Where is she, then?”

“Percy—” Luke’s voice was strained, but he didn’t really notice as he went on.

“I didn’t see her around,” he continued, “and you look pretty close.”

Luke blinked a couple times, and Percy swore he could see the telltale glimmer of tears starting in his eyes. A muscle worked in his jaw, and suddenly Percy was worried that he’d said something horribly wrong. He had a talent for that, it seemed.

Fortunately, he was saved by the bell—conch shell?—and something like relief flooded through Luke’s expression. Tension still coiled in his body.

“Come on,” he said, that camp counselor smile coming back as he put his hand on Percy’s shoulder and guided him away from the enclave. “That means dinner’s about to start.”

Percy’s frown deepened as curiosity won out again. “Was she your—”

“You don’t wanna be late,” Luke continued, ignoring his attempt. “I assume you’re pretty hungry after two days spent out?”

Well, that only made him want to push harder. But Percy figured he wouldn’t get anything out of him—especially not now.

“…Yeah,” Percy said. “Starving.”

An odd look flickered across his face, but again, it only lasted for a second before he was back to normal. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Eleven! Fall in!”

Percy was at the back of the line by virtue of him being the new kid, and he found himself looking back at that picture of Luke and the girl. He didn’t know why, but something drew him to her. Before Percy could think about it more, the line was moving and his growling stomach drew his attention away.

He would have plenty of time to ask Luke about it later.

Or rather, ask him and piss off the only person who’d tried to be his friend so far.

…Gods.

Maybe he was going to drown sooner than he thought.

“Luke—”

“No!”

“Luke, please!”

“Annabeth will kill me if she knows—”

“She won’t know!”

“Alright, alright— stay still, you two!”

Your mother laughed from behind the camera as you and Luke fought with each other, you trying your damnedest to get your Red Sox cap on his head as he tried his damnedest to stop you. The frantic laughter on both sides made it a little difficult for either of you to succeed in your quest, but eventually, you got the rock up the hill and the hat on his head.

“Take the picture, Mom!” you exclaimed, pulling Luke even closer by his arms so he couldn’t get it off. “I need the proof!”

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Luke groaned, staring at the camera as you wrapped your arm around his side and leaned into him. He could already imagine your victorious smile, brighter than the sun beating down on them in the stadium, and just the thought of it made one of his own flit across his lips.

“Oh, shut up, Castellan,” you said. “You chose to come to this game. Everyone’s gonna know you’re a Red Sox fan now.”

“You said you wouldn’t tell her!” Luke defended, wrenching his arms free of your control to take the hat off his head. “I don’t even care about baseball!”

“You care so much about it,” you said cloyingly, “and you’re ride or die for the Boston Red Sox.”

“If you say a single word—”

“Okay, kids!” Your mother pointed at the seats next to her. “The game’s about to start—you can keep arguing, but only if you sit down so I can see.”

“Sorry, Mom.” You grinned at her as you pulled Luke over to your seats—they were a step up from nosebleeds, but they were the ones closest to the balcony so you could at least peer over the railing down to the diamond.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” She glanced at Luke with a smile, and he could really see where you got it from. “We’ve gotta make him a fan somehow.”

“I guess I can live with the brand.” Luke set the cap back on your head once you were seated, purposefully pulling the brim a little over your eyes, and he smiled at you. “Even though it looks better on you, anyways.”

“You just don’t have what it takes to be a Red Sox fan in the heart of Yank territory,” you mused, pushing the hat back up so you could see. “It’s fine.”

Luke rolled his eyes, but he could hardly bite back his smile.

“I am glad you came, though,” you said, glancing back at him. “I’m glad you came with me in the first place. This is gonna be the best semester.”

“Thanks for having me,” Luke said. “It’s… it’s been a while since I’ve left camp.”

“Fingers crossed for no monster attacks, eh?” You held up your hand. “At least, not during the game. I could live with it happening any other time.”

“Don’t speak it into existence,” your mom said. “We’re going to have a monster-free school year.”

To humor her, you made a claw over your heart and pushed out. She hummed in satisfaction, and you looked over at Luke. “It’s gonna be fine.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Because two kids like us aren’t gonna draw any attention.”

“Oh, I know we will,” you said. “But I know it’ll be fine.”

Luke frowned. “How can you be so sure?”

You shrugged with a smile. “I’ve got you.”

And in that moment, he was thankful for the freakish heat that honestly made no sense in the spring—at least it covered up any sign of what your words did to him.

Luke thought you were joking when you asked him if he wanted to come back home with you for the school year. He didn’t know why you wanted to go back in the first place, being a Big Three kid that apparently had a death wish, but the thought of him leaving camp was almost inconceivable.

Even after you assured him you weren’t joking, he still wasn’t sure. He was on the run with you for three years, then…

Well, he couldn’t think about it for too long. But Luke had been on the outskirts of regular society for so long, doing nothing but fighting for his life, that he didn’t know if he could actually function at a normal school.

But it felt right for you two to get some normal time together after you were separated for so long. It took him a semester to decide, but one day during your usual Iris message conversations, he told you he’d love to spend the rest of the year in Boston with you. Luke still remembered the grin you wore, your disbelieving but victorious cheers, the apology you yelled back at your mother for your noise.

Luke watched you as you talked with your mom, discussing Boston’s chances and player statistics and baseball jargon he didn’t think he’d ever understand, and he knew he would sit through a thousand Red Sox games if it meant he would get to keep seeing your smile.

You must have felt his eyes on you, because you glanced over at him. “Are you okay?”

Luke smiled. Gods, he was so glad you were here.

“Never better.”

“That one nearly got me,” Luke said.

Percy huffed as he picked up his sword from the ground—he was pretty sure he would officially lose his mind if Luke disarmed him with that stupid move one more time. One benefit to the Hermes cabin being too scared to associate with him after getting claimed was that he wasn’t making a fool out of himself in front of other people.

“Maybe I can only beat you when I pour water on myself,” he said.

Luke chuckled as he took a bottle from the cooler on the side and held it up. “Wanna try?”

He shook his head. “I think my arms will fall off if I keep going with you.”

He tipped his shoulder. “Fair.”

Percy stared at the ground as Luke gathered himself, trying to put the free range thoughts roaming around his head in order. It didn’t help that he’d gained a million questions after Poseidon claimed him, and it didn’t help that there’s been a newest addition to his dream last night.

He still felt strange asking Luke about it, but he had to know more about her. Percy didn’t know why it felt like his mission to find out who this mysterious girl was, or why he felt that strange connection to her. Maybe it was the way Luke acted whenever he brought her up, maybe it was that she’d popped up in his dream next to him at the very end, maybe it was just plain old curiosity.

“I’m not supposed to be alive,” Percy said, breaking the silence. “I could die at any time in a bunch of different horrible ways. So will you tell me more about that girl on your wall?”

Again, Luke seemed to be caught off guard by it. Percy heard the crunch of plastic as his hand clenched ever so slightly around the bottle, and he tried to cover it up with an arched eyebrow. “Why do you want to know so badly?”

He shrugged. What was he supposed to say?

“I’m curious,” he decided.

Luke huffed a dry laugh before he took a sip of water, and he stared off into the distance for a while. He did a lot of staring whenever this girl was brought up. They looked like they were best friends in those pictures, but maybe whatever they had ended badly. And if she was a demigod too…

Well, it would make sense why he didn’t want to talk about her.

“You know that phrase about curiosity?” Luke asked.

“And how it killed the cat?”

He nodded, drinking some more. “It goes double for demigods.”

“Everything else wants to kill me,” Percy said. “So curiosity’s gonna have to get in line.”

Luke’s laugh was a little more genuine this time, and he shook his head. “I guess I can tell you a little about her. You actually probably have a right to know.”

“Is she a half-blood?” Percy asked immediately.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Who’s her parent?”

Luke capped his water bottle and looked at Percy for a good, long moment. His face glowed in the warm afternoon sun, his scar cast in a softer light than usual. The scar used to unnerve him, but he’d gotten used to it after weeks staring at it during sword fighting.

“She was a child of Poseidon, Percy,” he said. “Just like you.”

Percy felt short of breath, like Luke had just knocked his sword out of his hand and shoved him to the ground. But he stood on his own two legs that somehow still worked, and Luke hadn’t moved.

He had a sister?

“I have a sister?”

“…Had,” Luke corrected. “She… she died a few years back.”

A vice latched onto Percy’s heart. He was still having a hard time breathing. No wonder Luke always used past tense when he was talking about her.

He had a sister, he wasn’t alone, but he was because she was dead. And if Luke was one of her friends, that meant she died young.

Gods.

“What about their oath?” Percy asked, trying to ignore the aching in his chest. “I’m already on thin ice for my whole existing thing. How did Poseidon get away with two kids so close to each other?”

Luke shrugged. “I’ve never known why gods do things. Her mother was a great woman, though—I could see what drew Poseidon to her against the oath.”

One half of Percy wanted to ask every question that kept popping into his head. The other side of him wanted to break down and cry.

“How did you meet her?”

“We ran into each other when we were both young,” he said. “Both child runaways, both demigods, both New Englanders—we decided to rough it out on the road together. Couldn’t be any worse than doing it on our own.”

Percy tried to imagine it. A young Luke and a younger version of that girl—maybe Percy’s age—living together in the wilderness and fighting monsters. Surviving off of nothing but their wit and skill, facing death each day before they’d even reached middle school.

“It… it didn’t happen then, did it?” he asked hesitantly.

Luke shook his head. “Couple years later. All we did was watch each other’s backs out there.”

Percy couldn’t help himself. “What happened to her?”

“The same thing that happens to everyone,” Luke said flatly. “There’s a reason I’m the oldest one here.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Percy insisted. “It— it makes it worse, Luke. You see that, right?”

Luke stared at his empty water bottle then tossed it back into the cooler. When his gaze met Percy’s, he was shocked by how… tired he looked. Beyond exhausted—bone-weary. Percy wanted to say more, but he didn’t get the chance.

“This isn’t good conversation,” Luke said, “and it’s getting late. You should hit the showers before dinner.”

The sun still beat down on them, bright and angry in the sky, but Percy provided no argument. He had a lot to think about.

Before they went their separate ways, Percy stopped and looked back at him. “I’m sorry she’s gone, Luke.”

Luke’s gaze went unfocused for a moment, his eyes growing glossy. “So am I.”

Percy sat on the floor of the Hermes cabin in the corner that used to be his, staring at his meager belongings. He had to decide what to take on his quest, which was made easier by the fact that he hardly had anything to his name. Things could always be worse, though. At least he would have a change of clothes.

He should’ve been doing this in his own cabin, but it felt too empty, too suffocating in its silence. Eleven was still more familiar. He heard the door open and saw Luke walk in, and his eyes lit up when he saw Percy.

“Hey,” he said. “I wanted to see you before you left. How’re you feeling pre-quest?”

“Like the world’s about to end,” he said.

Luke’s lips twitched into a smile as he sat on the bed across from Percy. “Understandable. It kinda is.”

“It’s just overwhelming.” Percy shoved the unfolded clothes into his backpack. “I have to clear mine and my dad’s names and get Zeus’s bolt back, or else war will start. No pressure at all.”

“You were chosen for a reason,” Luke said. “You may not see it, Percy, but you’ve improved a lot since you got here. If anyone can do this, I think it’s you.”

Percy looked up at him, and he was reminded of the way their last conversation went. He was asking before he could really stop himself.

“I could die on this quest and never see you again,” Percy said. “So could you tell me more about my sister before I go?”

Luke smiled wistfully and sighed. “You really won’t let this go, will you?”

“It’s not really something you just let go,” he said. “Besides, I… I saw her in my dream last night.”

Luke’s smile faded. “You did?”

Percy nodded. “For a split second, but I know it was her. I felt the same way I did whenever I looked at her pictures. And… it’s the second time she’s shown up.”

He let out a long sigh and shook his head, his gaze trailing off to the wall. He always looked so much older when he talked about this girl, like he was a war veteran reminiscing on his lost love. And from what he’d gathered, it might not have been too far off.

“I told you we ran together when we were young,” he said, and Percy nodded. “We were both nine, and it should’ve been terrible, but she had a way of making everything better. Always found the bright side of things, was always able to make me laugh.”

“She was from Massachusetts—right in the middle of Boston.” Luke chuckled as he looked at Percy. “Huge Red Sox fan.”

Percy grimaced. “We all make mistakes.”

Luke smiled, though it faded a bit. “We got separated for a while, but we found each other again when I got to camp. Things were more peaceful than they are now, so she’d been claimed at camp pretty quickly. I figure Poseidon wanted her to have the protection of him openly standing behind her after what happened.”

He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘what happened’?”

Luke shook his head. “That would be an awful story to send you off on.”

Percy wanted to protest, but he didn’t. Luke was probably right—Percy didn’t want to make him relive it and then have to go on a death quest right after.

“A happier part, then,” he suggested.

“She ran away from home as a kid to protect her mom, but now that she had an idea of what she was doing, she started going back to school. She invited me to stay with her during the school year one year, and I accepted. That—” Luke’s throat bobbed, and the other hand clenched into a fist— “that was when she died.”

In his stunned silence, Luke got up and went over to his alcove. He pulled the drawer open on his bedside table and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. It must’ve been folded and crumpled a million other times in messier ways by all the creases he could see, but when Luke opened it, he could see handwriting all over the front.

A letter.

“We Iris messaged each other constantly while she was at school,” he said, “and we wrote back and forth when we couldn’t. This was the last letter she sent me.”

Percy’s first instinct was to say he wouldn’t be able to read it, but he realized that he didn’t really care. These were words that his sister wrote—he would sit here the rest of the day forcing sentences to make sense if that was what it took.

So he took the letter when Luke offered it.

To the one and only Luke Castellan,

My mom said yes! After a very long interrogation (she now knows basically everything about you) and a million promises that you would be as careful as possible and that you were good enough at sword fighting to take down anything that could come after us, she said you can spend the year here. We spent a couple hours every day making my mom’s study into a guest room, so you have a place to stay.

I’m an idiot that didn’t bring enough drachmas so that’s why I have to send this letter—hopefully it gets to you soon enough, because we’re gonna come get you a week before my winter break is over. Mom is letting me drive down because she says I have to get my permit soon. It makes sense that my first big test is getting to you. If we don’t make it, it’s because we died in a fiery crash.

Just kidding. I’m a great driver. But tell me some of your favorite songs when you reply and I’ll burn a CD for the ride—I figured out how to use LimeWire. Oh, and throw in a couple drachmas with the envelope so I can Iris message you next time. I miss your face and your voice, and my hand is cramping up writing all of this.

But this is so exciting! I can’t wait to introduce you to all my friends at school, and show you my favorite places in the city, and make you into a Red Sox fan. And you can come to my soccer games— I’m the greatest forward there is.

Jokes aside, I’m going to make sure you have the best time. We’ll spend every second together, Luke. We’re gonna make up for the time we lost.

I can’t wait to see you again.

Your hurricane.

It took Percy a long time to get through it with the words swimming all over, and it didn’t help that his vision had grown blurry.

Tears, he realized as he blinked, and he did it again to make sure they wouldn’t fall. He couldn’t cry in front of Luke, not over a girl he didn’t even know—even if she was his sister. But maybe he was grieving that—the fact that he would never get to know her.

“God, man. I— I’m sorry.” Percy couldn’t think of anything else to say. “She sounds like she was great.”

Luke couldn’t even manage a smile this time as he stared at the wall. Percy was surprised he could even talk to him about it.

“She was,” he murmured. “You would’ve liked her. And gods,” this time, a bit of a smile broke through despite it all, “she would have loved a little brother.”

“I’m gonna make her proud on this quest,” Percy vowed. “I’m gonna clear our dad’s name for her.”

Something in Luke’s gaze had changed—sadness, almost regret. “You’re a good kid, Percy. I hope your quest doesn’t change that.”

I hope I come back alive, he wanted to say. But given the topic matter, he didn’t. Percy carefully folded the letter back up and handed it to Luke.

“Thank you for telling me about her, man,” Percy said. “I… I know it can’t be easy.”

Luke let out a shuddering breath as he stared at the closed letter—Percy wondered how many times he must have sat in this same position, reading her words. “No better way to honor her memory than helping her brother.” He glanced at Percy. “I see a lot of her in you.”

He’d been wondering if he had anything in common with her. Percy felt a sudden flare of anger shoot through him—it wasn’t fair that she was dead. Poseidon was a god, and she was a teenager. He should have saved her.

Percy’s mouth was drier than a desert. A part of him wanted to curl up in a ball and sob over the sister he never got the chance to know, but the other part of him knew—from what little Luke had told him about her—that she wouldn’t want him to.

“I should get going,” Percy said, standing up from the floor. “We have to leave for the quest soon, and Annabeth and Grover are probably wondering where I am, and…”

Percy trailed off, and Luke nodded in understanding. He turned around and took one of the photos off the wall—one of you alone in the middle of a park, wearing a bucket hat and absolutely beaming.

“You deserve to have a part of her with you,” he said. “For good luck.”

He felt himself choking up, and he pushed it down as he accepted the photo. “Thanks, man. It means a lot.”

“Good luck, Percy,” Luke said. “You’ve got a lot of people rooting for you.”

Percy found himself studying the picture of you once he made it outside, trying to memorize your face. With your wide, infectious smile that emanated pure sunlight, he could have mistaken you for an Apollo kid. But when he looked at you, he got that same warmth that he felt every time he imagined his father.

“I won’t let you down,” he murmured. “I promise.”

After sleeping in his train seat for half the day, Percy vowed to never complain about his bed in Cabin Three again. He was gonna be going down to the Underworld with permanent cricks in his neck.

Grover was still sound asleep—Percy envied him for how easily it came to him in the worst conditions—but thankfully, Annabeth wasn’t. Her gaze was focused on the view as their train chugged along.

Percy cleared his throat in a flawless attempt at getting her attention, and it worked.

“You’re awake,” she said.

“Unfortunately.” Percy sighed. “How much longer do you think it’ll be?”

“Another day, at least,” she said. “And we’ve got a layover in St. Louis.”

“St. Louis,” he hummed. “Nice.”

They sat in silence for a while—there wasn’t much to talk about when they were coming off of two— or was it three, now?—near-death experiences. But eventually, Annabeth cleared her throat, taking a page from his book, and it worked again.

“There— there’s probably something you should know,” Annabeth said, and that worked even better than clearing her throat. “You’re not the only Big Three kid to come through Camp Half-blood lately.”

“I know,” he said. “Grover and Luke explained it.”

Her eyes widened slightly and she leaned forward in her seat. “Luke did?”

“…Yeah. You all already told me about Thalia.” Percy glanced away, suddenly feeling a chill in the train car. “Luke told me about my sister.”

Annabeth went silent.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I kind of annoyed Luke until he told me. Doesn’t really seem like a subject people at camp like to talk about.”

“I’m just surprised he did,” she murmured. “They were… they were close, Percy. Her death destroyed him—Thalia and your sister. All of it’s complicated.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I got some of that.”

“I only knew her for a year at camp, but everyone loved her,” she said. “She was nice. Popular. Always helped when she could, always had the biggest, most infectious smile on her face.” Annabeth looked down at her hands. “She didn’t deserve the fate she got.”

Percy didn’t think he’d ever grieved so much for someone he never knew. “But her and Luke—were they…?”

“Yeah,” Annabeth said, “they were a thing, later on.”

That seemed to be all she wanted to say on the matter. Percy decided not to push.

“How did you meet her?” he asked.

Annabeth’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I met her on the day I thought I would die.”

For the first time in her life, Annabeth Chase couldn’t think.

It had all happened so fast. One second she was running with Luke and Thalia and Grover, praying to her mother and any other gods that would listen to make the horde of monsters let up even a centimeter.

The next, she’d collapsed on the ground, never so grateful to have grass and dirt and dust in her face. But she could hear Luke yelling, barely able to make it out in her delirious state—she didn’t know when she’d last had a sip of water, and they’d been running for at least three miles—but he sounded hysterical.

She remembered her last clear thought: they weren’t going to make it.

But they had. They had, so why was Luke losing his mind?

Annabeth pulled herself up from the ground—how long had she been bleeding out of those slashes on her arm?—and looked for the rest of her friends. Luke wasn’t yelling anymore, instead arguing with someone she didn’t recognize in a bright orange shirt. Grover’s furry legs trembled as he stared down the hill they’d just gotten up, completely silent, and Thalia—

Where was Thalia?

Annabeth tried to get up but her legs gave out almost immediately, and steady arms caught her before she could fall to the ground again. Kind eyes served to ease some of her panic—she was older than Annabeth, maybe around Luke or Thalia’s age.

Thalia—

“Hey, you’re okay,” the voice said, and Annabeth’s attention was drawn back to you. “I’ve got you.”

“Where’s Thalia?” she blurted out, because now she couldn’t think of anything else.

Your brows creased and you glanced back down the hill—Annabeth did too, and she saw Grover and Luke arguing with each other. Or rather, Luke was yelling at him as Grover anxiously hooked his hands through his hair.

“I don’t know,” you said, “but right now, I need to make sure you’re okay. Are you hurt?”

Annabeth absentmindedly held up her arm, but she was only focused on her friends. Why wasn’t Thalia with them? Why was Luke so upset?

You cursed under your breath in Ancient Greek as you cradled her arm, and you looked back down the hill. Annabeth could see at least half a dozen other kids.

“We’ve got two half-bloods and a satyr, one injured!” you yelled back. “Get Molly and Brayden!”

“Three,” Annabeth found herself saying. “There’s three half-bloods—”

“Annabeth!”

Her head shot up at the sound of Luke calling her name as he bounded over, and her eyes widened at the blood steadily spidering across the fabric of his shirt.

“Luke, you’re hurt—”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “It’s fine.”

“We have Apollo kids coming,” you said, looking up at him, still cradling Annabeth’s arm. “We’ll get y—”

Your sentence stuck in your throat, and Annabeth could see tears welling in your eyes as your brows furrowed. She thought Luke’s eyes might burst out of his skull as he stared at you, his lips parted but nothing coming out. Neither of you were able to form words.

When he finally did get something out, it was a single name. One Annabeth knew by heart, one that he’d mourned for years.

“Luke?” you whispered.

Before he had the chance to do anything, two teenagers got over the hill and called out your name, the same one Luke used. He always said you were dead, but you clearly weren’t dead, because you were here and you had her arm in your grasp and while your hands were cold, they weren’t cold enough to be dead—

“Molly’s gonna take care of you,” you said, looking back at Annabeth and cutting off her inner dialogue. “She’ll get you to the infirmary and heal you up, okay?”

“My friends—”

“They’re gonna be okay too,” you said. “I promise.”

Annabeth looked up at Luke, and he nodded. “We’ll be with you soon, Annabeth. We— we have to talk about some things.”

So she went with Molly down the hill, and Annabeth put pressure on her bleeding wound when she told her to—it had started to sting like hell now that her adrenaline was fading.

She looked back just in time to see you and Luke share the tightest hug ever.

The hug of two people who realized they weren’t seeing ghosts, Annabeth thought.

You bolted up in bed, eyes wide and your chest heaving as you rapidly sucked in air. Your fingers found purchase in your bedsheets, desperate for something familiar—it took a second for you to recognize your surroundings, that you weren’t in an endless void, but your childhood bedroom offered little comfort.

You ran a hand over your forehead, damp with sweat, as you tried to calm down. Your breathing slowed, but you couldn’t shake that awful feeling that hung over you in your sleep.

Your nightmares were getting worse, you knew that much. That raspy, demented voice used to be a rarity, and now it appeared every night. You could usually deal with your nightmares, but the sense of absolute dread that voice and the pit fostered in you was too much. You hadn’t managed to sleep through the night once since you came home for the school year.

You could deal with the monsters—to you, this was the worst part of your godly blood.

A knock rattled on the door out of nowhere, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The only thing that calmed you down was the thought that monsters didn’t knock.

“Come in,” you croaked, your throat drier than a desert.

Thankfully, a monster hadn’t come to make your night even more miserable. Luke stood in the doorway, his eyebrows creased in concern, messy curls hanging just above his eyes. He wore the Red Sox t-shirt you’d bought for him at the game you dragged him to, and in your addled state, you didn’t even think to tease him about it.

“Are you okay?” He should’ve been as disoriented as you, but his alerted eyes told a different story.

You could only think of one thing. “How did you know?”

Luke’s lips parted for a moment, as if he hadn’t even considered it. “I could just feel it.”

You managed a smile despite every atom in your body screaming at you. “I think that means you can come in.”

He closed the door behind him, and you shifted over in your bed to make room for him. There wasn’t much in a twin, but you made it work. Luke’s weight pressed into the mattress, making you adjust your position, and it was more comforting than any amount of blankets.

“You’re so cold,” he murmured, laying the back of his hand against your arm. “How do you live like that?”

“Blame my dad,” you said. “I’ve got water in my blood.”

“I think that’s probably a bad thing,” Luke said, and you knocked your shoulder into his with a huff.

“You know what I mean.”

Luke let his hand fall back in his lap, and as you brought your knees up to your chest, you pulled the covers with them.

“So,” Luke said, glancing at you, “what’s got you awake at the witching hour?”

“The usual,” you mumbled.

“Nightmares that might be prophetic?” he asked.

You made a lazy gesture with your hand. “Bingo.”

“The worst sense of dread imaginable?”

“Bullseye.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

You shrugged. “It’s nothing I can’t deal with.”

“You don’t always have to put on a front, y’know,” Luke said. You felt his eyes on you. “You don’t always have to be strong.”

“I’m naturally strong,” you said with mock austerity. “Comes with the god for a dad.”

Luke chuckled and shook his head. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” you murmured.

You leaned into his side, fitting your head into the crook of his neck. Luke wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, and you let out a contented sigh.

That voice in your nightmares seemed so small when you had Luke.

“Can you stay?” you asked softly.

He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

“Just like old times,” you whispered.

“Just like old times,” he agreed.

Luke ran hot, and you’d never been more thankful for it as you fully settled into his side. Icy blood ran through your veins, and you let out a shaky sigh. You could hear his steady breathing, feel his heartbeat through his chest, and the anxiety from earlier began to steadily fade. You never felt safer than when you were with Luke.

There was something between you—you weren’t that stupid—but you hadn’t talked about it. With you and Luke, it was just… you and Luke. You didn’t have to put a label to it.

How could you put a label to your relationship, when you’d spent your first few years together fighting for each day, and then the next few thinking the other was dead?

Maybe someday, you would talk about it. But for now, this was more than enough.

“Don’t worry,” Luke murmured in your ear as your eyes began to droop. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

And by the gods, you believed him.

#reader is the mara of she ra the mikey berzatto of the bear the nellie crain of hill house DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #daughter of poseidon #child of poseidon #sadie writes

2K notes · View notes

asuyaka · 3 months

Text

"How do the monster trio act around (and eventually get with) their crush?"

☆ - Monkey D. Luffy, Vinsmoke Sanji, Roronoa Zoro x M! reader.

♡ - guys m'sososososo insane ab these three m'literally gunna explode | also !! jus cus reqs ar gunna be closed, doesn't mean m'won't be uploadin !! jus not takin reqs f'the time bein (❁´◡`❁)

— MONKEY D. LUFFY.

He's so clingy around you, more than he is with anyone else.

Always, always, shares his food with you. Especially if you were busy training before dinner.

He's always around you no matter what. Oh? You're trying to help Sanji cook? He's on the floor watching you. Want to go buy supplies for Nami? He's clung onto your back like a Koala. Want to sleep due to a long day? He's right there in your bed with you.

He's so dorky about it too! Wants to spend every waking moment with you but doesn't know that he has a crush on you, just always wants ta be around you!

He's so jealous without even knowing it. What are you doing hanging out with Usopp when he's right here??

"[Name]..." Luffy groaned, clinging to your back with a sad expression on his face. He had his limbs wrapped around your torso and his head between your neck. "You aren't going to talk with Usopp again, are you?"

You stop walking, staring at him through the corner of your eyes. "Yes? I thought you and Usopp were best buddies, what happened?"

Luffy groans louder, causing Nami to yell at him to shut up from her room. "Nooooo, stay here and talk with meeeeeeee!" He wraps his arms around you three times (thanks to his devil fruit) and starts to shake your body around.

"Luffy— I can't even move if you don't let go of me!"

Luffy looks at you with puppy dog eyes. "Why hang out with Usopp when I'm right here?! I should be the only one you have eyes for..." He pouts as he presses his cheek against yours.

Your body flushes. Did... did he realize what he just said?

"Luffy, you can't say things like that if you don't know what they mean..." You huff, trying not to look too deep into what he could've meant by that. Luffy says things he doesn't mean, so you don't want to get your hopes up.

That only seems to coerce Luffy into whining. "I do know what it means! I said it, dummy! Stupid!! You should be mine, not Usopp's! I'm cooler and better and bigger and amazinger and uhm, you're mine because I say so!!"

Amazinger...?

You can't help the giggle that comes out of you, trying to force yourself to calm down while Luffy shakes you repeatedly. "[Name] c'mon, you'll be mine, right? Not Usopp! Cause, he can't cook and he's a sniper!"

"What does him being a sniper have to do with anything? And besides, you can't cook either Luffy."

Luffy blanks for a split second before going back to what he was doing. "I dunno. Doesn't matter! C'monnnnn, [Name], you're bullying meeeeeeeee!"

You hold onto Luffy's arm with a laugh, pressing your cheeks together as a form of affection. "Yes, Luffy, I'll be yours."

Luffy stares at you with surprise before turning back to his usual happy-go-lucky self. "Yippie!! Now, we can do all the things boyfriends do! Like go on dates, and eat together, and sleep together, and—"

As he continues to list off all the things he thinks boyfriends do, you can't help but chuckle.

Not like you two weren't doing that before his confession.

— VINSMOKE SANJI.

(inspired by @/sanjisboyfie 's oneshot ab this tragic little adorable man !! :3)

It took so long for Sanji to realize he liked you because he's not used to being attracted to men.

Thought that every time you complimented his cooking and his heart swelled up, it was just the flu. Nothing interesting or important.

Then, he started noticing how pretty your features were when you were eating, or how embarrassed he gets whenever it's just you and him in the kitchen.

When he realizes he does like you, his mind utterly falters, because... why would you like him back?

Even though there are lingering fears in his heart, he always tries his best to please you. Even if it means blushing like a moron whenever you address him directly.

"[Name]! I uhm, made this for you since you were... hurt, during our last fight." Sanji muttered nervously, averting his eyes as he held out a plate of food. Something small and easy to digest, but a food you like.

You smile warmly as you take the plate from his hands, your fingers brushing slightly as Sanji's face flusters even more. "This looks amazing! Thanks, Sanji. Do you want to sit with me? The seas are calm tonight."

Sanji pauses as he looks at you. His cigarette is inches away from falling out of his mouth and his face dazes.

"Sanij? You okay? You can say no, I won't be mad. It's not even your shift yet and everyone needs sleep." You say with an airy smile as you turn your attention to the food.

Sanji was right (like he was most of the time when it came to you and food), after the 'Big Mom incident' you were quite injured (and hungry). Seeing all the... talking food, didn't do much to raise your appetite.

There's a soft thud right beside you, long black legs resting a safe distance away from yours. A comfortable silence falls between the two of you, even if Sanji's cheeks are flushed and he's nervously playing with his thumbs.

"Wowww, this is really good Sanji!" You say happily, flashing Sanji a warm smile as you return to eating the food so gracefully given to you. Oblivious to the man beside you whose face looks so red it rivals Luffy's signature vest.

Sanji looks at you with nothing sort of affection. It's not the same as when Nami or Robin compliment him, you just saying his name is enough to make him flustered, but being this close to you alone might send him into cardiac arrest.

"[Name]...?" His voice is quiet, staring at you with expectant eyes.

You pause eating, covering your mouth, and cocking your head in confusion.

"This uhm... might be a weird question, but do you um,, l-like anybody?" He becomes more flushed with every word that comes out of his mouth.

The second you take too long to answer he starts to curse himself out for even sitting down. Everything was going so well until he opened his mouth—

"Yes, I do. What, trying to feel out if I'm single?" You tease with a light chuckle, picking up the last bit of food and holding it out expectantly. "You want some?"

Sanji can't say no to you. Even if he tries his hardest, his body will not let him say no, not to an indirect kiss; especially when you're offering. Even if you might not see it in the same light he does.

He opens his mouth and lets you place the spoon in his mouth as your eyes turn into crescents. "See? Does it taste good?"

God— Sanji feels like he's going to explode.

He nods, begging himself to calm down before his mind starts to run.

"Oh," You say suddenly, "—that was an indirect kiss, wasn't it?" You lin hum thoughtfully and place the plate beside you, letting out a soft yawn as you stretch. "You sure you don't need to—"

"I am so in love with you."

"...pardon?"

Sanji stands up immediately, his face red. "Nothing!! I'm sorry, I'm really sleepy now so I'll—"

"Sanji, what did you say?" You ask carefully, holding onto his hand to try and stop him from running away.

"It's nothing, [Name], please just let me—"

"Sanji." Your voice comes off soft, relaxing your body so you come off as gentle and not hostile. "Just say it, one more time for me, okay?"

Sanji could feel his entire body burning up just from holding hands, more so from him getting caught blurting out his feelings again. He stares at the floor of the Sunny, too ashamed to look you in the eyes. "I... I'm in love with you? I'm sorry if you don't like me back, I didn't mean it I swear!"

"Sanji, what makes you think I don't like you back? Better question, what makes you think I didn't know?" You cock your head playfully, pulling him gently so he's sitting again.

"...what?"

You chuckle. "I've heard all the other embarrassing times you've confessed your feelings, it's just that the crew was around and I didn't want to put you on the spot. I've liked you since we met on the Baratie, silly."

Sanji's eyes widen as his mouth falls agape. You've liked him... for two years?!

"Sanji...?" You move up to straddle him, your hands resting on his cheeks. "Can I... kiss you?"

Sanji nods so fast he thinks his head might fall off.

You smile, leaning forward to press your lips together. Sanji's body physically relaxes as he practically melts into you, his face redder than blood.

It takes all his willpower and the need to breathe for him to finally pull away from you. His face is flushed and his breathing is heavy, staring at you like you're the only man in the world— like you're the prettiest thing in the world.

You giggle, pressing your heart onto his chest. "I love you so much."

Zoning back into reality, he carefully places his arms around your waist. "I love you too, so so much [Name],"

— RORONOA ZORO.

Zoro isn't good at expressing his emotions, everyone knows that.

So, when he figures out he might have a romantic attraction to you, he's confused about what to do. Considers asking Nami about it, but goes with Robin since Nami is... an interesting woman!

Robin tells him to be upfront with his feelings, or subtly tell the person.

He's a naturally mature person, having a crush on his crewmate doesn't change that by any means.

Even if he is cold to everyone, if you two are alone on the deck of the Sunny, he lets you sleep with him or touch his swords.

Just having you around is enough to calm him down. Seeing as his biggest love language is quality time and you enjoy talking about the randomest things around him, it makes his heart flutter whenever you act like he's the only person in the world who you care about.

"Mhm! And did you know that otters hold hands when they're asleep?" You point to an otter in the marine life book Zoro got you during your last pit stop.

Zoro shakes his head, his arms crossed with a small, barely noticeable amused smile on his face.

"Yeah! It's so they don't drift off when they're asleep. Not sure anyone knows why, but I like to think it's because they don't want to lose each other. After all, they're social animals! Oh! They also like to cuddle a lot—"

"Kind of like me and you, no?" Zoro interrupts with a playful aura, causing your train of thought to stop, face flushing as you stare at his smug expression.

"Um, y-yes! Like... like me, and you..." Your voice progressively gets smaller under Zoro's gaze. He moves closer, causing you to move your arms back, resting on your palms. "Zoro?"

"Keep telling me about the otters, don't worry," He replies coyly, grabbing you by the waist and bringing you into his lap.

Your face flushes, stuttering over your words as you nod. Shakily grabbing the book to bring it closer. Carefully picking your words, you begin speaking again. "They might also, uhm, hold hands because they don't have very thick fur. It could be to share body heat and keep warm, since they get cold easily."

"What if I said we were otters?" Zoro asks from behind you, resting his chin on your head.

"Ah, then we'd have to hold hands when we sleep!" Quickly realizing what you said, you try to reel it back in. "O-of course, only if you want to! I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything, I know how much you like your personal space so—"

"You're in my personal space and it doesn't look like I mind very much, does it, [Name]?"

Twiddling your thumbs meekly, you shake your head no. Zoro laughs and takes one of your hands, putting it above his. The size difference is obvious, your fingers stop just below his second knuckle. Something about that causes a riot in your brain, especially when Zoro squeezes them together.

"Okay, another question," Zoro starts, moving the intertwined hands to your lap. "What if I asked you to be my boyfriend?"

You turn around immediately, staring at him with wide eyes. He isn't... joking, is he? Zoro doesn't normally joke about things (unless he's with Sanji), so it wouldn't make sense for him to joke about this. Especially when it's something so serious.

"Hm? What's your answer, pretty boy?"

You've liked Zoro ever since he sat down and listened to you talk about the different kinds of fishmen after the ordeal with Arlong. Zoro has never expressed romantic attraction to anybody, not even to the bountiful amounts of women who've expressed attraction to him.

Your mind blanks, and you must've been staring at him for too long because the smallest bit of worry falls on his face. "You okay? I'm not forcing you, you know? Saying no is okay."

Saying... no? To a man that looks like he was crafted by Zeus himself? Hell no! "No! I-I mean, yes, I mean—"

"Take your time pretty boy, I'm not going anywhere."

He's adjusted your position to where you're facing each other, hands still intertwined as he looks at you with a soft (?) expression. Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to make eye contact with him.

You've never looked at his this close before. Sure, you two have cuddled to sleep on countless nights, but then you were always faced away from each other.

He has long eyelashes. Not extremely long, but longer than you thought they were. Even if his eyes are black, you've noticed they soften whenever he looks at you, it makes him pretty.

Meekly, you nod. Holding your head down to try and hide your embarrassment. Before you can, though, Zoro stops you by lifting your chin up with his finger. "You can use words, can't you?"

It should sound condescending, the way he's talking to you, but it sounds more encouraging than anything. Even if there might be light teases mixed with his words.

"Yes, I, I would want to be your uhm... your boyfriend."

Zoro grins at that, pressing a quick kiss on your lips and twisting you around, pulling you closer so the back of your head is between his boobs pecs. "Love you, pretty boy."

"I-I love you too, Zoro," You force out, even if it feels like you're overheating due to the blood rushing to your cheek and... other places, as well as Zoro's added body heat.

You two truly were like otters.

2K notes · View notes

gyuswhore · 6 months

Text

Hits Different (...'cause it's you) (2)

«« I trace the evidence, make it make some sense Why the wound is still bleedin' »»

PAIRING: kim mingyu x reader

SYNOPSIS: Kim Mingyu was the first friend your brother had brought home for dinner. Fast forward a couple years, his toothy smile and pierced ears would wedge their way into a permanent place in your heart. Nail to a coffin, never to escape.

or;

in which you get rejected by the only boy you've ever loved; a rejection you can't quite shake off.

GENRES: based off of 'Hits Different' by Taylor Swift, brother's best friend!au, brother!seokmin, fluff, angst, smut (in part 2) [MINORS DNI], friends(?) to lovers, university!au.

PLAYLIST: right here!

WORD COUNT (full fic): 40k (im actually embarrassed)

Part 1: 20.2k | Part 2: 20k

masterlist

WARNINGS : slowburn, angst, fluff, mingyus a bit of an airhead and an ass, reader has a hard time managing her feelings, lots of frustrated tears, one sided pining, user toruro x minghao make an appearance, swearing, there's another woman (gasp,,,,,but shes cool so), Nayeon is a darling, Seungcheol is kinda annoying here but we love him, smut, making out, breast play, fingering (f. receiving), p in v sex (protected + unprotected), oral (f. receiving) uhhhh i think that's it lmk tho

[A/N]: Part 2 !! shit goes down in this one so be prepared ig lmao. thank you for the love on part 1, i hope you enjoy the finale too hehe

For the third time this week, you wish you could squeeze your brother’s brains with your own two hands and watch it explode like a grape without legal repercussions. Or parental ones.

You slam your phone down on the counter after you end your conversation with him, frustrated as you watch the empty shelf where you left your dinner for today in the fridge last night, and the other green box that was actually your brothers. Refusing to eat the dry PB&J he usually packs for himself, you slam the fridge door shut, trudging out the door to leave for work, thoroughly annoyed at the prospect of needing to eat out.

It’s gone forgotten for most of the day, that is until the clock hits eight and you feel your stomach grumble, immediately putting you in a sour mood as you remember you couldn’t enjoy your pasta because your brother was enjoying your pasta. You only had another hour left, supposing you could wait till you get home to make dinner yourself, not feeling the burger joint across the street in the slightest. Eating a moonpie to satiate yourself for the time being, you go back to stocking the shelves for the new LP shipment, making a vague mental note to ask Mingyu if Jia liked the gift he picked out a couple weeks ago.

Your opportunity arises almost automatically as you walk over to greet whoever came in, abandoning the opened box of bubble wrapped LPs as you hear the bell chime softly at the front of the store.

Mingyu was here (again), hands occupied with a bag, looking relieved to find you emerging from the shelves.

“Oh, you’re here. I was afraid you left already,” he says, smiling slightly.

“Would’ve been closed if I did.” You nudge your head towards the clearly unlocked door, donning the neon open sign.

He looks a little dumb, turning to look at the door. “Oh. Right.”

You can’t help but smile a little. “Caught me at a good time though, I was just about to start wrapping up here.”

He suddenly looks like he’s reminded of what he’s come here for, placing the bag on the desk next to him. “Seok told me to drop this off for you, he said it’s food.”

Snorting, you take a look at the inside to find takeout from your favourite pasta place, which also happens to be your most expensive favourite pasta place. Seokmin felt bad enough to spend extra dollars on your dinner tonight, you guessed you could forgive him.

You sigh as you speak. “And you strike as his errand boy yet again, sorry he’s been making you do all this.”

“Did he piss you off?” Mingyu asks.

“Hm? He’s been pissing me off all week, this is him trying to get on my good side before I spit in his coffee.”

He laughs at that, a toothy smile that has your stomach lurching. The flashback was brief but vivid all the same, his grin triggering a long forgotten memory. You could almost see the black studs in his ears again, his bangs falling in chunks on his forehead, his face turning into the boyish sixteen year old recollection on your kitchen counter, drinking cans of Monster and helping you lie to your mom.

“Explains why he was ready to drop that much on a bowl of pasta.”

“Hey, it’s good.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He grins, “I’m gonna leave your pasta in your loving embrace, I have to feed my car now. Been putting it off till payday.”

“Oh, right. Thanks for dropping this off though, appreciate it.” You offer him a tight lipped smile. One that he returns, canines almost glinting in the light (but that’s just you).

“No worries, I’ll see ya around.” You don’t remember what you were meant to ask him until he’s long jingled the glass door shut, walking to his parked car. You supposed it could wait, Jia would’ve liked anything he got her. You could ask him later, not wanting to have him turn around to answer the obvious question.

The opportunity does not arise as easily as it did this time, a couple weeks passing in relative uneventful indifference, slow days at the store and nights in seven days a week. You were starting to wish you’d taken summer classes while you were stuck here anyway, the mundane days pushing you to believe you’d rather be busy than inexplicably bored. It’s not until your brother has a near mental breakdown from only having a sister as his main recreational contact that there’s a change.

Mingyu sits on your couches in the dark, useless blanket thrown over his torso as both of his sock clad feet hang out in the air. To be fair, nobody’s looking at anybody as the eyes remain on yet another unnecessary explosion on the screen. You vaguely wonder how the ship hasn’t sunk yet.

“What the fuck do you mean he’s been alive this whole time?” Seokmin utters, voice thick with the entire stick of butter he stuck into his bowl of popcorn.

“Who funded this?” Mingyu mumbles from the other end, a deep frown etched on his face.

“The people who funded the other three monstrosities.” You roll your eyes, inching your way into a sitting position, the ache making its way into the crick of your neck.

“There’s more?!” The prospect had Mingyu hurtling into a sitting position, but not without his own set of winces as he feels the bones cracking and muscles aching. His hair is a mess, his hoodie nearly backwards, and you can’t help but laugh at the mildly confused and bewildered expression he has on.

“Yeah, you wanna watch those too?” you ask through giggles.

Glancing at the final pub scene that’s playing on the TV, he's quick to mumble, “Fuck, no.”

“I haven’t watched a real shitty movie in a while.” Seokmin groans as it’s his turn to stretch. “This was fun. Hollywood’s back.”

Both you and Mingyu pointedly ignore his statement, your own mind debating whether you wanted to watch another movie. It’s not until you look up to see Mingyu doing something on his phone that you remember what you wanted to ask him.

“Hey, Mingyu, did — Seokmin!” Your brother’s decided to begin his aerial stretches, touching his toes and cracking his back. You shift your head wildly to get a gap through his restless movements, eventually giving up finding Mingyu. He could hear you. “Did you – ugh – did you get to give Jia her present?”

You aren’t sure what it is, but the way the question has Seok landing on his heels mid tip toe stretch and how Mingyu’s eyebrows shoot up, you don’t doubt you’ve touched on something sensitive. There’s a part of you that wonders if it’s too late to take it back when both boys make eye contact with each other, but your brother beats you to it.

“I, uh…forgot to tell her,” he lowtones.

You look to your brother and then to Mingyu.

“We broke up.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Mingyu smiles a little awkwardly, and Seok makes a strangled sound that may have been a laugh of his own. Or a cough, you aren’t too sure. “But…she did like the present, when I gave it to her anyway.”

“Oh, that’s…that’s good,” you manage, not knowing what to say. “Sorry that happened though…sucks.”

“She ended it–” that has your own brows shooting up in disbelief. Kim Mingyu got dumped? “–over the phone, she decided she wanted to stay home for a while to figure out what she wanted to do. Uni wasn’t cutting it for her here…”

“I mean, good for her, I guess. Hope you’re doing okay, though.”

He blows air out of his cheeks, scratching his neck. “I mean, we’re fine. Ended it on good terms.”

Seokmin’s still standing awkwardly staring at the still running ending credits for something to do. “Should we get food?”

“I don’t know, are you hungry?” Mingyu asks.

“How is the heartburn not getting to you yet? You basically emptied the country’s dairy reserves in a single popcorn serving,” you grumble.

“Don’t underestimate my ingestional abilities,” he retorts.

Mingyu stares for a moment. “Aren’t you lactose intoletrant or something?”

Seokmin turns to him, mouth open as he points his finger, “You know, I might be.”

“No you aren’t, if you were lactose intolerant then I’d be lactose intolerant,” you shoot.

“Explain the empty can of air freshener in the bathroom after queso and chips?”

“Have you considered during queso and chips that queso is a dip and not an optional beverage?”

Mingyu’s cutting between you two before you can go on with your bickering, afraid he’d have to physically peel you off of each other if it goes on, “Let’s just go to a drive thru, you can get your lactose or…non lactose options however you like.”

That’s how you’re shoved into the backseat of Mingyu’s car, Seokmin fiddling with the GPS to find the nearest McDonalds.

“How do you not know where the nearest McDonald’s is, you live here,” Mingyu hisses as he takes his fourth right turn in a row.

“We always just order in, who sits in a car and goes to McDonalds.”

“Us apparently,” you lowtone to Mingyu from the back, picking at a crusty flower that you found in between the seats. They ignore you.

“Okay, I think it’s this one. Dude, get a new GPS, this one responds after fifty years, of course it’s gonna take this long.”

Their own bickering is starting to zone out into a buzz in your ears as you stare at a patch of leather behind Mingyu’s seat. You vaguely considered that you’re falling asleep.

The streetlight has other plans, however, when you sense something glinting in the sudden light underneath the seat. Your interest is piqued, moving forward to see what it was. Mingyu senses you shifting and asks you what you’re doing.

You don’t answer him as you shuffle around to catch sight of it again. And then you see it, a tiny necklace on the slightly dirty mat, a circle charm with a single ‘J’ in the center. You aren’t sure why you froze at the sight, the gold glinting prettily even in the dark. Leaving it there, you emerge from under the seat, trying to seem nonchalant.

“Nothing. Thought I saw something.”

Mingyu’s common occurrence in the bookstore is starting to concern you, never catching him as the type to read something other than the occasional bad riddles on the back of a cereal box. You stand corrected however, as you find yourself trying to find a hardcover for him on the computer system, mumbling incoherently.

“Never knew you read.”

“Well, now you do. This one’s really good though, you should read it too.” He notes, motioning towards the paperback version he brought with him for the book he’s finding.

You snort at his suggestion. “Have you realised this is one of the most popular books in its genre right now? Hard to find someone who hasn’t read it.”

He frowns at the revelation, “Oh. None of my friends read it.”

Seokmin hasn’t opened a book for recreational purposes since he was twelve. As for his other friends…they didn’t exactly seem like the smart type either. You get up to move to the shelf the computer’s indicated, trying to walk off your annoyance at a particular memory before it begins to show. Mingyu follows you in your pursuit to find his book, skimming the shelves himself as he strolled behind you.

“Oh, right, how’s that exhibition thing going? Forgot to ask about it,” you ask as you spot the box of the hardcovers at the top of the shelf. You grab the ladder that rests near the wall as he answers.

“It’s going pretty good, nearly done. I just need to send the final pieces over – what’re you doing?”

You grunt as you begin to climb up the metal ladder, trying to get to the box. “Getting your book, genius.”

“Wait–” He moves to grab the ladder at the base as he watches you step higher. “Get down! I’ll go up instead.”

“You get cold feet at the bottom of an escalator, be serious, Mingyu,” you grunt as you pull the box towards yourself, the ladder shaking with the force it takes, and it has Mingyu gripping the metal tighter. You pull the familiar cover out before closing the box back up. “There.”

“Why would you keep supposed bestsellers there, isn’t this like, in demand?” He grumbles as he continues to hold the ladder as you climb back down.

“Ran out. Need to restock them at the front, but I’ll do that tomorrow.” You huff as you jump the last step, earning a loud yelp from Mingyu.

“Chill out,” you chuckle as he puts the ladder away. “Okay, do you want me to look at anything else for you?”

“What would you recommend for my next imaginary adventure?” he asks as he picks out a random book from the shelf, trying to find the blurb.

“Not that one.” You scrunch your nose at the sight.

“This one I know is popular. What’s wrong with it?” He chuckles as he puts it back.

“Don’t believe everything you see on the internet,” you call out as you walk back to the front.

“And believe you instead?”

Oh, you wish.

Picking up your current read from the front of the store, you wait for him to reach the end of the opening where you stand to hand it to him.

“You can decide that for yourself. Haven’t finished it yet, but it looks super promising. Try it out if you want.”

He barely looks over the glistening title before handing it back to you, and you nearly assume he didn’t want it.

“Ring both of them up,” he says, and then with a pause he continues, “And anything else you think is good too, I don’t really care.”

Deciding you’d test the waters with this first recommendation, you only cash him in for two. He doesn’t question it as you do your job behind the desk, making casual conversation as he waits for you to find the right barcode.

“How far are you with that one?”

“The one I gave you? Just touched chapter 20, I think.”

He only hums in response as he pays, grabbing the bag that you push towards him.

“Let me know how you like it,” you comment before he begins to turn to leave.

“‘Course.” He grins, and you can't help but grin right back. He leaves you in the store with a slight heat coming up to your cheeks, and a wad of gum in your mouth to keep your stomach in check.

By the time the next day rolls around, it’s been nearly 24 hours before you hear from him again, his contact seemingly only ever gracing you within the walls of the bookstore – except he isn’t physically here. Mingyu texts you, and you nearly fall out of your chair at the sight of his name on your phone.

It’s near embarrassing how quickly you pick up your phone, passcode going wrong once, twice, thrice…you decide it’s the top five worst times your phone’s refused face ID. You’re slamming your fingers onto the screen harder than you should, watching the warp in the pixels at the pressure. By the time it does open its secrets for you, the annoyance has settled. Not at him though.

[Mingyu]: hey [Mingyu]: i got to chap 20 [You]: what [You]: how [Mingyu]: started reading when i got home [Mingyu]: and then i got to 20 [Mingyu]: i think i pulled an all nighter [You]: you think? [You]: was it that good [Mingyu]: couldnt put it down [Mingyu]: i wanna talk about it but my eyes are closing [You]: you know where to find me when you wake up

The typing ellipses don’t pop up after that, and you assume for the better that he’s succumbed to his afternoon drowsiness. If he was serious about that all nighter (which you don’t doubt, no way he could’ve plowed through twenty chapters and gotten any sleep), you assume he’ll be knocked out for at least the rest of the afternoon.

Smiling to yourself at the thought of him wanting to text you about your matching achievements (and actively pushing your mind away from the blessed image of a napping Mingyu), you find yourself scrolling up the conversation, trying to remember the last time Mingyu had texted. That was easy to find out as the short scroll past the sparing details from your photography adventures landed you straight into late last year, a sparse conversation regarding your brother’s whereabouts when he wouldn’t answer his phone.

You remembered the conversation. As mundane and ordinary as it was, it was difficult to forget the way your hands were shaking as you typed your one word replies, how your breathing was coming out uneven at a mere text back. You could argue there was less of that this time round, proud of yourself for learning to control your emotions better.

There’s a train of thought that leads you to every recent interaction you’ve had with him. The conversations where you could look him in the eye, your relative indifference when he would show up unannounced, the disappearance of the wad of emotions in your stomach at the mere mention of his name.

The latter may be slightly untrue, but you can't help but note how the ounces of fear within the concoction is gone. You were never quite sure what it was that you were so afraid of, perhaps the fateful night at Seungcheol’s party had answered that question for you, but still.

“Seok’s not the type to beat me up if I dated his sister. And besides…” He sighs, halting his words.

“Besides what?” Somebody chimes in.

“I’m not interested in going after someone who’s chased my tail for the past fifteen years.”

Despite telling yourself it was the alcohol talking, maybe even a couple puffs of whatever — the mild disappointment remains. Thinking about the weeks following that, the moping and the hurt, you almost don’t blame Mika for acting the way that she did.

Your brother had always been oblivious to all the frolicking in your heart that would ignite as Mingyu would enter the room, and for over a decade at that. And yet, it was during those weeks that he had noticed you acting like you had been dumped, asking you what on earth was wrong with you.

“Did somebody say something to you?” he asks.

“Huh?” you frown, annoyed at the way he's planted himself directly in front of the cabinet that held your beloved moonpies.

“You’re acting like you’ve been rejected by the love of your life. Nayeon’s not telling me anything and you’re being avoidant, what is up with you?” He huffs, hands on his hips.

Oh, if only he knew how right he was. But you weren’t upset because the love of your life rejected you (anymore, at least), you were upset because he was a public asshole.

It takes more coaxing from him to get you to start talking. It’s easier when he brings out the big guns: “D’you want me to tell mom?”

You tell him a little, not naming any names, much to his dismay. “Some guy was an ass, something about me being too easy or whatever.”

“You’re upset because some drunk dude decided to run his mouth?” He scrunches his nose at the thought. “Ignore him, he’s stupid.”

“Thanks for the help, I’m cured,” you deadpan, pushing him aside to get to the gold inside the cabinets.

“I could get Mingyu to help me beat him up, I just need a name.”

Oh. You briefly wonder how he'd feel if he had to beat up his best friend.

More than his attempts to sound like a cool older brother, the image of Mingyu beating himself up brings you more amusement than anything else. You crack a smile at the thought.

That was months ago, yet you can’t seem to forget the hurt. Trying to shake off where your thoughts were taking you, you get up to take a walk around the store for something to do, fixing microscopic displacements on the shelves and wondering if you should restock something, only to realize you’d already done that when you came in, not wanting to whip out the ladder again to restock the ones you'd just landed from.

Landing inevitably back behind the counter, you instinctively reach for the book wedged beside the computer. Your outstretched hand stops midway, thinking about how Mingyu’s reached as far as you in the story quite literally overnight. Retracting your hand, you decide you’d wait.

The bell chimes signaling a customer, and you find yourself grateful for the distraction.

It’s nearing 8:30 when you decide you should close early. It was slower than usual today, the few walk-ins leaving without purchases too hefty, rendering you bored in your seat for most of the day. You’re locking the drawers of the main desk when Mingyu walks in with the familiar tune of the bell chiming, soft smile as he greets you quietly.

“How was your nap?” you ask, trying not to giggle at his still dazed expression.

“Pretty good, didn’t wanna wake up though.” His voice remains relatively coarse, and you don’t miss the light indent on his left cheek. It’s endearing, enough to have you wishing you could cup his face in a loving squish.

But you don’t.

“You don’t say,” you comment. Pointing at your own cheek as you continue, “You sure you don’t wanna take the night off too?”

“Fuck,” he whispers as he looks down to fumble for his phone to see for himself in his front camera. The puffiness hasn’t gone away entirely, evident when he’s frowning and looking downwards, and the urge to squeeze comes hurtling back.

“Did you drive like this?”

“Uh, no, I walked.”

“Walked?” You try to comprehend if that was even more dangerous. He only nods. “Why?”

“Wanted to see you.”

It takes effort to not clutch your chest at the way your heart leaps. Kim Mingyu, you bastard.

“Had to talk about the book.”

Your voice comes out a little more breathless than you’d like, but you hope his drowsiness skips over it. “You could’ve texted.”

He pauses as he mulls it over. “I mean, yeah…I don’t know. I just put my shoes on and came here.”

You decide you’d spare him the brain power and continue your remaining closing duties, talking to him as you move around the store.

“We can take my car to my place, better than getting distracted here.”

He only nods in response. “Do you want any help?”

“Nope, just need to turn off the lights and lock the doors. Let me grab my bag.”

By the time you’re home, an XL pizza and drinks in your arms to satiate Mingyu’s post nap ravenous tendencies, you drop down on the couch with a huff. Seokmin hears the ruckus and appears from his room, not wasting time to break on the pizza with Mingyu as you leave to freshen up. By the time you settle with your own slice it seems as though Mingyu has roused himself significantly more than before.

“Okay,” you huff as you land on the soft cushioning, “What did you think about the book?”

“Hard to believe this is her first book, it’s really good.”

“Her world building is amazing, some of the best I’ve read.”

Your back and forth discussion grows increasingly passionate, forgetting the fact that your brother was also right there excluded from the conversation. His head shifts back and forth as the both of you converse, utterly lost. It would’ve been funny, except neither if you were actually looking at him.

He manages to get a word in as one of you pauses for breath. “Since when do you read?”

Mingyu gapes at the question, seemingly trying to find an answer. “Recently.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why? I just wanted to start reading,” he scoffs in a manner that could be described as exaggerated. If he’s trying to throw Seokmin off his scent, he’s succeeded, as he watches Seokmin get up and announce that he has work to do. That leaves the both of you alone.

The conversation takes you into the late hours of the night, Mingyu’s prior nap releasing him from the chains of reasonable sleeping hours as he remains wide awake despite the 3 AM time on the dial. You manage to keep up with him, even when he follows you to the kitchen to brew a coffee.

“Do you usually work this hard just to make coffee?” he asks as he watches you discard the used espresso puck.

“We have a bottle of the instant stuff here somewhere for when I’m lazy,” you explain as you pour the fresh shots into the prepped ice and milk. “Doesn’t taste the same though.”

“Coffee is coffee,” he says as he stirs the drink you push towards him.

“Quite the contrary. Besides, the instant stuff fucks with my stomach, I’d rather not.” You take a sip of your coffee, glancing at the sink. “Will say, hate everything I have to wash afterwards.”

“I’ll do ‘em later, gotta pay you back for all the manual labour that went into this thing,” he refers to the latte he’s sipping on currently.

“The appreciation is enough. We can make Seok do them in the morning for being a loser and going to bed early,” you snort. Mingyu laughs at that, the image of Seokmin doing dishes while the both of you sleep in.

“You sure you don’t wanna call it a night?” he asks you as you place yourself on the kitchen counter.

“I’m having fun, Mingyu, seriously. I’m off tomorrow too, I don’t have to wake up,” you reassure for the nth time.

He doesn’t reply, only stares up at you from his leaned position. He’s chewing on his lip, and you find yourself unconsciously chewing at your own, the already raw skin stinging at the abrasion. Mingyu’s hands come up to your face slowly, like he knew it was hurting as he pulls your bottom lip to release it with his thumb.

“You’re gonna bleed,” he whispers. His hand that grasps your chin doesn’t move, rough thumb continuing to graze at your lip lightly.

“You never stopped picking at your lips, did you?” he wonders out loud, eyes trained on your mouth.

Your own hand comes to lightly grip at his forearm. He remembers your habit, picking at the skin of your lips since near middle school, getting yelled at when you had to excuse yourself from the dinner table when they would bleed.

“Old habits die hard.” Your voice is thick despite the gulp you had to take before opening your mouth.

It was true, probably too much as you continue to look at his near perfect face. The oldest habit, the hardest to die.

Mingyu drops his hand, landing it in your lap, your own hand still gripping his forearm. You aren’t sure what’s going through you as you trail your hand up further, to his wrists, to the dip of his palm, landing on his fingers. You grip his hand, tight this time.

“I’m gonna jump,” you whisper, and you feel his grip tighten around yours as he braces to support you off the counter.

You face him in silence, contemplating, “It’s hot in here, let’s go back out.”

He watches as you pick your cup off the counter and leave, not waiting for him to follow you. He finds himself trying to take deeper breaths, stalling, but not for long as he joins you back on the couch.

It probably came as a shock to both of you the first time Mingyu announced his leave much earlier in the night, when you stopped him, asking him to stay. It was silent for a few sparing moments as you both absorbed what had come out of your mouth, trying to make sense of it. You found yourself needing to coax him a little more to convince him he wasn’t overstaying his visit, that you were having fun. He sits back down, warning you that this was going to be a long night.

You don’t think you could ever forget the absolute somersault your stomach performed, the after effects leaving you still as a plank.

It was a long night indeed. And yet, when you found your eyes closing after a fight, much later on the couch with a large blanket shared between the both of you, Mingyu watches you doze off while leaning on the couch facing him, wishing the night was longer.

If you were awake, you probably would’ve found yourself agreeing.

There’s a lot Mingyu has to learn about himself. He’s reminded of the fact nearly everyday. Especially right now as Seokmin runs his mouth sitting with him at a secluded booth in some bar.

They had company, a couple guys joining them for dinner before leaving not too long after. That left him and a slightly tipsy Seokmin alone, who’s currently munching on a platter of crackers in front of him. He was bright enough, the energy from the others keeping him going as they played their drinking games and ate their obnoxious amounts of food. It was alot more somber with only the both of them left, his mood deflating as their friends slowly dwindled in number. That wasn’t about to stop him from ordering another beer though.

“Summer’s so boring,” he grumbles in dejection, flicking a stray crumb off the table.

“You chose to stay here,” Mingyu replies.

Seokmin doesn’t answer him, but continues to look like a kicked puppy, a slight pout forming on his face.

Mingyu fights the urge to scoff, “You can’t possibly be this upset about summer being depressing.”

“It’s not about that.”

Mingyu takes a swig of his own drink before sighing loudly, “What’s this about then?”

Seokmin says your name, and Mingyu is suddenly very interested. “She just seems to be doing a lot better since she started working at the bookstore.”

“Better?”

“She told me about this guy a couple months ago.”

Mingyu’s trying really hard to not look visibly deflated, not that Seokmin would notice considering his state, but he attempts to sound nonchalant regardless. “Do we know him?”

“I – no, that’s not,” he huffs in exasperation, “She said she overheard him, basically calling her easy.”

“Easy?”

“I don’t know, something about her chasing his tail or whatever, she won’t tell me who it is. She hadn’t been doing too great recently and I’m pretty sure it was because of him.”

It is dawning on Mingyu, embarrassingly slowly, that the guy Seokmin is talking about — may be him.

His voice is hoarse, a little frantic. “And she’s doing better, you said?”

“Oh yeah, the bookstore’s been amazing for her. Not sure how though, ‘cause she just sits there doing nothing for hours.”

He can’t bring himself to meet Seokmin’s eyes, remnants of his memories flurrying around in his brain in an attempt to figure out what other bullshit he had spewed that day. He was sure you weren’t there, you couldn’t be.

“Maybe doing nothing was what she needed.” Mingyu’s reply is whatever came to him off the top of his head, mind still racing.

“Hm, I guess. I was trying to get her to tell me, we could’ve chopped his dick off together,” Seokmin grumbles.

Mingyu winces slightly, eyes tight shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose. There’s a protective hand that subconsciously reaches his crotch area. “Yeah, yeah totally.”

“Fucker got let off easy, he should be happy she’s doing good.” Seokmin continues to ramble, voice getting increasingly louder.

“Yeah…”

“She’s not easy. My sister isn’t easy at all! Running after his tail, my ass! She doesn’t need some motherfucker with bad hair to be running his mouth, drunk as a bitch.” He stabs a single chopstick into the spare piece of meat on his plate, and the force has Mingyu flinching slightly.

“How do you know he has bad hair?” Mingyu continues to stare at the impaled piece of beef that Seokmin brings to his mouth.

“I don’t need to know a motherfucker to know he uses shitty hair gel.”

Mingyu may try to run his hair gel past Seokmin at some point. But right now, he’s only trying to make it out of the bar with his sex organs intact.

“Hey, we’re past this, remember? She’s doing great right now and that’s all that matters.” Mingyu sounds overly flustered, but he can’t bring himself to care as he attempts to reign in an angry Seokmin. They were garnering looks, and the last thing he wanted was to get kicked out before they had paid.

Seokmin is still huffing and puffing, but significantly less so as he finds reason in Mingyu’s words. “I’m gonna find out who he is.”

“You hate living in peace.”

“My sister’s hasn’t had any peace because of this dickwad, I’m—”

“OKAY! Okay, got it. We’ll figure that out when you’re sober.” Mingyu rises from his own seat as he finds Seokmin lifting his own butt off his chair in a near war cry.

He manages to fend him off, waving for the bill before he has to pull him back from aimlessly marching to whoever’s house he had in mind. He calms down as they wait for the check, finishing the remaining scraps on the table in silence.

Seokmin seems nearly back to his regular self after a few minutes, forehead creases smoothing over during his cool down time. He speaks, except this time it’s in a more socially acceptable manner.

“Hey, I’ve been noticing, you and her have been getting pretty close lately. I don’t know, it’s just, I woke up and saw both on the couch and —”

“Here’s your bill!” The waiter cuts him mid sentence, placing the check on the table.

Mingyu knew what Seokmin was getting to, and he was thanking every star in the galaxy for bringing the waiter into their lives at that exact moment. He’s quick to fuss over the glossy piece of paper, humming and making comments at their purchases to fill in any silent opportunities to let Seokmin continue. Mingyu’s slips his card in the wallet.

“It’s on me,” he announces as he flashes a quick smile to the waiter. “You can cut a ten for yourself.”

“Wait, what — let’s split, what’s wrong with you?” Seokmin jolts up as registers what’s happening a little too late.

“It’s fine, you can pay for the next one.” He says as he shifts around the table to look for his phone. “You should probably go to bed too, it’s getting pretty late. Sleep off the beer and whatnot.”

Seokmin is left speechless as Mingyu gets up, grabbing his stuff.

“Wait, your card—” Seokmin starts.

“Is here,” Mingyu spews a quick ‘thanks’ to the waiter, waving his card in front of Seokmin so he’d finally stand the fuck up.

“Do I need to drag you out of that chair, let’s go!” he says, grabbing Seok by the arm to lift him off his seat. It was nearly funny how he couldn’t get him to stay within the vicinity mere minutes ago and now is begging for him to get up.

By the time Mingyu’s jamming Seok’s key into your apartment, he’s tired of his endless rambling. He can only appreciate his drunk brain for not bringing up the last question he tried asking him. He’s opening the door, urging Seokmin to walk inside, slapping him awake from his nap against the wall.

Mingyu deems it best to physically put him in bed for the furnitures’ sake, pushing him in front to lead him to his room. Mingyu’s spent by the time he’s done and Seokmin is snoring, his back cracking from the hunched position he’s kept from tucking him in and taking his shoes and jacket off.

He tiptoes out (despite knowing it’d take a marching band to wake him up at that point), closing the door as quietly as possible.

“What’re you doing here?”

Mingyu nearly jumps out of his skin, landing a mile as he hears your voice in the dark hallway, hand coming up to his heart. “Jeez— announce yourself, would you?”

“In my own house?” you raise an eyebrow.

“Just—” he waves you off as he comes round, standing straight. “I was putting Seok to bed.”

You inhale sharply. “Did you drink?”

“Me? No, but he’s knocked out right now, he’s probably gonna need a pill in the morning,” he replies.

“Hm, I’ll see to it in the morning, or whenever it is that he wakes up.”

“Yeah.” Mingyu is standing awkwardly in front of you in the dark hall, not having anything else to say. “I’ll get going now.”

“Oh, right, yeah. Get some sleep,” you say as you let him move past you.

“You too, don’t know why you’re awake,” he chuckles quietly.

“Couldn’t sleep, I’ll go to bed now though.”

The awkwardness is painful, Mingyu can feel it in his chest. But what he’s feeling more is the way you look in your night shirt now that you’re in the light of the living room, legs shown farther up than you’d usually let them go. He wonders if you're wearing shorts underneath, but slaps himself out of it when he realises he’s been silent for too long.

“Uh yeah, I’ll go now. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Mingyu.”

Mingyu replays the last five minutes in his head the entire car ride home, when he’s changing out of his clothes, when he’s brushing his teeth, when he crawls under the warm covers to finally call it a night. Mingyu thinks about what he said all those months ago at a dumb party, how he’s hurt you more than he thought he had. There’s an ache that plunges into him, the thought of you going through that because of him while he stayed blissfully unaware.

He doesn’t know what he’s gonna do to make it up to you, but right now, he’s happy. Happier than he’s been in a while, falling asleep to the thought of you.

“Goodnight, Mingyu.”

You, on the other hand, are far from happy as you find yourself in yet another car related predicament.

Having to run to work in the middle of July is never a preferred option, yet you find yourself needing to do it anyway when you walk out to your engine refusing to start.

You really needed a new car.

Abandoning the hunk of what was turning out to be just expensive scrap metal, you rile other options out in your head.

Seokmin was long gone with his car. The bus was gonna take too long. No way in hell were you about to overpay a taxi to take you somewhere that was essentially just a 15 minute walk (read as run).

So you find yourself slinging your bag as a crossbody, thanking the heavens that you at least didn’t need to change your shoes. You pray for your white sneakers as you run across town, blurting apologies to passerbys that would gape at your hurried form. As apologetic as you were, it didn’t compare to how sorry you felt for yourself, the heat pricking your skin in an agitated rise anytime you’d slow down.

The AC is near heavenly as you gasp walking into the bookstore, red faced and hair sticking to your forehead.

“Sorry,” you gulp frantically. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“Oh god,” you hear your boss comment as she sees you walk in. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I just need a minute. Car broke down.”

She ushers you in front of the AC, waiting for you to collect yourself before taking her leave.

“I think I’m okay now, sorry about that.” Your chuckle comes out a little choked. So much for being convincing.

“You really should get a new car. I have a friend who’s daughter is selling hers, do you want me to ask them for you?” She’s patting your shoulder as she talks to you, and you recognize her courage to look past the sweat that’s accumulated there.

“That’d be great actually, thank you.”

Your second blow of the day comes right after you’ve finally gotten rid of the buckets of sweat on your body, seating yourself behind your desk to do some digging of your own.

You immediately wish you hadn’t as soon as you open the first second hand market site, the price tags landing you somewhere between never happening and impossible. Groaning, you place your head in your hands as you try to think of what to do. You pray your boss would come back with a quote that isn’t as outrageous as everything else you’ve cursed your eyes upon, seeing as that seemed the only viable option for you.

Closing the windows off your computer, you decide this was a headache for another time. You reach for your bag to rummage through it, only to find yourself in your third predicament of the day.

You had forgotten your book.

It shouldn’t have been a worry, considering you were in a bookstore and had access to about 56 more of the same edition that you could borrow for the day. Except it was a worry, because your copy had been religiously tabbed and annotated as you would read, not a single thought left to be forgotten in your head as they would spring up. You can almost see the pink cover sitting on your desk and you nearly begin to cry.

You wonder if you could break your ‘one book at a time’ streak for the sake of it, picking up another one off the shelf to start. The thought nearly makes you gag, the anxiety of losing interest in your current one leading you to sit aimlessly at your desk for the rest of the day.

What’s even more anxiety inducing to you, however, was the promise you’d made with Mingyu the week prior, to be finished with the book by the end of today so you could finally decide whether the end was worth it or not. The thought has you nearly picking up a copy off the shelf anyway, annotations be damned. Force of habit, however, forbids you as you are shunned by yourself to play solitaire for the rest of the day.

Things seem to look up for you though, as you find yourself reading a text from Mingyu nearly halfway through your day.

You hadn’t spoken to Mingyu at all for the entire week, caving when you found an excuse to finally talk to him to ask where he’d left off on the book. It was even longer before that, reaching the near three week mark where you were virtually zero contact.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t bother you, his sudden absence raising a mild panic within you as your mind raced with the possibilities.

Was he uncomfortable with you?

Was he avoiding you?

Were you less low key than you thought? Was he catching on to how you still weren’t over him?

The wilder thoughts seemed to be laid to rest when you couldn’t take it anymore, texting under the guise of your mutual book topic. Your brain still couldn’t handle it, picking up minuscule details in his texting behavior. Perhaps his replies were choppy, perhaps they were shorter than usual, but it was enough to give your mind the rest it needed regardless of whatever the facts were.

Needless to say, you were more than happy to receive a text from him first after weeks, immediately replying.

[Mingyu]: hey [Mingyu]: are you at work today? [You]: yeah [You]: i get off at 10 tho [Mingyu]: can i see you today?

You try to contain the growing flurry of excitement as you type. It was easier to stay casual over text, you find yourself appreciating.

[You]: course [You]: are you coming to the store? [Mingyu]: i’ll meet you at your place when you get off [You]: okay!!! [You]: see you then

There’s a ghost of a smile on your face as you switch to playing computer chess in celebration. Your day was going horribly, but perhaps it was to balance out the happiness you were feeling at the thought of seeing Mingyu in person after nearly a month.

Were you being dramatic? Possibly. But you figured you’d been left waiting long enough. You let yourself have a spring in your step for the rest of the day, closing up nearly an hour early as you practically skipped back home, enjoying the significantly better nightly weather. Maybe you were abusing your employee privileges, but you couldn’t take the anticipation anymore.

Humming to yourself, you're hopping into the shower as soon as you get home, wanting to freshen up as quickly as possible before he gets here. It was near heaven’s plan the way the day is unfolding for you. Perhaps the universe knew you needed the time to unwind today, bringing Mingyu to you despite the near four week gap.

Grabbing your pens and your book, you settle on the kitchen counter to do something you’d been looking forward to all day, nearly giddy that Mingyu would be joining you to wind down with you soon enough. You’re invested by the time the doorbell rings, a simultaneous text from Mingyu, confirming that he was at the door.

Opening the front door is probably the easiest thing you’ve done all day, grin at the ready as you greet him.

“Hey,” you breathe out at the sight of him.

“Hi,” he replies, slipping inside as you give him space to take off his shoes.

Leading him into the kitchen, you comment lightheartedly, “Nice to see you’re still alive.”

He chuckles slightly at that, “Yeah…sorry about that. I’ve been pretty caught up with…stuff.”

“The exhibition? Weren’t you nearly done with that?” you question as you pass him a glass of water.

He takes a sip before setting it down again, both hands holding the cup on the counter. “It wasn’t that, I’ve been done for a while. Just waiting.”

“It’s next week, isn’t it?”

He hums in response, taking another minuscule sip of water.

“What was it that was keeping you this occupied for so long then?” you continue with a slight snort, trying not to over analyze his slightly…off putting behavior.

“Uh,” he starts, “Is Seokmin home?”

“Seokmin?” you frown, confused. Was he here to see your brother? “He’s out. I thought you knew.”

“Yeah, I know. Just confirming.”

“Oh.” You sit down on your own chair at the counter, trying to make sense of his mood.

“Mingyu, are you okay—”

“I need to talk to you.”

“O-okay.”

It’s silent. Painfully so.

“I don’t know how else to bring this up so I’m just gonna cut to the chase.”

There’s no reply from your end as you simply stare at him in anticipation, wondering what on earth had him looking this serious as he faces you in his seat.

“I know I’ve done a lot to hurt you. Never enough to match what you’ve felt, but I know you’ve been through the muck because of me, and it makes me feel horrible that I was the cause of something like that.”

“Mingyu—“

“I want to apologize, before I say anything else. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. And I know an apology isn’t gonna take away what I did to you, but I just need you to know that I’m really, really sorry.”

His breathing is heavy as he talks, while yours is near nonexistent as you need to remind yourself to breathe manually.

“I’ve done a lot of growing up in the past year. And I hate myself for making you a subject of that transition when you were the last person that deserved it. I’m happy to say that won’t happen again, because I’ve learned my lesson. For good.”

He pauses.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me, because… because I don’t know if I’ll ever deserve it for what I’m about to say. I may be acting selfish right now but, I think you deserve to know after everything.”

“I love you. I love you so, so much it hurts. I…I’m sorry, I love you. I don’t know how else to say it but, I love you. And I might be hurting you even more with this but I swear I’m not lying. I love you.”

There’s tears now, heavy ones that drip down his face as he refuses to look back up at you, eyes screwed shut in a desperate attempt to halt the pure emotion that’s trailing down.

You have your own wet cheeks, glossy, shaking eyes that don’t tear away from his hunched form. You’re listening. You’re listening to everything and it’s too much.

“Mingyu,” you whisper. You give up on trying to talk as you let out a breath that sounds almost like a sob.

It’s silent for a few more moments as you absorb everything that’s happening, mind running a hundred miles an hour yet, still as a rock. It’s too much.

“Mingyu, I can’t believe you’re saying this to me.” Your voice is quivering, but you manage the words. “After everything. You’re standing in this very kitchen and saying this to me.”

The deja vu was overwhelming, and you’re projected back to last year when the both of you stood on these very tiles, as you poured your heart out to the man in front of you, only to be told you were an idiot to think he could ever love you like that. The words may not have been said, but the message was clear: you were not made for Kim Mingyu.

And yet, you find yourself in front of an apologetic man, expressing his remorse. And oozing love for you, of all people. Why now? You want to scream. Where was this when you were ready to take him so willingly in your arms.

You’re lying if you say you still don’t want to plant yourself in his hold to sob out your own wretched “I love you”’s. You wanted to go to him. To take what you’ve wanted for so, so long.

But you can’t. You can’t do it.

“I know,” he whispers. “I’m not asking you to do something about any of this. I’m not asking anything of you at all. I just need you to know.”

You bite back a remark, trying so hard to calm yourself down.

“I think you should go.” Your voice breaks. “Please.”

Mingyu is gone. But his scent lingers. His cup remains on the counter, the same one he put his lips to. As he prepared to speak, and speak, and speak.

You can’t stand to stay in the kitchen anymore.

You were fourteen the first time Mingyu broke your heart.

It was an accident, perhaps, considering you were willing to do absolutely anything to be around Mingyu when your brother would have him over. What you didn’t know this time, was that the both of them had company.

Tiptoeing down the hall was easy the second you heard your brother's voice coming from the kitchen, announcing that he was getting drinks for them. The plan was simple; walk in under the guise of being annoyed at Seokmin for something and then relish when Mingyu would defend you from his inevitable rage — except this time you’d have a few extra minutes alone with him before your brother trudged back.

Putting on the best annoyed face you could, you stalk past Seokmin’s room, immediately wishing you hadn’t. Mingyu was in your brother's room as expected, sitting on the floor, surrounded by papers with numbers and letters too complex. But he wasn’t alone. There was a girl that sat between his legs, turned over in his arms as they whisper to each other. They weren’t studying at all; the giggles and smiles were a dead giveaway.

You halt in your tracks at the edge of the doorway in mild disbelief, brain computing the situation in front of you. They hadn’t noticed you yet, it was apparent with the way she leans into him to place her lips on his in a peck.

There’s a yell of your name behind you as Seokmin sees you loitering around his room. You jump in surprise, not expecting him back so quickly. Your brother, too, isn’t alone, a girl of his own accompanying him with her arms full of cans, peeking over his shoulder to catch sight of your distressed form.

“What’re you doing?”

Running was the worst thing you could do, and yet you found yourself doing just that in your cornered state. Catapulting face first into your pillows, the sobs coming before you could muffle them. It was humiliating, even more so when you feel your mother’s hand coming up to your shoulder in a stretch of comfort.

“I yelled at him, he won’t do it again!” she attempted to reason with you, trying endlessly to get you to emerge from your cavern of comforters.

“It’s not that!” you groan.

“What is it then? Darling, I won’t know if you won’t tell me.”

Your mother gave up a little bit after that, and your brother had apologized for yelling at you; apologized for all the wrong reasons. You brushed him over.

There were worse things circling your mind in that moment, like the image of Mingyu in a liplock with another girl, the image of him holding her with all his limbs.

You couldn’t imagine anything worse than that.

“What the fuck, is wrong with the both of you?” Your brother swoops in like a pesky seagull and snatches the book right out of your hands, eyes blown in exasperation.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! Give it back!” you yell, reaching for the book that he’s placed over his head. Climbing the couch does little when he simply moves away from you.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on between you and Mingyu.”

“Nothing is — ugh,” you drop back onto the couch in frustration. You take a deep breath. “Nothing is going on. Now can I have my fucking book back?”

“No, you're avoiding each other.”

“He’s your friend, why would I hang out with him?”

“Stop dodging the question!” he spits.

“Stop dodging.” You exclaim as you jump for the book another time.

“Why don’t you want to go to the exhibition?” He throws the book to the corner of the room. It takes every fiber in your body to stop yourself from plucking every strand of hair off his head.

“Seokmin!” you scream.

“Your book’s fine. Is this about the guy you told me about?” He asks, hands grabbing you by the upper arms, forcing you to look at him.

“No, it’s not,” you grit.

“Why don’t you want to go to the exhibition?” he repeats, making direct eye contact.

“Because,” you start, exhaling deeply, “I’m tired.”

“It’s an exhibition for fucks sake, an exhibition with your face plastered all over it. You go in for five minutes and you’re out. Put something on and let’s go!”

“I don’t want to go.”

“I’m not taking no for an answer. You’ve been doing nothing but go to work and stay home, you need air.”

“I need you out of my air,” you swat his hands away, thoroughly disgruntled.

“I’m giving you twenty minutes.”

He was serious, you realize as he begins to pound on your door with two minutes left to spare. You decided you weren’t about to be embarrassing and show up in your sweatpants, encasing the final shreds of dignity you had left. You couldn’t imagine being asked “who?” when the face on the walls doesn’t match with the one you brought to the place, not doubting the number of fancy scouters that’d be gracing the crowd tonight.

Opting for a plain black dress and a coverup felt enough for you, your usual makeup and matching accessories helping you feel better about the bags under your eyes your concealer couldn’t quite erase.

Seokmin says nothing for probable fear of having you landing back on the couch, choosing to ask you a simple, “Ready?” instead.

The drive is short and silent, the remnants of you and your brother's prior argument still hanging in the air. You weren’t about to apologize to each other, but you would let the hours cool you off before you’re back to your normal selves. For now, you’re glad to step out of the stuffy car, the anticipation having you needing to breathe in an elevated sense.

The place is more crowded than you thought it would be, men and women in fancier than necessary clothes loitering the entrance carpeting. You suddenly feel underdressed.

Catching Mingyu’s name is easy, the display at the front doing the most to highlight the star of the night, catching sight of him is proving a little more difficult. Not that you’re trying, but Seokmin’s embarrassing neck stretches are having you restraining yourself from pulling him down by the collar.

Walking into the display is a strange experience, for you at least. The pictures are larger than you’d thought they would be, spanning the giant walls of the gallery. Your face is huge.

There’s a few other one’s that scatter between the portraits, beautiful all the same. You find yourself wandering as you note the plaques next to the pieces, descriptions and words from the artist; Mingyu’s words. It’s easy to begin looking at the pictures through his eyes, the meticulous scanning you’re doing proving easier for you to zone out despite the crowd.

You’ve gone through nearly every picture, approaching the last one, the one that looked a little more important than the rest as you take in its size. The steps you take towards the plaque are halted as you hear someone calling for you. You recognize his voice, how could you not?

Mingyu is weaving through the crowd to get to you, eyes locked as he tries to make way for himself. Your mouth is open by the time he’s here, mind frantic as you try to figure out what you should say.

Congratulations.

You’ve worked hard on this.

This looks great.

How’ve you been?

“You’re here,” he says, simple as that.

“I’m here,” you breathe out, a nervous smile on your face as you look down at your shoes.

“Seok told me you were here too.”

Your head snaps up, “You were looking for me?”

“I mean, it’s a bit difficult with the crowd—”

“Oh,” you cut him off before you could forget. “Congratulations, by the way. The turnout looks great.”

“Uh, yeah. It’s great.” His eyes skim around the large hall.

You hate how his craning is drawing your eyes to everything else. So to say the plain black button up and slacks he’s sporting, the thin chain he wears around the unbuttoned collar. You hate how he’s put in no effort, and you hate how it makes him look even better somehow.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks after he rounds back to you.

Your reply is drowned in your throat as somebody calls for him across the hall, pointing at a mic in their hands.

“I have to go address everyone, you’ll be here, right?” he asks, but he once again has no chance to listen to your answer when somebody physically drags him by the elbow and yanks him away from you. You lose sight of him in the crowd of people, his face disappearing.

It gives you enough opportunity to slowly turn around to go back to your plaque reading, exhaling loudly as you walk up to the final, biggest piece on the wall. It’s labeled as the focal point of the collection. It’s a picture of you, and for some reason, you can’t remember taking it, or posing for it at all.

You recognize the mountain top, more so the grueling trek up the place for your last shoot with him. It’s a side profile, your arms folding over the railing, face tucked into your padded arms. A single ray of light illuminates your eyes, the background soft.

The picture was an accident. A moment that may have gone forgotten, yet one that appeared right when it was meant to. A mistake made on purpose, one that manages to carry the weight of years. A slow accession of golden rays, dawn illuminating the subject in hues indescribable, except those that describe a feeling. A feeling in turn, indescribable.

Soft. Legible. New.

You take a step back.

And another

Then another.

You look at the picture, the picture of you. Taken the one time you weren’t actively posing for the camera, the one time he wasn’t meant to take a picture of you. It landed here, at the seemingly deserved position of a final piece. The piece that was meant to emulate all that the artist wanted to come out of his work.

You crane your neck up higher, the name of the collection in bold block letters right above the picture that supposedly says it all.

THE BEGINNING

There’s a ball forming in your throat, one that's cementing itself where it stays.

There’s noise happening in your peripherals, somebody speaking into a mic on stage. You’re not paying attention until you hear his name.

“I’m pleased to present to you the man of the hour, mister Kim Mingyu…”

You watch with glossy eyes as he takes the stand, clearing his throat before he begins to speak.

You needed to leave.

Finding Seokmin is easy, and you thank every plane of heaven that it is, considering you’d rather be caught dead than be seen red nosed and teary eyed.

“Let’s go home.”

“Huh? Right now? He just started talking.” Seokmin argues, tearing his eyes away from the stage to gape at you, only to note the expression on your face. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Seokmin, you said five minutes.” You grip his sleeve tight. “Please, either give me the keys, or I’ll get a cab.”

He pauses for a moment, and you immediately hate yourself for making him choose between staying for his best friend or leaving for his sister. He slowly comes down to grip your hand, pulling you away.

“Let me drop you off home.”

You’ve calmed down a significant amount during the car ride home, managing to convince (fight) Seokmin into going back to the exhibition hall before Mingyu noticed that he was gone. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you made him miss something as important as this just because you couldn’t control your emotions.

He hugs you at the door, tight, and you hug back just as strong, holding back the river of tears that suddenly threaten to let loose. He presses his lips to your temple, muttering a little ‘I love you’ before he leaves. He knew nothing, yet was ready to comfort you like he did.

You let yourself sob after that, as wracking and strong as they’d come. It’s freeing, to fall to your knees and simply cry like a child. You aren’t sure what it is that you’re crying about, yet you know all the same. The thought of both those things make your head begin to spin, causing another fresh wave of tears to come rushing down.

Remnants of the day Mingyu spoke his truth to you in your own kitchen come tumbling back; the shock, the anger, the hurt, and despite everything, the love.

You loved Mingyu, you weren’t going to sit here and deny it when you were a mess of jewels on the floor with only his face at the forefront of your mind. You’re a liar if you say you don’t love him. You’re a liar if you say you’ll ever stop.

Years and years of pining and wishing and praying, to hope that one day, Mingyu would open his eyes with the realization that he loves you the same.

The day came. Your prayers were granted, your wishes came true; you no longer had to sit on the sidelines as an ignored constant. And yet, you found yourself wanting to be anywhere but in his presence as the prayer unfolded.

Were you too weak to handle reciprocation? Have you gotten comfortable pining by yourself? Or was it something completely else. Were you still hurt by his words? Were you aghast at his audacity to have the courage to speak his heart to you, when you went years without doing so?

Were you protecting yourself? Or were you actively throwing the golden chance you’d received right out the window?

You’re tired, it’s evident with the effort it takes you to simply reach your bedroom, heels thrown somewhere in the doorway as you made the trek barefooted. Hoping your muscles would release the pent up tension at the learnt feeling of the mattress, you find yourself closing your eyes awaiting the relief.

Still clad in your dress and makeup, you attempt to find the solace of sleep, knowing you’d feel nothing if there was nothing to perceive. The universe doesn’t seem to want to give you that luxury, your eyes wide awake despite closed lids. The thoughts aren’t showing signs of slowing down either, every part of your mind alive as you remain still as a rock on your bed.

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been in bed, but as you hear the distinct jingle of keys in a lock, you know Seokmin is home. The door of your room is opened very quietly, and closed just as quick when he sees your form in bed seemingly asleep.

You open your eyes for the first time in hours, the darkness remaining as you slowly sit up against the cushions. Your movements are sluggish as you stare into the abyss, brain quiet for once as you swing your bare legs over the mattress, slowly trudging down the hall to your brother's bedroom.

Knocking slowly, you hear a slight shuffle before the door is opened, the light from inside the room illuminating the dark hall and forcing you to squint.

“Did I wake you?” Seokmin asks, sporting formal trousers with his dinosaur pajama shirt.

“Uh, no, I was awake.”

“Why haven’t you changed yet?”

You ignore him, cutting straight to the chase, “Can I borrow your car?”

There’s silence for nearly three seconds before Seokmin speaks, “What on earth do you need my car for this late at night?”

“Nayeon’s”

“Bullshit.”

You let out a loud, loud sigh, “Will you believe it for now?”

Your brother looks at you with an expression you can’t really pinpoint, eyes like he’s scanning into your soul. “The keys are at the door.”

You walk back to your room to grab your phone and your cover up, not bothering to change as you grab Seokmin’s keys and leave. It probably wasn’t a good idea to leave the house so late at night, but your brain seems to have activated tunnel vision as you nearly stalk towards the car. You’re pulling up to where you need to be within minutes, the empty roads leading you on near autopilot.

By the time you’re standing in front of the door, your desire to settle this once and for all turns pungent in your head. You needed to end this one way or another, you were tired of running in circles.

Ringing the doorbell is easy, it’s just the realization that settles during those few moments of waiting that grab you by the throat. You were really doing this.

Mingyu opens the door quicker than you’d anticipated, after briefly wondering if he’d already gone to sleep after the long day he’s probably had. His brows furrow as he registers you at his door, your name tumbling out of his lips in mild confusion. He’s still in the clothes you saw him last, and you doubt it’s been long since he got home too.

“Promise me you mean it,” you say.

“What?”

“Promise me you mean it.”

“Mean what?” The crease between his brows deepens as he tries to make sense of what you’re saying.

“Whatever you said. Promise me you mean it. Promise me. On all the years we spent together, on every truth you've ever said to me. Promise on me that you mean it.”

The silence is deafening, yet you wait. You wait for him to respond. You wait for him to understand what you’re saying.

Mingyu gulps before opening his door wider, expression neutralizing slightly as he invites you inside. “Why're you standing on the door? Come inside.”

“I’m not taking another step in your direction, Kim Mingyu, not until you answer me,” you snap.

Letting his hand leave the grip on the door, he brings them both up to rub at his face, taking a simultaneous breath, deep and shaky. When he emerges his eyes are showing a hint of red as he licks his lips.

Your grip on your own fingers tighten as Mingyu talks.

“I want to rip my heart out for what it wants from you. I want to rip it out for what it did to yours. Believe me when I say I’ve forgotten how it felt to be this sincere. I love you. I don't deserve to say it, but I love you.”

There’s a beat that passes, one that you barely feel as you throw your bag on the floor of his entryway, grabbing him by the collar with both hands as you yank his face down to hover right in front of yours, nose touching, lips not quite.

“If you’re lying to me,” you whisper, shaky voiced, “I’m gonna chop your balls off.”

Mingyu answers for you as he finally, finally closes the cursed gap between you, lips capturing yours in a long awaited kiss. You let him pull you inside as you move your lips against each other, the distinct click of the door signaling you were finally inside.

His hands grip your hips and waist in a manner that’s near painful, yet you can’t find yourself complaining even as he pushes you against the now closed door, hard. His mouth leaves yours for what is barely a second, before your desperate hands move his face back in to continue what you’ve been wanting to do for years.

His mouth is warm, the vaguest hint of champagne on his tongue. You wonder how many toasts he’s clinked and downed, how many times he thought of you as he celebrated.

“I love you,” you mumble against his lips.

Mingyu’s hands are pushing your body against his own, so flush and tight you can barely breathe. Like he’d rather die than bring space between the two of you in that moment.

“I love you, too,” he mumbled back between kisses. “I love you so much.”

Both of your hands are beginning to roam, less innocent than the fingers tangled in his hair and digging into his shoulders, less innocent than the grips on your hips and neck. It isn’t until his hands are groping your ass that you begin to subconsciously tug at his shirt, wanting the wretched thing out of the way to finally feel him in full.

There’s a warm hand that grips yours as he stops you, lips pulling away slightly as he rests his forehead against yours. There’s a wild moment of sobriety as you wonder if you’ve read the situation wrong, if you pushed too far.

“You’re asking me for something I’m ready to give you.” He sounds breathless. “But I need to know if you really want it.”

He looks absolutely gorgeous with his swollen lips, your lipstick staining his own mouth, his messy hair from all the desperate fingers running through them. It takes one look into his bedroom eyes to have your yeses tumbling out your mouth.

“I want it. I want it if you’ll give it to me. Mingyu, please.”

He leans in to give you a soft peck before pulling away slowly. “You can stop me whenever, just say the word.”

He’s facing you as he speaks, hands pulling you further into the house in slow and steady steps. “I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want me to, I promise.”

By the time you reach the four walls of his bedroom, you’re itching to have his hands on you again, something he senses as he presses his hot mouth to your awaiting lips. His touches become decreasingly respectful as his hands run up your sides, thumbs brushing against the sides of your clothed breasts as he moves his mouth further down.

Kisses line your jaw, reaching the joint as he nips at your earlobe teasingly. Pushing the coverup off of your shoulders is easy, fingers tracing the exposed skin as his mouth moves down to your neck, nipping and sucking teasingly. Your breathing is embarrassingly heavy.

“You’re gorgeous,” you hear him breathe out.

His fingers fit under the zipper of your dress not too long after, pulling it down to reveal your back tantalizingly slow. His hands smooth over your waist once he reaches the bottom, bringing them up to your upper body as you feel his palms grab your breasts in a soft squeeze. The moan you let out is small, but enough to encourage him to bring his hands to the straps of your dress, pulling them down your shoulders one after the other.

“Do you realize how good you looked in this today,” he says. “Was so happy you came, so, so happy to see you after so long.”

Mingyu kisses you again in a slow, passionate manner, hands pushing down the tight fabric of the bodice to let it fall off your body to a pile on the floor. It leaves you bare save for your bra and panties.

Mingyu lets out a groan at the sight in the dimly lit room, the sound checking in as one of the hottest things you’ve ever heard, the vibrations leading straight to your core like they belonged there. The focus goes back to his hands that continue to roam your body, mouth traveling further south to leave hot, open mouthed kisses on your cleavage.

Your own fingers come up to fiddle with the buttons of his dress shirt, managing to pull a couple loose as you whine, “Mingyu.”

“Patience, my love.” He moves you backwards slowly as his mouth leaves your chest, pushing you into the plush of his mattress as you feel the back of your knees bump into the edge. “Let me take my time with you.”

He brings a knee up to the bed as he keeps his gaze on you, beginning to unbutton the rest of his shirt as you prop yourself up on your elbows. For once, you’re allowed to stare at the sculpt of his chest and abdomen, letting your gaze take you to the dipped V before the cut off. The mere sight of his fingers working against his belt have you needing to close your thighs for the sake of your now throbbing core.

Only clad in his dark boxers, you let him climb over you in a way you can only describe as a prowl, inserting himself between your legs as he pushes your head up to the headboard. The hand that splays out on your thigh is having the muscle twitch, the anticipation for what he might do next gripping you.

“Let me get this off of you,” he says with his hands toying with the elastic of your bra, prompting you to arch your back so he could reach under to unclasp it in a way you can only call professional.

There’s barely any time for you to feel a semblance of embarrassment when he flings the padding away, mouth coming in direct contact with your breast in a harsh suck. The feeling has you moaning his name into the dark room, only encouraging his wet tongue to circle around the bud before going back to suckling. He doesn’t forget your other breast as he brings his hand up to squeeze the mound and play with your nipples the same.

The sensations are overwhelming already, your hands gripping his hair in desperation as you throw your head back at his ministrations. The ache in your underwear is becoming increasingly difficult to resist, the foreign feeling of his mound against your inner thigh only coursing more want into your awaiting heat.

Your chest is a mess of redness and saliva but the time Mingyu’s had his fill, pulling away to admire the work he’s left.

“Fuck, Mingyu, please,” his name is the only thing that comes out in your pleas, hoping he’d give you wanted before you lost your mind for good.

“I love this lighting on you,” he says simply, moving to sit on his knees as he takes his eyes up and down your practically naked frame.

Both hands come in to push your thighs further apart, giving him better access to the gold that sits right in between. “You’re beautiful.”

You feel the pad of his thumb come in contact with your clit in the lightest pressure, slowly brushing over the muscle as he continues. “The most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”

He presses his thumb in further, pushing down to meet your hole, the source of the large wet patch on the fabric of panties. The whimpers the new feeling is having you let out are near embarrassing. Hooking his fingers around your panties, he asks, “Can I take these off?”

“Yes!” you gasp out immediately, hip rising to let them slide the pesky fabric off and away.

He wastes no time in bringing his fingers to your folds, gathering your arousal in his fingers as he spreads them across your throbbing clit. He’s rubbing the area in circular motions, the feeling having you wracking out sounds you never thought you could make. The sheets are bunched up in your grip as you throw your head back at the feeling that encases you, eyes screwed shut.

“Oh, Mingyu,”

That only encourages him as his other hand joins the party, a lone finger circling your entrance in preparation to plunge into you, slowly, all the way to the hilt of his finger. Zoning in on the feeling, the pump of his fingers into your core, the constant ministrations of his other thumb on your clit. Your hands leave his wrinkled sheets as they come in to grip his wrists and forearm, needing to feel his skin to anchor yourself into the present. Not being able to bring yourself to open your eyes, he takes it upon himself to insert another finger, encouraging your lids to fly open at the stretch and the loud moan that comes with it.

“God, you’re so fucking wet, I’m barely pushing.” It may have embarrassed you a little if you weren’t so withdrawn from pleasure, the prospect only having you whimper his name even more.

It isn’t when he curls his fingers inside you that you feel the need to stifle the sounds that come out of your throat, hand to mouth as the volume has you needing to shut yourself up. He brings his hand off your clit to grab you by the wrist, freeing your mouth of restraint.

“Don’t,” his voice gravelly as he gets off his knees to hover over you, his other hand continuing to pump his fingers in and out of you in perfect motions. “I wanna hear your voice. I wanna hear all the pretty sounds you’re making.”

He leans in to place a chaste kiss on your mouth, fingers quickening their pace as your sounds grow louder, “Mingyu, I think I’m…I think I’m close.”

“It’s okay, let go whenever, darling, it’s okay.” His other hand goes back to its rightful position on your clit, thumb circling the bud in quick motions as he encourages you to climax.

And you do. The blissful release comes crashing into you hard, the feeling leaving nothing but white hot space in the expanse of your brain, letting the feeling take over as you melt into the sheets. “F-fuck…”

He doesn’t stop either hand till you physically have to push his fingers off of you, the overstimulation coming in hot.

You don’t come around for a little bit, but feel every searing kiss he leaves on your skin in the aftermath. Pressed into your chest, your collarbones, you neck and your jaw. He makes his way up to your face slowly, pressing his lips onto your closed lids as you wait for your breathing to even out. His face is the first thing you see when you open your eyes, leaning forward to press your own lips against his.

“How was that?” he asks slowly, and you don’t miss the hint of a smirk on his face. You can’t help but break into a smile of your own.

“Great.”

“Great?”

“Amazing.” You lean in to kiss him again, palms coming in contact with the expanse of his back as you move your mouths together. It’s not long before your fingers reach the waistband of his boxers, hands coming up front to feel him through the fabric, palming him in the process.

You feel him shudder in your hold, lips pulling away as he stares into your eyes.

“What?” you ask in a whisper when he makes no other moves.

“I’m trying to think if I have condoms or not,” he whispers back, and you can’t help but let out a laugh at his delivery. He begins to giggle with you, backing up as he reaches over to rummage through his nightstand.

“Fuck yeah,” you hear him say as he comes round with the shiny pack. He’s giggling as he undoes the wrapper, the lighthearted nature of it all bringing a laugh to your own lips.

Pulling his underwear down and off, you watch as he preps himself with the rubber, your own hand coming up in a trance to stroke his gorgeous length lightly, his palms ghosting over your hand at the feeling. Once he decides he can’t take it anymore he’s grabbing both your wrists to pin them beside your head in one swift motion, earning a gasp from you at the abruptness.

“I’m gonna put the tip in first, let you adjust before I go in further,” he explains as he uses his knee to push your thighs apart to grant him more access. “I’m gonna listen to you throughout, okay? Just say so if you want me to stop, I’ll hear you.”

When you don’t reply he continues, “I need to know you heard me, baby.”

“I heard you,” you answer, and he finally lets go of one of your hands to guide his length to your entrance, gathering your remaining arousal. He’s sliding his tip across your folds, grinding onto your clit within his length and it has you nearly careening off the edge.

“Mingyu, in, please!” you beg, and you hear him chuckle before he’s finally pressing the tip into your prepped hole.

You almost breathe a sigh of relief as you feel him begin to push into your hot core, keeping his promise of only getting to the tip, before bringing himself out and going back in. He’s slow as he stretches you out, his hands coming up to the sides of your head as he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. Lifting one of your legs, you wrap them around his waist as you grant him further access into you, one of his hands coming up to keep your raised leg steady.

He halts when he finally bottoms out, pausing for breath. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just,” you manage, arms wrapped around his shoulders tight. “Give me a second.”

When you give him the green light and he begins to move out slowly, only to thrust back in, you find yourself settling into the sheets more consciously, ready to take what he was about to finally give you. You’re both a mess of whimpers and sounds, the feeling overtaking any shreds of restraint you had left. His hands are groping you everywhere, his fingers finding your breasts again as he begins to toy with your nipples, all while thrusting into you at a steady yet equally maddening pace.

He feels amazing, beyond just his dick. The feeling of his body pressed against yours is heavenly, the tears beginning to slowly prick at your eyes as you let yourself melt into his hold, a metaphorical layer away from morphing into his skin entirely. The sounds he’s making are pure melodies, the groans, grunts and heavy moans floating around in your otherwise empty head like they’d never ever leave. They do more when they encourage the building feeling in your abdomen, your moans growing increasingly erratic.

If the bed is creaking from his incessant thrusting, you don’t hear it. The only thing ringing in your head being the near closure you’re about to receive from him. “Gyu, I’m…”

“Shit, me too.” he grunts, and you believe him as his movements begin to grow sloppier, his hips slamming into yours with more force than before.

And then it’s bliss, the feeling dropping in on your body as you feel yourself begin to spasm in his hold, the loudest moan ripping from your throat at the sensation. You’re contracting around him so, so good, and it’s enough to have him moaning into your own ear as he feels his climax come over him as well.

He’s shooting his load into the rubber, and for a wild moment you wish he’d rip it off and finish inside you instead, your blabbering brain wanting to take all of him in. The fever passes in a few heavy minutes, Mingyu’s body is dropped on top of you, his length remaining inside your warmth as you both relished in the post sex haze.

He’s first to pick his sweltering body off of yours, the cool air hitting your skin as he pulls out of you slowly. You’re still trying to come to earth, even when you hear the water beginning to run in the attached bathroom, even when he walks out in a fresh pair of boxers, walking over to your form on the bed.

His fingers run through your hair as he places soft kisses on your temple, coaxing you to open your eyes. “Come on babe. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

When you make no moves to get up despite opening your eyes, he’s physically pulling you up to grace your head on his chest in an effort to take a step back into the world. His fingers continue to thread through your hair, massaging your head lightly as you breathe in his scent. You do end up getting up and letting him lead you to the bathroom, but only after he threatens to carry you there over his shoulder. The bath is already drawn when you dip your feet into the warm water, planting yourself inside as you lean against the walls of the tub.

“Gyu, why is it warm?” you whine, wanting a cooler temperature to hit your sticky body.

He chuckles as he sits by the tub, hands coming in to wet your hair for you, “I’m scared your body’s gonna go into shock if I chucked you into a cold bath. You’ll feel better in a minute, love.”

You don’t argue as he does most of the work for you, shampooing, scrubbing and conditioning. He lets you sit in the tub for a little bit as he leaves to get you a towel and a shirt, coming back to continue coaxing you to leave the tub this time. You grab his outstretched hand, pulling him down to sit next to you again.

“Sit with me for a little bit, right here,” you say as you lean over the edge of the tub.

“I can sit with you in bed once you’re dried up,” he tries to reason. “Under the covers. Where it’s more comfortable than hard acrylic, remember?”

Pouting a little, you let him wrap you in a towel as you admit defeat, too tired to argue much more than that. He continues to shrug one of shirts over your shoulders, going as far as drying your hair before finally letting you crawl back under the covers. He joins you soon after, wrapping his limbs around you in a tight embrace, breathing in the mix of his own shampoo and your scent.

“Are you okay? Did I do too much?” he asks quietly.

“Mhm,” you hum into his chest. “I’m okay.”

There’s a deep vibration in his chest as he finds your lack of response amusing, looking at your face that looks about three seconds away from slipping into dreamland. Nearly, he realizes, as your eyes are suddenly pushed wide open, a gasp leaving your throat.

“What? What?” Mingyu asks as you sit up all of a sudden scrambling to find your phone.

“My phone, where is it?” you ask as you ruffle through the covers.

“Did you bring it with you?”

You suddenly remember your bag that you threw in his entryway a couple hours ago, your phone nestled inside. Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you attempt to stand up to retrieve it, only to find out the universe wasn’t about to let you do that. You don’t miss Mingyu’s chortle as he watches you nearly fall over after wobbling around like a fawn, your arms trembling as you pull yourself up back on the bed.

“What the fuck?” you breathe out.

“Get back on, I’ll get your bag for you.” He’s still smiling when returns, throwing your purse on the bed.

You immediately unlock your phone to find Nayeon’s contact, choosing to leave her a text considering the late hour.

“What is it?” Mingyu asks again as he watches you type, arms coming up from behind to engulf you in his hold again.

“I told Seokmin I was at Nayeon’s. He didn’t believe me but I’m telling her to cover for me anyway.”

“Oh.”

The thought comes to you later than it should have, realizing you’d have to involve Seokmin in…whatever this was, sooner or later.

“Don’t,” you hear Mingyu say behind you.

“What?”

“Don’t. I know what you’re thinking about. We can deal with Seokmin when we need to, don’t think about it right now, that’s my job.”

“I-”

“He needs to deal with me being serious about you,” he continues, giggling, “Even if I have to make you run away with me.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

He brings your wrist up to his mouth, placing a kiss there, “It won’t. I promise.”

The sitting up thing doesn’t last for too long, both of you wanting nothing more than to lay down for the lack of energy. Limbs are a tangled mess as you both lay in silence, tired but not wanting to go to sleep just yet. It stays that way for a while, head on his chest as you take in the aftermath of everything that’s happened.

You just had sex with Kim Mingyu. He loves you back. And you know he means it. This isn’t a hyperrealistic childhood fantasy, this is real life. You’re touching him, he’s holding you, you can hear his heart beat, you can feel his skin under the palm of your hand.

You’re distracted from your thoughts as you sense Mingyu reaching over the edge of the bed to his nightstand as he looks for something, bringing his hand over to show you a very familiar pink cover in his hands.

“Oh,” you let out as you recognize the title, snorting as you remember where the verdict for that ended, “We were supposed to talk about the ending.”

“We could do that right now.”

“Uh, about that,” you say. “I never actually got to finish it.”

“You were supposed to be done like two weeks ago,” he frowns.

“I didn’t get to finish it the day…the day you came over. Couldn’t bring it in myself to touch it after that.” you say as you note the little tabs sticking out the sides, wanting to address them.

“You can use this one to finish it then, it’s yours.”

You glance up at him as he talks, opening the book to skim through the pages. And then you see it, tiny scribbles on margins, sticky notes at chapter ends with his thoughts, colorful tabs sticking out of every highlighted line, everything complete with a color coded key in the front.

“I saw you do it with your other books, found out it’s not actually a crime to write in books and…I guess it became fun.” he explains as he watches you flick through the pages. “I was gonna give this to you at some point. Sounded like a thoughtful idea in my head.”

You don’t answer him, simply facing him in silence before continuing, “I would’ve been sucking your dick right now if I wasn’t so tired.”

He throws his head back in a loud laugh, the high pitched noise sounding across the room as he nearly curls up from the hilarity. You don’t think it was that funny, but maybe it’s because you were telling the truth. You’re pretty sure you’ve joked about wanting to do that to someone who’d do something like this for you, perhaps you could find the transcripts hidden in some text messages with Nayeon later to show Mingyu.

His laughter is contagious regardless, giggles of your own coming out as you watch him practically lose it.

“I think you need to go to sleep,” you comment through bouts of laughter.

He sighs a vocal sigh as he calms down slowly, agreeing with your suggestion that the near morning delirium was getting to both of your heads. You rest your newly acquired, yet equally prized possession to the side, finally turning in for the night as he reaches to turn his night lamp off.

Mingyu moves to press his forehead into yours, not before placing a tiny peck into your lips as he mumbles against them in the dark, “I love you.”

“I love you,” you hum back as you press your lips together one last time, finally letting his breathing lull you into sleep.

The mattress is foreign, so is the pillow, and so are the scents that linger in the room. It’s colder than you’d usually have it and the blankets feel different on your skin. And despite the most foreign thing in the room, the one that has his arms and legs wrapped around you, the one that whispered his love for you into your skin before drifting off, you find yourself falling into a sleep that’s more blissful than any you’ve had in a very, very long time.

The sun is doing nothing to help itself against the tide of annoyance tht rises in your sleepy state. You’d get up and yank the curtains but can’t bring yourself to have the motivation to leave the soft mattress, simply bunching the blanket up to your face to block out the remnants of sun rays that invade the room. You’ve nearly lulled yourself back to sleep when you start registering noises coming from outside the bedroom walls, muffled yet familiar.

Your brother is talking about something you can’t make out, Seokmin’s voice is undeniable despite passing through the folded layers of comforters around your head. You don’t doubt the presence of the sweat that’s probably already accumulated on your scalp.

There’s nothing that alarms you in the moment despite Seokmin’s yapping — that is until you hear a second voice.

You recognize it immediately as the sound of Mingyu’s talking, the words equally as muffled yet the intonation clear all the same.

Kicking the sheets off of your overheating body, you squint as you open your eyes in a desperate attempt to reign yourself back to earth, recollections of the past twenty four hours hurtling back to you like a constant line of K.O’s.

The gallery, the picture, the drive up to Mingyu’s place,the sex, the falling asleep in his arms. You sit up in Mingyu’s bed, clad in nothing but his own T-shirt as you realize your brother is downstairs talking to Mingyu, and you have no idea if he knows you're here.

You realize very quickly that you’re trapped, being left with no other option than to remain in Mingyu’s bedroom until he comes back up to give you the clear, despite wanting to walk out to take the tiniest peek. You’re not sure what’s worse, getting caught or sitting in the growing pool of anxiety before Mingyu gets back.

It’s a long, long twenty minutes, in which you’ve done just about everything to get to hear their conversation a bit better; or to distract yourself from the fact that it’s happening at all. Pressing your ear to the door before going back to make the bed. Freshening up in the bathroom before going back to jamming your eye into the keyhole (you aren’t sure why considering door faces a plain wall). You even hijacked a spare cup Mingyu had lying around the room to stick into the wall, hoping all those Mr. Bean cartoons hadn’t been lying to you.

They were simply talking in a tone too low for your ears to catch (despite the Mr. Bean hack), and you resorted to scrolling on your phone to pass the remaining time. It’s catastrophic to say the least, when you’re met with a string of frantic messages from Nayeon as well as a couple missed calls from your brother.

[Nayeon]: fuck [Nayeon]: i didnt see this [Nayeon]: he called this morning asking about you [Nayeon]: i accidentally told him you werent here [Nayeon]: im so sorry where are you [You]: its okay its my fault for texting so late [You]: i was at mingyus place [You]: ill tell you more later [Nayeon]: WHAT???

By the time Mingyu walks in, he’s mildly surprised to see you awake, pausing at the door as he takes in your huddled form. You sit up immediately, noting his still messy hair and the backwards sweatshirt he’s thrown on over his boxers. The question tumbles out of your lips before you can help it, “Was that Seokmin?”

“Good morning to you too,” he grumbles sarcastically, coming up on the bed to join you in your huddle fest. You’re a little embarrassed at the way you’ve greeted him first thing when he sees you, but his expression when he continues replaces it with something akin to fear. “And yeah, it was him.”

You want to ask him a follow up question, but you aren’t sure what to say, simply staring at him, hoping he’d get the hint and continue by himself. He does.

“The idiot has a spare key so he just…” He trails off, rubbing his hands on his face, “he just walked in straight to the room. Got the shock of his life, I suppose, ‘cause it woke me up while you kept snoring.”

“He walked into the room?!” you nearly screech, hand clamped over mouth, horrified. “What did he say to you?”

Mingyu has the audacity to laugh, simply tugging you back down on the bed to hold you. You briefly wonder how he’s so casual about this. “There’s not really an expected reaction from someone when they find you half naked in bed with their sister.”

The haphazardly shoved sweatshirt and no pants look was starting to make sense. “I heard you talking downstairs, what were you talking about?”

“Nothing you have to worry your pretty little head about,” his lips graze the shell of your ear as he snuggles further into you. “He wants you home by seven though.”

You throw your head back in a whine, “God, what am I gonna do?”

“You’ll be fine, he didn’t smack me, he can’t possibly be that mad at you.”

“What was he then, ecstatic?” you retort.

“I mean,” his energy shifts a little. “I think he’s just a little hurt that he wasn’t told.”

“So you’ve done your damage control and now I need to pray he doesn’t disown me.”

“God, you’re being so negative,” he comments and you can’t help but round up on him.

“And you’re acting like you don’t care!”

He’s planting a fat kiss on your cheek at your outburst, coming in to coddle you even more. “I’m kidding, I just want you to relax, don’t be upset.”

“Has he given you his verdict yet?” you ask quietly.

He sighs at the question and you can’t imagine his answer being any good. “Not yet, pretty up in the air about it.”

When he sees you deflate even more in his arms, he continues, “I’m sure he’s gonna come around, he loves you too much to not. It’s just a matter of time while he gets to make sense of the situation, don’t worry about it.”

“I hope so,” you reply.

“We might have wash his socks for the next five years once he does, but it’s okay.”

You can’t help but snort at the prospect, “His feet are stinkier than the regular human’s, are you sure about that?”

He grins, “I’d do it for you.”

You push his face away, rolling your eyes at his attempt to be sappy. “You’re gonna keep me for five years?”

His smile drops as you feel the atmosphere shift in the slightest, his presence moving impossibly closer to you. “I’m gonna keep you forever.”

Hearing it is enough to have you lurching forward, closing the final gap between you so you can give in to the urge to kiss him. He’s enthusiastic to give back, pulling your body to face him entirely as you mumble between kisses, “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

The rest of the day (once your anxiety’s calmed down, at least) is spent loitering around each other as you migrate around the house in random excess. He makes you breakfast, and you need to physically restrain him to stop feeding you every bite of pancake and bacon. You let him make your favourite for lunch though, after you finally admitted how much you truly liked his Chow Mein, going as far as to run to the store to grab the stuff he was missing. He returns with a bag of groceries, not missing an abnormal amount of moonpie value packs that he stashes in his cabinets because “you’re gonna be around all the time”.

6:30 rolls around quicker than either of you would have liked, needing to wiggle out of Mingyu’s hold on his couch to change out of your half naked state. He continues to delay you another ten minutes as he refuses to open his car door to let you walk into the apartment building, leaning over the console to continue mumbling whines between your own consoling kisses.

By the time you’re making the walk of shame up to your door, the pit of anxiety that began to brew this morning returns from its dormancy, no Mingyu here to help ease your nerves, Gripping your key tight in your hands, you brace yourself to jam and twist to finally end this matter once and for all (at least you hope you can).

Seokmin is waiting on the couch for arrival like a parent waiting to catch their child in the act. He briefly glances over at you as you whisper a tame “Hi”, slipping off your shoes. He doesn’t reply as he merely grabs the remote to pause his show, casting a heightened awkward atmosphere at the silence that’s now engulfing the room. You tread carefully over to the couch, where Seokmin sits with his arms crossed.

It takes one look at his face for you to suddenly want to get on your knees and beg for forgiveness. He didn’t look angry, and perhaps you would’ve preferred his aggression if it didn’t mean having to look at a hurt Seokmin. You sit in silence for a couple dramatic minutes, hoping he would start talking so you wouldn’t have to. Yet, when you realize you might have to say something anyway for fear of crushing under the pressure, you find yourself opening your mouth.

“Are you upset?” Of course, he’s upset, you idiot.

“I just–” he starts, before sighing. “I just wish one of you would’ve told me what was going on.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you reply. “I didn’t want either of you to have an excuse to be upset with each other, so I just…”

“I get that it was a recent thing but I think I deserved as much to know what was happening when I wasn’t around.”

You wince as speaks, realizing he hasn’t caught on to the fact that this isn’t recent at all — for you at least. “Um, about that…”

“What? There’s more?” he scoffs.

“I, uh…I’ve liked him since like fifth grade—” He’s immediately jaw dropped, eyes bulged, taking a sharp breath. “But! In my defense, it was really obvious—it’s honestly your fault for not noticing.”

‘My–My fault?!” he sputters. “That’s like, forever, and you told me nothing? Mingyu told me this was recent, why did he lie?”

“He didn’t, nothing happened till last night, I swear.” You cringe at what you’re entailing. “It was just me that liked him for that long, he figured it out pretty early on but…”

“He’s finally reciprocating now?” he suggests, almost sarcastically.

“Yeah,” you breathe out lightly.

“This is insane,” he blows out a breath of air, massaging his temples.

“I’m not being stupid about him,” you mutter lowly, “This isn’t some puppy dog crush, especially not after so long.”

He’s silent.

“I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to think I’m jumping into this blind, especially for what it means for you too.”

No response.

“I’m sorry that you had to find out like this, it’s really not how I wanted it to go.” And when you’re met with even more silence, you find yourself continuing. “Please, talk to me. Cuss me out if you want, I’d honestly rather you yell at me.”

Seokmin sighs for the near hundredth time, finally looking like he might say something. “I want you to listen to me very carefully.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, mind immediately going to the worst. Was he going to ask you to break up with him?

“I’m gonna choose to trust the both of you on this,” he starts, and you nearly melt into the cushions, “It’s your life, you can date whoever you want. And…I guess Mingyu is better than someone else. Probably uses bad hair gel though.”

You’re catapulting yourself off the couch at the sound of that, throwing yourself onto an unassuming Seokmin. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“OW! Okay! Geez, get off,” he grumbles as he finally stops wrestling you to let go of him, hugging you back as you squeeze his shoulders tight.

“I promise I won’t keep anything like this from you again.”

“You better not,” he huffs as you let go of him, “Don’t think this means you’re forgiven. You still have a lot to tell me.”

“I promise I won’t leave out a thing.”

The following weeks are near bliss, following your very loud confrontation with Nayeon when she gets back from her summer vacation, her screams at every plot turn having you praying for her neighbors. You doubt she believed you despite everything, not until she physically sees Mingyu come in one day, making a beeline to peck you on the lips before greeting anyone else. Her dropped jaw was very telling.

Even now, as Mingyu sports the title of the lame alumnus that still hangs around campus as he grips your hand, walking through the grass, the double takes you’re receiving seem to be traveling quite fast. You wouldn’t necessarily blame them considering the trickier than usual dynamic you sport due to your brother (and you guess due to his reputation as well).

But you also knew they’d be quick to die out as the newer batches of students come flying in — Mingyu will soon become a very well kept secret, in one way if not the other.

His neighbors, however, must be wishing he had the same sentiment as well, considering the absolutely foul noises that are coming from his apartment.

You’re learning very quickly that Mingyu’s innocent touchiness can turn into something of the opposite at any given time, exhibit A being now as you try your damn hardest to muffle the sounds coming out of your mouth as Mingyu works his own mouth on your cunt. The knees over his shoulders are shivering from the expense, fingers pumping into your hole as he rubbed a particular spot with his tongue that had you gripping onto his hair tight.

As much as Mingyu loves to hear you, you find his other hand being brought up to place two fingers in your mouth for you as the perfect pacifier, sounds limiting extensively.

By the time you’re coming undone, sprawled on his couch like you just ran a marathon, you’re quick to realize that he has no intention of letting you have a breather. It takes one shove for him to pull his pulsing length out of his pants, tip pushing into your still sopping hole as he invited all of him inside you.

You’ll never forget the first time Mingyu fucked you raw, right after you told him he had the green light after taking your birth control pills. It was magic, you’ve never seen him this vocal as he finished inside you nearly four times in a single night. His moans remain loud even still, as he brings your thighs to press over your chest, basically folding you in half. The mere sound of your wetness as he pumps in and out of you is enough to have you nearly careening over the edge, especially when you feel a desperate hand reach out to rub fast circles on your clit.

You throw your head back as you cum for the second time, pulsing around him in a grip Mingyu can’t believe has the ability to become tighter. It’s enough for him though, as he leans his forehead against your chest as he releases himself inside you.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of it, watching you filled to the brim with his cum, even as it drips onto the blankets you’ve laid down below. He has half a mind to stuff the liquid back inside you, but fears you’re tired enough, the overstimulation too much for you.

By the time you’ve cleaned up and resumed the movie you should’ve been done with hours ago, cuddled impossibly close to him, you find yourself remembering something quite out of the blue.

“Hey, not that I really care anymore,” you start, “But who were the guys you were talking to that day? From the party.”

“Stopped hanging out with them ages ago,” Mingyu scoffs, face souring at the mention of them. “I mean, it was me who said all that bullshit, but they weren’t exactly good influences either. Learned that pretty quick.”

“Oh,” you reply simply, letting your head fall back onto his chest.

He doesn’t seem to be having any of it, grabbing your chin to have you face him. “I’m still really sorry about that. I don’t care if you chase my tail for another fifty years, it’ll always be adorable.”

“Forgave you a long time ago, but I think I have a condition now.”

He quirks a brow at your words. “What does her Highness ask of me?”

“That you chase my tail for another fifteen to make up for all the running I’ve done.”

He’s laughing at that, agreeing to your condition as places loving smooches all over your face. “Consider it done.”

It’s later on in the night, both of you huddled in ratty hoodies and mismatched slippers, plastic bag crinkling along Mingyu’s arm as you giggle about something he said. You’re enjoying your fudgsicle in the peace and serenity of the 1 AM hour, making your trek home after raiding the corner store down the block. Mingyu suddenly halts in his tracks as he sees a particularly pretty set of flowers, illuminated by the fluorescent street lights.

“Babe, babe, stand here let me take a picture of you.”

“What?” you frown, holding up your stick of iced chocolate. “I’m not done yet.”

You watch as he grabs the melting popsicle from your hand downing the entire thing in one go as you watch him, hand still outstretched and jaw dropped. “Mingyu, you bitch!”

He only smiles as he mulls the chocolate in his mouth, words basically gibberish, “‘ere’s more in the ba’, now go stan'!”

You huff as you trudge to where he was asking you to pose, throwing a couple peace signs to satiate the home video urges in him so you could rip open your second fudgsicle.

“Wait! You got a little chocolate on your mouth.” he announces, and you stick your tongue out to lick past the remnants of the sweetness. “No— wait.”

He walks over to you as your still trying to find the spot you missed, unassuming as he swings into your face to kiss the remaining off. “Oh, nevermind, it was nothing.”

You push him off as heat crawls up your face, feigning annoyance at his antics. You decide to forgive him when rips open another fudgsicle for you, offering it with both hands, promising to not steal a single lick. You believe him, snatching the stick from him as you continue your trek home.

It’s not until he’s attempting to send you the pictures he just took to your phone so you could post them (which, with the way you looked, fat chance) that he notices something in your albums.

“Oh, are these grad photos?” he asks as he clicks the album open.

“Mhm,” you hum not paying too much attention as you walked and ate.

“Why’s there only one picture here?” he asks as he pulls up to find nothing more left to load.

It’s only then that you bring your full attention to your phone in his hand as you realize what picture he’s talking about, “Oh god, don’t look at that one.”

He does the obvious thing and opens it anyway, a louder than necessary “aw” coming out his mouth. “Why do you look like I’m about to eat you?”

“It felt like it!” you whine, remembering the moment clear as day. “They kept pestering me to take a picture with you too, I was tryna book it out of there at first chance.”

He giggles as he zooms into the photo, “I’m sending this to myself.”

You groan loudly at the thought, “God, just delete it, leave it alone.”

He tucks the phone into himself further, not letting you grab it. “No, you’re not deleting it. Why do you have it tucked into a separate folder if you hate it so much.”

He’s got you there, you realize quickly, and he reigns in his victory as he watches you grimace at the phone slightly, adding on, “it has a lot of feelings attached to it, I get it. But look, we can attach new feelings to it, now you’ll think about right now the next time you see it.”

“Think about you hijacking my fudgsicles? I think I prefer heartbreak,” you say, bringing your half eaten pop closer to your body in case he tries anything.

You’re deemed correct when he replies, motioning towards your concealed treat, “Careful, I can still pounce when you’re not looking.”

Shoving your hands into the swinging bag hanging on Mingyu’s arm, you bring out a thing of sausage and shove it towards him, “You leave me and my fudgsicle alone, go be lousy and suck on this or whatever.”

“You’d know alot about that, wouldn’t you?” he notes casually, grabbing the sausage anyway as he unwraps it to take a bite.

It takes you a second to realize what he’s talking about while he stares at you with a mischievous expression, coming to shove him when the innuendo finally registers in your head. You do the opposite this time, pointing the melting chocolate toward him instead, threatening to smear it all over his white hoodie.

He laughs at the sight, disarming you by simply moving your wrist away, coming to kiss you on the mouth hard regardless of your annoyed expression.

“Love ya’” he giggles.

“Hm.”

“What, hm? Say it back.”

You pretend to wonder, “I don’t think so.”

“Say it!” he groans, “Say it, say it!”

You manage to wriggle out of his hold, booking it before he realises what’s happening.

“Hey!”

Your both probably waking up the entire neighborhood with how loud you’re yelling and laughing, and even when he manages to tackle you down on somebody’s lawn, coaxing the words out of you with borderline violence, you still manage to smile, thanking your lucky stars that you got what you wanted after all.

“What’re you thinking about?” he asks with an undertone.

“Thanking my stars they led me to you,” you reply.

“More like the other way around. Needed the fattest fucking star to realize what was in front of me all along,” he jests himself.

It sparks a laugh out of you. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

3K notes · View notes

chosok-amo · 4 months

Note

You wanted request, what about megumi reacting to Jealous reader ? Or maybe jealous megumi?🤪

WITH THIS TREASURE I SUMMON: MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

you and megumi are in situationship, nothing more, nothing less. but he knows how you used to have a crush on yuta okkotsu, but he doesn't know that you don't anymore. so when he sees you wearing yuta's sweater he almost summons mahoraga if you don't take off the sweater.

content warning: fluff! jealous! megumi

“i had a thought.”

“oh no.”

“i swear it's a good one this time,” he pleaded.

the short hair girl, nobara kugisaki, rolled her eyes and raised her hand to the pink-haired boy, “you want me to hammer your head, yuji?” the boy only sighs in defeat as his shoulder slumps. “you suck, kugisaki,” he howled. you let out a little laugh and shook your head slowly at the behaviour of your two classmates. the never-ending bickering of them never not amused you.

you walk to megumi, your other classmates with a plate of meat in your hands. he is standing there, grilling some meat alone. “hi,” you whisper to him and kiss his cheeks when you stand beside him. he quickly looks around afraid to find someone who's looking at what you've just done. “y/n,” he whispered in warning. you just giggle at him and give his lips a peck— not caring about the way his cheeks turn crimson red and his eyes open wide. you also don't care if anyone sees you.

“what?” you ask, giving him a quick glance. he keeps silent and continues to look at you. you rolled your eyes and let out a sigh. “i can kiss you whenever i want, nobody's watching anyway,” you tell him. you and megumi are friends, you can say that, or maybe you can't. both of you are way too romantic to be called friends but less to be called a couple— a situationship, maybe that's the right word.

when he came back after the mission, megumi never came to his room first, always looking for you and spending the night in your dorm room. holding and kissing you like his life depends on it. when in public, megumi is a private person, he doesn't talk much, he's calm and collected. he doesn't show his feelings when it's unnecessary. but when he's with you, he's like an open book and talks too much, even more than you. you could spend a whole day only listening to him talking, telling you a story about when he was little, even when first he meets gojo and is adopted by the brush-look-alike man.

and you are always grateful for that. you feel special with the way he treated you, the way his green eyes always twitch with love whenever you come to vision, the way his lips tremble with how hard he tries to hide his smile when you walk your way to him and everyone's around. you hope that was enough but of course being a human who's hungry with desire, you want your relationship with megumi to have a name— boyfriend and girlfriend.

you want him to be yours, badly. you want to have the right to be jealous when some girl is hitting on him when you go outside. it makes you feel suffocated to the point you feel like you can explode any second. you feel like you—

“y/n?”

you flutter your eyes before snapping your neck to the side to find megumi looking at you with narrowed eyes. “you alright?” he asked, worried. you cleared your throat and nodded, “yeah, sorry,” you smiled at him. he looked at you for a few seconds before nodding his head. “no problem, baby,” he softly said.

that day, you spend your evening having fun with your friends and your teachers. talking about a lot of things and laughing. thanks to your rich teacher, you can sleep peacefully and happily with a stomach full of expensive meat and expensive food you cannot afford with just student expenses alone. blessing gojo satoru's soul for having this barbeque party and feeding you and your friends. he is indeed acts like a father rather than a teacher sometimes.

time moves fast and the air gets more chilling every hour. right now you're sitting with yuta okkotsu, your senior alone, having a drink. he's a special grade curse, handsome, soft-spoken as well as soft-hearted person, that's why you used to have a crush on him. the first time you saw him was the day he fought with suguru geto. and that was instantly love at first sight. seeing how strong and cool he was fighting with the long-haired guy makes your heart beat faster than usual. and since then, everyone knows you're having a crush on him, and you're not planning to not make it obvious.

you sometimes send the boy flying kisses and laughing after seeing him become flustered and blushing. flirting with him from time to time until it becomes a habit— until you realize you're not having a crush on him anymore. you just love the way he's quickly looking away when he caught you already looking at him when he's become red like a steam crab when you hug him or playfully kiss his cheeks, you just love teasing him and making him stutter. it's adorable.

and megumi doesn't know that. he believes that your crush on the second-year special-grade sorcerer is unfaded. that's one of the reasons why he doesn't girlfriend you yet— afraid that the feelings aren't mutual and he doesn't want to get hurt. but seeing you sitting there, touching yuta's shoulder from time to time as you share a laugh at whatever you both were talking about pissed him off. “what's a good thing about him any way other than being a special grade sorcerer? he's a womanizer,” he ranted under his breath. doesn't realize yuji looking at him with his eyebrows lifted. he follows where megumi eyes stare at where you were.

“you know yourself that he's more than a special grade sorcerer, if you like y/n that much why don't you tell her?”

“yeah I know, but— what?”

surprised, megumi snapped his neck so fast that yuji was afraid he was gonna break it. his green eyes widened as he looked at the pink-haired boy. “did I say that out loud?” he asked, to which yuji responded with a nod. “why don't you tell her? I'm sure she likes you too, wait— are you jealous, fushiguro?” megumi's face became red in embarrassment and became an understatement as he looked away from his best friend. yuji snickers and grabs the boy's face by the chin— forcing him to look at you as he tightly closes his eyes. he rolls his eyes in annoyance when he finally opens his eyes and the sight of you getting too friendly with yuta meets his vision.

“no way— you're actually jealous,” he laughed.

and yuji spends the rest of the hour making fun of megumi but also giving him advice and moral support. forcing the spike-haired boy to confess his feelings to you and become girlfriend and boyfriend already. of course megumi try not to pay any mind to what sukuna's vessel rambling about, it's yuji after all. he's the worst anyone could get any advice from after gojo.

after the talk with yuji, megumi sits by himself in the garden in gojo's backyard. loss in his deep thought to realize you are already walking toward him, smiling. “fushiguro~” you sang happily and sat on his lap sideway with one arm wrapped around his neck— lips forming the biggest smile the boy has ever seen. “what do you want? go back to your yuta,” again, megumi rolls his eyes. you jut your lips as you look at him. “so mean,” you jived.

“you look upset, what's wrong?

“do you have fun talking to him? you must be, you've been spending an awful lot of time with him and wearing his sweater,” his snarky remark makes you want to kiss him to death. but right now you try to enjoy the show and play innocent. “what are you trying to say megumi?” you ask him. he looks at you for a moment while holding your hand before looking away.

“just go hang out with yuta, you've gotten good at that.”

“are you perhaps.. jealous, megumi?”

he scoffs and glances at you again before saying, “me? jealous of him? bless his delusional heart,” he sassed. you fit a giggle and cup his right cheek. his green narrowed eyes looking at you unpleasant and pouting his lips, without him realizing. “you're so cute when you're jealous,” you mumble and give him a little peck on the lips. “you know you're the only one I love,” you tell him, this time you're the one who's not realizing. and after that, for a few seconds both of you just looked at each other, too shocked to say something. “what did you just say?” megumi whispered, eyes open wide.

“what?”

you look away and get off of his lap. before you get a chance to run away megumi already grabs your hoodie— giving you no chance to run. he pulled the hoodie up lightly, forcing you to get close to him. “you love me?” he asked, this time you could see he was trying to keep his lip from smiling. you clear your throat and pull the hoodie from megumi's fist before facing him. “isn't that obvious? i— i thought you knew,” you mumble. suddenly feeling the shyness hug your body as megumi pierces his eyes at you intensely.

“what about yuta?”

“what about him? oh— I just realized I never liked him that much.” you shrugged your shoulder unbothered. “cool,” megumi whispered. he pulls you closer before locking his fingers behind your waist, hugging you. “let's do that—” you place both your hands on his chest while looking up at him. you lift your eyebrows and indicate that you don't understand what he is referring to. “that thing, boyfriend and girlfriend thing.” he smiles, his cheeks turn red, body suddenly feels hot, waiting for your answer.

you nodded, “okay.” smiling back at him.

without waiting for another second he crashed his lips to yours, locking them gently and smiling between the kisses. he pulls you closer as you wrap your arm around his neck. after a minute he pulled away and took a full fist of the hoodie that you're wearing. “take off this hoodie and use mine.” you stay silent for a moment before shaking your head and turning away. “nah,” you disagree. you heard gaps from behind you, “what do you mean nah?!” you turned around, “i'm cold, and yuta has the comfiest hoodie,” you told him.

“take off the hoodie y/n.”

“nah, what are you gonna do about it?” you put both hands on the hips and stick your tongue out to him. megumi clenched his fist and poses like his about to summon mahoraga. “with this treasure I summon—”

“the fuck— fine,” you run to him to hit his shoulder.

“you're so annoying,” you grumble and pull him to go back inside. megumi just gives you his sheepish smile and lets you drag him.

#megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro imagine #megumi fushiguro smut #megumi x you #fushiguro megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen fluff

2K notes · View notes

ellastone-olsen · 3 months

Note

hihihihi idk if youre accepting requests or not but if you are:

can you please do stripper!wanda x innocent!reader where reader's friend drags her to a nearby strip club to blow off steam. and reader is really innocent and is just sitting in the chair, slightly confused while watching the dancers do their thing on the pole. and reader is unknowingly eyeing one certain stripper (wanda) and wanda notices and comes over to reader. and reader's friend is teasing reader and telling wanda to give reader a lap dance when she comes over. and then wanda brings reader to like one of the private rooms in the back and like reader is realy inexperienced and awkward and tense. and then wandas there to like talk reader through it and reader's like REALLLY shy. okay woah thats a lot thank youuuuu take your time 💝

The art of eye contact - Wanda Maximoff

★Pairing: stripper!Wanda Maximoff x innocent!f!reader

Summary: your friend drags you to a strip club, what could happen there to such an innocent little thing like you?

★Warnings: little NSFW 18+, lap dance, grinding, pet names, a little fluff (sorry I can’t without fluff)

★Word count: 1.5k

★AN: hi anon! In general, my requests are closed, but I found this very interesting, so here we are. there was nothing about 18+ in the request and I decided to remove this part (well, almost). hope you’ll like it

The loud music and shining lights of the club were blinding as you sat shyly in your seat and looked somewhere at the floor. There was a can of soda on the table nearby. The people around are mostly men, but your eye notices some women who also came to watch the show. And only one question: what the hell are you doing here?

“Come on Y/N let’s go, I’ve been there more than once, maybe you’ll like it.” This is exactly what you heard from your friend half an hour ago, when you were sitting in her apartment and just playing online games. You came to her in a terrible mood because of a failed college exam and sought solace in this meeting. In the last couple of weeks, your nerves were on edge and all you need now was to let off steam after a series of failures. “Fucking shit, can’t you see they’re shooting at you!?” You told her angrily as she turned away from the laptop screen without following the game. You definitely needed another way to relax.

Despite your 21, you had never been to this kind of establishment and of all your friends, you were the most innocent person, not knowing what relationships and sex are. "Come on, let's go, don't be so boring." She insisted, "If you don't like it, then I give you permission to hit me." You took off your headphones and sighed. If you think so, then you were curious to visit the strip club. "okay." After that, within 10 minutes you were riding in a taxi to an address unknown to you.

Returning to the present time, you tried not to stare too much at all these people dancing at the poles, the clothes on them were becoming less and less every minute and your cheeks were flushed red. Your friend hit you with her elbow, signaling for you to look (she paid for the entrance and doesn’t want her money to disappear into the floor in which you are ready to make a hole with your gaze). You look up again and look at each dancer in turn until you reach her. To your right is dancing a woman with long red hair, which is pulled back into a messy bun with a shiny clip. Her top was already off, revealing a red fabric bra that did not hide the softness of her breasts. She was still wearing a long skirt that cut out to her hips, so you could see her legs, which seemed to be moving closer to you. Stop why is she coming to you.

While you watched as if under hypnosis, the stranger was already in front of you and grabbed the soda from your hand and put it on the table to put her hands on either side of you on the armrests. Her back arched and she made a small wave, so that her breasts were a few centimeters from your face, it seemed like you were ready to explode from what was happening. Her head tilted, her lips reached your ear so she could shout to you over the noise of the music, “I’m Wanda, nice to meet you.” In your opinion, people usually don’t get to know each other by sticking their almost bare breasts under the noses of strangers, but remember where you were and toss all the questions. In any case, all you did was nod and again direct your gaze somewhere to the side. It seemed that you had turned into a bundle of nerves and embarrassment.

Wanda took this as a sign that she needed to look for another client for the night, but your friend, who had been watching all this time from the side, took the redhead somewhere to the side and seemed to give her a bill and instructions on what to do.

"Where have you been?" You asked the girl as she approached with a sly grin, noticing how red you were. Why the hell did she bring you here and leave you to your fate? “I have another little gift for you that you’ve been eyeing so eagerly.” Was she teasing you? Defined. “What are you talking about, what kind of gift am I thinking enough for today.” Then your friend stepped aside and showed Wanda standing behind her. The girl leaned over so only you could hear, “I paid, so have fun.” You didn’t immediately understand what exactly she paid for, but Wanda’s sweet smile brought the idea to your brain and your eyes widened.

The redhead gently took your hand in hers and you obeyed (only out of curiosity) and followed her into the private rooms. When the red matte door closed and it became much quieter, you sat on the sofa with your hands on your knees and asked a question. “What exactly she told to do?” One of your knees is bouncing from the fact that you are shaking your leg trying not to be nervous. Your friend has already explained to the redhead what an innocent little thing you are, so the woman decided to first ask permission for some actions.

"She ordered a lap dance, but you're such a sweet girl that I was willing to do it for free just for you." She came up to you again and leaned in, so close that her breath was on your neck and you could smell the scent of her cherry perfume. “Can I sit on your lap honey?” Her soft sexy whisper drove you crazy and you squeaked in agreement. Immediately you felt the weight of her body on you, how her long legs in stockings wrapped around you and your core began to pulsate just from this. "What should I do? I…I never…” Wanda’s hips rocked and her core pressed against your stomach. “Oh I know baby, I can see it right away.” She giggled. “I’m sitting right on top of you, can you tell me your name?” Your head fell back and your hair fell into face, you really didn’t want to seem like what you were, namely the inexperienced mess right under her. “My name is Y/N.” Your hands grabbed the upholstery of the sofa, you didn’t know how to touch her, or whether it was possible at all.

Wanda's hands dropped to yours and placed them on her hips. “That’s it Y/N, you can touch me if you want.” Your head turned towards her and you finally looked into her big green eyes. It was so beautiful that no part of her body interested you as much as this. “Your eyes are so…lovely.” The woman seemed confused at these words. Her clients told her a lot, in particular something about her breasts or ass, but never before had anyone given her a compliment with such trepidation. “Oh, what a cute little thing you are Y/N.” She stood up on your knees, her hands reached for the clasp of her skirt, which she was still wearing, but you stopped her. “No, don't. I mean, you're so beautiful, you don't need to take your clothes off to prove it."

This was the third time you had confused her that night. Of course, your inexperience spoke to you, but you also didn’t want to do something so blatant with her, at least not right now. Although perhaps there was one thing that you wanted to get. “I...can you kiss me? That is, if you don’t want to or it’s forbidden, I don’t insist, but...” Her soft, full lips fell on yours without allowing you to finish, it seems that at these words the woman’s heart sank painfully. Her dark lipstick mixed with your cherry gloss and with every movement of your lips, your hands gripped her soft thighs tighter. “Wanda...” You wanted to ask, but she wasn’t done with you. When there was not enough air, she pulled away and turned her head away. “Sorry, it was not according to regulations.” You didn't understand why she was apologizing.

“No, no, everything is fine, at least... it sounds so stupid but... maybe you would like to get to know each other better and go on a date, for example?” You realized how naive it sounded, asking the girl from the strip club you had just met on a date. Surely everyone who was with her in this room made her such an offer.

Instead of words, the woman got up from you and you thought that the time that your friend had paid for was over, but after a few seconds she handed you a piece of paper with numbers. “Here, this is my number, text me in the morning if you don’t change your mind.” You took the small piece of paper from her hands and carefully placed it under your phone case.

For a minute you were in an awkward ringing silence. “Can I kiss you again?” You asked shyly. Even then, Wanda couldn’t refuse you.

When you left the private room and said goodbye, your friend immediately met you with questions about how everything went. You told her, not knowing that in this evening Wanda did not bring anyone else into the room where you were together.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda fanfic #wandanat #wandanat x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda x you #wanda maximoff smut #wanda x reader #mommy wanda #wanda marvel

1K notes · View notes

talaok · 3 months

Note

i loved the hickey fic🥵

can i request a role reversal fic?

reader marks up joel and is unashamed about it

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

a/n: thank you love, hope you'll like this although its been so long you probably forgot about this. and if you're interested, this is the fic they were referring to

It was just you and Ellie in the kitchen this morning. You were laughing about another funny dream she had last night, this one involving Joel trying to tame a gigantic sheep so he could ride it or something, she didn't quite remember the purpose, not that it mattered.

But as you both quite literally felt on the verge of tears from the image the dream was painting in your minds, the main character of said dream, appeared in the doorway, throwing you both a dirty look as if watching two of the three people he loved the most in this entire world didn't fill his old heart with pure joy.

"It's too early to be this chipper" he grumbled, walking to you to leave a quick kiss on your cheek as he reached for the coffee pot behind you.

A gasp sounded from the other sound of the counter

"oh my god what happened to your neck?!"

And it was then, that Joel Miller, the unafraid, stone-cold killer of a man that he was, turned red from hairline to neck.

"O-Oh fuck I-" His eyes widened, his hand going to cover your work on his neck, but it was all useless, because the second Ellie's eyes landed on the smirk plastered on your face, she knew.

"oh my god ew" she groaned, rolling her eyes, her focus going back to the eggs on her plate.

"You remember Janine, that woman I told you about?" you explained, talking to her

She laughed at that, remembering your conversation about that woman who's always flirting with Joel.

"you filled Joel's neck with hickeys because of her?"

Joel wasn't even red anymore, he was turning purple, his eyes were wider than a deer's caught in the headlights, and you suspected he hadn't taken a breath since he first entered the kitchen.

"this..." you smiled, trailing your fingers on Joel's neck "is my own little way of telling her to keep her hands off my man"

Joel choked, he literally choked on his own saliva and just then, just when he was about to have a heart attack, Tommy entered the house, his eyes immediately going to the image before him with more than a little amusement.

"What have I walked into?" he grinned, walking over to the kitchen "And why does my brother look a breath away from exploding?" he laughed, his hands gesturing to Joel.

"y/n here was giving me way too much information that I certainly didn't want to know" Ellie explained, looking at you pointedly for the last part of her sentence, making you chuckle.

"About what?" Tommy asked

"About the work of art I left on your brother's neck"

"wha-Ohhh" he breathed, smiling like a smug bastard as he understood what you were talking about "Janine tried something again I presume?"

"You presume right" you smiled, giving Joel a little kiss on the cheek and stifling a smile at how terrified he seemed "for the last time"

"You ok baby?" you asked, stroking his cheek

His gaze was on Ellie, his mouth parted in shock.

"You still with us man?" she asked, giggling softly, making him shake his head to try and get his mind to start working again.

And then, then the words came tumbling off his tongue, filled with what sounded like pure panic

"S-since when do you know what a hickey is!?"

Everyone in the room except him laughed, but when the shock on his features persisted, and Ellie regained her composure, she answered.

"I'm not a kid Joel, I know what sex is"

Another pang to his poor heart,

he felt all the organs inside him twist into a knot

what the fuck was happening?

Did she just say-

"sex!?" he cried, looking a second away from having a mental breakdown "I-I never said sex- H-how do you even know- I- You- You're too young- I-I"

"ok ok ok" you tried your best not to chuckle, intervening before his heart really decided to stop "How 'bout we go outside for a moment huh? Take a few deep breaths? How about that?" you murmured, soothingly drawing circles on his back

He looked at you then, looking every bit as disheveled as he sounded

"y-yeah" he swallowed thickly, "I-I think that's a good idea"

He looked back at Ellie for a moment to make sure this wasn't a nightmare and he didn't just make that up, before you both left the room.

And as if on cue, the second you did, Tommy and Ellie started laughing like maniacs.

"I don't think I've ever seen him so scared" Ellie laughed, as Tommy sat next to her, patting her back

"Neither have I" he chuckled, none of them saying anything before an idea came to his mind.

a hell of a funny one

"ten bucks if you tell him you know what porn is"

1K notes · View notes

cyborg-franky · 4 months

Text

Their reaction when you give them your number

Some headcanons!

SFW GN Reader Chars: Ace, Robin, Marco, Kid, Killer, Buggy

Ace

He’s been flirting back and forth with you the entire time you’ve been working. He came in for his brother's friend's birthday but has spent more time talking to you and honestly? You didn’t mind. He was cute, funny, and very sweet. His flirting was a little awkward at times, you guessed as handsome as he was he had some self-esteem issues. But the more you talked with Ace the more his confidence grew.

It was late and pretty quiet, he chatted to you about his brothers as he leaned on the bar, you cleaned and got ready to close, just enjoying his voice, and how genuinely caring he seemed. It was then you grabbed a piece of paper, wrote your number on it, and slid it across the bar.

“What’s that? How much of a tab did me and those idiots wrack up…” He hummed and flipped the paper over, his eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up when he saw the number. You couldn't help the sly smile on your face when you could see the blush on his cheeks, even in the low light of the bar.

You sure hoped he’d call. He chuckled and put it in his pocket, trying to act cool about it even with his cheeks on fire.

Robin

She had to have been the most beautiful woman to have ever set foot in your store. The way she walked around in her summer dress, the fabric flowy in the breeze, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear as she picked up a huge heavy book, her eyes scanning each with a smile on her lips.

You felt entranced and intimidated by her in equal measure. Each movement was poised and elegant. She glanced over her shoulder and saw you staring at her, the sparkle of mischief in her eyes reached the sly smirk.

Grabbing an arm full of books so big you could murder a man with she set them down on the counter and you had to try and remember how to talk again. “Is it okay if I buy a coffee and read one of these?” You nodded, she could have robbed you and you would have thanked her.

As she paid for her books you quickly wrote your number on a note and slipped it in one of the books as you placed it in a bag for her. She bought her coffee and books and sat down on one of the big armchairs. You gripped the edge of the counter when you noticed she went right for the book you’d put your number in.

Robin saw the piece of paper and shot you the most wickedly sinful smile you felt your heart would explode.

Marco

He came into your work at least once a week, maybe more, and his order was always the same. He was a creature of habit but never boring. You always stood and chatted with him between his order and bringing it to him. He was polite and handsome and always had this lazy smile on his face that you found yourself looking forward to seeing.

Marco always had a kind word for you, would comment on your hair, how you wore it that day, how your new shirt was nice and suited you. He was full of compliments but he never came across as creepy. You adored his voice, his laugh, and how he always had a crazy story about his friends.

You felt like you knew them.

One night he came in with some of those said friends, a rowdy bunch but just like him, polite and chatty. You set down the tray of drinks and Marco leaned back in his seat taking his. “They make the best drinks, it’s why I come back all the time,” Marco said before sipping his drink.

“Yeah, right, that's the only reason.” Thatch teased and got a nudge. You didn’t know what the man meant by that but Marco met your eye and gave you a sheepish smile.

The group all started to leave and the man with the big hair, Thatch, came over to pay the bill. “Hey, I think you and Marco might have a sweet spot for one another, sorry if I’m misreading that but… maybe you could give me your number, to pass on?”

You blinked, processing what he was asking before grabbing a coaster and writing it on. Thatch paid and practically ran to Marco and brandished the coaster at him. “Got you a present!” Marco looked at it, then back at you. You watched as the smirk on his face grew and he placed it in his pocket.

Kidd

His entire group was loud but you didn’t mind. You were used to his sort coming to this bar, parking their motorbikes outside, and stomping into the bar with their heavy boots and loud voices. They’d been polite enough to you though.

Serving them rounds of beers when they raised their hands, always paying. You knew this group pretty well by now. The red-haired man who was the leader spoke with you casually. He leaned on the bar and laughed at jokes and comments yelled over the room at him.

“Got anything fun planned this weekend?” You asked as you handed him another beer, he took a swig before thanking you. You could see him thinking over your question, you always had a feeling he and his gang got up to all sorts. Maybe he was debating on what he could tell you.

“Nah, unless you wanna finally fess up to being into me an’ wanna hang.” He said, the smirk on his painted lips, showing his teeth. He was cocky and overconfident but God daaamn did it work.

“What makes you think I’m into you?” You asked, well, he was right but still.

“Babe, I just know, so gunna give me your number or do I have to beg?” Kidd asked with a gleam in his eyes. You loved feeling you had all the power in this situation. You met his eye before ripping off a piece of a poster hanging up behind you and putting your number on.

“You don’t have to beg, this time.” You chuckled and handed it to him. He laughed loudly and put it in his jacket pocket, looking smug.

He’d won.

Killer

Killer came into your shop every other week, always for something for his bike. It could be a check-up, a new decal, a sticker or just to get someone to clean it. He was a man of few words but he was pleasant to be around. His small talk was never dull or seemed forced, he enjoyed hearing your stories and learning about you.

Sometimes you even got to hear his voice, get to learn about his life; How he was part of a group who drove around together. You were very intrigued by him. The way he’d take off his helmet and all that blonde hair would come tumbling out, you could have sworn the world become slow motion whenever he did that.

He was gorgeous.

“Going for a drive this weekend?” You asked when he set down his helmet, one of the mechanics working on his bike already. He shook his head “Just thought I heard something when I’d started her,” he said and stared across the room.

Killer didn’t leave, didn’t go for a walk, instead while his bike was being checked he simply stood and talked to you. It was nice, he was a good guy. The mechanic came in and handed you the paperwork. You looked it over.

“Good news! The small issue has been fixed and since your in here all the time we won’t charge the normal rate,” your heart was beating when you sneakily wrote your number on the paper and handed it to him.

He said his goodbyes and walked away, reading over the paper before he noticed the number, he turned and looked at you. Wordlessly, effortlessly cool he just gave you the thumbs up and grinned.

Buggy

He was a strange guy, how he seemed to think he was so slick every time he came in. Acting like this wasn’t the 18th time he’d been in this week. He was strange, sure, but he was cute and no one had made you laugh so much. Sometimes you didn’t think he meant to be funny on purpose, his charm was just a silly guy.

But as goofy as he came across he was still unreasonably handsome and had his own brand of charisma that had you so taken with him. He came in on his way back from work and asked for his regular order, which you knew by heart now.

He would go on about his day, complaining about someone called Shanks that he worked with. The way he told his stories was so over the top and so hilarious that you couldn’t help but stand there chuckling and hanging on to his every word.

“So yeah, that dickhead set me back like 20 minutes.” He mumbled and sipped his shake, eating a few fries “Well, hopefully, your weekend will be better.” you said as you refilled the napkin holder.

“I’ll still be in though, I gotta get my fix.” He said and held up his drink, you weren’t sure if that was all he meant either. “Oh no, I won’t be in, I have the day off.”

He seemed crestfallen at that news, deflating in his seat with a frown. “Ah..” he mumbled as he stuffed more fries into his mouth. “But maybe we can arrange something?” you pulled out a napkin and wrote down your number, setting it next to him.

Buggy had been drinking at that moment, he stared at your number and snorted, his shake and the straw shooting to the back of his throat, causing him to splutter, some of his drink coming out of his nose as he became a flustered mess.

You laughed and watched him grab at handfuls of napkin to clean himself, wheezing as he did so, trying and failing to calm himself down, he croaked out “Sounds great…”

1K notes · View notes

wintfleur · 4 months

Note

hi roro! love your works!! they’re so good like, I come back and read them over and over😭 can you do a fic where the reader is regularly in landos streams and the fans just adore them and it’s so cutie? thank you so much! if not just ignore this omg 😂

ꔫ baby we’re on camera

°. — pairings ( lando norris x fem! reader )

°. — summary ( lando loves teasing his girl on stream )

°. — details ( g; fluff. w; slightly suggestive at the end ig? wc; 2.6k )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( omg I’m soso sorry about how long this took for me to get out, I absolutely loved the idea I just don’t know why it took me so long to write! I also read the part where the reader is regularly in the streams wrong, but I do hope you enjoy it! And thank you so much for the kind words! 🫶🏻 also thank you to my lovely bestie @chrisevansonly for helping me come up with some of the ridiculous usernames! )

main masterlist f1 masterlist

“Where is y/n” Lando reads aloud as he leans back in his chair, the neon yellow username catching his attention in his moving chat. A smile immediately appeared on his face at the mention of his girlfriend of a few years, a few people in the chat noticing and commenting on it. When he first started streaming, he always used to get shy whenever his chat would mention you, sometimes choosing to not comment on the messages.

Only because he didn't want to make you uncomfortable by over sharing. He loved talking about you, he could talk about you for hours, but he would respect your desire for privacy. But over the years of your relationship the two of you became more open about your relationship, and you often found yourself appearing on his stream; and his chat absolutely loved all the cute moments that would happen when you do.

“She went out with some of her girlfriends” he nodded as he softly drummed a beat on the armrests of his chair with his fingers. His mind took him back to the morning where he kissed you goodbye and watched you walk out of the apartment; you looked so pretty all dolled up to go out with your friends. Lando suddenly missed you very much the more he thought about you.

“Actually, she should be home any minute now” he mumbled, loud enough for the microphone to pick it up. He leans forward and picks up his phone, hoping to see a text from you saying that you're on your way home, but instead he just sees his wallpaper of you posing dramatically with a golf club, no text in sight. His lips twitch up to a smile at the sight of his silly wallpaper, he loved your silly side.

“Actually, I have no idea when she's going to be home” Lando chuckles as he sets his phone back down. He hoped that you came back soon, he had noticed it started to rain and he always got worried about you driving in the rain. You were fully capable; he was just always worrying about you.

“Did she go out with the other wags?” Lando read out loud a chat message, he had noticed a few other messages asking the same thing. He didn't understand why a lot of his fans were so obsessed with seeing you with the other wags. He answered with a smile “No no she went out with some childhood friends that came to visit; she was really excited to see them.”

“Guys I'm not going to call her; I don't want to interrupt her fun” Lando shakes his head with a small chuckle. Sometimes it felt like his chat was clingier than he was with you, and that's nearly impossible because he's one clingy boyfriend. Lando focuses on one of his monitors to change the music, his eyes were on his monitor, so he didn't see the chat explode with messages about you and he didn't see you open the door and peek your head in.

You had gotten home about 10 minutes ago and usually the first thing you would do is greet your boyfriend, but this time you had to change out of your damp clothes. The rain had definitely surprised you and your friends. You quietly opened the door, your fluffy sock covered feet softly padded against the floor. Lando glanced at his chat and saw everyone saying, ‘hi y/n!’. Lando quickly turns his head, and a big smile appears on his face at the sight of you “Baby, you're back!”

“Yeah, I got back not too long ago, had to change first” you explained to your boyfriend as you stepped closer to him, looking down at your outfit consisting of, fluffy socks, gray sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt. You tried not to glance at the camera too much, you were still a little nervous about being in front of the camera, so you kept the conversation going. You hand your boyfriend who was smiling at you, the brown bakery box filled with delicious pastries “I brought you something, i just knew i had to get you some when i tried them.”

“Thank you, baby, these look delicious” he gives you one more big smile before he takes a bite into one of the sugary donuts. He lets out a dramatic groan of satisfaction as he leans back in his chair, they were absolutely delicious. You roll your eyes and let out a small laugh, leaning slightly against his chair. You look away from the chat that was moving way too fast for you to read, and back down at lando who was absolutely devouring the pastry. “Just don’t eat all of them, i don't want jon to hate me.”

“Who cares if he does…because I love you” Lando smiles cheekily, tilting his head up to place a kiss on your cheek. You close your eyes and let out a surprised giggle, wiping off the excess sugar that got on your cheek from his lips. Lando gives you a wink when you open your eyes and goes back to reading his chat. His heart filled with warmth at all the messages saying how cute the two of you are, and how some said they wished they had a sweet girlfriend like you; those made him want to smirk, knowing that there was no one even close to being like you. You were perfect in his eyes.

landolotts you guys are so cute, y/n is so lucky…

ittybittypiastri where did she get that sweater? Link?

dannyricscowboyhat lando can pull??? How???

hornerishot omg moms back!

oconsunderatedbby can y/n/n stay? We've missed her! <3

quadrantstar we've missed you y/n!

“The chat wants you to stay, so do i” Lando looked up at you with a smile on his lips, his tone trailing off to a soft whisper. His eyes silently begging you to stay, he understands why you wouldn't, but he still was hopeful. You noticed the look in his eyes, and you couldn't say no to him, not with how he was looking up at you. “Okay, let me go get a chair.”

“You have one,” Lando smiles playfully, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you down to sit on his lap. Your eyes widened for a second at his boldness and Lando worried for a moment that he was too bold when he felt you stiffen in his lap, but the both of you relaxed as you leaned back against him and laced your fingers with his, that now rested on your thigh.

You decided not to look at the chat, knowing that their messages would make you feel more flustered. You clear your throat and tilt your head to the side to get a better look at lando, who was already smiling at you “So what were you and chat up to?”

“We were just chatting and trying to decide what game to play next” Lando said with a cheeky smile as he looked away from you to read the chat, a giggle leaving his lips at some of the messages. Most of them were funny and sweet, of course there was the occasional weird one, but Lando chose to hold his tongue, not wanting to go off on weird chatters while you were there. You already weren't the most comfortable in front of the camera, he didn't want to make you feel more uncomfortable by calling out the weird freaks in his chat.

“You should play Fortnite” you suggest with a big smile, you have enjoyed watching your boyfriend stream the game. The two of you having even more fun when you played it together off stream. Lando playfully rolls his eyes and tilts his head to the side, dramatically shaking his head “You only want me to play that because you like teasing me about how bad i am.”

“That I do” you quickly agreed with a laugh. Lando gasped dramatically and his hold on your waist tightened as he pulled you back closer to his chest, as he continued with his dramatics, little did chat know he was already booting up the said game “Are you hearing this chat?”

The chat was moving fast, as many of the chatters commented on how cute the two of you were, and how natural the banter was. A lot of the viewers agreed that he should play Fortnite, saying that ‘mom’ always has good ideas. Lando had also wanted to play the game, but now he wanted to play it more because you suggested it. He spoke quietly, his tone sending shivers down your spine as his eyes were focused on the screen. “I’ll play just for you baby.”

The couple spent the next hour playing Fortnite, well lando was playing and you were still perched in his lap and giving him some tips, you had younger siblings so of course you knew how to play the game. After Lando got frustrated about losing for the third time in a row, he was quick to suggest you have a go at the ‘stupid game’.

So, you sat straight on his lap, your eyes focused on the game, determined to place further in the game then he did. Lando had both of his arms wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as he watched with a smile at how cute you looked with his headphones on your head and the cute look of focus you had on your face. He had to stop himself from leaning down and littering your neck in kisses, he could vividly imagine your reaction if he did. ‘Baby were on camera’ you would mutter shyly with that flustered smile on your lips, that he loved so much.

You weren't familiar with the new map that well, so you let lando pick a place for you to drop. When Lando started to tease you for your sneaking you were quick to defend your game play, sassily telling him that you're not playing for kills but playing to win. The chat loved the chemistry that the two of you had, Lando teasing you about how he's better and you with your witty responses.

“Lan'' you muttered in a warning tone when you feel him slip one of his hands under the front of your sweatshirt, his warm hand flattens on your stomach, you know his touch is anything but innocent. Lando has a toothy grin on his face, his fingers now tracing shapes on your skin as he spoke innocently “What? Is my touch distracting you?”

“You wish” you scoffed playfully, not wanting him and chat to know that his touch was in fact distracting you. Lando smiles triumphantly at your reaction, knowing that you were lying, and he was in fact distracting you but nonetheless he stops his movements. Lando rests his chin on your shoulder again and quietly watches you play. His eyes glancing at the chat ever so often, his heart filling with warmth at all the sweet chats about the two of you.

As the game goes on, Lando's quiet tone turns into a tone of excitement when he realizes that there are only three people left, including you. The chat spammed loll’s and laughing emojis as Lando excitedly tried to give you tips and you telling him to shut up because you couldn't hear yourself think. Lando pouts grumpily and leans back in his chair, now wanting your attention even more. You were too caught up in wanting to win the game to notice your pouting boyfriend.

And win is exactly what you did, you hid until the other two started fighting and that's when you jumped out of the bush you were hiding in and killed them both. As soon as the #1 victory royal showed up on the screen you turned your head to smile excitedly at lando. Lando laughs and places a sweet kiss on your cheek, his hands rubbing our side under your sweater “Good job baby” You giggled as you say thank you, also thanking the chat that was congratulating you for your win.

When you feel one of his fingers secretly dip into the band of your sweatpants, you take your hands off the keyboard and mouse and nonchalantly get up from his lap. Making your way over to the shelf that was by his desk and out of sight from the camera to ‘grab’ ChapStick. Lando’s frown from you getting up, turns into a smirk when he realizes why you did, having felt you clench your thighs together before you got up.

“All right, chat I'm gonna head off. Gotta go properly congratulate my girl for winning” Lando watched your figure as you got up from his lap and moved to the other side of his room out of the view of the camera with the bite of his lip, he glanced back at the camera with a smirk. His tone was suggestive, and a loud laugh leaves his lips when you turn around and throw the small plushie he had on one of his shelves that you had gotten him at his head. Lando catches the bear as you give him a look of shock and embarrassment “Lando! Chat he's joking, please ignore him”!

“Trust me, chat I'm not joking” Lando winks with a cheeky smile at the camera, very much enjoying how flustered you got and the way the chat started to go crazy. You groan in embarrassment and grab your phone off his desk “That's it, I'm leaving!” you wave your hand for the chat, not wanting to bend down to be in the frame of the camera, knowing that the chat would definitely be able to see how flustered you were “Bye chat!”

Lando watched you walk out of the room with a grin, you give him a playful glare before closing the door behind you. Lando had planned on streaming for longer, but he couldn't ignore that ache he felt in his heart when you left the room, he wanted to spend more time with you. He loved watching you become more comfortable in front of the camera, in front of his chat in the short amount of time you joined him. Lando picks up his head set that you had set down on the desk when you took them off, lando hums along to the song that was playing as he closes his tabs before leaning back in his chair and reading the chat “Alright chat, it's time for me to head off.”

Lando tried to keep up with his chat, the messages zooming by, most of them were about you. Talking about how they enjoyed your presence and begging Lando to convince you to come back on the stream soon. Lando smiles “I'll let her know chat” Lando hears the familiar sound of his phone going off with a notification. He was quick to pick up his phone, a mischievous grin spreading over his lips when he saw the notification.

y/n 💞: in bed…waiting for that proper congratulations ☺️

Lando quickly shuts off his phone as he feels a warm blush spread across his face and neck. He clears his throat and giggles nervously when the chat breaks out in a bunch of question marks with your name, obviously seeing how flustered he had become from seeing the notification. Lando nods and waves at the chat, eager to end and join you in your shared bed “See you guys soon.”

Lando ends the stream and quickly rushes to shut off his computer, he grabs his phone and quickly gets out of his chair and makes his way to the door. He stops in his tracks once he remembers something and rushes over to his desk to pick up the brown box of donuts. Lando opens the door, careful not to drop the delicious pastries and his phone, rushing down the hallway. Calling out for you.

“Baby wait for me!”

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I really missed writing for Lando, I have a lot of ideas and req’s for him that I want to write! I’ve just been kinda focused on my hockey AU! But I will try to find a better schedule so I could work on that and my f1 fics! I also have another idea for another lando streaming based fic, it’s going to be so cute! )

°. — taglist ( @iloveyou3000morgan @copper-boom @ophcelia @cixrosie )

#﹕─┈ roro’s works #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 #formula one #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris #ln4 #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #f1 x you #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader

2K notes · View notes

bruisedboys · 4 months

Note

peter parker and “is that my shirt?” prompt would be so cute!

congrats on 6k

thank u angel! hope u like this!! join the celebration

tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

Peter’s missed you so much he actually feels kind of sick. He’s practically buzzing as he unlocks the apartment door and lugs his suitcase inside.

“Angel?”

There’s a loud and very cute squeal from down the hall. Rapid footsteps, and then you appear in your pyjamas, beaming bright as the sun, looking like the prettiest thing Peter’s ever seen.

“Peter!” You squeal, a ball of excitement. “Baby. Oh my gosh.” You cross the room and throw your arms around his neck. Peter laughs, his chest flooding with warmth, and hugs you back twice as strong.

“Hi, honey,” he says, lovelorn. You smell amazing. You look like an angel. You’re squeezing him to death. He’s missed you so much he could cry. “Holy moly, I missed you so much.”

You giggle, turn your face into the side of his head and drag your nose along his jaw. “I missed you more,” you say, lips hot on his skin.

A shiver runs down Peter’s spine. He’s only had you back for a half a minute and you’ve already got him shivering? Typical. “Impossible,” he tell you. He runs his hands down your back and up again as if to prove to himself you’re really there.

You laugh and pull back, bouncing on your toes, to look him in the eye. You’re so, so beautiful. Somehow prettier than when he left you, which seemed impossible but apparently isn’t, not for you.

You reach up and push a lock of hair from his eyes. Peter’s hypnotised. He doesn’t get how one girl can be so achingly lovely, so pretty and so sweet, but you manage it. He slides his hands down to your waist, feeling like he might explode if he doesn’t touch every inch of you. It’s then that he recognises the familiar fabric of your shirt. He looks down.

“Hey, is that my shirt?” He asks, raising his eyebrows. He nudges you backwards with his hips to get a better look. It is his shirt. His favourite one, which he didn’t pack for his trip because it suspiciously went missing the day before he left. “It is!” He exclaims, pinching at your side. “You had it this whole time?”

You giggle at his prodding, and try twisting yourself out of the way. Peter keeps a firm grip on you, hand spread over your ribs, his glare full of accusatory heat.

“I’m sorry!” You say, giggling like an idiot when he pinches you some more. “I missed you, okay? Is that such a crime?”

Peter makes a face at you but his heart’s soaring. “Well, if you count theft as crime then yeah, I would say so.”

You huff. “You’re so dramatic!”

“I’m dramatic?” Peter feigns offence, pulling his head back incredulously. “You’re the one who stole my—!”

Your lips land on his before he can finish his sentence. His words are lost to your mouth. You push up into the kiss, fervent and hot. Your fingers curl into his collar and brush over the column of his throat, and Peter forgets everything else. He kisses you back just as hard, one arm hooked around your waist and the other bent between your chests to hold your jaw.

“Never mind,” he says between kisses. “You can keep the shirt, baby.”

You laugh against his mouth.

1K notes · View notes

cinnaminsvga · 1 month

Text

Harana | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, angst, humor → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, oc has So Many Problems, so much arguing and yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: 16.1K → a/n: HOLY SHIT IM BACK (kinda) and happy new year!! yeah ok its march but im relearning how to form coherent sentences so be patient ;w; this is the first installment of my hfoh series that i teased a LONG time ago... i made it a resolution to complete this series by the end of the year before i kms (Keep Myself Safe) so here's to a brand new year :D (oh god @ universe pls be kind)

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

Two days before the incident, your shower nozzle decides to explode.

Okay, you have to admit that statement is a little misleading. Shower nozzles, in all its nonsentience, do not randomly decide to explode no matter how much you try to defend yourself to your landlord. Maybe your grip had been a little too harsh that morning, or maybe hanging 5 pounds of hair products on the handle had been a bit too much for the old sport to handle. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe was warning you about the incident.

Whatever it was, it doesn’t erase the fact that your shower would be out of commission for the next week or so (though your landlord seems adamant about prolonging your suffering as long as possible). Until then, you’re going to have to find some other ways to keep the grease and grime from building on you. Heavens know that you already have a thriving ecosystem living in the back of your couch—you don’t need another one growing under your armpits.

Lucky for you, you have friends. More importantly, you have friends who have showers. There is one problem though—all your friends live on the other side of the country.

It’s been two years since you moved to the Big City™️, but you have done little to grow your social network. Call it introversion or depression, either way, you have no more contacts on your phone than you did when you left your hometown. Well, except for one person, if you could even consider him one. Frankly, you didn’t have a choice.

“Welcome to my humble abode, stinky,” Jimin greets you as you enter his house. Your nose is instantly assaulted by the smell of Bath & Body Works® Sweet Pea, reminding you once more why you didn’t consider him a friend.

“Hey,” you reply gruffly, shucking your ratty shoes near his entrance. Your shoes look incredibly out of place amidst the sea of designer Chelsea boots and a singular pair of thigh-high heels. You take a glance at his living room, already feeling worse about yourself tenfold.

You had met Park Jimin by complete accident, much like how his mother probably felt when she first saw him too. You had never known anyone quite as… interesting as him, to put it lightly.

When you got your job as a hostess for a luxury bar and restaurant, you figured you wouldn’t make many friends with your coworkers. Everyone was so… pretty, but in the shiny, untouchable sort of way. Almost all of the servers were as gorgeous as the models you’d see in magazines. You hadn’t known that the owners only hired a certain “demographic” of people for their restaurant, and you were equal parts flattered and disgusted that you’d somehow made it (though you suppose your bullshitting skills were all to thank).

Unsurprisingly, even the bartenders were gorgeous, including one Park Jimin. He did have an aura to him that screamed “I’m a cut above the rest and I know it,” but that could just be the gold chains dripping down his neck. You almost mistook him as one of the patrons who mistakenly made his way behind the bar, and knowing the sort of clientele you’ve had to deal with so far, you wouldn’t have been surprised. It took a couple of weeks before you finally found out who he was (and what his fucking problem was).

Jimin was a part-time bartender with a full-time job as a bitch a self-made entrepreneur. Which is to say, he sold… tasteful photos of himself on the internet. You had nothing against his line of work. In fact, you would go far as to say you didn’t give a shit what he did outside of your shared workspace. But if there’s one thing Jimin is, it’s that he hates being ignored.

So when you were adamant about not oohing and aahing at everything that makes Park Jimin perfect, he made it his self-appointed mission to befriend you. Or at least that’s what he claims, but given how he treats you lesser than the shit that cakes his cheeks, you have a lot of doubts. Perhaps he’s never made an effort to make a friend, hence his inexperience with being a decent human being. Or perhaps he’s just an asshole, but who is to say? The point is: he’s the only person you knew in this godforsaken city who would likely allow you to use his shower without being awkward about it and that’s that.

The worst part about being an acquaintance with Park Jimin was that he lived in the richest area of Downtown but he wasn’t old money, that’s for sure. His entire essence screamed overconsumption, and his myriad of little trinkets littered across his apartment confirmed your previous assessment. You wouldn’t be surprised if you opened his freezer and found ten types of ice sorted assorted by color and shape like the extra bitch that he was.

He made his money through sheer force, and it would have impressed you if he wasn’t, you know. Him.

“Bathroom is over there. I placed a towel and other shower amenities that you can borrow,” he says pointing to a door with a large “FART ZONE: ENTER WITH CAUTION” sign taped to it. You don’t ask.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You wait patiently for his out-of-pocket comment.

Like clockwork, Jimin smirks. “Sure thing. I gave you the super heavy-duty stuff. Figured you’d burn a hole through my expensive towels with how stinky you are, with your yeasty cu—”

“Aaaand I’ll be done in a few minutes. Thanks again Jimin,” you interrupt, making your way to the bathroom and slamming the door with as much force as you can muster. You hear something fall as the door shuts, and you vaguely hear Jimin mutter something about his “fart zone” signage.

You begin to prepare your shower routine, humming lowly as you go about your business. You try to ignore the suffocating scent of ten million diffusers entering your nostrils, wondering for the umpteenth time if Jimin is suffering from long-term olfactory dysfunction.

“Focus, Y/N. The quicker you shower, the quicker you can get the fuck out of here,” you whisper to yourself. However, in your haste, you knock over Jimin’s towel by accident. When the towel falls, a sheet of sandpaper slips out from underneath it, and you stare bemusedly until it finally hits you.

“YOU ARE SUCH A LITTLE BITCH!”

From behind the door, you can hear Jimin’s infamous cackle. “Did you find the loofah? I got it just for you, darling!” he shouts back through his laughter, and you just grumble back in response. How on earth no one has strangled him to death, you have no idea.

“Whatever. I’m gonna shower now! Go beat off or whatever the fuck you do in your spare time,” you grouse, stripping as quickly as possible.

When the first droplets of water hit your body, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. You had both anticipated and dreaded going to Jimin’s house, but you desperately needed the shower. So you go through your routine, trying to find some semblance of relaxation throughout the process. However, it seems that Jimin was yearning for a little bit of attention as he chose to recline on the other side of the door and chat your ear off. Peace was never an option, it seems.

“Hey, Y/N! So why haven’t I seen you at work recently?” Jimin hollers from his living room. Despite the wall separating you, his voice manages to retain its volume.

You squirt a large glob of Jimin’s (expensive) conditioner onto your hands. “What do you mean? I go to work every day. You were the one who hasn’t been clocking in.”

You can hear Jimin scoff. “Um, correction! I went to work last Friday, which so happened to be your day off. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed you were avoiding me.”

And right you are, you think. But instead, you say, “Yeah, what a coincidence. I’ll be back to my regular schedule on Monday, though.”

“So that means you didn’t see the Justin Bieber wannabe stationed outside the restaurant then?” Jimin asks, voice miffed. “The guy suddenly sat down by the entrance window and a whole damn crowd started to appear! The absolute nerve of these people—don’t they know Park Jimin was just past the doors?”

This provokes Jimin to go on his long epic soliloquy, which you’ve learned to drown out over the past two years. He could go on hour-long tirades if he wanted, and any interruption from you would just bounce off his nonfunctioning ears. And so, you allow his voice to fall to the back of your mind, similar to white noise if it wasn’t so grating.

However, this was likely your greatest mistake. If you hadn’t been so exhausted, or if Park Jimin hadn’t been so damn annoying all the time, or if the stars had aligned just right… Maybe you would have been forewarned about the incident. It’s as if the universe was screaming at you to pay attention, but alas… You were standing on the proverbial highway, unbeknownst to the incoming traffic because you had your metaphorical AirPods on.

So there you are, completely showered but none the wiser to your impending doom, naively looking to the future with unsuspecting eyes. Even if you had known of what was to come, would avoiding it even be possible? In hindsight, you suppose not, but you still kick yourself for being so blind. If only you’d steeled your heart, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt like vomiting in front of a crowd of innocent bystanders the very next day.

xxx

Monday comes and your shower still isn’t fixed. Jimin makes the benevolent gesture of allowing you to use his shower in the meantime, though you’ll only partake in his offer as minimally as possible. He does mention that he’ll need at least an hour’s notice, warning you about “accidental voyeurism.” You shudder to think of what sort of horror you might find if you did visit him without warning, and you pray for the continued well-being of your retinas.

On your way to work, you’re too busy watching cute videos of animals to notice the unusual flock of people idling close to your workplace. When you get closer, however, the growing commotion is enough to rip your gaze away from your phone, and the sight of the large crowd makes you stop in your tracks.

It is 4 pm and the usual line of waiting patrons should not start piling up for another three hours, so this confuses you more than anything. You shuffle closer, squinting at the crowd until you notice that they aren’t lined up at all; instead, they have congregated into a large circle, but you are too far to see what they are surrounding.

An accident? You worry, wondering if something terrible happened. You tiptoe above the heads of people, subtly moving forward to take a better look. Curse you and your curiosity. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself to see something grotesque or astonishing, but instead…

It’s worse.

Inching closer, you can begin to hear a soft thrumming of a guitar and a gentle singing voice that causes alarm bells to ring in your ears. The warm melody digs up old memories of a time long past: of ballads sung outside your childhood bedroom window, of promises whispered under Spiderman sheets, of tender caresses tucking stray hairs behind your ears… They flood your senses, but all you can feel is dread.

It can’t be who you think it is. You accidentally elbow a guy on your way to get closer, unsteadying his grip on his phone.

“Hey, watch it! I’m filming a totally not-staged TikTok over here!” He yells, but you can hardly pay attention to him when you feel unnaturally drawn to come closer, still.

You’re nearly at the front, with just a couple of teenagers standing between you and the (not-so) mysterious street performer. But the distance is enough, and your breath catches. You can see him—

Black hair partially hidden under a bucket hat. Boots bigger than Pangaea and a pair of eyes equally as large. Dark ink snaking down his arms, peeking out from under oversized sleeves. Piercings that could rival Park Jimin on a good day. He isn’t facing you, but you can still see his big doe eyes, gentle sloping nose, and pretty lips stretched into a handsome smile.

Your heart is thundering in your chest. This can’t be happening, you panic. After two whole years of rebuilding and reshaping yourself, relearning how to be yourself and not… not just his girlfriend.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you, busking in front of your workplace of all locations. The universe could not have been any crueler to you.

You—you had been known as nothing more than Jeon Jungkook’s high school sweetheart. Buried memories of snide comments from jealous teen girls fill your mind, reminding you of the time when you were coined a simple side piece to the main attraction. Decor, as they would call you. Nothing more than a girl who happened to snag Jungkook before people realized he was going to turn… hot. A hot guy who could sing. An inevitable chic magnet, as they would call him.

And now, years later after much therapy and soul searching, your worst nightmare is standing in front of you in the flesh. This is what you will eventually dub the incident.

At that moment, however, there is little to no time to dwell on naming this ongoing core memory. All you can feel is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, as well as the nausea rising up your throat. You stumble backward, blatantly shoving onlookers away as you struggle to find some air to breathe. In hindsight, you probably should have backed away as subtly as possible, but you hope that your dyed hair might be different enough that Jungkook wouldn’t know it was you if he had glanced your way.

Even when you stagger towards your work establishment, the walls cannot perfectly muffle his soothing singing. You can’t make out the lyrics to his song too well, but his unmistakable voice is hard to ignore. Working as a hostess, your station is also coincidentally as close to the door as possible for maximum torture.

This can’t get any worse, you think as your mind races with conflicting emotions. You thought you had moved on, thought you were past the pain and the memories, but seeing Jungkook again, unexpectedly, stirs up a storm of feelings you thought were buried deep. Anger, hurt, betrayal—all rush to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you.

But there is no time to unpack all that baggage right now. Time will continue to march on, and your job is still on the line. How can you have the time to have a mental breakdown when you were still living paycheck to paycheck?

But even as you try to push Jungkook out of your mind, his voice echoes in your ears, his image burned into your memory. It's as if the universe is laughing at your misery, reminding you that despite all your supposed growth, you are still just you.

Painfully and pathetically you.

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture.

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat.

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk.

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you clarify, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence.

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and fidget uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away.

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door.

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice.

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off.

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note.

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you.

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole.

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero.

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation.

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

You make quick work of your task and when you’re ready to head out, Jimin is already waiting by the backdoor. He’s twirling his car keys with a finger and gestures for you to follow him. As you make your way to his car in the back parking lot, you catch sight of a lone figure standing next to a beat-up pickup truck. He’s leaning against it, his hands busy tuning a battered guitar.

Your breath hitches, and you immediately feel nauseous. Of course the incident has yet to end. The night is young, after all.

Jimin accidentally slams the backdoor closed, and the noise wrenches Jungkook’s attention away from his ministrations. Immediately, his eyes lock with Jimin before finally turning to you.

Your heart skips a beat as he gazes at you, your mind racing with a hurricane of emotions. You hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, especially not after the tumultuous encounter earlier in the day. What did you say earlier? That “the chances of seeing Jungkook was down to pretty much zero”?

The chances of seeing Jungkook is low, but never zero, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

There is a long period of awkward silence. Jungkook has his mouth slightly agape, his hand subconsciously lowering his guitar to rest against his truck. To your left, Jimin’s breathing quickens slightly. You, on the other hand, are trying your best not to projectile vomit in this damned parking lot.

Jungkook is the one who decides to break the delicate silence. “Is that you…?” he calls out hesitantly.

Don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my—

“Y/N,” Jimin interjects. His gaze is steel cold, uncharacteristic of the carefree boy. He slings an arm around your shoulders, gently nudging you towards his car. With your view still fixed on Jungkook, you miss the way Jimin shoots the other boy with a playful smirk. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go home.”

His words startle both you and Jungkook. “Wha—? Jimin?” you splutter, flushing at his flirtatious undertone. You want to curse him out for his strange behavior, but all the shock has left you mute.

Jimin all but shoves you into the passenger seat. But just as he’s about to slam the car door, you hear Jungkook call out your name. It’s fleeting and quiet, but you heard him crystal clear.

It breaks your spirit to hear him say your name. For a moment, you feel as though you are floating.

When was the last time he called your name? And so softly, too? If you could replay that moment over and over, would you be able to catch some signs of tenderness in his voice? When you close your eyes later that night, would your dreams show you that he had been gazing at you with yearning? Was any of it true?

As Jimin starts the car and pulls away from the curb, you steal one last glance out the window, only to find Jungkook staring at you with an arm outstretched. You continue to watch him until his figure disappears into the night.

You are quietly immersed in your own thoughts, the whirlwind of emotions intensifying your persistent migraine. Unaccustomed to silence, Jimin decides to give his unsolicited two cents, as per usual.

“Geez. Didn’t know you were into the whole starving artist type. If I’d known, then maybe I’d stop trying to brag about my fortune to you,” Jimin scoffs. “If loser buskers like him impress you, then maybe I should—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life!” You explode, whirling to face him with a glare. Jimin has the audacity to flinch, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road.

“What the fuck? Why the hell are you mad at me?”

“What the hell was that back there? ‘C’mon babe.’” You mimic his voice with a sneer. “Why on earth would you do that? Now he thinks that we…”

“Why do you care what he thinks? He’s your ex, remember?” Jimin cuts you off, but you can’t even refute him. He continues, “Figured as much. And judging by how spooked you’ve looked all day, I have to assume that he was an asshole, right? Why else would you accept my offer for a ride home if you really wanted to avoid seeing him?”

You shrink under his accurate assumptions. Damn, were you really that easy to read? “I… I mean, yeah but…” You clear your throat, still feeling wronged by him. “You didn’t have to act like a weird prick in front of him!”

Without warning, the floodgates burst forth. You begin to ramble, the thoughts that have been weighing you down pouring out of you in waves. “Jungkook was my ex, yeah. But he wasn’t an asshole. On the contrary, he was really sweet. The nicest guy in my school, at least. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, that sort of person. I dated him all throughout high school and he was a great partner.”

Jimin hums skeptically. “Then why the messy break-up?”

“It wasn’t messy!” You retort defensively.

“Could’ve fooled me!” Jimin snorts. “I also frequently act like a trembling kitten when I see my exes,” he says sarcastically.

You ignore him. “The reason we broke it off was because he wanted to pursue his dreams to become a singer after high school and I wanted to do other things. It was a mutual break-up! Honestly, I’m glad that we did. Too many girls wanted him and all the unwanted attention was getting on my nerves. I was glad to find a reason to end it all,” you explain, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. What you said was mostly true, though you left out the important bits to yourself. Mostly to save some of your dignity intact. (Truthfully, you just didn’t want to admit things you weren’t ready to face.)

“Then if you’re so glad, why do you look like you wanted to shit yourself? It ain’t adding up,” Jimin fires back.

“It’s just—” you stammer, trying to find a reason why you were so bent out of shape after seeing him. “I-I was caught off guard, I guess. I knew he was pursuing his dreams to sing and all, so I expected him to leave the country. I wasn’t expecting to see him outside where I work, of all places,” you mutter lamely. You have your head bowed, biting your lips from the nerves. Again, you weren’t totally lying.

Jimin is silent for a moment, contemplating your admission. When he looks so calm like this, it’s hard to get a read on what he’s thinking. As Jimin speeds down the highway, the street lights illuminate his face in a strange way, and for once, he looks like a stranger. His steely expression makes you nervous, for some reason.

Eventually, he asks you a question you would never have expected. “And he just let you go?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jimin huffs, irritated. “He just up and left without a fight? If I were him, I would have…” he trails off, his jaw clenching.

You don’t know where this Jimin came from. Under the moonlight, Jimin looks livid, but that can’t be right. Jimin, mad for you? Sure, you’ve seen his anger directed towards you, but this? Everything’s gotten so complicated, and you are just about ready to succumb to sleep and hope to wake from this nightmare.

The rest of the drive to your house is silent, save for the sounds coming from passing cars. Jimin pulls up to your apartment complex, his mysterious anger finally subsiding.

Just as you’re about to reach for the car door handle, Jimin places a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, Y/N. I’ll talk to management tomorrow morning. I know the manager well enough that I can probably convince him to do something about that ex of yours. He’s busking on private property, so it should be easy to get rid of him,” Jimin says, tone serious. He swallows, and for a moment you think he looks a little nervous. “If that’s what you want, I guess.”

His kindness scares you. You want to tease him, ask him where Mr. Bitchy and his $2000 Chelsea boots had gone. Anything to make this air of severe sincerity to abate. This new Jimin feels suffocating. But instead, you nod your head stiffly.

Jimin makes a pained expression for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual playful smirk. He slaps you upside the head, laughing heartily at your stunned face.

“Get some rest, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he chuckles, reaching over to open the door for you. You scramble out into the cold city air, taking one last look back at him through his window.

He rolls it down, leaning forward to flash a toothy grin at you. “Hey, stop with all the angst, pookie. Wouldn’t want my favorite toy to get sick from overthinking. Who else would I bother at work if not you?”

You snort, both endeared and irritated in equal measure. He’s right. Everything was going back to normal tomorrow, you’re sure of it. You flip him off with a cheeky grin before making your way to your apartment.

Everything is going to be okay. Jimin says he’ll do something about it, and for whatever reason, you feel like you can trust him on this. Surely good fortune was soon to be upon you.

xxx

Jimin had texted you while you were still sleeping:

Spoke to Manager Jeong about your little problem. He said he’ll deal with him.

You breathe a sigh of relief, your body feeling significantly lighter. Your sleep last night had been tumultuous and restless. You feel more tired than you did when you went to bed, but all your weariness fades once you read Jimin’s text.

Once you make it to work, you find that management has gotten rid of Jungkook somehow. Added with the fact that your landlord has promised to look into repairing your shower (no guarantees, but you want to stay optimistic), today has been significantly better compared to yesterday. You even catch yourself humming as you set up your workstation, a small smile gracing your lips.

Jimin has a later shift this evening, and you find that you are somewhat disappointed for once. Your overwhelming gratitude is surely the only reason, otherwise you would never admit to wanting to see him at any given time.

You are in the midst of texting Jimin about all the good news when your manager passes by your desk. You are quick to pocket your phone away from his prying eyes, ready to defend that you aren’t slacking off… but his demeanor does not reveal any ire. In fact, he looks rather pleased for once.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeong. What’s up?” you ask, suspicious. You instinctively fold your hands behind your back; it is a subconscious effort on your part to keep your distance from him. Something about your manager always gives you a bad feeling when he looks a little too happy.

He grins widely. “Everything is going splendidly, Ms. Y/N. In fact, I think today might just be our lucky day!”

Never during your time working here has his and your luck ever coincided. “Our lucky day?” you echo.

“Why, yes! I spoke with your lovely friend and coworker Jimin this morning,” he starts, and immediately your alarm bells ring. You don’t even bother correcting him about the ‘friend’ part like you normally would. He continues, “He gave me a brilliant idea about the busker who had been performing in front of the restaurant the past two days.”

You nod slowly, not quite understanding. “Yes… The busker has been quite… the spectacle,” you say carefully. Somehow, you know calling Jungkook a ‘nuisance’ would have been the wrong choice in this instance.

Manager Jeong beams. “Exactly! You must have noticed the amount of people we served yesterday despite being a Monday. Additionally, almost all of those new customers requested outdoor seating no less!”

You feel the world tilt on its axis. What is he on abou—?

“What are you talking about?” you exhale.

“Don’t you think it would be even better for business if we got that busker to perform inside the restaurant? Why, it’s a brilliant idea and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first! Our live band has always been missing something special, and perhaps a vocal accompaniment is the exact answer to our problem! Think about it, the atmosphere would be…”

Manager Jeong continues to prattle animatedly about his plans to your unhearing ears. There must be static or cotton plugging your head because you cannot possibly understand anything he is saying. Jungkook? Inside? Performing at your restaurant? But Jimin said he had spoken to the manager about getting Jungkook away from you! None of this makes sense.

“That makes no sense,” you verbalize, unknowingly cutting Manager Jeong from his monologue. He halts in surprise, as if now just realizing you were standing there (much less capable of interrupting or disagreeing with him). When he snaps out of it, you sense that familiarly sinister aura emerging from him in waves. You belatedly realize he must have mistaken your outburst as antagonistic.

“Well, Ms. Y/N. Whether it makes sense or not, we have hired Mr. Jeon to perform live at the bar stage for the next four weeknights. If, for some unknowable reason, I am incorrect,” he pauses to emphasize his words, “then his services will be promptly terminated. However, judging by his popularity from simply standing out in the cold and singing silly love songs, I am sure that worry is unwarranted.”

Behind you, the telltale sound of the main door swinging open catches you even more off guard. You do not even have the chance to turn to face the newcomer, only managing to register the gust of cold wind that accompanies their entry.

And so, you hear him before you see him.

“Hello?” Jeon Jungkook greets quietly.

Even without turning, you can imagine how he looks, how he stands, how he feels, how he tastes—

Manager Jeong claps his hands gleefully. “Splendid timing! Speak of the devil…” The older man nearly skips towards Jungkook like a youthful school girl, accompanied by his uncharacteristic squeals of excitement.

You can feel his gaze on you, almost tangibly. With nothing but your shreds of dignity left intact, you force yourself to face him.

He’s still so tall, is all your mind can helpfully supply as you stand feet away from your high school sweetheart for the first time in two years. He’s still wearing the same bucket hat from the night before, semi-shielding him from view. Despite that, you catch a small flash of white graze his bottom lip as he chews the soft flesh nervously.

“Hi, Y/N.” He addresses you directly, completely overlooking your manager without a single glance. Despite his hat, he still has his eyes lasered on you, as if not quite believing you were there. You hate how his attention makes you shiver all the same.

Even though he ignored your manager (which would have been a major dispute had you done the same), Jungkook still receives a friendly handshake in return. “Mr. Jeon! I’m surprised you know Ms. Y/N, though I’m sure you must have spoken with her when she was escorting guests to the outdoor seating the other day.”

You had actually gotten your co-hostess to seat all the outdoor seatings yesterday, but you weren’t going to mention that.

Manager Jeong claps him on the back, inadvertently causing Jungkook to stumble forward closer to you. He looks up at you then, eyes bugging out of their sockets like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. You stagger backwards in turn, barely concealing the anxiety on your face. Oh fucking hell.

Your manager is none the wiser, of course. “Well, this makes my job much easier! Since you’re both acquainted, I’ll let Y/N show you the ropes. The band doesn’t start their set until later in the evening, but you’re free to take a look at the stage and other parts of our facility in the meantime,” he says, chuffed. Meanwhile, Jungkook looks like he’s been shot by a freeze ray.

Then, your manager points a sharper gaze at you. “Ms. Y/N, treat our super star well. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Fucking superstar… You can only nod in defeat. “Y-Yes, sir…” you whisper, clenching your uniform with your fists. It is the only way to keep them from shaking like a leaf. You watch as his figure disappears behind his office door, leaving you to fend for yourself. Powerless, you train your gaze to the floor, unwilling to meet Jungkook’s eyes.

But the nerves are taking control of your body, screaming at you to eject, eject, eject!

“Sorry, I have to go to the toilet,” you splutter quickly, almost tripping over yourself on the way to the restroom. You dimly wonder if Jungkook is going to think you’re leaving to throw up, but you can’t find any self-respect left to care. All you need is air and space to breathe—preferably away from him.

You slam open the stall, hardly checking to see if anyone else is around before locking the door shut. You sit on the toilet, plant your face between your knees, and scream.

Should you go home and use sickness as an excuse? But even if you did, you still had shifts every weeknight. You would have to see him eventually. You can pray all you want that Jungkook will be fired by the end of the week, but even your delusional mind can never fathom the idea that anyone would willingly want to send Jeon Jungkook away. Plus, you remember that the regular band that plays at the restaurant has been wanting to get a singer to accompany them for ages, and you know just how damn affable he can be. They are going to love him, and you hate him for that.

It is clear to you that there is no other option:

You pull out your phone to quickly open up Indeed on your browser, frantically hunting for any openings that might fit your measly qualifications. However, you have to pause in your search to deliberate. Wouldn’t it be better to move out of the country? You had been so naive to think that moving cities was enough distance between you and Jungkook—going across the ocean is the obvious answer. Should you start up your Duolingo lessons again and hope that you can somehow survive in a different continent with only a few dollars to your name?

You shut your phone in despair. Whether or not your plans of escape are feasible or not, in the short term, you are stuck with having to suck it up and just learn to ignore your ex-boyfriend’s presence. Surely you can force out a fake smile or two, especially with how much practice you’ve gotten after working with unbearably entitled customers.

Taking a step outside of the restroom stall, you head to the sink to splash some cold on your face. You stare at the mirror, confronted by a girl who looks two seconds away from having a Netflix Original-esque meltdown. You rake your fingers through your hair, doing your best to look like you aren’t about to rush into incoming traffic. To no one's surprise, it doesn't work.

“Okay, I got this. Just pretend like he’s just some guy, because at the end of the day, he is just some guy,” you mutter to your reflection. She looks back at you unconvinced. “He may have broken my heart into little bite size pieces, but who cares! HE’S JUST A GUY!” You repeat the phrase over and over again like a lunatic, in a desperate attempt to cognitively alter your brain chemistry.

At that moment, one of the other stalls in the restroom creaks open, and a girl you recognize who works as one of the dishwashers walks out. You both have a silent eye conversation as she quietly studies your crazed expression and crumpled work uniform.

Eventually, she awkwardly clears her throat, pointing to the only sink in the restroom. “Uh, sorry to hear about your, uh, guy problem. Could I use the sink please?”

You hastily back away, allowing her to take your spot. You don’t even have the energy to apologize for your spectacle, just bowing sheepishly to her before making your way back to the main hall. If she rats you out to the rest of your coworkers, then that gives you another reason to move out of the country. Maybe you should consider a name change while you’re at it.

When you exit the restroom, you half expect Jungkook to be waiting for you by the door, but find that he isn’t anywhere nearby. He isn’t by your hostess station either, and you thank your lucky stars for once. Even if your manager had asked you to show him around, you’re sure that Jungkook can find his way around just fine. Plus, the stage is at the corner of the restaurant and is sufficiently far enough that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him if you were careful.

You don’t know which greater entity has been messing with your sanity these past few days, but you hope that they can show you mercy just once—a brief reprieve, if anything.

You clasp your hands in prayer. I’ll eat more vegetables, I’ll remember to floss, I’ll call my parents from time to time… Just please let me survive tonight.

“Remember, Y/N… He’s just some guy,” you reiterate through gritted teeth. If a passing coworker happens to overhear your demented chanting, then you pay them no mind.

You walk towards the entrance, flipping the sign to open. You feel like a video game character when you glance at the clock, which signals the start of your shift. You can imagine the red bold text hovering above your head: 8 more hours until freedom.

This is just like playing Five Nights at Freddy’s, except you’ve only watched the movie and you suspect your life is probably worse than whatever Josh Hutcherson had to survive through.

You take a couple heaving breaths to brace yourself for what will be the longest eight hours of your life. You’ll show Jungkook just how well-adjusted and mature you’ve become. You are a professional, and not even a boy with angelic vocals will make you crumble. After all, what’s the worst he can do?

xxx

He could, in fact, do a lot worse than you thought.

“I have many regrets being born at all,” you mutter bleakly, three hours into your shift.

Jungkook had started singing only an hour ago, so you had been filled with false confidence at first when the restaurant was filled with nothing but ambient chatter and soothing jazz music. You felt more and more confident as the minutes ticked by and your anxiety slowly melted away. You even forgot that he was somewhere in the back, likely warming up or whatever it is that singers did before a performance.

However, your brief moment of courage shatters almost immediately when Jungkook finally takes the stage.

At first, you did your best to tune out his voice, but it’s especially hard when whoever was in charge of the sound system decided to crank his volume to an excruciating level. You wanted desperately to grab some napkins and shove them in your ears, but you suspected that your customers (and manager) would be unappreciative of that gesture. And so there you lay, forced to wallow in Jungkook’s melodious singing like a criminal strapped to an electric chair.

But how much more pleasant an electric chair would be! Why on earth was Jungkook so adamant to sing sad love songs the entire time? Why couldn’t he be like his other singing contemporaries, who loved to write songs about getting bitches and making money? At the very least, even if he wasn’t quite a platinum selling artist just yet, surely he was constantly sharing beds with anyone he pleases? Couldn’t he sing about that?!

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it would be less painful to learn that Jungkook has slept with multiple people… Because then, it would mean that he had moved on while you stood alone on your island, stranded and yearning.)

You didn’t want to think too deeply about his lyrics. However, you're only human. So when your mind barrier failed and you caught snippets of his singing, you noticed a pattern. There was always a girl in his songs. She was omnipresent, and Jungkook was always pleading for her. Begging and aching and wanting. But most all… he was always repenting. In every song, he always whispered a pious apology.

You feared what would happen if you turned around in those moments of weakness. You were terrified of admitting something, of letting words spill that had been trapped in your throat for the better part of two years.

Lucky for you, salvation comes in the form of one Park Jimin. Though, can you even count him as your savior when he had also inadvertently caused your demise?

Jimin doesn’t even have a shift today, so you’re more than surprised when his bright blonde head stumbles through the restaurant doors. His expensive coat is askew and his signature designer shades are nowhere to be found. He is panic incarnate—an expression you have never seen on his face before.

“Holy fuck,” he greets, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His profanity startles the elderly couple waiting to be seated, their glares menacingly sharp. To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even seem phased.

In lieu of an answer, you gesture vaguely behind you. You can imagine how dejected you must look. “Holy fuck indeed,” you sigh.

It takes a moment for Jimin to regain his bearings. He straightens up and pats down his coat, but his hair is still tousled by the wind. If not for the fact that he has a car, you might have thought he had run all the way here.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen,” he starts, genuinely remorseful. “I texted Manager Jeong this morning and he said he’d get your ex to leave, but I didn’t think he’d offer the damn bastard a job!”

“Mind your language, Park. I’m still at work,” you scold. You try your best to ignore the scrutinizing gaze of the elderly couple. You lower your voice. “And don’t apologize. I know you’re an asshole, but I doubt you’d actually prey on my downfall like this. I know you’re not into public humiliation.”

Jimin brightens slightly at your joke, but he still looks like a guilty puppy who'd been caught shitting on the carpet. “Yeah, well. I happen to enjoy tormenting you and I won’t let some upstart Charlie Puth wannabe ruin your life. That’s my job.”

You smile wryly at him. “Well, that’s too bad. Jungkook’s been singing for a few hours now and I’m pretty sure Manager Jeong is going to keep him long-term. He might have broken my heart, but damn does he have vocals. I'm sure you'll have plenty competition when it comes to 'who can make Y/N's life feel like hell.'”

Jimin doesn't smile back, but instead studies your face for a moment. Then:

“Do you think if I offer to suck Manager Jeong off, he’ll fire him?”

“What the fuck?” You nearly yell out in surprise, your jaw dropping to the floor. Judging by his serious scowl, you know he's actually considering it. By now, the elderly couple waiting to be seated have left the premises.

Jimin continues, unperturbed. “I know he secretly wants me, based on how his wife seems to have a personal vendetta against me. He definitely wants a taste of my bus—.”

“Stop, I get it!” You wave your hands to make him shut up, heat rising up your cheeks. “Never say that string of words to me ever again. You have just inflicted ten years of suffering onto my poor brain.”

“Hey, I’m just offering solutions here!” Jimin pouts.

You stare at him, unimpressed. “Save it. You tried solving my problems already, so let’s just accept the fact that there’s nothing else for me to do but to suck it up. It’s time for me to put on my big girl pants for a change.”

“I mean, I could do all the sucking instead, but you’re being a little bitch about it,” Jimin mumbles. He’s lucky you didn’t hear him this time, lest you give him something to really whine about.

“Anyway, I guess this is my life now. Nothing to do except hope that he never tries to interact with me or I can find another job,” you shrug.

Over your shoulder, Jimin fixes Jungkook with an icy glare that is cold enough to give you the shivers. For the first time that entire night, you hazard a glance back at the stage, finding that Jungkook is already looking back at you.

You whip your head back forward, perspiration forming down your back. For fuck’s sake, this guy.

“Well, let me know if he tries anything. I’ll beat that little freak into the floor if he tries so much as breathing the same air as you.” Jimin huffs, puffing up his chest with false bravado. You can’t help but laugh at his empty threat, knowing that Jungkook could probably bench press Jimin without breaking a sweat. Jimin's muscles are only for aesthetics, after all.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t actually spoken to me actually. He can keep singing his sad little love songs, I really don’t mind,” you say, like a liar. Jimin snorts, wholly unconvinced.

“Well, if you need me, I’m heading to the bar to grab a drink so I can stare at your ex uncomfortably until he leaves. See you!” Jimin bids you farewell with a cheery grin as he skips a little too happily inside the restaurant.

Why'd you have to befriend the largest lunatic in the city? You massage your forehead with a groan, willing away your growing headache.

The rest of the night trickles away like molasses. Jungkook continues to sing his heart out, save for an hour intermission where he presumably takes a short break. In his absence, you hear Jimin guffaw loudly, his laughter too sharp to be considered happy. You faintly hear Jungkook shy stutters in response, and you momentarily consider running in to interrupt.

Why? Did you want to save Jungkook from Jimin’s unnecessary harassment? It’s not like Jimin is doing it out nowhere, he was just trying to be… a good friend?

You pause to ponder. As much as you hate to admit it, you know why you want to help Jungkook. But Jimin on the other hand? Why did he want to help you? Questions begin flowing through your head like a whirlwind, and your nausea increases. God, when was your next therapy appointment again?

You save those questions for another day. As you look at your watch, there are only thirty minutes left until two in the morning. You tap your foot impatiently, smiling curtly at departing customers as the restaurant slowly emptied. As they left, you overhear some of your regulars giggling amongst themselves, whispering about the cute new singer and his charming demeanor.

The last nail on your coffin has been hammered. Yeah, Jungkook isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

With the restaurant closing soon, it sounds like Jungkook is ready to end his set as well.

Throughout the night, Jungkook rarely made a point to speak. The only time he didn’t sing was when he quietly introduced the title of his next song and the band swiftly began the first opening notes. For his last song, however, Jungkook decided to give a little more backstory for his final song.

“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for listening to me for the night,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, his tone awfully shy despite his powerful belting throughout the evening. The few customers left give him a warm round of applause, and you hear the familiar sound of his timid giggles spill from the restaurant speakers.

“This will be my final song for the night. Most of the songs I sang today were covers, but this one is an original. I…” He hesitates for a moment, and something pulls you to turn despite the alarm bells ringing in your ears. You face him, and just like earlier in the evening, he is already looking back at you.

This time, you don’t look away; he does. His eyes flit to the ceiling, and he licks his lips from nerves. “I… I wrote this song a long while ago. I’ve never sang it in public before and I never thought it would ever see the light of day. Until, well…”

He stops again. This time, he gestures to the guitarist in the band, silently asking to borrow it. With a guitar in hand, he smiles a little more confidently at the small crowd of people. He begins strumming the first few notes, and your heart stops. “I hope everyone had a pleasant evening. Get home safe and have a great rest of your week. My name is Jungkook, and this last song is called…”

Before he can sing the first line of his song, you make a break for it.

You slam the restaurant doors open, and the stinging cold air immediately pierces their fangs into your skin. Your coat is still inside, but you can’t bring yourself to reenter. You take a long breath, the chill barely registering in your mind with how loudly your heart is pounding in your ears.

Hearing the opening to that song was enough to bring you back in time, three years ago:

You are in his childhood bedroom, his walls littered with concert posters and his floor a mess with unfolded laundry and guitar picks. The afternoon sun is streaming through his windows, bathing him in gold. You have an exam the next day and he has cram school to go to, but you’ve both chucked your books somewhere on his desk, left forgotten.

He has his eyes closed, concentrated. You’re both on his small twin bed, squished together side by side and thighs touching. You have your head on his shoulder and he has his hands on his guitar. He strums a few chords experimentally and sings a melody that only the two of you know.

(Not anymore.)

“Are you writing a new song?” you ask, voice a little scratchy. Neither of you had spoken for the past few hours, just basking in the setting sun and Jungkook’s indistinct strumming. But now, his chords sound more sure, more certain of something.

“Yeah, I just thought of it,” he hums. He opens his eyes a smidge, a smitten smile on his lips. You mirror him.

“What’s it about this time?”

His brows furrow. “I’ve been trying to write about other stuff, you know? Namjoon-hyung tells me it’s important that songs have meaning and impact.” He pauses in his strumming, looking a little conflicted. “And I get what he means. Art is all about saying something, but… I can’t help that there’s only one thing I ever want to talk about. Is that so wrong?”

You chuckle, understanding what he means. You nudge your head against his cheek, grinning from ear to ear. The fluttering in your chest has become routine to you at this point, but he somehow always knows how to increase it tenfold. “God, you’re such a sweet talker. Really, Koo. There’s no need to serenade with love songs—I’m already yours.”

He looks back at you, brimming with tender affection. “I know,” he responds. Then, he takes a pen from his bedside table, and begins writing.

During those years of dating him, you always thought that If he was a waterfall, then you were a teaspoon. You desperately tried to be enough for him, but you’re barely able to fathom the depth of his devotion. Everything about him was excessive, and you could seldom understand how he managed to contain himself. He was born to share himself, to tear bits of his soul so that the world may understand him, love him. His songs were a testament that he was trying to do that, and you always felt so lucky to be able to receive him, wholly and fully.

How cruel was it that Jungkook uses that same song to rip open the barely healed scab on your heart, leaving you bare and stinging and raw all over again.

You have no idea how long you've stood there in the cold. It must have been barely a few minutes when Jimin finds his way to you. He wordlessly shrugs his coat off and places it on your shoulders, but you make no move to acknowledge him.

You hope your silence is enough for Jimin to infer that you are not in a conversational mood, but he’s nothing if not impatient. He forcibly pulls you to face him, his hands warm even through your clothing.

“Hey, you good? Did something happen?” He asks with barely concealed irritation, but it’s not directed at you. Still, you flinch at his scathing tone, shrinking in on yourself. In your daze, you vaguely notice his resemblance to an angry baby chick.

“It’s nothing. Go back inside, I’ll be right there,” you mumble lamely, weakly pushing him back towards the restaurant. Jimin does not budge, instead leveling you with a hard stare. This time, you’re sure his irritation is for you.

“You idiot, you literally ran out like someone was out to get you. Of course it’s not nothing,” he grouses.

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head at him. “We can talk later. It’s almost closing time and I just want to go home and sleep.”

Before Jimin can argue further, the door to the restaurant opens once more, but it isn’t a leaving customer.

“What the fuck? What are you doing out here?” Jimin all but shouts at Jungkook. He holds up an accusatory finger at him and uses his other hand to nudge you behind him as if to shield you.

Jungkook winces, instinctively stepping back. Despite being a few inches taller than Jimin, Jungkook’s timidness makes him look smaller. “I… I was just worried about her—”

“Don’t you have a song to finish in there? Talk about professional,” Jimin spits out. Jimin maneuvers you so that Jungkook can’t see you, but you manage to catch sight of how his gaze follows you unfailingly.

“I finished up my set. It’s closing time.” Jungkook responds coolly. He’s still a little quiet, but you can sense some of his natural composure rising to the surface. When he needs to be, Jungkook has been known to stand his ground—usually when it comes to matters involving you.

At this time of the night and after hours of mental torture, the last thing you need is to watch your two worst nightmares duke it out in front of your work establishment. You are beyond exhausted, and you hardly have the fortitude to withstand another minute of their voices ringing in your ears.

Your eyes well up with tears of frustration, causing the two boys to freeze up in panic. You don’t give them the chance to fuss over you; instead, you haphazardly wipe your cheeks before roughly pushing them back towards the restaurant.

“Get back to work, you idiots.” Your voice sounds warbled even to your own ears, but you push past your overwhelming emotions in favor of getting back inside to close up. Hell, you might even call in sick tomorrow, just so you can cry pathetically into your bowl of cereal in solitude.

“I’m not even on the clock today!” Jimin complains faintly, but you only push him harder.

When you all reenter, you walk back to your desk and pointedly ignore the two of them until they awkwardly float away from your orbit. Despite the distance they give you, their gazes are still fixed plainly on you and they feel like knives digging into your back.

Eventually, all the final customers of the day take their leave, and your remaining coworkers start dimming the lights and bidding their goodbyes. From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook bowing respectfully to the band, who were giving him friendly pats on the back for a job well done. Jimin walks toward you, his car keys dangling from his left pinky.

“No thanks. I’ll take the bus home today,” you declare before he can offer a ride. Jimin opens his mouth like a goldfish, flapping his lips dumbly as he stares at you in shock. You have no idea why he’s so surprised, given how you’ve been making it obvious that you need some space.

He looks like he wants to argue again, but thinks better of it. A singular moment of restraint from Park Jimin, which is an act you once thought impossible. Maybe he does care about you more than you thought.

He stiffly nods at you, shoving his hands and keys into his pockets. He still has a frown on his face when he tells you to text him when you get home. You flip him off with a shaky smirk in response, a feeble attempt to bring some levity back to your now tense relationship. It works a little, and Jimin brightens up significantly. How simple-minded of him.

With a flippant wave, you leave work and head towards your bus stop. At this hour of the night, the streets are mostly dim, save for some street lamps and bars that stay open longer than your restaurant. There are always some people milling about, enough that you never feel too on edge about how late it is. Still, your bus stop is often empty, leaving you to mull over your thoughts in peace.

You are in the midst of jamming your earbuds into your ear when a presence makes itself known beside you.

Is it possible to go through the five stages of grief in under a second? You suppose not, but it’s hard to tell what sort of emotions swim through you when you come face to face with Jeon Jungkook again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath. You pause the song playing on your phone to glare at him with as much venom as you can muster.

Jungkook holds up his hands in surrender, doe eyes wide like prey. “I-I’m heading home too! I’m not following you, I swear!”

You groan internally. Figures that you and Jungkook take the same bus home. But hold on— “Don’t you have a car? I remember you were parked near the restaurant the other night,” you note, squinting at him.

Jungkook looks sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. That car was my hyung’s. He lets me borrow it sometimes, but he needed it tonight.”

“Sure…” You level him with a skeptical frown. You remember his hyung, but don’t recall him ever owning a car. You aren’t even sure that his Namjoon-hyung is allowed by the country to drive a car, much less own one.

He could be lying, but you don’t want to give him an excuse to continue any conversation. So, you busy yourself with your phone and keep your head bowed away from him.

When the bus arrives, Jungkook makes it a point to sit a few rows behind you. Thankfully, he has a better understanding of social cues than a certain Park that you know. He leaves you alone, but your entire body still feels like a rope pulled taut. You have to convince yourself not to look behind you, your morbid curiosity scratching your insides raw.

You are in the home stretch now, and it’ll only be a few more minutes before you get to your stop and make your way to your safe haven. Hell resumes the next day and the next, but at the very least you’ll have your home to yourself. No one could take that away from you.

Again, this is where you learn that tempting fate is never a good idea.

When you exit the bus at your stop, you can hear his footsteps following you. It’s hard not to notice, especially when his large and distracting boots make such a distinct racket that makes him so Jungkook.

You hasten your pace towards your apartment complex, your shoulders hunched and hands shoved into your coat pockets in an attempt to hinder the bile rising from your stomach. He had promised that he wasn’t following you, but that proclamation seems to be standing on feeble legs with how long he’s been on your tail now.

Your street is filled with rows of low-rise apartment buildings, so you hope that if anything happens, you can yell as loud as you can and alert some compassionate neighbor to come to your aid. (Not that you think he would ever physically harm you, but… You can’t say the same about your mental state.)

Your home is just two buildings away from where you are, but Jungkook still seems determined to follow you to the end. You all but skip the remaining feet to your apartment entrance, your breath coming out in puffs as you finally muster up the courage to face your supposed stalker and give him a piece of your mind.

“If this is some convoluted way for you to find out where I live, then you aren’t being very subtle about it,” you say, your chin held up high despite the growing urge to vomit pathetically in front of your ex-boyfriend. You have your hand rested on the doorknob, just a moment’s notice away from bolting into your house if the need for a quick getaway arises.

To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t following you as closely as you expected. He had stopped trailing you about two buildings down, his own hand poised on the door with a look of genuine shock.

You both stand there, staring at each other as mutual understanding dawns on the two of you.

Everyday, the universe learns of more creative ways to be cruel.

“Oh…” Jungkook’s voice falters. He looks simultaneously frightened and amazed, as if he too finds this entire situation unbelievably harsh. He swallows thickly, looking at you and back to his door in quick succession. “Well… This is a strange coincidence,” he murmurs.

You want to believe that this was his entire fault, that Jungkook had somehow managed to track you down to haunt you for the rest of your days. You want to believe that he’s a crazed stalker who is willing to find where you work and live so that every hour of your wretched life is filled with nothing but reminders of what-could-have-beens. You just want someone to blame instead of just the cosmos—you want someone tangible to hate so that your suffering can be given some sort of identity. You want to give your mourning and hurt a name so that you can learn how to heal.

You want to believe all of that, but it’s hard to do so when Jungkook looks so incredibly uncomfortable, as if he’d rather melt into the shadows and never be seen again.

In all your memories, you have never seen Jungkook look so small.

You heave a big sigh, your fingers grasping the door knob so tightly that you half-expect it to be dented from the force. You linger for a moment, your mouth opening but nothing spills out.

What is there to say? What do you say to an ex-boyfriend that you haven’t seen in two years, who is suddenly so deeply entwined in your life once more? Do you tell him goodnight? Tell him to stay away? Tell him to come home with you?

Jungkook looks equally as conflicted. His lips are pursed tight with words left unsaid. You aren’t sure whether you want to punch the confession out of his mouth or seal them up forever. It feels like eons before he finally breaks the silence with a mirthless laugh.

“I… I just wanted to say—back at the restaurant. When I sang that last song,” Jungkook begins, and his voice feels loud because of how empty the streets are. For a moment, you are reminded of a cathedral you once visited during a vacation, how sacred silence can be. The world holds its breath, waiting for him to speak.

“I meant it all. Every word. Every lyric. I never stopped…”

He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. He stares at you helplessly, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to listen any more, but your feet are planted to the ground. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, forced to brace against him as he crashes into you.

He continues, “And when we broke up back then… I never wanted that to happen. You broke it off before we could even try something—and I hated how I didn’t fight for you harder. I let you misunderstand me because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to stick around if I didn’t succeed. I convinced myself that I was holding you down, but I never gave you—us—a chance. I never stopped regretting it since.”

“Me? Break up with you?” You echo incredulously. That statement is enough to break you from your trance, the telltale signs of indignation rising up your chest. “How dare you suggest—Me? You were the one who broke up with me, asshole! You were the one who broke my heart and decided to up and leave to god knows where! Only to miraculously respawn right next to me, groveling at my feet with sad love songs as if that’s enough for me to forgive and forget? Fucking entitled bastard,” you seethe.

Somehow, Jungkook manages to shrink more, like a bunny with his tail tucked between his legs. “Yes, you’re right that I broke your heart but… When I told you I was moving away to try and become a singer, it was always with the intention of staying together. I know it would have been difficult, but I wanted you to be with me through thick and thin. But when you misunderstood and took it as a break up, I let you go because, well… I was scared that it would happen eventually. Who wants to date a broke busking fool anyway?”

He laughs, but it sounds watery. He sniffles, and you hope it's only because of the cold. “I tried looking for you, but you blocked me everywhere and no one from back home seemed to know where you went. So I just accepted that we’d never see each other again… Until a few days ago, that is.”

A misunderstanding? Is that what everything boils down to? Years of trying to build yourself back up again, relearning what it means to be happy—all the fallen domino pieces in your life trailing back to a single moment in time? All because Jungkook was scared that you didn't love him enough?

You’ve never felt angrier in your life. You fear what you might say if you continue to stand outside there, face to face with the singular person strong enough to whittle you down to the bone. Jeon Jungkook is all soft smiles and sweet songs, but how come he’s always able to knock you off your axis? Few people on this earth can stitch you up and break you down in equal measure, but somehow, Jungkook manages to do all that and more.

Then, comes the guilt. Had it been all your fault? That you hadn't returned his love in equal measure? Had you secretly given up on the hope of being on his level? Always looking down on yourself: unable to move past your insecurities. Were you terrified of being his side piece, his girlfriend, forever?

Who are you, even? And where do you stand?

(Beside him, is what you want to answer. You don't know if that's the right choice.)

You can’t bear to look at him, least of all answer him. Without another word, you shove your house key into the door before slamming it shut despite the late hour. If you awaken any neighbors, you’ll apologize later. For now, all you require is sleep and hope that this has been all a terrible nightmare.

xxx

Reality is a bitter pill to swallow.

Jeon Jungkook continues to sing at the restaurant, and after only two days of repeat stellar performances, your manager decides to promote him as the official vocalist for the band. It hurts to admit that you're not the least bit surprised; you might have a hard time looking at him, but you can never deny his talent.

His song list has added a larger variety of genres ever since his first performance. That is to say, he isn’t always singing about lost loves and tragic couples every night. Perhaps it is due to some requests from customers or his other bandmates, but it doesn’t stop him from sprinkling one or two love songs into the mix.

He doesn’t sing any original songs ever again. That, at least, is a small mercy. He doesn’t make any moves to speak with you either, despite the daily awkward trips back home after the end of your shifts. Whether that’s because he’s given up on you (again), or he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you don’t know. Frankly, you don’t think you have the energy (nor courage) to do anything about it.

It’s a few weeks after Jungkook’s first performance at the restaurant, and closing time is approaching. You appreciate Friday nights the most because it means you’ll have two consecutive days to relax and avoid your problems. It’s also the busiest night of the week, when white-collar workers decide to drink and eat for as long as the night allows them. Busier nights mean more distractions, and you’re willing to deal with twenty Karens over one Jungkook.

During nights like these, your manager occasionally asks you to fulfill some waitress duties when there aren’t enough hands on deck. Normally you’d hate it, but earning the extra tips is enough to keep your grumbling to a minimum To this day, your landlord has yet to do anything about your broken shower, and you’ve finally conceded to the fact that you’ll have to be the one to do something about it.

As you inform the customers in your area that the last call for orders is approaching, you sneak a glance at the bar to see Jimin dutifully performing his job. That is to say, he’s flirting up a storm, getting women and men alike to blush from head to toe as he serves their drinks with a salacious smirk.

What a swindler, you think to yourself, snorting when he makes eye contact with you. He gives you a cheeky salute, mouthing something as he gestures to the back door.

Despite the semi-fight the two of you had all those weeks ago, Jimin was never one to argue about the same topic two days in a row. When you saw him the next day after your confrontation with Jungkook, Jimin was back to all smiles. You still catch him sending death glares towards Jungkook on most nights, but he doesn’t bring up the matter with you anymore. For that reason, you’ve gratefully settled back into your weird, banterful friendship with him. Even if there’s still a lingering tension between the two of you that you refuse to acknowledge.

You nod thankfully back at him, excited to go to his house and take a much needed shower. At this point, going to his house has become second nature to you, and it gives you an excuse to not see Jungkook at your regular bus stop every day. You have half a mind to never fix your shower for that reason, but of course there is still the problem of having to deal with Jimin every time you need to bathe. You hardly consider yourself an impatient person, but Jimin likes to toe the line far more often than necessary.

You’re down to your last two tables before you can close up shop when your manager suddenly barrels right into your path. You nearly drop your tray of dirty dishes to the floor, holding in a loud yelp as your suspiciously stern-faced manager halts you in place.

“Ms. Y/N, may I have a word with you for a moment? It’s regarding your paycheck for the month,” he barks, lips downturned. He appears disgruntled about something, and it sends a worried shiver down your spine. And here you thought Fridays are meant to be fun. He doesn’t wait for you to reply before he stalks back to his office, an unspoken command for you to follow.

You unload your dishes in the kitchen before making your way to his office. The small, dark room is cramped with overflowing file folders and coupons from multiple take-out places. You accidentally step on a stack of papers, and upon further inspection, seem to be a pile of applications for new hires. You distinctly remember complaining to him months prior about being understaffed and him replying that no inquiries were coming in.

As you approach, your manager shuffles through your coworkers pay stubs, and you notice yours and Jungkook’s on top of the piles.

Manager Jeong clears his throat. “Well, Y/N. It seems to be your lucky day. As you know, we split the tips based on your hours and what sort of duties you fulfill. With the new hire we have as our in-house singer, we’ve had to split it one way more to accommodate his arrival. However, he has recently requested to me that his portion be reallocated… to you, Ms. Y/N.”

Your jaw drops immediately. “I-I don’t understand, Manager Jeong,” you sputter.

Manager Jeong snorts, bemused by your reaction. “Don’t understand? Well, I suppose you’ll have to ask Mr. Jeon if you want his reasoning. Regardless, since we normally deposit your salary straight to your bank account, would it be alright if I hand you his tips in cash for now? He only informed me about his request an hour ago, and the accountant has already clocked out for the week.”

All you can do is nod dumbly back at him. With a huff, your manager presses a white envelope into your hands before promptly ushering you out of his office. “Well, that's settled. Out you go! Have a good weekend, Ms. Y/N. Don’t forget to lock the register before you leave!” He calls out before slamming his door in your face.

It takes you a moment to reanimate back to life. You stare at the white envelope for a long while, unable to fathom the scribbled out name of Jeon Jungkook replaced with your own name. Then, you crumple it into your fist before stomping over to where Jungkook and the rest of the band are in the middle of packing it up for the night.

Jungkook looks up from his guitar case when he senses you fast approaching. For a fleeting second, a smile graces his handsome face before it’s smacked away by your crumpled envelope.

“Keep your fucking cash, Jungkook. What the hell is your problem?” You fume, cheeks heating from agitation. Jungkook splutters for a moment, prying the envelope away from his face and looking at it in bewilderment. When he sees it clearly, recognition dawns on his face, followed by guilt.

“It’s just… my way of saying sorry, I guess.” He answers you meekly, neck flushing red in embarrassment. Behind him, the rest of the band grow silent at the scene before them, and you debate on telling them to mind their own business when they quicken their pace to leave.

“Well, keep your apology to yourself. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you correct him with a frown. To offer an apology is to offer accountability. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to hear him say that.

“No, it’s a sorry for… using you, I suppose.”

“Using me?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “For what?”

Jungkook smiles wryly back at you. “For inspiration?” he clarifies. For being the reason I can sing? He leaves that part unsaid, but you can almost imagine him saying it.

You feel heat rising to your cheeks again, but this time you aren’t quite sure if it’s from embarrassment, anger… or something else.

Unable to conjure up a response to his simple confession, you stomp away from him with a pounding heart and shaking hands. You continue the rest of your closing shift routine instinctually, your body moving on autopilot as Jungkook’s words continue to ring inside your head. When all is said and done, Jimin makes his way to your station with a questioning stare, but you wave him off in favor of stomping ahead of him to the parking lot.

In his car, Jimin rattles off about his latest exploits and purchases, his grating voice a comfort for once. You hum noncommittally during his stories when appropriate, but you suppose your usual indifference feels different, even to Jimin's untrained ears.

At his house, you drift to his bathroom immediately. You already have a shirt button undone by the time you get a handle on the door when Jimin’s hand stops you in place. You can feel his warmth emanating against your back as he slowly pulls the bathroom door close. With a tired sigh, you reluctantly turn to face him and find him standing closer than you expected.

He has an arm resting above your head, effectively caging you. You feel your shoulders sag. Damn, here comes another confrontation. Why can’t everyone just leave you alone?!

“Talk to me,” he says. No, he demands.

You push him away weakly, but he hardly budges. “Nothing to talk about,” you lie. Had you no filter, you’d be word vomiting all over the place ages ago.

Jimin groans, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Enough with the emotional constipation. I’m here to listen, alright? No teasing or anything, I’m all ears and maybe a shoulder to cry on. Just don’t stain my Chanel top too bad,” he jokes.

You puff out a short breath—a sorry excuse for a laugh. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to talk about it, and that’s that.”

“It’ll make you feel a lot better, though,” he offers.

You scoff. “What makes you think that? What if I just want to ignore all my problems forever and never grow from it? Is that so bad?”

Jimin pushes himself away from you, raising his hands in mock defeat. “You’re so fucking annoying. Can you stop running away from your problems and talk to me? Hell, talk to Jungkook for all I care! Just stop being a doormat and speak your mind for once in your damn life!”

“What are you, my therapist?” You brush past him, shower all but forgotten. You begin toeing your shoes back on, ready to head home tired and smelly. At the very least, you won’t have to deal with this stupid annoying asshole any longer.

Jimin strides back towards you, but for once he doesn’t do anything to forcibly stop you. Jimin has always been gruff with you, not afraid to push and pull you in any which direction. It’s part of the reason why you can’t take him seriously, even though you’ve recently realized why he was always being such a prick towards you—

“Yeah, I’m not your therapist. But for better or for worse, I’m your friend and I—I fucking care about you, alright? And it sucks seeing that good-for-nothing stick his nose in your business and act like he can do anything without any repercussions.”

Is Jimin being for real right now? “With how often you look at yourself in the mirror, you’d think you’d be better at introspection,” is all you say to that. You shove your feet into your shoes, not caring that you’ve probably put them on wrong. Maybe it’s because it’s Friday and the fatigue from the week has finally settled deep in your bones, but you can’t help but leave one last scathing remark to drive the final nail in the coffin.

“You know, if you were a little nicer to me, maybe I would talk to you. Hell, maybe I’d like you back. But no, just keep being your domineering, asshole self and I’ll keep being the same fucking doormat bitch you know and love,” you spit, turning towards the door and away from his face. You’re not even curious to see how he reacts. “I don’t need protection, alright? When I tell you to stay out of my business, you stay out of it. So don’t try and pretend to be my knight in shining armor.”

There’s an ocean of silence, enough to hear a pin drop. The urge to apologize surges to the surface, but you stamp it down. He’s petty all the time, so now it’s your turn.

Okay, maybe that’s a little too mean on your part, but you’re exhausted. Perhaps it is true when they say you should never act on your anger when it’s past midnight. But can anyone blame you? You’re only a girl, and girls need to snap too.

When he responds, his voice sounds weak. Park Jimin, weak? It's almost unthinkable. "Why don't you trust me?"

Isn't it obvious? you want to say. But some mercy remains within you. You'll pick up the pieces another time. Instead, you rasp out, “Good night, Park. I’ll see you on Monday.”

The walk of shame back to your house is long and arduous. Your phone dings thrice, likely signaling texts from Jimin, but you turn it off without checking for sure. For once, the weight on your shoulders is slightly lighter. You huff out a dry laugh, realizing belatedly that maybe Jimin is right—maybe speaking your mind has its benefits.

There’s a small park in your neighborhood that you always pass by. You don’t remember the last time you spared it a second glance, but this time you notice a lone figure swinging back and forth, arching dangerously higher than what you would consider safe. From a distance, all you can make out are the person’s comically bright boots, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is without seeing their face.

Cosmos, or whoever it is that controls my life, why must you braid our strings of fate so tightly? You ask, but as always, it refuses to reply.

Against your better judgment, your feet bring you closer towards him. He has his back towards you, his feet pumping him higher and higher and you half expect him to swing in a perfect arc like a gymnast on parallel bars. You have to keep your distance a bit, lest you get the wind knocked out of you by his signature stompers.

You clear your throat, and the boy stops mid-swing and nearly catapults himself into the spongey, playground floor. Hunched over and wheezing, Jungkook directs his shocked eyes at you with a comical stare.

You raise a hand in greeting. A peace offering, maybe. “Hello—”

“I swear I’m not stalking you!” Jungkook interrupts as he scrambles to his feet. He bows deeply in remorse, the action so endearingly him. “S-sorry, I’ll make my way home now…”

“I don’t own the park, Jungkook. I was just saying hello…” You snort, wringing your hands uncomfortably. You grind your shoes into the ground, the sound of crunching leaves breaking the still air. “A-and… to say sorry, for earlier.”

“Sorry?” Jungkook repeats, confused. When he realizes what you mean, he waves his hands frantically. “No, no! Don’t be sorry! It was my fault for being so inconsiderate. I understand how you might misconstrue my actions, and I made things more awkward. I’ll consider your feelings more in the future…”

In the future… You cough, unwilling to meet his bright and honest gaze. If you stare too long, you fear you might go blind.

“I come here to the park often, when I feel too cramped inside my apartment,” Jungkook explains, frantic energy radiating off him in waves. He’s gesticulating too much, a clear sign that he’s trying to hide his nerves. You remember how he would do the same thing in high school, whenever he had to present his projects in front of the class.

You hold a hand up, a weak attempt to get him to calm down. “I’m not here to interrogate you. I just wanted to…” What is it that you wanted to do?

The two of you just stand awkwardly like that, similar to a few weeks ago when you discovered you were neighbors. You’re grasping at straws in your head, both conflicted for wanting to tell him something and running away. Even if you were to talk to him, what would you say? There’s a reason you told Jimin you didn’t want to talk—frankly, it’s mostly because you have no idea what to say or feel.

But you do know, the universe responds.

I ask you questions all the time, and this is how you respond?

Either that, or you’re going insane, the universe remarks.

Jungkook pulls out his phone, his fingers fumbling as he unlocks it. He takes a furtive step towards you, but thinks better of it. There’s a few feet of distance between you, but it feels like worlds apart. Close and yet so far. You recall how you’d easily pull him towards you in the past, how being together felt as natural as breathing.

“I know you absolutely hated it the last time I played my original song at the restaurant, so I refrained from performing any ever since that night. But that didn’t stop me from writing them. I was fine with keeping them locked in a vault forever, but…” He hesitates, searching you for any signs of discomfort. When he sees the carefully blank look on your face, he continues with trepidation.

“Can I try a song for you? You don’t have to say yes, and you’re free to tell me to fuck off and I’ll never even look at you ever again. Just…” He flails one last time, a choked sob making its escape from his throat.

Are you hopeless for wanting to say yes? Or were you reverting back to your old self who relied on him and believed in him so heavily? If you wanted him out of your life for good, you would have quit your job at the first sight of him. Maybe you were masochistic. Or maybe were you hopeful for a new start, a chance to rekindle a relationship that you’ve secretly always wanted to repair.

You have so much life ahead of you. Many more mistakes will be made and maybe they’ll haunt you when you’re older. But would it really be such a terrible gamble to take one more chance?

You nod, and seal your fate.

He presses play, and the soft strumming of a guitar fills the empty playground air.

Not for the first time, you wonder how it can be so easy for Jungkook to be so… honest. He spills his heart in every song that he writes, and you know he’s never been a great liar. He can’t help it, being genuine is in his DNA. This crashing waterfall, this boy with overflowing emotions—he sings what he thinks but feels terrified because of it. You might not understand his honesty, but you know that fear. You know it all too well.

He beholds himself to you—raw and unfiltered. A little battered and bruised, but still Jungkook. Behind everything, still the boy you’ve been yearning for.

Maybe this song is what will give you enough confidence to admit everything to him, too. As you stand there, listening to his mellow voice sing confessions to no one but you and the stars, you think you grow a little more courageous that day.

Maybe you won’t be able to tell him tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, nor next week either. But as you gaze back at his hopeful eyes, you know deep in your heart that you’ll find the words you’ve been looking for.

“I’ll keep waiting for you, if you let me.” Jungkook’s voice floats gently to you, and settles in your open palms. This time, you don’t let go

xxx

Months later, Jungkook stops working at the restaurant when an offer from a major record company arrives in his mail. Apparently, a big shot from the local radio station had pitched him to an employee at that company and they were all pleasantly surprised to find a hidden gem at a random bar and restaurant.

In your apartment, you stare outside your window and to where his home is—well, where it was. You wonder if he finished packing his things, ready to make the big move tomorrow. You stand up with a stretch, sparing a glance at your still broken shower. It would be nice to have one more shower at his place… And after that? Maybe you should start looking for a nicer apartment; somewhere far away might be nice.

Your phone rings, and you see his contact photo light up your screen. With a smile, you answer.

“Come over, if you want. I won’t make you,” Jungkook assures you.

You laugh lightly, already halfway out the door.

#bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bangtan #bts #bts fanfic

1K notes · View notes