#life long friends to coworkers to lovers type shit

[its-still-cuppi-cakes]

Split Apart by Chaos

Sweetheart's pov

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Author's note: Sweetheart is referring to Milo as their husband because of how long they have been together. TRIGGER WARNING!! In this fanfiction mentions death, is emotional, and an implied anxiety attack. If that's not your type of read, don't continue here.

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Milo Greer. That's the only thing on my mind. My husband. My mate. The man who has been in my life for over half a decade made me the happiest person in the world, could be dead.

I was in my office when I was told about it. My coworker, Detective Gomez, came in and asked if I heard from my husband. I looked at them, my brow sewn together. "No, why?" Silence replaced the air in the dark room. His face grew pale, making my stomach turn. ".. You didn't hear?" I stood up, looking at them with fear and worry. "Hear.. what, Gomez," I press. He looks at me, hurt in his eyes. "The E&E games.. shades.. hundreds of them.. came into the stadium through a ward.. the Shaw pack was working as security for them, weren't they..?" The color in my face dropped to my shoes. "..Fuck."

I grabbed my jacket and stormed out to my car. I didn't even clock out. And I dare for the department to tell me jack shit about walking out. I didn't care and I don't care now. All I care about is my family.

I speed to my old college, running red light after red light, flooring the gas. I pull up to the parking lot, and security from D.U.M.P. is standing at the door. Getting out of my car, I grab my badge and phone. Heels clicking onto the concrete, I head to the door. One of the guards stands there, moving his arm to stop me. Before he could, I held my badge to his face, not stop walking. "Detective Greer, reporting from D.U.M.P., move."

I shove the two men out of my way by my shoulders, leaving them confused and stunned. Milo's gonna have my ass for being rude to the department I work for. Didn't care. He can lecture me all he wants, as long as I know he's okay with me. By my side. Holding my hand. I want to see his shit-eating grin and his eyes. His smile. His wolf form. Anything.

I pull up a picture of him holding our cat, Aggro. I'll use it to show people it and ask if they've seen him around the building. The window in the background tells me it was early in the morning when I took the picture, and the bed he was lying on was messy and unmade. Aggro, in his arms, looked tired and groggy as Milo looked at the camera with a pearly white smile. I tear up at the sight. "Please be okay," I mumble.

I look around, trying to see any sign of my werewolf lover. Chaos is all I see. Families and friends looking around the building, similar to what I look like. A mother was being held by what I assumed to be her husband, holding her as she panics. "It's technical difficulties, Honey, he's alright, I promise." "I'm sorry? Technical issues?" I think to myself. "Why the hell is D.U.M.P. lying to the public about this? Are these people not in this building to help?"

Never mind that right now. I have to find Milo and the others. I feel my anxiety crushing my chest. "Excuse me, have you seen this man around here? His name's Milo Greer. ... Okay thank you. " Excuse me, I'm sorry but have you seen any shifters around here? I'm trying to find my husband. He has a t-shirt that says Shaw Security on it. Have you seen anyone wearing anything like that? ... Okay, sorry. Stay safe."

Panic weighs on me. "Fuck fuck fuck shit fuck," I mumble to myself as I pull up another picture of Asher, David, Milo, and Tank in a living room from the past Solstice vacation cabin. I frantically look around. "Milo, please."

"Milo, please, please, please, please don't be in there. Please don't be dead." Tears fall as I try to push that thought out of my head. The image of his body... "No. He's not dead. He's fought shades before. He's more experienced in them. He knows what they're capable of. But they're shades. They're unpredictable. And you can't fight them off unless they're solid enough."

I flashback to our first date. If you could even call it that. Milo and I were working together to catch a shade that was causing trouble at big events like this. Milo was fighting off two that were almost fully solid. Mine? Not so much. It was enough to get ahold of, but only at certain parts of the body. Any part of it above its shoulders and below its waist was physical. My gun was torn by then dead shade's teeth during the fight. My knife was all I had. I was about to cloak when it struck me in the stomach and crawled at my clothes, ripping the bottom half of my shirt.

Pinning me to the wall,, its claws sinking into my neck. I saw its eyes. Black like a shark's, nothing held in them but hunger. As I thought that death was a breath away, I heard a growl. A low, angry growl. I smirk at the shade as it snarls, drooling on its grey lip.

The brown and white werewolf tackled the shade, digging his teeth into the shade's neck as it screeched, death sub coming to it. Milo snarled as he threw the corpse out of his mouth. Milo walked to me as I lay on the grass and dirt, gasping for air. I look at him. He looked at me softly. He looked at me like he was asking if I was okay.

From that day on, he has been gentle with me. He's been there for me. My wolf. My protector. My mate.

I snap back from my thoughts to my phone on my lap, vibrating. I look at the notification, reading my mate's name on the top. "Sweetheart, there's something going on at the games, I'm okay but I'm going to try and find out info on what's going on and how I can help. I love you." Sent two hours ago. The interference with the ward must have slowed the text down.

Frantically dodging the people in the crowd as I slip by them. I look around, trying to find Milo in the sea of people crying and talking over one another. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, and friends sit in the cafeteria of the school. Some calling, many legs bouncing, parents pacing. I look around the tables, hoping to see any familiar faces.

I stop in my tracks, seeing a familiar figure in the crowd. Brown hair, Brooklyn accent, black t-shirt with the name [GREER] across the shoulder blades. I stand there, crying in relief. My voice quakes.

"Milo!"

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The End!!

#redacted verse #redacted fandom #redacted fanfic #redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted #redacted sweetheart #redactedverse #redacted milo

[solomons-poison]

Neighbor!Diavolo hcs

A/N: I can't believe it didn't occur to me before, but I realized I would love to see what Dia would be like as a regular human. Normally I would think about a CEO!AU or something but since this is a neighbor hc post, he is simply a normal human lol. If he didn’t have to worry about prioritizing his duties as prince, he’d be an absolute sweetheart and romance the hell out of you. This went a different direction compared to the JJK boys editions but I really liked this one. Enjoy ❤️

Warnings: MDNI!!, GN bottom!reader (no pronouns or genitals mentioned), human!Diavolo, friends to lovers ;) , mention of oral (reader receiving), little bit of size kink

Masterlist

Neighbor!Dia that, the first time you meet him, practically scares the shit out of you with his massive frame and intense golden eyes. But it only takes a split second for you to realize he's actually just a golden retriever in human form with the biggest smile you've ever seen. He’s not afraid to wrap you up in the biggest and sweetest hug you’ve ever had if you welcome them, practically engulfing you.

Neighbor!Dia that quickly reveals himself to be the boy-next-door type. If you're ever struggling with your groceries, having trouble with your car, or need basic house maintenance, he's always happy to help you. His down-to-earth attitude and his joyful laugh bring some cheer to your day, and he delights in making you smile.

Neighbor!Dia that goes biking every morning, and if you weren't a morning person before, you are now. If you're already an active person in the morning, Dia is quick to invite you to his outings, and you spend the time getting to know each other, discussing your plans for the day and annoying coworkers.

Neighbor!Dia that starts treating you to coffee after your morning outings, either bringing you to his favorite café or delivering the coffee directly to you. It starts slowly at first, him trying to figure out what you like and your preferences, until finally it's a daily occurrence. No matter how much you insist he doesn't have to do it or that you want to repay the favor, he always wins in the end. Eventually, your morning isn't complete until he's given you an exuberant "good morning" and your favorite coffee.

Neighbor!Dia that starts to hang out with you on the regular outside of your morning workout. An occasional dinner together, watching a movie together, playing board games with you. You don't know when it started, but you realize you miss him dearly when he leaves to go back to his apartment at the end of the night, and it doesn't take three guesses to put a name to the flutter in your heart.

Neighbor!Dia that nervously asks you out on a date and you're both a blushing mess over it. Several dates later, he's still completely flustered when you two walk into your usual café holding hands and the staff tease you with a "finally!". The apartment visits turn into a daily occurrence, now complete with kisses and cuddling and plenty of dates.

Neighbor!Dia that tenderly but heavily makes out with you on your couch during one of your movie nights. The movie is all but forgotten as he lowers you down onto your back, large hands cradling you and handling you like you're the most precious thing he's ever held. He's quick to learn all the sensitive spots that make you melt for him, with his fingers and his tongue.

Neighbor!Dia that is afraid of hurting you with his massive dick body but your encouraging sounds of pleasure and your flushed face quickly make him lose his cool, pounding you into the couch before long. He’s also happy to try every position in the book once you give him the green light. Despite the rough treatment, sex with Diavolo is the very definition of love-making, as he makes sure to attend to your every need and desire, and you’ve never felt so loved in your life.

I may have been possessed when I wrote this, I don’t know where the inspiration came from. But now I’m going to be thinking of human!Dia just getting to be carefree and the sweetest person ever 🥺 reblogs and comments appreciated! Also would love suggestions for any other characters for these neighbor!AU hc posts!

#diavolo x reader #diavolo x mc #obey me diavolo #obey me shall we date #obey me smut #nsft warning #obey me imagines #tarren*writes #diavolo x y/n #posting at a horrible time as i am wont to do #the minx can write ✍️ #spicy minx 🔥

[yoonieper]

Santa Baby | JHS

"Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight~"

❅ Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

❅ Genre: coworkers to lovers, kinda fluffy, smut

❅ Rated: U for Unexpected

❅ Warnings: fingering, protected sex, a little spice to get your day going 😌

❅ Word Count: 3.1k

❅ Summary: A company dinner turns into a night of unexpected passion with your work friend.

❅ Thank you: Thank you to @jamaisjoons for the banner (ik you made this a year ago 😅)~

❅ Author’s Note: This was very rushed so it’s shorter than I planned, but hope y’all still enjoy (a cup of spice is always nice :’D)~ I have more Hobi fics planned so stay tuned for that~ This was actually meant to be posted last year for an event my net was hosting but y’all know me, can’t meet deadlines for shit :’)

JHS Entertainment. You had only started working at the company earlier this year and it was the place you had dreamed of being at since you decided you wanted to go into the film industry.

The position wasn’t exactly what you pictured, you were oftentimes stuck on a computer editing rather than helping film big ideas like you had hoped. You had to make your way up the ladder in order for you to get to where you really wanted and within the months you worked at JHS you had already managed to get promoted. You knew it was going to be a long road ahead of you but you still felt proud of yourself as the end of the year rolled around.

During your time at the company you had even made a few friends. None of you had really hung out with each other outside of work, the most being anytime your department heads invited you out to dinner, or the one time a few months ago you all went on this “team-building” retreat.

You never thought you would be a big fan of those types of things, anytime in the past you’ve been dragged into those situations you wanted to be anywhere but with your coworkers after hours.

This time though, anytime you’d walk into work you had fun memories to laugh with your coworkers about because of them.

You would always laugh with Jess about that time on the retreat that Gavin drunkenly professed his love to the director by singing his heart out and spilled wine all over her expensive outfit (they’re dating now).

You would sometimes gossip with Tisha about all the countless rumors you would hear about Peter and Cassie and their supposed affair despite both of them being married after she caught them making out in the bathroom.

You had great memories working here, your boss was nice, your coworkers for the most part were amazing, you really had everything to be thankful for as the year began to close out.

Working at JHS even gave you the opportunity to meet him, Jung Hoseok, one of your best work friends. You both worked in the same department and he was hired just a few months before you. You both bonded over being the new person and that connection eventually blossomed into your friendship today.

As much as you loved your job, most of the people you worked with you could only foresee being a work friend and nothing more. Hoseok and Ruby, another coworker who was hired around the same time, were the only ones you could actually see yourself staying in touch with if you were to ever leave.

You guys had even tried to make plans outside of work occasionally but work or home duties always got in the way you would always need to cancel. You still wanted to try and make an “unofficial meeting” happen eventually.

You had your friends and your fair share of relationships with your team and you couldn’t honestly be at a happier point in your life.

It was this optimism that when your department head announced that they were hosting a “holiday” company dinner party you didn’t groan like some of your coworkers around you in the fact your time off might be interrupted for an evening. If anything you for some reason was a little excited at memorable moments that could be made at an event like this.

On the day of the dinner you spent a good amount of time getting ready. This was the first time your coworkers were going to see you dressed up and you wanted to impress.

You had bought this knee-length, tight baby blue dress. It was just the right amount of not too out there considering the occasion, and sexy with the small slit that came up your thigh and how the dress hugged your figure. The spaghetti straps and low cut of the neckline offered a little extra dash of spice to the outfit with the way it offered a tasteful amount of cleavage.

What were you hoping to accomplish wearing a dress like this to your company dinner? Absolutely nothing, you just wanted to feel good, look good, as you tried your best to enjoy yourself at the dinner party. Who knows, maybe there might be someone at this party you might catch the attention of.

You honestly didn’t think that would happen, all that might come out of a night like this would be having a little fun, taking advantage of the open bar, getting bored out of your mind, and maybe one interesting thing happens that you might still be talking about after the holidays are over. You certainly didn’t expect for the night to go the way it did.

You in fact did turn heads the minute you walked into the room, your face was burning as you saw the lingering eyes of your coworkers and the quiet whispers they probably didn’t expect for you to hear.

You thought that would be it for your moment of fame, another coworker would walk in and everyone’s eyes would be on them for the rest of the night. However, when you made it to where Ruby and Hoseok were sitting you were instantly overflowed with compliments from Ruby that had your face burning brighter than the sun and Hoseok… well, for a while your friend didn’t say a single word, as for quite some time he couldn’t stop staring at you.

You liked to think you knew your friend group well, you’ve been working together for nearly a year now, but the minute you were taken out of the work environment you saw a whole new side of Hoseok. He was your friend, yes a friend who made you gawk the first time you met him. He was handsome, kind, and was the source of joy that would get you through your workday.

He was your friend and your workplace crush— a crush you no doubt shared with a lot of your coworkers. You never considered acting on it, at least not until you felt a little more confident he felt the same way. As of now, you had no indication that he liked you, but apparently you weren’t completely off his radar like you had wondered. You managed to catch his attention and tonight was the night he wanted to let you know.

You, Hoseok, and Ruby were laughing one minute, the next thing you knew she was making up some excuse to talk with Jerry, literally the most boring guy ever (he one time talked both you and Ruby’s heads off about his excitement watching the paint dry on his fence), and that was the last you saw of your friend the entire night.

“So what now…?” You asked as you watched her scurry off.

“Mmmm, I think we can still have fun with just the two of us.” Hoseok smirked at you and you were a little taken aback by the way his voice changed. It instantly had flags going up in your mind. It had been a while since you were in this position, but for some reason you got the sense he was flirting with you.

“Oh really? What makes you think that?” You chuckled, turning your attention fully to the beautiful man in front of you.

For a little while he didn’t respond as his eyes continued to scan over your form. You were getting warmer than when you held the attention of almost everyone here.

“Y/n, I’m sorry I can’t get over this, you look absolutely amazing tonight.” He flashed you one of his signature charming smiles and suddenly you did not know how to act. It seemed your intuition was very correct.

You truly did not know your friend as well as you thought you did, because the entire night you found yourself taken aback, smitten, and blushing like a schoolgirl the minute he would just smile at you. He had turned up his flirt game all the way to a thousand.

While you undoubtedly had some type of feelings for him, you had this picture in your head that he was just the softest, most oblivious guy to the game you've ever met. At work, he can’t even take compliments without saying how amazing the entire team is. You even one time tried to shoot him a subtle flirty text to kinda see where you stood and if you had any chance whatsoever.

You [11:53pm]: Are you a triangle? Cause I think you’d be acute one ;)

Hobi <3 [8:24am] Idk, I see myself more as a oval tbh :p

To be fair that was not one of your greatest hits of all time, but that was definitely not the response you expected after spending all night tossing and turning thinking about what he might say in the morning, only to wake up to him calling himself an oval.

Since that day you never once pictured your friend being a flirt. You were definitely shocked to find out he was seemingly a very experienced flirt because this man had more game than any other guy you’ve ever talked to.

It only made you wonder, was he really as oblivious as you thought he was or…?

If you ever needed a bigger sign that your crush for your friend wasn’t as silly as you thought, Hoseok made sure to give you a bright neon one with a billion arrows pointing to the answer.

It was as if the dinner party wasn’t happening as the two of you chatted like you were on a date. The soft lighting of the candle set the mood as you both chatted away, completely ignoring your coworkers around you. It was like you were in your own little world, lost in each other’s eyes.

You both also made it to the dance floor eventually. Your arms were wrapped around his frame as you both slow danced to the soft band that was playing a jazzy rendition of Santa Baby.

To be honest, the night was a blur, everything happened so fast. One minute you both were drinking cocktails at the open bar, the next you were feeding each other pasta, dancing the night away, and way too soon for both of your likings, the dinner party was ending.

You were some of the last two people leaving.

Hoseok had draped his jacket across your shoulders as you both waited for an uber. You were smiling like an idiot because he offered to take you home and your mind was spiraling at the possibilities.

You hoped this was going the way you thought it was.

You thought briefly about the consequences of whatever was happening between you and Hoseok. Based on what you’ve heard from movies, books, along with your friends, relationships between coworkers never end well and make things extremely complicated in the workplace.

You were a little wary about pressing further, but the way he held you close as the chill November air blew over you both, and you reminisced about the night you shared, you figured you would worry about later. All you hoped was he would kiss you at least once tonight.

Once your uber pulled up, you got your answer. The minute you closed the door behind the both of you his hand was on your thigh and he kindly asked the driver to hurry.

Oh.

Suddenly you were hot all too quickly and the 15 minute ride to your place seemed like an eternity.

He didn’t make things any easier, his cool hand lightly stroked your warm thigh, inching up higher and higher as he calmly looked out the window at the city night life outside. You wanted to scream, moan, push his hand up further, but you focused on trying to stay as calm as you could until you made it to your apartment.

You felt like you were nearly about to lose your mind by the time you both were racing out the car and hurrying to the elevator.

You both hadn’t really said much to each other for a while, letting your actions speak louder than any words could but as you both made it to your front door suddenly the lingering questions needed to be answered.

You stood in front of your door and Hoseok cooly caged you into his arms, close, but not as close as you wanted him.

“I had a great time tonight~” He smiled down at you, his eyes fleeting down to your lips.

“Me too…” You wanted to say more, say how happy tonight has truly made you but the way he looked at you made anything more complex leave your brain.

“I was thinking… tonight doesn’t have to end just yet…” His voice was low and fuck, why wasn’t his lips on yours yet.

In a moment of clarity you jumped at the opportunity. You leaned forward to meet his ear.

“Only if your plans for the night end with you inside me.” It was bold and usually you were so. Hoseok’s charms were enough for you to forget all of your hot girl training.

When you pulled back you were satisfied to see a stunned look on his features before he chuckled darkly.

“Turn around, I need that door open baby.” It was a command that had you weak in the knees. You followed quickly, reaching into your little clutch for your keys.

Suddenly his hands were on your waist as he pressed himself into your ass. “That’s been my plan since you walked in.” He sighed and you felt it, just how much he wanted you.

You hastily pushed the key in the hole, turning the lock and leading the both of you inside.

Before you had time to realize what was happening, your back was against the door and his lips were on yours, so soft and so perfect as he cupped your cheek and pulled you close.

Your hands desperately came up to tug at his suit jacket, throwing it on the floor as quickly as you could before moving to pull at his tie. You both didn’t make it far, at least far enough to make it to your room. You both ended up leaving a trail of your clothes that led straight to your couch.

You hastily climbed on his lap, the moment of separation unbearable as you quickly went back to meet his lips. You relished in the moan he let out as you ground your hips down, eagerly searching for some type of friction.

You felt Hoseok’s hands run up your thighs before settling on your hips and he started lightly tugging on your panties. You were taken aback when you felt his hand slip past the fabric and started rubbing circles over your clit.

Your body instantly reacted, breaking the kiss, as you stared at him with pleading eyes.

“Fuck— Hoseok, please…” You sighed enjoying the pleasure his fingers were bringing you but you wanted more. It was only the minute his hands made it onto your skin did you realize how long it’s been since someone has touched you like this.

“Shit, you’re so wet already…” He marveled as he ran his fingers through your slick folds.

“Do you think you can take me now?” He asked, just as impatient as you were.

When he got here he thought he was going to be able to absolutely worship your body, but the minute his lips were on yours, suddenly all he could think about was how soon he could get his cock inside you.

You nodded but almost screamed when his fingers slipped inside.

“No teasing please, I need you n—“ You pleaded.

You felt so good around his fingers, he couldn’t wait any longer to finally feel you.

“Can you grab my wallet out of my pants? I have condoms in there…” He looked over where you had nearly torn them off trying to get them off of him.

You hurriedly did as he asked, finding his wallet thankfully quite quickly before you were back on his lap and handing it to him. It only took a second for him to find it and get it on, but that second felt like an entirety to you before you happily sank down onto him.

You both moaned together at the feeling. You kissed him hurriedly as you took a second to adjust. Your hands racked over his back, that pesky dress shirt in the way of feeling him completely, and into his dark brown hair.

“Please baby…” He moaned, begging for you to move.

You didn’t need him to tell you twice and you slowly started moving your hips to a steady rhythm that quickly had you throwing your head back.

“Shit, you feel so good.” Hoseok groaned, slapping your ass lightly.

Who knew this day would turn out to be this way? From a friend you had yet to meet outside of work to suddenly having his cock sending you to a new dimension. It was a great turn of events for you.

You only hoped that this wouldn’t be the end, that he might stay the night even, that he might ask you out on a date later. For now though you were happy with this, so so happy.

Before you knew it he was spilling inside you and he used his fingers to quickly push you over the edge as well.

You both were out of breath, your thighs burned but you couldn’t stop smiling down at him.

He sweetly kissed your nose before pecking your lips once more.

“So, what does this mean for us?” You asked curiously.

“That I have to see you again outside of work, and this time not at a company dinner.” He laughed and you joined in, your heart welling with joy.

“Only if that means we get to do this all over again.” You smirked.

He thought about it for a moment. “I think I can work that into our plans.”

“I’m excited~” You smiled.

“Mhmmm, but first you have to tell me where your room is so we can do this properly.” He chuckled.

Oh.

You pointed to the door that you were facing and before you even realized you were squealing as he picked up and carried off for even more fun.

You really didn’t know your friend it seems, but you were excited to see him in this new light. Who knows what else he might be hiding?

#bts #bts smut #hoseok x reader #jung hoseok #hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok fanfiction #jhope fanfic #bts fanfic #bts jhope #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #bts fan fiction #bts fluff #bts angst #namjoon angst #bangtansorciere #bangtanbathhouse #bts one shot #rm #hoseok one shot

[tinted-skies]

my first or last?

Mark `~ first.

He'd be your first and he'd make you feel as if you were his first as well (even if that weren't the case).

He would take you out whenever he found the time to and always ask for permission before kissing you or taking your hand in his... wholesome boy™, would never take you for granted.

You could swear he was the boy you were meant to grow old with but his insecurities would get the best of him. Was he holding you back? Were you with him just because you had no ex to compare him to?

Mark would refrain himself from ever being your last because he believed you deserved someone better than him.

Renjun `~ last.

After too many failed first encounters, you were now 30+ years old, working a random day job with no desire to start a romantic relationship whatsoever.

But unfortunately for you, the moment you decided to give up on love, the universe decided to send you cute coworker!Renjun to prove you that there is still hope after all.

He was kind, sweet and loveable but also very determined - hence why he didn't beat around the bush, asking you on a date quickly after he realised his feelings for you. Cue the start of a beautiful relationship that would last years to come <3

Renjun would be the reason you believe in love again.

Jeno `~ last.

Opposed to Mark, I believe Jeno's insecurity would be towards you (due to rough past relationships) and he'd fear that you wouldn't reciprocate his level of affection. However, after endless reassurance about how you felt for him, he was finally able to let down his guard.

Now you'd spend the rest of your days being followed around by a big baby who wants nothing more than to bear hug you and give you some cookies!!

This may be a weird thing to say, but in my eyes Jeno is a very responsible person when it comes to other people's feelings, so he'd find great joy in taking care of you and making sure you were happy all the time - aka the perfect last.

You and Jeno would have an happily ever after type of love.

Haechan `~ first.

Listen... *sighs*... he's a gemini.

I think Haechan would love to be your first, you might not have been his first but that didn't make things any less exciting for him. He'd have fun showing you new stuff and taking you on little adventures and everything would be so cute and chill but also intense because you'd both be so drawn to each other. But then, one day, he'd probably just get bored of it all.

And it doesn't mean he doesn't love you anymore (because he DOES), but the spark just isn't there anymore and he likes to live life always searching for that spark, you know?

I think it'd depend on the time you'd start dating tho. Maybe there would come a time when he'd want to settle and find a bit of stability, choosing to stay with you, as long as you promised to search for that spark alongside him.

Haechan would be your exciting and passionate first love.

Jaemin `~ last.

Hear me out, if I had to pick any dreamie to write a soulmate!au it would be this man right here. Childhood friends to lovers!au <333

In a perfect life you would have noticed the huge crush Jaemin had had on you all through highschool, and he would have been your first AND last. But due to your density college!Jaemin pushed his feelings aside, blaming it all on the raging hormones puberty came with (LIAR)

Although life sometimes got in the way, the world always seemed to put you two back together, and after years of trying to convince himself he was over you, he finally said "fuck it" and risked it all by confessing his feelings for you.

When you revealed you felt the same way, a weight lift off of his shoulders, feeling dumb for not having talked to you sooner. Little did you know that you'd be with him for the rest of your life, leaving you with plenty of time to make up for it.

Jaemin would love you through thick and thin, he'd want to be your first and last.

Chenle `~ last.

Chenle wouldn't give a shit if he was your first or last, he was  living his life and just happened to come across you (and well now he happens to be stuck with you forever 🙃)

He'd be a super chill but also very responsible partner, taking care of your financial bills, possessions, insurances... *insert other economic stuff idk shit about* He'd show his love through little acts of service but would never shy away from an opportunity to shout to the world just how much he loved you.

You'd be a great team. He had always seen relationships as something stable and long-lasting, instead of passionate and intense (contrasting with Mr. Lee Haechan).

Chenle would be the laidback but very caring type of last.

Jisung `~ first.

Let's be honest this boy would be a nervous wreck, and chances are you wouldn't be much better.

Jisung was probably one of those people who'd start a relationship still not knowing exactly who he was and what he wanted. So I believe his first love wouldn't be his last because he needed to grow and find himself.

However, I think if you broke up and later in life found him (and you were both single), he'd be up for another try, basking in the way both of you had grown so much and become more aware and determined.

Jisung would be the one to regret finding you first.

#mark x reader #mark fluff #renjun x reader #renjun fluff #jeno x reader #jeno fluff #haechan x reader #haechan fluff #jaemin x reader #jaemin fluff #chenle x reader #chenle fluff #jisung x reader #jisung fluff #nct dream x reader #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagines #nct dream oneshots #nct dream drabbles #nct dream scenarios #nct x reader #nct fluff

[ratgingi]

literally all of jacksons friends are like. infinitely cooler looking than he is. anyway rejoice !!!!!!!!!! exie be upon ye

exie is usually pretty nice up until she isnt, as shes got a bit of a short fuse and her emotions change up very easily, sometimes bouncing around even within the same conversation

she is the other worker at the arcade, she's meetable in chapter one and assumes that the player is a cosplayer/something similar and compliments them on their 'costume making skills'

she was going to be dateable at one point !!!!!!!!! but doesnt actually have anything she needs help with in life really. shes pretty happy with where she is

she used to be pretty self conscious about her physical appearance (being pretty tall + thin + lanky) and occasionally will struggle with it some but for the most part she trained herself into better thinking habits by faking way over the top confidence, she still uses it nowadays as a means to make others laugh/lighten moods and boost herself as well

shes very careful about her box, she HAS to keep it plugged into her head at all times as it sends signals to her brain that keep her heart pumping + lungs breathing + etc etc, shes lived with it ever since she was a little kid and if she becomes unplugged for more than a minute or so she'll die, she refers to it as being on 'life support'

she has a group of friends she keeps in contact with online that live a couple states away, and sort of remain her main friend group aside from her coworkers

likes to jokingly jab at her friends with silly / nonsensical remarks (think 'your mama so crumb strong ants took her away forever' and "L + ratio" type shit)

while very intelligent when it comes to computers (which are her special interest), she doesnt have much of a braincell elsewhere, at least not when directly interacting with other people, since she mostly just wants to act silly while with others

she spent a lot of time bedbound while younger and thanks to that had a lot of time on her hands, which she put towards messing with computers and code

the wedding ring she wears was something a dude traded her for a quarter so that he could play air hockey. she tells people it belongs to her long lost lover. also, the only thing she keeps in the fanny pack is a pen she stole from an ex coworker before he got fired

she usually has her screen displaying some sort of aesthetic-ish screensaver, but she also likes using it to display reaction memes when she gets the opportunity

she has a last name but shed sooner unplug her box than tell you what it is. she knows she could change it if she really wanted but part of her finds it too funny to let go of

this is her main/causal outfit, however shed probably never be seen in it in game, as you only ever really meet her in the arcade in her uniform currently

#dialtown #dialtown oc #jack dlc #dlc wiki #hobos creations #YES her design is like. super over the top. its intentional #ill be reblogging her tomorrow some probably . all of u have to see her

[banterismylovelanguage]

Analyzing my ship taste recently

In the most surface-level way possible

XIAOVEN

The og, the lovers across centuries, my OTP in Genshin.

Very wholesome and angst-ridden ship, I classify it lightly as having the characteristics of “childhood friends to lovers” due to the interpersonal knowledge they (would) have of each other in this ship.

Childhood friends to lovers has always been that devoted ship, “I choose you despite all we meet and will meet, and in every hardship I will stand by you”, and the loyalty that one has for the other is the defining characteristic of this ship for me.

This is how I see Xiaoven. So, despite the fact they’re not actually childhood friends, it has that same timeframe of a long time knowing each other and utter devotion to each other.

Now let’s look at another example of one of my “old” fave ships in Genshin.

JEANLISA (…anybody think I was going for Shenjin? It works for this, but Imma put it at the end because this ship better proves my comparisons)

Jeanlisa is prob best fit for friends to lovers but it has all the same characteristics of childhood friends to lovers. (Coworkers to lovers works as well, but I think that dynamic is more flexible in what type of coworker they are—enemies? Begrudging allies? Married couple? Or friends…)

Friends to lovers feels more like the oblivious “childhood friends to lovers” version of the dynamic. Both of them act like they’re committed to the other, but it takes one moment of “Oh shit, I actually really like you” for everything to hit it off. One starts to realize they know more about that person than other friends that they start to naturally seek touch or crave touch when it isn’t given; maybe there’s a moment or two of seeing a couple and wondering what the difference is between that couple’s relationship and their friendship is—to only realize there is no difference other than the label or the intimacy (that they would be utterly okay with!).

Again, there’s a dedication there, but it doesn’t have quite the long timeframe—yet. It’s wanting to have those long years with the other person.

Jeanlisa has that vibe, but it contains a touch of angst with one life being cut short, and perhaps that’s the kicker of a moment that brings them together into the next step of their relationship.

All right, onto the new ships…

WRIONEY

I’m so stereotypical for this, but I love a good enemies to lovers ship. I was so wrong for only seeing the women (Furina, Arelcchino) for Lyney’s potential ships, only to have my mind blown with Wriothesley’s introduction. This a good ship.

Complete opposite of Xiaoven, there’s no devotion or loyalty here—there’s not even an ounce of trust! Destruction, betrayal, blackmail—everything to break down any spark of a relationship here. And yet, why is the ship so appealing?

Well, any enemies to lovers ship is about seeing the worst sides of two people, being confronted with the honesty in the hatred, and finding a weird sort of trust in that consistency—this person may hide their motives from me and their real life, but at least I know my standing with them. There’s no front of trying to make one appear to be the best version of themselves in order to impress; there is teeth gnashing and blood drawn and lots of high-tension moments of bringing someone to the edge and waiting for them to snap.

EXACTLY what we get with WRIONEY. So where does the romance come in?

It comes from the honesty. Hatred is only a coin flip from love as they say (LOL don’t take that too seriously), and I believe that, in seeing the worst of each other, there’s a stronger connection that can be built through the pain.

It takes the timeframe needed from childhood friends to lovers and cuts it into pieces with one pivotal moment that spotlights the other character’s true self—that shows everything that the other needed to know—and then it’s slowly rebuilding everything you initially misunderstood about that person into something that aligns with the true self you saw earlier.

And it’s devastatingly romantic.

Let’s take another example:

ARLEFURI

Gonna be honest, saw someone characterize this as toxic yuri and I’ve been in such a mood since I’ve been waiting for Heartbreak Studios to release The Lovers.

This is obviously enemies to lovers, but with a fascinating dynamic.

LOTS of power dynamics, high tension, and danger in this ship, and I’m really looking forward to more scenes to get a better pin on Arlecchino’s character and WHAT IS HAPPENING WHAT with everything going on with them.

The hints I’ve been given to what their dynamic could be like certainly starts as enemies, but usually enemies (in the ship dynamic) are more seen on equal footing to their hatred of each other and thus the poisonous remarks exchanged between the two should be equal (or, at least, what I’m used to seeing).

Arlefuri isn’t quite on that level—yet, or maybe you see that happening behind closed doors, without an audience in your headcanons. It’s certainly an “enemy that hates the other, and the other that hates them too but is also desperately scared of them.” You get the captor/captive dynamic that is fun in of itself to explore.

Usually, the breaking moment in these dynamics is the captor performing some action of excellent standing, either fully for the captive’s benefit or for what the captive loves.

For what changes the captor, in Arlefuri’s case, I see a moment of the captive defying the expectations of the captor.

Honestly, thinking Furina is a selfish, worthless archon is quite in line for typical captor/captive dynamics.. from what I’ve heard or whatever (LOL).

IN CONCLUSION,

I’ve taken a turn for high-strung ship dynamics with Fontaine 😏

Okay, but seriously, these complicated ships are absolutely my jam and it’s quite fun to see so much potential for exploration of individual characters in ship dynamics, and Wrioney and Arlefuri are scratching those itches nicely.

(Anybody have any interesting ships or friendships with Navia? 👀)

Anybody interested in Shenhe ships additional note:

SHENJIN falls closer to strangers to lovers with a longer timeframe of gaining that friends to lovers title, but it still holds under a more wholesome ship.

For strangers to lovers, there’s an added spice of getting to know someone you have no opinion of recently (really, any ship ever) but as adults and with Yun Jin’s interest in Shenhe’s true backstory, you have the classic slow burn with the angst being the fear of letting someone in and know the true you. Who do you trust with the most delicate parts of your heart?

In Yun Jin’s case, who do you let see the most tired parts of yourself, under the makeup and after the performance?

SHENLAN is closer to my current fave ship dynamics, another version of strangers to lovers but in very fun “let’s add some death-defying moments!”

It almost feels like it should be an enemies to lovers ship, but Shenhe doesn’t really have that vibe of creating an intentional enemy, and Yelan could make herself an enemy and absolutely push people away, but it more feels like a childhood friend you try to shake off but never do despite their dedication to you, without the years of dedication.

It gives more the coworkers/buddy cop dynamic: I have your back and you have mine, but I don’t want you to risk your life for me and I will pretend I won’t risk my life for you.”

Fun, right?

Then there’s of course the pivotal moment of “Oh no you risked your life for me and now I see we’re in it for real and can I take you on a date next Saturday and truly get to know the real you—which I tried not to do all this time since?”

Anyway, hope you enjoyed these fun little thoughts.

#I swear I wasn’t a watpad girl with how cheesy some of these interpretations are #but I am a connoisseur of all things shipping tropes and thus… #surface-level lenses #it’s really just to get that feeling on them since the archon quest isn’t over yet #we’ll get into it deeper as we know more #4.1 spoilers #fontaine spoilers #arlefuri #wrioney #I haven’t looked in these tags yet… kinda scared to LOL #xiaoven #jeanlisa #shenjin #shenlan #other ships fall into this too #genshin headcanons #shipping tropes #enemies to lovers #childhood friends to lovers

[jaybird-fanfics]

Villain Roommate |Chapter Thirty Four|

Dreams of Dabi only became more intense after that night. It would always be, he would somehow be in your life again, then you two would hug, then kiss, before you woke up. You would always wake up right after the kiss, right before, or during. And it haunted you, even if you were ever to see Dabi again, you wouldn't be able to face him. You'd never see him the same. Oh, but it got worse. This latest dream, you two went as far as getting a little...touchy. Well, let's be real, a lot touchy. Way more touchy than friends should. 

It was after you woke up in a hot sweat, heart beating out of your chest as if he had actually just put his hands on you. Steadily roaming your body, making sure to caress every inch of you. How his hands were so rough, yet so gentle as they met with your body. How he could take your breath away with a single touch. You shivered. "This has got to stop." You say breathlessly. You couldn't view Dabi like this. Dabi was not your lover, you shouldn't be thinking of him in that way. 

You knew this, you understood this, yet your body and mind betrayed you. Your body ached and yearned for his touch, while your mind raced with thoughts of just how he would preform when it came to the real thing. You shook your head. "That's not going to happen, so just stop!" You scold no one but yourself. 

You nearly jumped out of your skin as you heard you alarm going off. With a groan you got up and got ready for another day. 

"Girl I told you!" Maria boasted. You had just gotten here for your usual order, but you also told he about your dreams. You'd hope she'd keep it on the downlow once you told her, but clearly that was not the case. Your face flushed a shade of red before you shooshed her. "Ok, yes, you were right. Please don't make a big thing out of it." You whisper. Maria's shit eating grin only grew. "Yeah, I knew it all along. You so have a thing for him." 

You sigh, picking up your order. "I'd hope this wouldn't be the case." Maria tilts her head. "Why not?" She asks. But before you could explain, she was called by a coworker. "Ah, sorry. I gotta run, we can talk later yeah?" You nod your head. "Yeah, I should get going to. See you later Maria." You then made your way out of the shop and to the nearest train station. 

Dabi was on your mind the whole time you were working. Your boss noticed you were distracted, and offered to help by talking about it. However, you weren't about to tell your boss that you had feelings for a wanted villain, now were you? So, you just waved it off saying it was because you weren't sleeping enough. Your boss didn't look like they bought it, but they didn't question you further. Instead, they told you to try and get some more sleep. 

By the time you got off work, you were mentally drained. There was only one person, who was actually near you, who could help. And that was Maria. It had to have been a stroke of luck that you two got off work around the same time. You called her and told her to meet you at your place so you could both talk further. Maria, of course, agreed to the plan. 

It didn't take long for Maria to show up, she only lived a block away from you. In her hand, she held a bottle of your favorite drinks as well as a few pastries from her work. You gladly let her in, and you two sat down for a little chat.

"So, tell me all about him." Maria said before munching on one of the pastries. You blushed and avoided her gaze. There wasn't much you could tell her. You two were good friends, but you weren't entirely sure she'd understand, even if you did explain it all to her. So, thinking of the best lie you could come up with, you answered. "Well, he's a bit of a...bad boy? Yeah, he's a bad boy alright. He's never the type to follow the rules, and had even gotten into some trouble." Maria smirked. "I didn't figure you were the type to go after those kinds of men." She chuckled. "But do go on." 

"But, he hasn't had the best life. His past, his childhood, none of it was good. And it wasn't any of his fault, he was just born into the wrong kind of family. And all that damage, it turned him into...not that great of a guy." You say sadly. Maria was silent as she listened to you. "He was so infuriating when I first met him. And at first, I never really felt safe with him around. But, as the days and weeks went on, he slowly grew on me. I found that, I had grown to really care about that jerk."

"And, in turn, he cared about me. I could hardly believe it myself, but he really did protect me from some bad stuff...And one day, he said he had feelings for me." Maria gasped. "He did? Did you reject him?" You nodded, sadly. "I did. I never appreciated him as fully as I could have, and now...I'll never get the chance to." 

Maria put her hand on yours. "I'm so sorry Y/n. Say, why did you move away? Did you guys have a fight?" 

"No, nothing like that. Um...It's just, I did it for personal reasons." It was the best you could have came up with. It's not like you could have told her the real reason why. Maria nods. "I understand. So, what did he look like?" 

"He was tall. He um, had some scars, but he was very handsome. His hair looked sharp, like, pointy sharp. But it was actually pretty soft. And his eyes..." Now that you thought about it, his eyes were the most noticeable thing about him. Sure, you could say his scars were, but if you looked past that, his eyes really stuck out. "They were the most beautiful shade of blue." Maria giggled. "Damn you are smitten!" She then sighed. "I wish I could find love like that." 

"You will." You say with a smile. "Just give it some time." 

"That's what they all say! I've been waiting years!" Maria whined. You pat her back. "How about we watch some gorgy horror to take our minds off of it?" You suggested. "That sounds terrible...I'm in." 

So, you both found the scariest movie you could find before settling in for the night. Maria had to go as soon as the movie ended, having to go to work in the morning. She was complaining about having nightmares after watching the movie and blamed you for it. You just laughed and wished her a good night with pleasant dreams before you went to bed yourself.  

Previous | Next

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #toya todoroki x reader #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

[asmrtist-brainrot]

SAAAAME I just wanna kiss the dullahan man!!!! But also he's literally the listeners coworkers I forget that but then I'm reminded and I'm like... Can you imagine, this magically inclined human and powerful dullahan are sparring, swords clashing, magic flying. The two look powerful, dangerous, and pissed and whoever sees them is like "damn they scary ngl, they're probably talking about something scary too" and Connors just over there, shit talking while sparring but saying something like "Did you SEE Sharon yesterday??? She was out here fuckin sayin that I printed the wrong notes from the meeting! When we BOTH know that bitch always prints the wrong everything! Also my notes were wonderful, thank you!" And lass is just like " u right!" And essentially I love them your Honor

We out here living that coworkers to friends to lovers life and honestly, that could cause for more shenanigans.

Specifically in others probably view them.

Like at work, Connor is known to be a relatively unassuming and friendly guy. Charming and fun at a party too!

But he clearly holds people at arms length, no one else knows he's a supernatural or that he immigrated from Ireland.

Lass knows all of that and so it's noticed when they start talking more at work too.

Adding onto that, they show up at parties and work functions together and do so often. They bring one another around so often that people know if they invite one, they get both.

They're such a centerpiece for gossip at work too, some have a betting pool on how long it would take them to get together. Or people just assume they're dating in secret because they want to be professional at the office?

I have just a scenario in my head where someone else has this crush on Lass and is just like told different things by people that have no idea if they're dating or not.

(possible jealous Connor?)

They also get told often that they're cute together and it just makes them start stammering and blushing.

(I also want more Connor content so I gotchu... Does this mean I can call you "Connor's Anon" then? XD)

When Connor falls in love(which isn't at all often), he does it fucking hard and it's ri-goddamn-diculous how sappy he gets.

Just low tones and like light touches, leans in a litter more to listen and speak.

Genuine gentleman; opening doors, pulling out chairs, offering a hand when he can... Just smiling this fond little smile all the time.

Imagine slow dancing with him - aAAAHHH

We know he isn't really the flirty type despite being such a charmer so we know everything that comes out of his mouth is genuine.

Pfft - just popping off his head to make him sleep is a funny thought but I also raise you this;

Lass getting Connor so flustered that he literally either almost drops his head or just stumbles and forgets to balance it on his shoulders.

Just a genuinely sweet comment or compliment just makes him all red in the face he's choking on nothing before his head just tips off.

Also, I was hit with the reminder that he wears neck accessories to hide the seam on his neck and now the thought of him in chokers lives in my head rent-free

~ Dari

#dari blabs #response asks #nomad's asks #frosthaven storyline

[veni-vidi-vici-ous]

[REDACTED]

lou reed im literally begging you on my bruised and bloody knees

for what? idk. i don’t even know what i would want from you. i don’t know what i would say.

it would depend on a lot of factors like if it was at a show or whatever it doesn’t matter

i have so many things i want to say but i don’t think id say any of them, they all would scatter like crows as you approach.

thats what happens anytime anyone says anything to me. my thoughts and opinions are as timid as a kitten, having been forced down my whole life in a vain attempt to not alienate anyone.

i don’t even know if i have opinions of my own or if i just stole them so long ago i’ve lost the origin and decided they must be my own. i dont mean anything because i have nothing to say

well, is this nothing? its not really anything but its definitely something. hahaha that sentence was nothing though.

but is there a core to what i’m saying? some central idea im just not smart enough to find? is there any meaning in these characters im typing that correspond to sounds?

is the meaning really there or did you imagine it?

will it change as the meanings of words change?

let me rephrase that:

will IT change, or will the changing of the meaning of words just change how its interpreted?

and does how people perceive it not factor in to the ‘it-ness’ of the thing?

for instance how i perceive myself is far different from how you on here perceive me, which is different from how my coworkers do, and my family, friends, and down on an individual level everyone sees everyone else in a completely different way, through the lens of them. all the events that made them up, and how they see the world factors into how they see you,

so which of these is the truest interpretation of a person? is it how they see themselves? or how someone who has known then since birth see them? is it their lover, who sees parts of them they might not even know about?

is it some amalgamation of all these things?

are we, as we see ourselves, a message trapped in a bottle? floating in the sea of how everyone else sees us. encased in how we present ourselves to the world?

that might be a bad metaphor ive been listening to the police (band)

but my point is………….

who are we and what do we want, and how do we know that?

to my friends from high school, assuming they still think about me, im a david bowie obsessed freak who plays skyrim 24/7, obsessively reads darth vader comics and is kinda shit at guitar

now i wouldn’t say im a new man, but i love lou reed, i dont play video games much anymore, im more artistic now in a writing sort of way when back then i was more into paints and oils and shit

anyway the main thing that’s different is my personality ig like the things i say how i interact with people whatever

im different in that way

i think anyway………..

i really don’t know

that should be my catch phrase

#put me down #:0:0 #lou reed #rant post #i crave death

[kisscookin]

HOW DOES YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE SEE YOU?

—tarot pick a card reading—

hi guys! it's Kiss Cookin after a long break! today, let's do deep insight of how your future spouse see you, how they perceive your personality. I decided to go with the weeknd theme, because I always feel so drowned to his songs — they make me feel like I'm home. like a warm hug. he just gets my feelings right away. it's kinda my little tribute to big artist he is. ♡

don't forget to check my previous work here! don't forget to give me feedback here or in my inbox! like, reblog, comment, follow! it really motivates me! let me know which option you've chosen and if it resonated with you ♡

if you need private reading, DM me!

pick the weeknd's album cover that you feel most drowned to. don't forget to listen to channelled song at the bottom of yours team reading! there could be message for you as well! Reading is gender neutral.

astrology placement may apply to yours or your future spouse birth chart. if not, then it describes overall energy of the particular pile.

if something doesn't resonate, let go. don't force. this reading is full of specific messages.

I apologise in advance for any orthography, grammar, language mistake!

do not repost on any other platform without my clear consent. respect my work

TEAM 1 — AFTER HOURS

TEAM 2 — BBTM

TEAM 3 — STARBOY

TEAM 1

astrology placements — 7th house, Cancer, Leo, Scorpio, Gemini, Taurus

nine of cups, ten of swords, page of swords rx, page of wands

nice, silky hair, calmness, purple, phoenix rising from the ashes, game changer

your future see you as a self made person. you've worked hard for everything that you have in life. you're in charge of your emotions and you're not bothered by other people opinions or gossips. you're your own boss. main character. your future spouse watched you growing and developing in your final form. from caterpillar to beautiful butterfly. your sense of style is amazing. your future spouse notice how great you look everytime they see you. the are surprised that you menage to pull off any outfit. you probably were through some shit in your life. your future spouse thinks that you handled that like a pro. like nothing can broke you, nothing can destroy you. you learned from your past events and mistakes, and your spouse is happy that you share that knowledge and experience with them. they think that you're very good at handling problems and stressful situations. they also think that people envy you. people are jealous of your achievements, personality, clothing, etc. especially your coworkers are sick jealous of you. super strong Scorpio (MC) vibes. your future spouse notice that you're always in your mind, wondering and wandering. you probably think deeply, consider and contemplate many topics, ideas. you're visioner, philosopher. you try to solve imaginative problems (not in a bad way), hypothetical or mathematical situations. mind of an inventor. your spouse thinks that you're reincarnated Einstein. deadass. eternal student. your spouse feel like they can never figure you out and what's in your mind. they you may be little hesitant to speak your mind or speak about your emotions freely for some reason. even though you radiate calm, friendly energy, your spouse think that you're leader, 'mom's friend' and great lover. sensual, passionate, fiery, open to trying new things. they can't resist your kisses. you're such a good kisser in their eyes. most of the type you radiate confident, masculine energy. very powerful presence. your spouse notice that whenever you enter a room full of people, all attention is on you. they see that you change people. your energy gives them inner urge to change and pushes them to do better and better. you're dreamer. you chase your dreams and you will never stop chasing until you're fully satisfied. cheetah. nevertheless you're family person, homeboy. your spouse loves the way you take care of your house, how you make it warm and cosy for them. but they are sad that you tend to overthink and worry a lot :(

TEAM 2

astrology placements — Moon, 5th House, Taurus, 2nd house, Aries-Libra axis, Virgo/Gemini/Mercury dominant, Pisces/Jupiter dominant, Uranus dominant

the hermit, three of pentacles, the tower, the hierophant

"guess I better wash my mouth out with the soap", self confidence issues, good manifestator, 12th house, day dreamer alone, moody, hot n cold

your future spouse thinks that you're so kind, but you are loner and sometimes you isolate yourself too much from others. you're introvert, you live in your own world of fantasy and ideas. you're hot and you're cold. Hard to get to know. like there are walls built up around you. your future spouse sense mystical aura from you. they see you being super connected to nature. you love flowers, you love plants around you 🪴 you use a lot of herbs, dried herbs in kitchen or for medical purposes. they see you as modern day witch. you also may be doing tarot, astrology or other means of divination. they want you to teach them all spiritual stuff that you know. they want to absorb your knowledge. they also see you as an amazing teacher. the way you talk and your calming presence makes them want to listen to you all goddamn time. your spouse sees you as an angel from heaven. Virgo energy, soft spoken. your future spouse notices that you don't feel comfortable around big crowds, around unknown people. (you may have social anxiety, but it may not resonate with everyone). they want you to feel comfortable all the time, so they don't force you to go to massive events or social gatherings. they feel okay with that. your future spouse probably fell for you at first sight. you appeared in their life like a lightning and shake their own little, structured world. unexpected meeting. regardless of circumstances, your future spouse saw his soulmate in you right away. theirs beloved wife/husband. the feeling of familiarity hit them like an axe 🪓 but they let themselves drown in their emotions. your spouse thinks that you spend many lifetimes together and you were also destined to meet in this one. aww, what a cutie ♡ they never regretted falling for you. you changed their life and the way they perceive world. like everything is suddenly pink 🥺 they want to build stable future with you and stable home. they definitely wanted to marry you the minute they saw you. they want to give you kids, because they consider it as the most beautiful gift from heaven. they want to watch little version of you both running around your cosy house. also I sense they want many children. your spouse may have Jupiter or Gemini in 5th House. possibility of twins/triples.(it also may not resonate with everyone, because not everybody here is heterosexual; if you don't want kids, that's fine!) your future spouse wants to help you with your self confidence issues and pessimism. they want to reassure you and make you feel loved. they want you to help you out. as I said earlier, they sense that you're much connected to spirit world, to the universe. they also see you as their bestie apart from being lovers. your future spouse wants to run a business with you and they think about it quite a lot!!!!

TEAM 3

astrology placements — 6th house/Virgo, Venus dominant, Cancer, Scorpio/Pluto dominant, Leo, Saturn dominant

the devil rx, king of wands, strength, three of pentacles rx, queen of pentacles

purpose, loner, business, spiritual, fast energy all over the place, quick thinker, devoted, religious, good with kids, thinking outside of the box, "you're a catch!"

your future spouse thinks that you're focused on yourself and your own growth. you are focusing on building your own empire and legacy. you're study/career focused. very goal oriented, to the point that you isolate yourself from people, losing yourself in the process of creativity, in the process of work. your future spouse thinks that sometimes you're too selfish and self centered. it drives them crazy. I see them being spiritual, so they notice your ego-based needs. your spouse wants you to open up to their help. you're fast, you rush everywhere, you run a lot. your energy is all over the place and it's hard for them to keep up with you. your sneezes are cute. (I just sneezed and it automatically came to my head haha). you're devil in disguise. your duality is insane for your spouse. one minute you're smart ass and you pull off teacher vibe, next minute you're hermit, next minute you're confident king of the world, and next minute you're sexy chick. they DO get turned on by that. super secretive, covered by mystical aura (some of you here may be hijabi). you are challenging for your person. they are never bored. not even a second. your future spouse sees you as their wish fulfilment. they started manifesting your connection when they were at their lowest in life. you're their little star, their little bee that give them endless hope, strength and courage. you both may be drastically different from each other in terms of looks and personality. they love that difference, they thing you fill each other like Yin Yang ☯️. you're giving them purpose to live on this earth. I saw clear image that they are waking up beside you, in clean white bed sheets, sunlight showing up a little bit through beautiful curtains, they look at your sleeping figure and kiss your forehead. then they smile widely and their heart burn in love. small tear rolling down their pinkish cheekbone. happy tear. how cute 🥺 you're definitely amazing business woman/bussines man. your future spouse think that you're outstandingly talented in business and you're destined to be CEO or run your own company, based on your own, unique philosophy. you're good with money, amazing provider. by the way, your spouse loves yours gifts, especially watches. ♡ I said you're good with money, but even better with your hands 😉 I tried to keep that peg 13 but that message was so strong, so it would be a sin not to include. soooooooo future spouse is super satisfied. 😉 they keep their fingers crossed for you and your dreams. they are your biggest cheerleader, because all they want to see is you happy and fulfilled. they are content with that. ♡ they see you as complicated, unique person but they love you from the moon and back. they want to be with you forever!

I love energy of that reading ♡ tell me which team you've chosen and your thoughts on that. also feel free to DM me if you need it. don't forget to check out the song and its lyrics!

[lol emojis look funny in cursive]

do you like the weeknd? which song of his you like the most? I'm curious! because of that tarot reading I'm listening to "Secrets" on the loop and I'm melting because of his deep, deep voice. but the number #1 song of his is "Heartless". I will never stop listening to that masterpiece!

take care of yourself! stay hydrated! see you next time ♡

KissCookin 💋

#Spotify #tarot deck #tarot pac #pick a card #tarot reading #tarot related #tarotscope #astrology #kpop tarot #pick a card reading #astro notes #pick a song #pick a number #tarot pick a card #pick a pile #message of the day #the weekenders #astro community #astro observations #daily tarot #tarot witch

[cantaloupe-draws]

El Chico del Apartamento 512

Irl! Quackity x Female! reader

Summary: Nothing interesting ever happens in the apartment complex you live in. It’s the same old routine for you. Constantly turning down your neighbor and heading too and from your apartment. Well that’s up until you meet the very cute boy that lives in apartment 512 that you can never seem to gather the courage to talk too. To make make matters worse, he shows up to the cafe you work at

Switches from Reader’s s POV to Quackity’s POV at the very end

Genre: Song fic, fluff, somewhat cafe trope, strangers to lovers, crushes

Warnings: use of Quackity’s real name, creepy neighbor, cursing, and I think that’s about it

Song :El Chico del Apartamento 512 by Selena

Lyrics are in bold

—

Every day is the same down the corridor

Every day it’s the same old thing. I pass the same old doors as I make my way towards my own at the end of the corridor. Counting the room numbers as I pass.

“508, 509, 510,-“ I count and but as soon as I reach room 511 the door suddenly swings forward and I’m greeted by both a whistle and Chad, my neighbor.

“Y/n baby I keep on waiting for you to go on a date with me like you promised,” Chad said as he stood in front of his door frame, right arm resting on the door. “I need to show you around town,” he said with a smirk as he rested his face on his fist.

I scoffed as I moved away from him, “The only thing you need right now is an urgent shower. You stink like a pig and it’s absolutely disgusting. Besides, I never promised you anything” I said, trying to continue on my way, but Chad just kept getting more and more persistent with every rejection. His nagging was getting annoying.

“Come Y/n I’ll take you to this bar across town, I’ll even pay for your drinks” he kept persisting.

You would think that any decent guy that’s asking you out on a date would obviously pay for them himself. It’s a given but this is Chad we’re talking about. I was sick of his terrible date ideas and I had to face him once again.

“Listen, I don’t know how many times I’ve told you this and how many times I’ll have to repeat it but, I don’t want to go on these stupids dates with you,” I told him as I rejected for what seemed to be the millionth time. And as soon as I said that the door beside us swung open.

Out came a young man wearing a navy blue cap that was covering almost the entirety of his hair but still managed to expose small tufts of dark brown hair from the sides. He looked up at the predicament Chad and I were both in and I was able to get a good look at him.

He had almond-shaped eyes that were a dark brown color and had various beauty marks scattered around his face. He was attractive. Very VERY attractive. Oh no I’m in deep shit, I thought to myself as I quickly turned away when I felt that I was staring at him for too long. He turns away from us and heads towards the elevator doors.

I stayed stunned for a few moments then turned to face Chad again, completely red in the face, dumbfounded, and at a complete loss for words. But before Chad could get another word out I quickly rushed to my apartment and leaned my back against the door once I got inside. My heart is beating fast and my chest feels tight and constricted. I quickly got myself a glass of water from my faucet and though it helped with my fast heart rate, it didn’t help the butterflies swarming around in my stomach. It might sound crazy but I think I’ve just met the man of my dreams.

Ever since then, I’ve made sure to take my sweet time walking down the corridor in hopes to see the cute boy from apartment 512 again. I’ve gone as far as to purposely make small talk and fake my interest in Chad in hopes to see him once more.

—

The boy from apartment 512 the one who makes my poor heart beat fast.

I walked into the elevator quickly pressing the button towards the first floor when I heard someone yell “HOLD THE DOOR PLEASE!”

Loud footsteps came barreling towards the elevator. The yell of itself was enough to get my blood pumping but, to make matters much worse it was the cute boy from apartment 512 who was coming towards me.

“Thank you so much,” he said out of breath once he got inside. He offered me a smile of gratitude as the elevator doors closed. I noticed that he wasn’t wearing a cap this time but, instead he was sporting a grey beanie with red and blue stripes.

‘He’s the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my entire life’ I internally screamed to myself.

“Yeah, no problem” I responded quietly in hopes I wouldn’t make a fool of myself.

Even if there weren't more than two pieces of dialogue uttered between us, it was enough for my heart to beat faster than the speed of light.

—

The boy from apartment 512 who causes me to stutter like I've never done before.

I was manning the cashier station at the cafe I worked at. It was filled to the brim with people who were either typing away on their laptops or having a conversation with their friends.

But on this day, I had finally learned his name.

The busy atmosphere had me tackling customers' orders from left to right, “Hello, may I take your order?” I said as the next customer approached me.

But surprisingly enough, I was greeted by a familiar face.

The cute boy from apartment 512.

“Yes, hello I would like a caramel macchiato please,” he said and I felt my face go red instantly.

Oh my god, it’s him again, I thought as I knew that my brain would start to scramble once more. “O-of course. Coming right up, n-name?” I asked him as I completely stumbled on my words.

“Alex,” he said, “Okay A-Alex your name will be called out when your order is ready,” I tell him as I continue on with my work.

My coworkers had never seen me lose composure like that. It was clear that they would never let me live this down but even if I made a complete fool of myself in front of him, a huge part of me also just wants to keep talking to him both night and day.

—

But today I have finally truly decided to confess my love to him

I mentally prepared myself for the next time I interacted with Alex. I’ve finally decided that the next time I would run into him, I would finally ask to get to know him better in hopes that one day friendship will blossom into a wonderful relationship. A giddy laugh escaped me as I thought of the idea.

The cafe was busy as usual, with the same groups of people coming in. As it hit peak rush hour the line of customers just kept getting longer and longer and I was attempting to quickly attend to them to the best of my ability. Somehow, this was not enough to deter the feelings of butterflies in my stomach.

I knock on his door and I get goosebumps,

a blonde answers the door and my heart breaks

As I heard the bell above our door ring once more I raised my head and saw him, Alex. He was holding the door open for a woman as she walked in. They stood close together as they waited in line. This might seem like a bit of an exaggeration but when I saw them conversing together waiting in line the butterflies that were once fluttering disappeared and were replaced with dread. As my heart dropped, I realized that one thing was wanting to be friends with him but, that doesn’t change the fact that I had grown feelings for him. If he’s in a relationship then, what now? I felt lost as to how to handle this.

As the line in front of me kept getting shorter and shorter, I was becoming anxious as his turn was approaching. Though as it was almost the pair’s turn to order, Alex suddenly turns around and leaves the line and when his turn arrives he still wasn’t there. Despite this, I still went ahead and tended his apparent girlfriend.

I truly felt my heart breaking into pieces when suddenly she asked:

"Were you looking for my brother?"

“Hello, may I take your order?” I asked her, “Yes, can I have a vanilla latte please? But um, can we wait a couple of minutes for my brother? He went to the restroom and didn’t tell me his order,” she asked. Then the realization hit me like a ton of bricks, this was his sister. I’m so dumb, how could I’ve not realized the resemblance between them?? “Yeah that’s no problem” I finally responded.

Soon enough Alex came rushing towards his sister, “I’m so sorry for the wait” he said once he reached the both of us. “Just hurry it up. I’ll be waiting for you at the table” His sister said as she turned her back to the both of us.

Turning my attention to him as I rang up his order he then speaks up “You’re one of my neighbors aren’t you?” He asks me with a grin. I stop in my tracks as if I’m a deer in headlights.

“Yeah I am actually” I smile at him trying to muster enough courage to continue our conversation.

“I thought so, you were the one who held the elevator door for me the other day right? Also, the one who was yelling at my neighbor.”

My face instantly goes red as I thought back to the first time I met Alex. “In my defense he deserved it. He’s been harassing me ever since I’ve moved in” I shudder at the thought of Chad.

“Yeah I’ve realized that he really is a douche, he enjoys banging on the damn walls at three in the morning” he said as we laugh together at the stupid things Chad has done.

“Okay, okay you’re order will be out shortly,” I tell him with a smile, feeling my heart skip a beat. But Alex doesn’t move from the line.

“To be honest the whole reason I even came here wasn’t really for a drink or anything.” He said gazing towards the floor and rubbed the back of his neck.

“This might be a bit sudden because we’ve barely met but I wanted to actually ask you for your number since you seem really nice and you’re very pretty. If you’re not interested then that’s fine, I’ll just take my drink and go” Alex said sheepishly.

After I heard these words I found myself dumbfounded. At a complete loss for words. ‘DID HE JUST SAY THAT??? HOW DO I RESPOND???’ and from there my mind was absolutely speeding to the point where I just stood there. ‘HURRY UP AND DO SOMETHING!!!’ I yelled at myself, but yet still nothing managed to escape. Alex began to fidget more and more playing with his hands as I just stood there without a response.

“It’s okay, I’ll just go now.” Alex quickly said leaving.

—

Alex’s POV

‘SHIT. FUCK. MOTHERFUCKER. STUPID IDIOT.’

I cursed at myself while I walked towards my sister. Laying my head on the table, covering it in utter embarrassment.

“That didn’t go well, did it?” My sister said while casually scrolling through her phone. “And here you were boasting about how much of a smooth talker you were. You sir, just got rejected.”

“Will you shut up?” I groaned at her not raising my head. I’m already embarrassed out of my mind and she is not making it any better.

“Fine fine, you big baby I’ll go get our drinks and then you can go home and cry.” She said standing up as our orders were called.

‘God, why did I think it was a good idea to bring my sister along? How had it not crossed my mind? I hadn’t even given it a second thought as to what I was gonna do if I did get rejected. And to make matters much worse I just got rejected in front of my sister. I will never hear the end of it at family reunions. I’m already mentally digging my grave when I heard my sister come back.

“I think this one is yours” She said as she placed my drink in front of me. I raise my head slightly so I would be able to see what was in front of me. I looked at my cup as it said:

‘To the cute boy from apartment 512’

‘xxx-xxx-xxxx -Y/n’

—

A/N- So this is the first time I’ve ever wrote fan fiction before, I mainly stick to drawing so please excuse any mistakes I tried my best. But I hope you liked it over all. Also the lyrics in English don’t make as much sense as they do in Spanish, and it’s was bugging me so if they seem a bit odd you know why.

A special thanks to @tofuyami she really helped me with the brainstorming and editing process <3

@hungoverhellhound @cherrysirin @tofuyami @nealocus @struggling-with-time @bugsinmycoldsoup @venusacrossthestars @galaxygnf

Also stand Selena always -🍈

#quackity x reader #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #one shot #quackity #dream smp #real person fiction

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 5 - Cross Your Heart [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Lying is supposed to be easy for spies.

Series Masterlist

You were beginning to think undercover operations were some sort of punishments given to agents, because lying was one thing, but creating a whole life around that lie was another.

Not only were your knives replaced by a bunch of paintings on the wall, you now had some photos in frames; old photos of people you didn’t know, people who were supposed to be your “cover” family.

You’d still prefer to have your knives on the walls though.

“You’re my best friend, you’re supposed to be on my side!” you pressed the phone between your shoulder and your ear, and heard Chloe’s laugh.

“I am on your side, I just can’t do anything about your uniform.”

You plopped down on the couch, setting your heels down on the floor.

“Bucky might be from 1940s, but he knows that it’s the 21st century now,” you said, putting the heels on, “No reason to make me dress like a….weird pin up waitress.”

“It’s a part of your mission,” she reminded you, “What, you can kill a target with a wine glass but a pin up costume is where you draw the line?”

You clicked your tongue, “Anyone can kill someone with a wine glass. It’s not that hard.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Babe it’s not rocket science, you just break the bowl part, then use the stem to stab them in the—“ you got distracted when you opened the kitchen cabinet, “I’m sorry, why do I have so many kitchen supplies?”

She held her breath in excitement, “Do you like them?”

“I don’t know what to do with most of them.”

“Cover Y/N likes cooking!”

“And the real Y/N can’t stand her,” you deadpanned, making her stifle a laugh.

“So he hasn’t texted you yet?”

“Barnes?” you asked, “Not yet. Why?”

“Well, I took the liberty of taking a look at his messages the other day.”

“Oh God, don’t tell me,” you said, “He’s seeing someone else?”

“No no, not at all,” she said, “He’s totally single, and probably ready to mingle. With you, that is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He and Wilson were talking about you the other day. Well, more like Wilson was telling him to get his shit together and ask you out.”

“I don’t think he’s the type to ask someone out via text,” you said, “I think he will come to the shop one of these days.”

“Why?”

“He looked sort of….” You searched for the word in your mind, “Uh-clueless?”

“Clueless?”

“Yeah, you know how assassins usually flirt,” you ignored her noise of disagreement, “He wasn’t like that.”

“You really need to focus on the personal details of his file.”

You scowled, “What is that supposed to mean?” you asked, “I know his favorite weapons, what knives he—”

“Personal file,” she repeated, “You know there’s more to people than their weapons of choice right?”

“I might have to engage in combat if I’m ever compromised, and do you know how many people walked away alive after engaging in combat with the Winter Soldier in all these decades?” you asked, “Three. Three people; Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, and they are legends. I might be good, but I’m not that good.”

“Just memorizing his arsenal can’t help you in this mission,” she said, “Did you know that he hasn’t exactly dated since becoming the Winter Soldier? His ex Connie ended up having 3 kids and a long career at the post office—“

“What am I supposed to do Chloe, stalk grandma’s Instagram?”

“No, she passed away 5 years ago.”

“Of course she did,” you mumbled, “Listen, I don’t have time for this. I’m already knee deep in my own cover, I can’t get into Barnes’s past when it’ll give me no advantage in the mission.”

“Y/N-“

“Trust me,” you cut her off, looking in the mirror to fix your uniform, “I have everything under control.”

                                              ***

You had maybe like one thing under control and that was the milkshake you were currently pouring into a mason jar. After a crash course in different recipes yesterday, you barely needed any help from your coworkers and seeing that the shop wasn’t very crowded, you didn’t have to rush.

And now you knew how to make three things; pasta, eggs and milkshakes.

If Keith were here, he would’ve said those were 3 main food groups.

“Tara, we’re running low on maraschino cherries,” you said as you shook the can and your new coworker turned to you.

“Oh that’s okay, there’s another jar are under the counter.”

You put the cherry over the whipped cream, and handed the jar to her. “There you go.”

“Another week of working here and you will come up with your own recipes,” she said, “Tell me the truth, are you like a spy sent by a rival company?”

You stared at her, then forced a laugh.

“I wish,” you said, “Maybe I’d be paid more.”

“Good point,” she said and walked to give the milkshake to the customer while you put the empty jar aside, then went under the counter to search for a new jar.

“Strawberries….” You read the labels out loud as you heard the wind bells chime by the door, “Figs, berries—cherries!”

You reached out to grab the jar and stood up but as soon as you did, you caught the sight of the figure by the door and held your breath, the jar slipping from your grip before you caught it mid-air.

“Bucky.” You breathed out, before you remembered to plaster a smile on your face.

Naïve, soft hearted civilian.

He stole a look around as if he expected someone to attack him at any seconds in a milkshake shop before he stepped closer to the counter you were standing behind.

“Hi.”

“Hi-hi there!” you said, putting the jar down, “You came!”

“You sound surprised,” he smiled and you shrugged your shoulders, shooting him a mischievous look,

“Better late than never, I suppose.”

He hissed in a breath, “Ouch, was it that late?”

“Just a little,” you said “So what can I get you?”

He looked up at the board over the wall, “What are my options?”

“Well, we have Unicorn Cotton Candy, Pumpkin Spice Latte, Candy Cane Passion, Lavender Macaron—“ you stopped talking when you saw the clueless look on his face and cleared your throat, “Or hey, maybe chocolate? We have chocolate milkshake.”

“Chocolate sounds good.”

“Coming right up.” You took a mason jar from the shelf to get to it and he grabbed his wallet, making you raise your brows.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Oh come on—”

“I’m going to make you an overly complicated milkshake if you try to pay for this,” you warned him, shaking the can before putting whipped cream on top of the milkshake, “It’s on the house, I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said quickly, making you point at him with the straw.

“Either way, I’m warning you. I’m armed and dangerous.”

“Consider me intimidated,” he said with a grin as he put the cash into the tip jar and you narrowed your eyes.

“Bucky.”

“Well technically, tip doesn’t count.”

“I wonder where I heard that before,” you muttered under your breath while he walked to pull himself a seat.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” you said, reminding yourself that your cover probably wouldn’t make dirty jokes and went to place the milkshake in front of him.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” You waved a dismissive hand and rested your elbows on the counter, leaning in slightly.

He was gentleman enough to not check out your cleavage, instead kept his gaze on your face, making you suppress a smile.

“You were right,” Bucky said, his eyes darting around the café after a couple of seconds, “About how this place looked. It is creepily accurate.”

“Really?”

“I mean we didn’t have a neon flowers corner, but…” he trailed off, “Yeah. Yeah, I would say so.”

“Is that why you look like you expect someone to jump out of shadows and attack you?” you asked and his head shot up before he scrunched up his face.

“That obvious?”

“Not that I have lots of experience but so far none of the customers looked this uncomfortable while drinking a milkshake,” you said, “Is it because deep down you actually wanted to try Unicorn Cotton Candy?”

“Oh no, I’m good with classics,” He held up his milkshake, “No I just think that I’m a bit….uh, rusty.”

“Rusty,” you repeated, “On what?”

“On this.”

You batted your lashes, looking up at him and you could almost feel him being lured in.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow,” you said softly after a beat and he gulped, taking a deep breath.

“It’s just that you’re—“ he cleared his throat, “You’re very beautiful and it’s been decades since I last asked someone out for a date.”

Winter Soldier, credited with over 100 assassinations, you reminded yourself Don’t lower your guard, it’s just a cover.

Don’t believe in your own cover.

You bit down a smile, tilting your head.

“Well, I didn’t think you were rusty,” you said and he raised his brows.

“You didn’t?”

“Not at all,” you said, “For the record, I’m definitely going to say yes.”

“Are you?”

“Absolutely,” you grinned, “Once you actually ask me, that is. With words, not an implication.”

His smile was almost playful, “With words, huh?”

“I’m old fashioned like that,” you taunted him, “Let’s see how we can make it less awkward for you though. Would you feel more comfortable to ask me out if you knew some weird stuff about me?”  

“You know, that would help a lot actually.”

You tapped your fingernails on the counter, looking up at the ceiling, pretending to be in deep thought. Your superiors had always said the best cover stories were somehow based on real life without revealing your identity, so you figured telling him random things about you wouldn’t hurt or put the mission in danger.

“Well, I really like grapes but I don’t like the skin, so I end up peeling every grape I eat, one by one,” you counted with your fingers, “I watched a documentary once and now I can’t swim in any lakes because I keep thinking I’ll get attacked by that weird flesh eating bacteria. When I was sixteen, I was the president of the chess club but I had a boyfriend who didn’t believe in the moon landing—”

“I heard about the moon landing!” he said quickly, “I didn’t get around to watch it yet though.”

“Oh my God, you should.”

“What else?”

“I’m scared of peacocks,” you confessed, “I know everyone says they’re beautiful but they look like they’re waiting for the right time to attack you.”

He looked like he was fighting with himself not to laugh and he pressed his metal fist on his lips, his whole attention on you.

“You can’t laugh!” you exclaimed and he shook his head, trying to look as serious as possible.

“I’m not!” he managed to hide his chuckle with a cough, “Keep going, this is very helpful.”

You heaved a sigh. “Well, do you want to hear the most embarrassing one?”

“Absolutely.”

“I normally keep my phone on mute 24/7 but since last week it’s been on full volume because I was terrified I’d miss something important.”

The amused light in his eyes got softer and he lowered his hand, a smile warming his face.

Hook, line…

“I was um— I was hoping for you to call, you see.” you said, averting your gaze from him to look down for a second, biting on your lip.

His voice was raspy; “Were you?”

You shrugged your shoulders, mumbling an inaudible maybe, and his eyes trailed down to your lips before snapping up to lock your gaze in his.

“What time do you get off work today?”

And sinker.

Time to pull back.

You sucked in a breath through your teeth, “I work at the soup kitchen tonight.”

“Oh –I thought you said it was on Mondays and Wednesdays.”

“I did, I’m just covering for a friend tonight. Family emergency, she says.” you said and pushed your hair behind your ear, shifting your weight, “But my shift is over at 6 tomorrow and I can be ready around 7, I live really close by. If you’re- if you’re free, that is.”

“I am.”

“It’s a date, then.”

“It’s a date,” he repeated and stood up, “See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

“See you tomorrow Bucky.” You smiled as he walked out of the shop and Tara came closer to you.

“Wow, you’ve been here a month and you met someone that hot?” she said and winked at you, “Good job there.”

Right.

Good job.

                                             ***

“So, wait—“ Chloe came closer to sit between you and Keith, holding a huge bowl of popcorn, “He just showed up?”

“Mm hm.”

“And you have a date tomorrow?”

Keith uncapped your beer and handed you the bottle as you rested your feet on the coffee table.

“You’re being careful, aren’t you?” he asked you and you nodded.

“Sure.”

“He doesn’t suspect anything?”

“No, he’s buying this whole naïve soft hearted civilian thing,” you said while Chloe snatched the remote from Keith’s hand, ignoring protests.

“And are you?”

You dragged your eyes from the list of movies on the screen. “I want a horror movie.”

“Well too bad, I want an action movie.”

“We’re watching a rom-com and that’s final!” Chloe pointed at both of you, making you groan.

“Why does this keep happening?” Keith asked to no one in particular and she snapped her fingers.

“It’s my turn and my place so I pick the movie,” she said and shot you a look, “I’m still waiting for an answer, by the way. You don’t….you don’t have feelings for Barnes, right?”

Keith stole a look at you before turning to Chloe,

“I don’t think our dear friend here wants a relationship beautiful,” he told her, “Not after what happened the last time.”

You could feel the goosebumps rising on your arms as a shiver ran down your spine.

“I don’t even know Barnes all that well yet, but I can assure you he’s not the type to—“ you paused, “Do something that cowardly.”

Keith gritted his teeth. “Where is that asshole anyway?”

“Hungary,” Chloe said and you raised your brows.

“Undercover?”

“Yeah. I hope he gets compromised and dies there.”

“Very unlikely,” you murmured, “Anyways, what brought this on? My feelings for Barnes?”

“It’s just that I recently read Vincent Smith’s file,” she said, “You guys remember Vincent?”

“Who?”

“His code name was Marco.”

“Oh, I remember Marco!” Keith said, “That guy took down a whole unit by himself. What happened to him?”

“He is missing.” Chloe said and you pulled your brows together.

“Since when do agents go missing and we don’t know where they are?”

“Since they fall for the target.”

“No way,” Keith chuckled, “Badass spy Marco fell in love? Poor idiot.”

“You’re a terrible person, Keith.”

You sat up straighter, “Wait, did you say he fell for the target?”

“Yeah, I saw the reports from his handler. And now he’s missing, and I don’t want you to run away with Barnes like Marco did with his target.”

You and Keith exchanged glances and you clicked your tongue.

“Chloe babe, he’s not missing.” you said “He’s dead.”

She pulled back slightly, “You don’t know-“

“Yes I do. You don’t fall for the target and compromise the whole mission, not unless you want to end up dead.”

“There’s no report of that,” she insisted and Keith sipped his beer.

“What did his report say, sweetheart?”

“That he was removed from his mission before going missing.”

Keith scoffed, “Rest in peace Marco, you won’t be missed.”

“How do you know—“

“Because that’s the code,” you said, “If the report says he was removed from his mission and went missing, it means he was killed by an agent on our side.”

“We killed our own agent?” she exclaimed and you turned the beer bottle in your hand,

“He stopped being our agent the moment he fell for the target.”

Chloe covered her mouth with her hands, worry etched into her expression, “Y/N, please, please promise me you won’t somehow get too involved in this mission and fall for Barnes and put yourself in danger.”

You let out a small laugh, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“It’s the Winter Soldier we’re talking about,” you reminded her and chewed on the popcorn, “Trust me, that would never happen.”

“Cross your heart?”

You heaved a sigh and clinked your beer bottle with hers.

“Cross my heart honey,” you assured her, “There’s no way I’d sign my own death warrant by doing something that stupid.”  

Chapter 6

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #marvel #bucky barnes x you

[angryinternetduck]

a mutual feeling

harry styles x reader. enemies (kind of) to lovers. 9.5k words. summary/warnings: boxing! boxer!harry x boxer!reader, harry's dad is your trainer, you kind of hate each other, not really, it's not even enemies to lovers they're both just brats, it's boxing so there's kind of a lot of violence and blood, there's nothing too explicit, alcohol consumption, you're a better fighter than he is and you fight and end up doing it, oops, friends w benefits type of deal, he doesn't do relationships but he likes you, oops again, and you like him, triple oops, it's quite the journey but you'll make it.

***

“You look like shit,” Harry greets you when you open the door.

“And you, my love,” you respond with a slight slur, “look handsome as always.” You lean in for a kiss, and Harry gently pushes you away, rolling his eyes as he walks into your apartment. You grimace at the contact, feeling the pain even through the fuzz of the whiskey you’re holding.

“My dad would kill you if he were here,” Harry says.

You giggle, shutting the door behind him. “Well, then, thank goodness he’s not!”

Harry glares at you from your refrigerator and makes a noncommittal grunt.

You frown, suddenly, your alcohol muddled mind working through something. “Wait a minute,” you say slowly, “he’s not here… but you are!” Harry glares even more and walks back over to you. You pout as he guides you to your couch.

Groaning through the pain, you allow him to nudge you onto your back on the couch. “What,” you manage to ask through gritted teeth, “are we gonna fuck now?” Harry sighs, softening the bag of frozen peas he’s holding with his fingers. “You wish.”

He kneels down beside the couch and lays the bag over your bruised nose and black eye. He’s biting on his lip, concentrating and wincing a little bit whenever he hits a sensitive spot and you grimace. He fiddles with the peas, trying to get the bag in exactly the right spot, and you watch his eyes. His green, green, worried eyes.

“He knows,” you murmur.

Harry’s jaw clenches, and that’s the only response you need.

You roll your head away from him, breaking eye contact and letting the bag of peas slide onto your black eye. “Fuck.” Suddenly you’re sober. Harry sighs again, going still for a moment, and then another, and then he stands up and walks away.

“What if I didn’t show up tomorrow?” you ask softly.

You hear him fumbling around in your cabinet.

After a moment, he says, “You will.”

You don’t say anything, because he’s right.

Silence falls over the room, and you’re just about to ask him what he’s doing over there when there’s a loud bang. You gasp, jolting upright, and watch Harry shake out his fist. Your cabinet door is ajar, papers and knick knacks misplaced.

“You promised him, goddammit!”

You exhale slowly, sharply, leaning back as the pain from your sudden movement sets in.

“You promised me!” Harry closes the distance between the cabinet and the couch, throwing your first aid kit onto the coffee table in front of you quite violently. “Christ, you said you’re done! No more fighting.”

You close your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He breathes a second, and you can hear he’s panting. So angry. “I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do,” you go on softly when he doesn’t talk for a moment. “I get antsy, and it’s late, and, well…” You turn over a little bit, grimacing, and hold up the wad of cash.

“Train!” he bursts, ignoring the money. “You said training! Fight with my dad! It’s so easy. Fight with gloves! Spar! For fuck’s sake, you said no more of this - this underground - rubbish. You can’t be out there fighting random people just to get your rocks off.”

You frown. “It’s not -”

“You’re so fucking reckless it’s insane!” he interrupts, apparently on a rant. “I cannot believe how stupid you are. After all this, you won’t go pro, won’t stop, won’t - won’t do anything but keep fucking yourself up and leaving me to clean up after!”

That strikes a nerve, and you sit up, anger brewing in your stomach. It always seems to come to this with him. “What?” you scoff incredulously. “Leave you to clean up after?” Harry scowls at you. “What else would you call this?”

“I’d call this you getting into my business!” you exclaim. “I’d call this you coming to my house in the dead of night because you’re - you’re worried about me. That has nothing to do with me, Styles, and you fucking know it. I never asked for this. I’d be just fucking fine on my own, thank you very much.”

“Yeah?” Harry spits, grabbing the half empty bottle of whiskey and shaking it at you. “Just fine, huh? Bleeding out on your couch passed out from too much to drink, that’s fine? We have very different definitions of fine then, don’t we?”

You scowl at him, vision going red with anger, and you shout, “I’ll prove it! Leave!” You jump to your feet, getting riled up, but can only start, “There’s the -” before pain shoots through your body and you fall back down, struggling for breath.

“Shit,” Harry mutters. The bottle’s dropped and he’s at your side in a second, taking bandages and disinfectant out of your first aid kit. He pulls up your shirt, cleaning a bruise on your rib cage that broke skin before pressing a soft cloth against it. “There could be a broken rib in here,” he says under his breath. “You need to go to -”

“I’m fine,” you cut in.

He looks at you, concern in his gaze, and you have to shut your eyes.

“I can’t afford it,” you whisper. “Give it a few days. I’ll be able to tell. If it’s really bad… I’ll go.” He doesn’t reply, doesn’t say anything, but you can hear the worry in the silence. “Promise?” he says.

“Yeah.”

He grabs your hand, and you frown, and he says, “Look at me.”

You meet his eyes, lifting your hand just off the couch with your pinky extended.

He links his pinky with yours.

“Pinky swear,” you say.

***

You can tell Des is pissed from the moment you walk into the gym. You can’t even see him yet and you already know. There’s something in the air. Everybody turns to stare, eyes wide, faces shameless. They have a right, though - it’s not every day somebody comes in with fresh bruises and black eyes.

“He’s in back,” the receptionist tells you as soon as you walk up to the counter.

“Great,” you mutter. “Thanks.” You shift your bag further onto your back, heading for the back room where you train. And there he is, sitting on a bench, feet up on a yoga ball and eyes trained stubbornly on his phone.

“Hey, Mr. Styles,” you say cheerily, only a hint of sarcasm slipping into your tone.

“Don’t hey, Mr. Styles me.”

You clear your throat and shut up.

“What you did last night,” he begins, standing up and crossing his arms across his chest, “was reckless, uncalled for, and dangerous. Not to mention stupid.” You grit your teeth, letting your bag slide to the floor and leaning against the doorframe. You’re in for a long one.

“These fights aren’t only dangerous but illegal,” he goes on. “You could’ve gotten yourself jailed or worse. And you know that.” He steps forward. “The worst part is you know that. We’ve been over this so, so many times. And you still go and risk your life.”

You bite your lip and look at the floor.

“I train you because you’re good,” Des tells you. “You’re a damn good fighter, you know that? And it helps you, I can see that much. A right stupid bloody temper, that’s what you have, and if I can save some poor bloke on the street from getting his arse kicked, I will. But if you won’t go pro, won’t do it safely, and won’t stop with these bloody undergrounds I can’t do it anymore!”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Damn right you’re sorry! You promised me! You swore! Said you’d never go out again! And I had to find out from my ex wife that you’re at a fight? What the hell?” You frown at this, confused suddenly, and ask, “Anne told you?”

Des scowls and turns away. “Her coworker’s daughter’s involved. I don’t bloody know. Don’t know how, why, when - but it doesn’t matter, does it?” He rounds on you, again, and you sigh quietly, exhausted from the lecture and the guilt and the pain.

He must clock it, because he softens, taking a breath and rubbing his fingers over his eyes. “Go home,” he says. “I can’t… I can’t look at you, and you can barely lift a muscle. A right mess, you are, about to fall apart just from standing so long.”

You start to complain, “But -!”

“No. Go home. Now, or else I’ll have Harry drive you.”

Frowning at the threat, and the fact that it worked, you pick up your bag and turn to go. Before you leave, though, you look at him once more. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I really am.” Des sighs. “I know,” he says.

You walk out. Stares, round two, and then you’re outside, and you take a breath of the cool air. It’s October, cold, but it feels good. Walking down the steps, you see Harry, leaned against a tree with a book.

You roll your eyes and ignore him, hoping he won’t notice you.

But he does. He calls your name, jumps up, walks over to you.

“Save it, Harry,” you say immediately. “I don’t need another lecture.”

You see him frown from the corner of your eye. “I don’t… I wasn’t gonna.”

“Save it anyway,” you mutter.

He says your name again and stops walking. You feel his hand brush against yours, like he wants to grab your hand. Against your better judgement, you stop walking too. “What?” you ask, a bit shortly.

“I just… I’m sorry,” he says.

Your brows furrow in confusion. “For what?”

Harry clears his throat. Looks at his hands. “Last night. I shouldn’t’ve said those things.”

“Oh,” you say.

“Yeah,” he says, half smiling as he looks up again. “Oh. I just - well, you’re right, that’s all. I’m just getting in your business.” You sigh, shaking your head and starting to apologize yourself, but he cuts you off. “No, no, you don’t have to - I just wanted to say that I’m…” He breathes a laugh. “I’m available. If you want to fight. When you get antsy. Even if it’s… late.”

You can’t help but smile a little bit. “Are you offering to get my rocks off for me?”

Harry barks a laugh and then says, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Fuck yes.”

He doesn’t say anything, and your eyes lock, just for a second, and then you clear your throat, looking away. “Right, well, I’ll… I’ll see you around.” He nods. “Yeah,” he says, heading back to his tree. “See ya.”

***

Antsy.

The ceiling fan spins around above you, taunting you, pushing hot air around and around. It’s October and you’re somehow hot, cramped in your apartment. It’s a few weeks later, now, around midnight. You had a session with Des this morning, and you’re still antsy. Restless. You could probably go down the street, get your brains knocked out, earn a little cash.

Or you could call Harry.

Grotesque, just the idea of it. What a surrender. You roll out of bed, shove on pants and a sweatshirt for the cold air outside, and grab your car keys. You’re sweating by the time you get to the door, then freezing cold when you step outside.

The drive isn’t too long, a few minutes. The parking lot’s empty. It’s eerie. Des keeps a key above the door under the light. You’re surprised to see a dim light on in the back, and you’re even more surprised to see Harry hunched over a book.

“You’re in a gym, Styles, and you’re reading,” you say, breaking the silence. He jumps and looks up. His eyes are tired. “You’re in a gym,” he says back, “and it’s midnight.” His voice is raspy.

“Could say the same to you.”

“I live here.”

You raise a brow. “So?”

“You don’t.”

“Right.”

He holds your gaze. He likes to do that, likes to keep eye contact and make you think he’s staring into your soul. You’re the first one to look away. You always are. It’s unnerving. His eyes are so pretty, too. If you stare too long you start to admire him.

“You’re a bit early for a session,” he says as you put down your bag.

You pull on your gloves. The velcro is deafening. “I got antsy,” you reply.

“Did I miss a call?”

“No.”

“I’m a little offended.”

You crack your neck, bounce on your toes. “We’re not friends, Styles.”

“Right, I’m very offended.”

You step away from him, towards the punching bag. “Besides,” you say, “you’re too weak” - you throw a punch, the bag swings, creaks - “to spar with me.” Harry huffs, standing up and walking closer. “Christ, you’re just bullying me now.”

“I’m good at that.”

“Not really.”

Another punch, right hook, a combo, one, two, three, he’s standing against the wall, looking very cool with his arms across his chest. “Yeah?” you ask. “Should I try harder?” One, two, you’re starting to sweat. It feels good.

“Should stop trying at all.”

Three, four - one, one, four - “Go read your novel, Styles.”

He watches you for a second, and then sits down. He opens his book.

When you leave, an hour and a half later, he’s fallen asleep.

***

Another week and you’re wired again. The fan’s off, you’re sweating, but not in a good way. Soon you’re in the car, in the parking lot, in the gym. And… the light’s on again. For a second, you wonder if he ever sleeps.

“No wonder you’re so weak,” you start this time. “You never sleep.”

He doesn’t jump this time. “And neither, apparently, do you.”

“Least it doesn’t affect my fighting.”

“Affects your head, though. Explains the stupidity.”

You sigh. “You’re a prick.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“What are you, five?”

You look up and he’s smiling, the bastard, like it’s funny. Which it is, actually, but he’s being annoying about it. When you meet his gaze, he smiles more, just for a second, and then looks down at his book. “Won’t bother you this time,” he murmurs.

“Gee,” you say wryly, “I appreciate it.”

He doesn’t reply, just shrugs, and reads.

You frown, because you’re surprised. Not because you’re upset. Not because you wanted to talk to him. Or maybe you did. The anger is good fuel. You take it out on the punching bag.

You don’t stay as long this time. He’s still awake when you leave.

“See ya,” he says as you walk out.

These late night sessions don’t hold you over like a good fight does. Every week you’re going over there, and every week he’s there, too. The light doesn’t surprise you anymore, and to your embarrassment, you’ve begun to come up with your witty greetings on the way.

The conversations don’t last as long. It’s a back and forth, and then silence. It’s comfortable, the silence, and you don’t bring music. You should. You should block him out, forget he’s there, but you can’t.

It’s true, about the anger. It’s good fuel.

You feel him staring one night. He’s so intense. You think about his eyes, how much you hate them, how expressive they are, how you can tell exactly what he’s feeling, what he’s thinking…

The chain swings, creaks, you breathe in, out, one, two, three -

Harry catches the punching bag.

You pull your punch to keep from breaking his nose. “Shit, Styles, what the hell?”

He’s grinning at you, dimpling, you want to punch him, he says, “Let’s fight.”

“I told you,” you sigh, turning away, “you’re too weak for me.”

“The last time we sparred, I was sixteen.”

“And I’m sure you haven’t improved since.”

Harry raises his brows. “You think you’re better than me?”

“Yes,” you say, “yes I do.”

“Wanna prove it?”

You look at him, let your eyes drift over his body. He’s worked out, that’s for sure, and he’s so damn tall, too. He crosses his arms over his chest and watches you smugly, like you’re checking him out and not assessing his skill level. You kind of are checking him out. The sharp angle of his jaw line probably doesn’t affect the power of his punch.

You break the moment of silence. And then you say, “Fuck yes.”

It takes a second, a second of getting on gloves and drinking water and shedding layers, and then another second of bouncing on your toes, circling each other, watching his smile, his eyes, in the dim glow of the moon in the windows.

And then he makes the first move.

He throws a punch.

“Too easy,” you say as you duck.

“Just getting warmed up.”

“Lucky for you,” you start, moving closer, telegraphing left, “I’m already warm.” You go right. Right hook, for the jaw - he blocks it, of course, and you go under, for his stomach. He doesn’t dodge that one.

“Thought you’d give me a little more than that,” he says, but he’s a little breathless so the effect doesn’t carry. You just smile, watching his shoulders. Broad shoulders. His hips move left, you duck right, it’s too easy. His punch goes too far. The momentum carries him, you hold those broad shoulders and knee into his ribcage.

He coughs, stumbling a little, and you feel a twinge of guilt. Oops.

And then it’s all movement.

He lunges forward and -

One, two - hook left, dodge it, he’s sweating, eyes focused - one, two, another left jab, an uppercut that lands. He’s spinning, bouncing, now you’re the one that’s coughing. No more guilt. He doesn’t draw blood, though, going weak on you. Of course he is.

Amused, you laugh, “Shit, Styles,” and square your shoulders, crack your neck, draw closer, hands up. His brows jump, and he looks just as amused as you are. Bounce, bounce, eye contact, a teasing glint in his eyes.

Here we go, you think, and now it’s your turn.

One-two-three-four, bang bang bang, every punch lands, not hard, go gentle, a knee to his stomach, also gentle, pull him down, elbow to his back, so gentle, don’t hurt him, look at those back muscles, he swears under his breath, arm behind his back, don’t pull, don’t hurt him, he’s on the floor, on his stomach, arm bent, your knee on the small of his back -

He breathes a laugh, craning to look at you over his shoulder. “Alright, then. Point proved.” You grin, releasing him and falling back onto your hands. “I’m not one to say I told you so…”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, turning onto his back. He puts his cheek against the mat, looking at you. He’s still smiling. You look at his dimples, his cheek, and you lean forward, off your hands. He holds your gaze, no surprise there, and you hold his.

His smile fades, and you watch his eyes flick down and back up. You’re panting, chest rising, falling - it’s so quiet. You creep forward. He swallows, you see his throat work. He’s still sweating. So are you, probably.

You lean over him, watch his eyes widen, trail your finger over his cheek. “I hope I didn’t bruise you,” you murmur. He’s breathing just as heavily as you are, and even though he looks like he’s about to faint, his voice is cocky as he asks, “Oh, is that why you’re touching me?”

Closer, closer, your necklace hangs in the space between the two of you. Even closer, and it rests on his chest. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “Are we about to fuck?” He rolls over, suddenly, doesn’t reply, pulls you with him, and he’s on top of you and he’s kissing you and it feels so good, tastes so good, you close your eyes and grin and pull him closer, closer.

Turns out the answer’s yes.

***

A rude awakening. So rude. Borderline disrespectful.

Everything hurts. You groan, rolling over.

The bell on the door chimes again, and your eyes snap open.

You bolt upright. “Fuck,” you hiss.

“Such a dirty mouth,” Harry mumbles, still half asleep.

Scrambling for clothes, you mutter, “Your dad’s here, idiot.”

“Oh,” Harry says, blinking awake. “Fuck.”

You hurry to grab clothes and get decent and run out the door without another word to Harry. It’s cold outside, and you’re only half dressed. You get your car running, pull out of the parking lot, and hope Des doesn’t see you.

When you’re home, you take a cold shower. Icy cold. Your head’s still pounding, but you manage to muddle through what happened last night. Regret seeps through you with the water, and you’re thankful for the heat in your apartment when you step out.

You have a session with Des in a few hours.

Should be fun. Awkward.

And it is, when you eventually get there. A little of both. Mostly awkward. Des doesn’t suspect anything. He must not have seen your car in the morning. You trade smirks and scowls and glares and grins with Harry throughout the morning, but not a word.

Not a single word.

***

Antsy.

Antsy, antsy, restless, wired.

And guilty.

Because you’re not antsy for a fight. You’re antsy for a chat. Or a fuck. Whatever. You’re expecting a few words to turn into a few kisses, and then a few more, and then another rude awakening. You can’t tell if you’re excited about that or already guilty.

So much guilt. Can never get away from the guilt.

You’re thinking about it the whole ride over, through empty streets and hour long red lights and mocking stop signs. It’s so quiet. You can’t get over how quiet the world is when your head is so ridiculously loud.

Through all that, you can’t come up with a single thing to start with.

You used to pull into the parking lot and come up with a nice snarky comment to start the evening out with. Just like that. You’d walk in and mull it over and decide it was perfect then tweak it just so right before saying it.

And you’d get a rush of satisfaction from his reply and his smirk and his dimples.

Not tonight. Tonight you think the whole way over and can’t think of a single thing to say. Nothing to start with, nothing to end with, nothing to tell him or yell at him or sob at him. Nothing. Zero, zilch, nada.

He’s working out when you get there. Shimmering in the moonlight with his shirt off, throwing punches at the punching bag and bouncing around and panting breaths. It comes to you, then, what to say, and you say it.

“Oh, how the turntables…”

He stops and stills the punching bag with his hand and turns to look at you. He doesn’t look particularly uncomfortable. Maybe a little unsure. Mostly smug. His eyes are the only things giving away his uncertainty.

“Didn’t think you’d show up,” he says.

“No faith in me, huh?”

He smiles. “None at all.” He takes off his gloves and stretches, flexing for you, and you let your eyes rake over him shamelessly. “Didn’t bring a book with me,” you muse, setting your bag down. “Then we’d really be, uh… swapped…”

“Shame.”

Your eyes lock. There’s a beat of silence, and you let it linger for a while. His eyes are so expressive. Green, so green. Even greener up close. “So are we gonna talk about it?” you ask after a second.

“Talk about what?”

You debate punching him. Hard. You could break his nose. Get a little blood gushing. Maybe he’d talk to you then. “It’s rude to answer a question with a question, Styles.” He leans against the wall. “Is it?”

“It’s a sign of weakness, actually.”

He raises a brow. “You think I’m the one at a disadvantage here?”

“Aren’t we both?”

“Do you regret it?”

You’re playing along now. “Do you?”

“Would you do it again?”

You hold his gaze, walk closer. “Isn’t that the same question?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. He grins.

And then he kisses you.

Dammit, you think through the euphoria, he somehow managed to win.

***

It’s not that you expected that it would happen again. It’s not like you were hoping for it to happen again, or even like you were dreading it would happen again. It was one of those hope for the best, prepare for the worst situations.

Three in the morning, and your watch buzzes against your wrist.

Groaning, you sit up and gather your clothes. You get dressed, slip out, and drive home. One icy cold shower later, you’re wishing you felt regret. You wish you were guilty, or upset, or embarrassed.

Instead, you picture those dimples and grin.

You ignore him when you go to the gym for your session with Des. You work out, get your heartrate up, push away all thoughts about Harry Styles, and leave. The ball is in his court, you decide, and you’re not one to steal. Or maybe you are. You’re just too stubborn at the moment.

It feels good to be rid of him, even if it’s just temporary. It takes a few days, a few days of you ignoring his more and more frequent glances, a few days of you leaving as soon as your session’s over, a few days of you parking around back so he can’t corner you out front where he reads.

Then he follows you. He does corner you, only at your car rather than at his tree. He’s leaned up against it when you walk out, and you sigh when you catch sight of him. A sigh of irritation. Because you’re annoyed. It’s not a sigh of relief, obviously, or a sigh of happiness.

“Waiting for me at my car?” you say, walking up to him. “I’m a little creeped out.”

Harry looks up at you, brows raised. “She speaks!”

You fiddle with your keys. “Yeah, she’s been known to, here and there.”

He bites his lip, looking at you thoughtfully. “You know, I don’t know where you live.”

“Wow, you managed to get even creepier.”

“I said I don’t know where you live,” he says, smiling a bit.

You open the door, lean against it. “I heard you.”

“I was gonna visit you. Bring flowers or summat.”

“Flowers!” you gasp. “A creep and a liar. How romantic.”

He smiles even more. “You didn’t show up for a while.”

“I’m glad you noticed.”

“I was getting worried.”

You cock a brow. “Is worried a synonym for horny now, or…?”

His smile curls into a smirk. “That too.”

You nod, mocking sympathy. “Right, right, you poor soul.” You clear your throat, sliding into the driver’s seat, and close the door as you turn the key in the ignition. “Well!” you exclaim, rolling down the window so he can hear you. “I’m gonna drive away now. Nice talking to you.”

He puts his palm on the door, leans against it, muscles flexing. “My mate’s coming into town,” he says. He’s looking at you. So intense. “Yeah?” you ask. “Are you into that?” His brows jump, teasingly, but then he’s shaking his head.

“Nah, I just… He’s a good lad, you know? And he needs a place to stay.”

“Your dad lives with you, Styles, and I don’t think he’d like to hear -”

“He’s not staying with us.”

You scoff slightly. “You think he’d wanna stay in my little -”

“No,” Harry interrupts, “he’s staying in a hotel.”

Your eyes narrow, wondering if you know where he’s going with this. You stay quiet.

“And, uh…” He breaks eye contact, which makes you suspicious, and looks out towards the gym behind your car. “I wanna make sure the place he’s staying is nice.” He looks back at you, just a hint of a smirk in his eyes.

“Styles,” you begin slowly, and then he clears his throat, cutting you off again, and leans back, off your car, standing up straight. He’s looking at the gym again. “I think you need to come with me to test out this hotel he’s staying at.”

You laugh. You laugh, throwing your head back, being dramatic about it, and say, “You did not just go through all that just to get me in a hotel room with you.” Harry meets your gaze, finally, and grins. “My back’s getting sore for all the wrong reasons.”

“Christ almighty, you absolute bastard.” You put on your seat belt, shaking your head with a huge smile on your face. “Fuck you, Styles,” you say, putting your foot on the pedal, “and call me when you figure out a date.”

***

Apparently, the date is a week later.

And a week later, it feels so nice to wake up on a bed. All the satisfaction of the night before and a perfectly comfortable bed to wake up in. You’re more content than you should be, and you have to hide your smile the next morning after round - four? Five? Whatever. The first of the morning. And last, apparently.

He’s pulling on his pants, fixing himself in the mirror, and you’re staring at him and thinking. Thinking about what to say, when to say it, how to say it, whether you’re a wimp for wanting to say it. “So we’re really not gonna talk about it, huh?” you finally say.

He hums a “Hm?” and meets your gaze in the mirror.

You glare. “Gonna make me spell it out?”

“Spell what out?”

“Again with the questions,” you mutter.

“Right, well, I wasn’t trying to be smart,” Harry starts, and you can’t help cutting in, “Are you ever?” He purses his lips at you and turns around. “Tell me.” You’re almost impressed, and then he adds, “Is that better?”

You breathe a sigh, clearing your throat and turning on the dramatics again. Sitting up, you sit on your calves and clutch the blanket to your chest. With your best puppy dog eyes, you gush, “What are we, Styles?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Mortal enemies,” he says under his breath, turning around again to put on his shirt. “Yeah?” you say. “All blood and guts?” He smirks at you in the mirror. “I think I felt your guts last night when -”

You laugh and cut him off. “Oh, alright.”

A second of silence, and he goes a little more serious. “I hope you know I don’t do relationships,” he says quietly. Your brows jump. “And I thought I was the dramatic one.” He sighs, turning around to face you. “I’m not being dramatic.”

“The hell you aren’t,” you say with a grin.

He frowns. “We’re not a thing.”

“Good,” you tell him. “I’d kill you.”

“You have to tell me if you ever get into a relationship,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

“We’re done if you start dating.”

You scoff a laugh. “Um? No shit?”

“And we can’t tell my dad.”

Shaking your head, you hold up a hand. “Hold on, back track. I’ll tell you if I ever start dating, and you tell me if you ever do.” He shrugs and replies, “That’s easy. I won’t date.” You frown. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You’re a prick,” you say, impulsively.

“Which is why I won’t date.”

“Some people are into that.”

“Are you?”

You bounce your eyebrows. “Clearly.”

“And yet you don’t wanna date me.”

“Fuck no.”

“Point proved.”

“Fuck you.”

He grins. “Fuck me yourself.”

You laugh, incredulously, and flop back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Alright. It’s off if either of us get into a relationship -” You hold up a finger when he starts to talk and push on, “And your dad can’t know.”

“I’m not paying for this hotel every time you get horny.”

You sit up and scoff, “Every time I get -”

“Every time we want to spend quality time together,” he amends, a sweet smile on his face. You grin and lay back again. “My apartment’s small,” you say. “But there’s a bed.” Harry hums, sitting on the bed, and you turn your head to watch him pull on his shoes.

“Anywhere that’s not the gym floor is fine with me.”

“Ooh, you’ll get to see where I live,” you say. “Should I be scared?”

“For your bed, maybe.”

You snicker and mutter, “You’re gross.”

“So are you.”

“A match made in heaven.”

Harry makes a noise of disagreement. “Hell.”

You smile, reaching over to fiddle with his shirt. “Purgatory.”

“You’re awful.”

“And you’re gross,” you reply with a shrug.

You can see him biting back a smile as he stands up. “Right. And - nobody can know.”

“Yeah, yeah, we won’t tell your dad.”

“No, I mean - other people, too.”

You raise a brow. “Who cares?”

He frowns, turning away to grab his coat. “They might get the wrong idea.”

You breathe a laugh and sit up, stretching a bit. “Yeah? And what’s the right idea?”

“Anything but whatever the hell’s happening here.”

“Wow, I’m offended.”

“Should be. Fuck you.”

Childishly, you stick your tongue out at him. “Fuck me yours-”

“And now we’re just going in circles,” Harry interrupts. He grabs his coat, and you realize he’s fully dressed, and you’re a bit startled. “Don’t be late for the gym,” he tells you. “My dad’ll get suspicious.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, well, heaven forbid your dad -”

“Just don’t be late.”

“Interrupt me one more time, Styles, I -”

He smirks, opens the door, and leaves.

You groan and fall back onto the bed again, then sigh happily.

This situation with Harry, you think, is absolutely terrible.

***

He is so cute.

Just the most adorable.

All smiles and big green eyes and soft curls you want to run your hands through.

“I think I love you,” you murmur drunkenly, and he laughs.

He’s got a nice laugh. Sounds like music. “Think I feel the same.”

You lean into him, pressing kisses against the column of his throat. “I really think I love you, Harry,” you whisper, and he clears his throat, going a bit stiff. “Jack,” he says. “It’s Jack.”

“Oh,” you giggle. You look up at him. “Your eyes are green,” you tell him.

He smiles again, and he doesn’t have dimples. “That they are,” he says.

You’re at some bar. Two weeks after the hotel meet up. Harry’s been to your apartment about a million times, but luckily, the bed’s still in one piece. Here, there’s music going, and you have a few drinks on the table in front of you.

A few guys bought you drinks. Jack did. He was nice about it, though. He’s such a gentleman. He offered to buy you food, brought you to a table and talked with you while you ate. He pulled the chair out for you.

He nudges at your cheek, pressing his lips to your skin. It’s all wrong. But he’s a gentleman, and boy, are his eyes green. You sway a little to the music playing. He kisses you more. It feels nice.

You turn so your back is to his chest, and he stops with the kissing. He holds your waist, not too low, so respectful. What a gentleman. With those green, green eyes. “I wanna make you feel good,” he whispers in your ear.

“Yeah?” you say, giggling a little.

He kisses your throat, so lightly, so nicely. “I wanna take you home.”

You pout at that and turn around, wiggling your hand at him. “Oh, Jack,” you say, “I’m married!” He frowns, pulling away a little bit. “What?” You show him the ring on your finger, only half processing that it’s on your middle finger and you’re essentially flipping him off.

Your gaze focuses. “Oh,” you say, outloud, lowering your hand and inspecting the ring. It’s Harry’s, you realize. He left it in your room last week, and you wore it so you wouldn’t forget to give it to him the next time you saw him. But you forgot.

“I forgot,” you murmur.

“You forgot you’re married?” Jack scoffs incredulously.

“No!” you exclaim, looking up. “No, no, I’m not - I’m not married. Not at all.”

He relaxes, but he still looks skeptical.

“I just - it’s complicated.”

“I didn’t know,” he says, backing away. “I don’t want to get in the middle of anything.”

“You wouldn’t be,” you say softly.

He laughs awkwardly. “Um… Yeah, well, it seems like I would be.”

You’re not sure what to say, and eventually settle on a weak, “I’m sorry.”

“Right.” He clears his throat. “Me too. Well, it was nice… it was nice meeting you.”

You look up, shaking your head. “Wait, you don’t have to…”

“I think I should,” he says. “Yeah, so - bye, I guess.”

“Bye,” you say softly. “Bye, bye…”

***

What a headache. So much pain.

You groan, rolling over onto your stomach, and look at the clock.

“Shit.”

You’re late. You’re so, so late. Des will be pissed. You haven’t been late for a session in almost two years. You scramble out of bed, downing a painkiller and stumbling around your apartment until you’re changed and about ready to go.

The medicine kicks in on the way, and you’re almost sentient by the time you get to the gym. Harry gives you a weird look on the way, and a bit of a memory flashes through your head. Vaguely, you worry about having confessed your love to him.

You have a session though, and you already have enough on your plate dealing with an angry Des, so you force it out of your head. Des is upset. He gets over it. You throw punches and get your feelings out and set a ring on your finger to the side. You’re not sure how it got there, but it looks like Harry’s. Shit, you think, maybe there really was a declaration of love.

He’s reading against his tree, and you ambush him on the way out. “What did I say last night?” you ask, a bit breathlessly. He looks surprised and replies, “What do you mean?” You sit down next to him, getting your breath back.

“Be honest,” you say.

A smile tugs the corner of his lips. “Aren’t I always?”

“Never. But I didn’t - you’re not -” You huff. “Are we okay?”

The smile drops, and so does your heart. He looks down. Oh, no, you think miserably. You really did. You said you loved him, drunkenly, and ruined your entire relationship. Friendship. Situationship. You’re getting another headache just thinking about it.

“Well, actually… I was thinking… maybe we should take a break,” Harry says quietly.

Your heart drops even further, and you blurt, “I didn’t mean it.”

His brows furrow. He looks up again. “What?”

“I don’t love you.”

Harry blinks, dramatically, and actually laughs. “What?” he repeats.

“What I said last night. I didn’t mean it. I was drunk.”

His brows go down again. “I didn’t… I didn’t see you last night.”

You hold up the ring. “Are you sure?”

He grabs it from you, smiling a bit. “Yeah. Positive. I’ve been looking for this for about three days.” You bite your lip. “Oh,” you say. He looks at you, confused yet again. “If not me,” he says slowly, “who were you with?”

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. “I don’t remember.”

“You slept with somebody?”

“No. I woke up alone. Just a - an awful headache.”

He clears his throat, looking away. “Right, right. Well, you can. Obviously. I don’t - I don’t care. At all. But I was thinking…” He looks down at the ring, at his lap, frowning. “I think we should lay off it a bit.”

“Asking for some space?” you ask, and you’re half joking, but your voice is a little weak.

He looks up. Softly, he says, “Yeah.”

“Wow,” you laugh. “You’re breaking up with me and we’re not even together.”

“I’m not breaking up with you,” he says quickly. Too quickly. His face tinges red, just a bit, and his gaze falls to the ring. “I think… I think we should have another rule. We can only see each other once a week.”

You whistle lowly. “Wow,” you say again.

“Stop with the wows,” Harry mutters. “I get it. You’re impressed.”

“It’s hard not to be.”

“Right, yeah. I’m very impressive.” He’s still looking down. There’s a beat of silence.

“Alright!” you say after a minute. “Alright, well, I’ll see you around, then. I’ll get a calendar.” You stand up, dusting nonexistent grass from your legs. “I’ll doodle your name around each week. What do you say, Fridays? Wednesdays? When’re we doing this, huh?”

“I don’t know. Whenever.”

“Geez, try not to sound so excited.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Alright!” you repeat. “Goodbye.”

You stand there for half a second, expecting something, anything, and then walk off.

***

He’s not at the gym.

Midnight, a little after, and he’s not at the gym. The lights are off. Ridiculously, you’re not really sure what to do. You give a few half hearted punches, and then leave, feeling like an absolute idiot.

He ignores you the next day during your session at the gym. He works out, parading his toned muscles around the gym and grinning at the instructor to flaunt his dimples. Then he walks out, so he’s gone by the time you’re done with Des.

A week, and he hasn’t said a word. The worst part is that you don’t even know what you did wrong. He’s just scared, you tell yourself. He’d been spending almost every night at your apartment. He’ll come crawling back. He’ll kiss you and tell you he loves you and then you’ll date and everything will be happily ever after.

It’s all lies, of course, because you don’t even know if you’d want a relationship, if you’re ready for that, if you could stand that with him, if you love him - but it’s kind of nice to fantasize about.

You go to a fight one night. You watch. You watch the money, the fighting, watch the happy, painful, bliss on the winners’ faces and hide in the crowd. People recognize you, ask when you’re going, and you say… You say you’re not.

You can’t.

Maybe tomorrow, you say.

But you don’t come the next day. You stare at your ceiling, hot, and watch the fan. Around and around it goes, and you don’t move. You think. You think, and sweat, and eventually get up and take a cold shower.

The next morning, Des isn’t in the back room. You ask the receptionist where he is, and she shrugs. Tells you she has no idea - call him. So you do. You call, and he sounds upset, and he says to come upstairs.

You’ve never been upstairs.

You know where the steps are, though, and you walk up and into the hallway and see Des leaned against a door. “What’s going on?” you ask immediately. “Are you okay?” Des nods, sighing heavily. “I’m fine, but Harry’s - he’s got into a fight.”

You almost laugh. “A fight?”

“Yeah, he…” He sighs again. “A client came in here earlier, hours ago. He was going on about some fight he’d gone to last night, talking about what happened, about… well, about you.” Your eyes widen. “What?”

“Said you wouldn’t fight,” Des goes on quietly. “Started going on about how you can’t… He said you can’t -” He shakes his head. “This is him, mind you, he said not only can you not fight, but you’re a wimp about it, too.”

You can only gape.

“I was gonna kick him out, I was, but Harry… Er - well, they started shoving each other, bloody idiots, and then there were punches and we pulled them apart but they still… Well, he’s got a bit of a shiner.”

“But he’s okay?”

“He’s fine. Mostly.” He eyes you up, looking curious. “Haven’t broken his heart yet, have you?” This time you do laugh. “Sorry?” you ask, and Des smiles a bit. “Boy’s been looney about you for ages, you know. Since the second you stepped in here.”

“I…” You’re not sure what to say. “Um… Why… why are you telling me this now?” you ask, and Des grins. “Wanted to see how guilty you’d be.” You frown, confused, and echo, “Guilty?” Des nods, looking almost smug. “Most people are guilty when their lie’s found out. They’re even guiltier when they realize the old man they’ve been lying to has known since the start.”

“We’re not… lying to you…” It sounds even lamer out loud than in your head.

Des hums. “Course you’re not.” He pats you on the back and clears his throat, turning away. “I’m going out, now. It’ll be for a while. Don’t hurt him anymore, thanks.” He disappears down the steps, and you squeeze your eyes shut. Guilty, yes, and embarrassed.

Whoops.

You open the door and see Harry on the bed, an ice pack on his face.

“You look like shit,” you say.

“So do you,” he replies without looking at you. “At least I have an excuse.”

“Ooh, wasn’t expecting that one,” you tell him, walking closer. “None of the ‘you should see the other guy,’ huh?” He turns to glare at you, and you grimace at the black and blue around his eye. “Ouch,” you murmur.

“Yeah.”

“I’m supposed to be the one getting beat up,” you say softly, and you’re pushing a curl out of his face before you can stop yourself. “You’re too pretty to get your face smashed in.” Harry rolls his eyes and turns away again.

You lean down, impulsively - you’re not thinking today, apparently - and start to kiss his hand, resting on his stomach. He winces, pulling away, and you see his knuckles are bruised. “That hurts,” he says.

“Sorry, sorry,” you say, and go for his cheek -

He hisses your name and bites out, “That hurts too.”

“Well, Christ, Styles,” you scoff, “where doesn’t it hurt?”

He glances at you, a flicker in those green eyes, and points to his temple. “There’s not too bad,” he mumbles. You have to bite back a grin. “Alright,” you say, and you press your lips to his skin. His eyes flutter shut.

“And… and here’s not awful.” He points to his jaw almost grudgingly, and a bit of a laugh slips out of your lips as you pepper a kiss across his jaw, over his chin, and then pull away. He opens his eyes at the loss of contact, pouting a bit.

“How ‘bout here,” he whispers, and he points to his lips.

“You’re a bastard,” you whisper back, and then you kiss him.

Suddenly he’s better, because he’s smiling and reaching up behind your neck to gently pull you closer. Then he’s sitting up, onto his elbow, his hand nudging you as if he wants you to get on top of him.

“Thought everything hurt,” you murmur, complying anyway.

Harry shrugs, smiling more, and says,“The medicine just set in.”

“I hate you,” you tell him.

He sighs, sounding happy, and kisses you deeper. “The feeling,” he says, “is mutual.”

***

His name is Charlie. The bartender. It says it right on his little gold name tag, which blinds you every few seconds when the light hits it just right. He’s pretty nice. You’re getting drinks for yourself and for Harry, who’s supposed to meet you in a few minutes. He’ll probably be late.

“Come here often?” Charlie asks, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You raise a brow. “Yeah. Yet somehow I’m still surprised at how unoriginal you are.”

Charlie laughs, sliding your drink across the counter and getting started on Harry’s. “Oh, no, no, I just meant… I feel like I’ve seen you around.” You give a neutral hum in reply, swirling the ice in your drink around.

And then you hear your name called from behind you, and you feel yourself smile as you turn around and see Harry walking in, waving at you. He’s not late. How nice. “Hey, you’re with Harry?” Charlie asks, sounding surprised, and your smile drops to a frown as you remember he’s still there.

“Yup.”

“Wow,” Charlie says under his breath, his back to you as he mixes Harry’s drink, “he sure goes through dates fast…” Your brows jump. “Excuse me?” Charlie turns around. He looks stunned. Slowly, he hands the drink to you. “Um… Nothing. Sorry.”

“Did you see him here with someone else?” you ask, regretting it immediately.

“Yeah, just last week,” Charlie replies. He makes a face. “They were all over each other.” And from the next expression that floods his features, he, too, regrets his words immediately after they leave his lips. “But, uh - that’s not my business!” he says hurriedly. “That has nothing to do with me. Okay! Well, enjoy your drinks.”

He walks away just as Harry comes up behind you.

“Well, hello,” he says softly, lips feathering against your ear.

“Hey,” you say, handing him his drink.

Your tone is a bit sharp, and Harry pulls away a bit. “Thanks,” he says. “Er… you alright?”

“I’m fine. So is, uh, Charlie here.” You point at Charlie’s receding figure.

“Yeah?” Harry says, an amused smile curving his mouth as he takes a sip of his drink.

You clear your throat, fiddling with your glass. “We were just talking about you.”

His smirk is so handsome. And irritating. Right on the line between the choices of kiss him and smack him. “Oh?” he says. “All good things, I hope?” You shrug, letting your gaze drift around the room. “Not necessarily. He, uh… he said you came here last week with someone else.”

The smirk disappears. He looks down, coughs slightly. “Said that, did he?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, patting him on the chest. “Yeah, yeah he did say that. And now, I’m saying that, uh… that you’re drinking alone. I’ll see you around, Styles.” You walk away, just the slightest bit of anger seeping through your skin.

***

Antsy. Antsy, antsy, antsy.

The fan is spinning.

That damn fan.

You can’t look at it anymore. You roll out of bed, put on some clothes. No sweatshirt, no pants, just shorts and an athletic top. It is freezing fucking cold outside, you realize with a grimace, which isn’t new information but somehow still surprises you.

Soon you’re running, slowly, jogging, and already you feel better.

Really, you shouldn’t be upset. That’s what keeps spinning around your head. You shouldn’t be upset. You should’ve expected this. You did expect this. Obviously he was sleeping with other people. He’d been honest about it from the start.

Regret, anger, misery. Turn it into money. A little cash, a little pain, a little gain. You’re filled with regret as soon as you step inside. People notice you and look startled, and then expectant. They seem to close in on you.

You’ll fight tonight, right? Give it a good show? There’s a new kid in town, better show ‘em who’s boss - don’t lose your throne, rookie - c’mon, prove Des doesn’t train losers - does he? Does he? Are you? A loser? Gone soft, have you? Are you ready? Ready to go?

And brrrring, you’re off.

It feels so good. You’re so numb it doesn’t even hurt. It’ll probably hurt later, though, and you’ll probably regret it, but not now. Now you’re just happy, grinning through the blood, probably looking psychotic.

It’s unmatched, this adrenaline rush. Can’t get it anywhere else.

Well, maybe -

Bang. Right to the nose. Damn, that hurts, but losing hurts more - one, two, three, around the back, pull, pull, make it hurt, like they hurt you, like he hurt you, fuck it hurts so bad, and…

And we have a winner!

Outside, it is so, so cold.

***

Cleaning yourself up is therapeutic.

It doesn’t happen until the next morning, but it’s pleasant.

You miss your session with Des.

***

You spend a lot of time at the park. At the library. Anywhere but your apartment, where he can find you. You ignore his calls. You change his ringtone so you can bop along to the song while you let it ring out.

When you go to the gym at one in the morning, about a week later, you actually look a little worse than you first did. Less bloody, less fresh, less swelling but more black and blue around your eye and cheek.

Harry bolts up when he sees you. He starts to step forward, then hesitates. He hovers by the alcove where he reads, glowing like an angel from the light behind him. He looks so nervous.

“You look awful,” he says softly.

You clear your throat. “Thanks.”

“I was worried. We were both worried.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Harry sets his book down. The nervousness fades away, and he leans against the wall next to him, leveling your gaze as he crosses his arms across his chest.

“You fought again,” he says.

“I did.”

“Because of me?”

You look at him, sensing a shift in the air. “What am I supposed to say?”

“The truth.”

“You’ve got quite the head if you expect me to say yes.”

“And you’ve got quite the nerve if you expect me to believe no.”

“You just think the sun revolves around you, don’t you, Styles?” you ask with a scowl.

“Who’s to say it doesn’t?”

“Christ,” you mutter. You huff a sigh, breaking eye contact and turning away.

He lets the quiet loom for a moment, probably basking in it, and then says, “You’re upset about the bar, aren’t you.” He doesn’t even phrase it like a question. “I’m not upset,” you reply under your breath. “I’m not even surprised.”

“Good.”

“Yeah?” you say tersely, meeting his eyes again. “You’re pleased by that?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. You know why?” Finally, a bit of venom creeps into his words. Part of you is relieved to hear some sort of feeling in what he’s saying. “Because I’m allowed to do that, to go on a date. This isn’t a relationship. I can fuck other people, you can fuck whoever the hell you want.”

“Have you?”

Harry frowns some more. “I just told you I did.”

“Before that.”

He opens his mouth - and then closes it. “Have you?”

You can’t help but smirk a little bit. “No.”

“Well, you could’ve. You can. It’s not a rule.”

“Maybe it should be.”

Your words hang in the air for a second, and you can see Harry turning them over in his head. His eyes bounce between yours, mouth set in a hard line. “We’re not dating,” he says lowly. “I hope you get that. We’re not together.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I don’t date.”

“Except for the one last week.”

His jaw clenches, and he turns away from you. “That doesn’t count.”

“How come?”

“Because -” He huffs a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Christ. I don’t know.”

“Wrong answer, Styles.”

“I don’t know,” he repeats irritatedly.

“Er,” you say, imitating a buzzer. “Still wrong.”

“Fine,” he practically growls, turning on you. “Because I was only getting over you.”

You smile coolly, ignoring your racing heartbeat. “Ding, ding, ding.”

Harry shakes his head, turning away again. “I can’t do this.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes,” he sighs, “I do.”

You raise a brow. “And, uh, Harry,” you say, “why’s that?”

He glances at you. A million different emotions flash across his face, echoing in his eyes, in your heart. And then, suddenly, his features soften. “You know why,” he murmurs, and your brows jump.

You blink at him, startled. “What?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, biting his lip as he takes a small step towards you. “You know why.”

You shake your head, backing up slightly. “I - I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“C’mon,” he murmurs, closing the distance. “Gonna make me say it? Gonna make me spell it out?” You watch him, hold his gaze, look into his eyes, and your breath catches in your throat as you start to understand.

“Yeah,” you tell him a bit breathlessly. “Yeah, I’m gonna make you spell it out.”

“I,” he starts, and now you’re taking a half step towards him, “l… i… k… e… y… o… u…”

You can’t help the smile that breaks across your face. “You’re a good speller.”

“A lot,” he adds.

“And now, uh… Now put it all together for me,” you say, milking it.

“I like you,” he whispers, so close now. “I like you a lot.”

“I like you, too,” you admit.

He traces his finger against your cheek, so, so gently. Your eyes close at the contact.

“You’ll break my heart,” he says, leaning in.

“Not if -” You’re having trouble speaking. “Not if you don’t let me.”

He’s speaking almost against your lips now. “As if I’ll have any say in the matter.”

You open your eyes, smiling just barely. “I’ll be nice.”

“You could never.”

His eyes are so, so green. “You’d be surprised.”

His finger slides under your chin and he gently presses up. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your eyelids flutter shut. “I’m anything but predictable,” you whisper.

He doesn’t reply, just kisses you, and you smile against his lips.

Maybe things will work out after all.

***

la fin 💜

i wrote this FAST haha like in a day or two but lemme tell you i've never felt this way about anything else i've written... like obvi i don't post things i hate slkdfj but like i LOVE this fic. not to sound narcissistic lmao but i'm so in love w this fic it's insane. that being said some feedback would literally make my entire day!!! week!!! life!!!!

anyway thank you for reading ily <3

masterlist | ask

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles story #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles

[1kook]

EXPLORER

jjk x female reader

FOR GCN’S ❝ 23 | JUNGKOOK BIRTHDAY PROJECT ❞ ! Alien AU | “I want to have your last name!” | “I like when you do that, it makes me crazy.”

summary; Jungkook does not want to impress the frankly tyrannical ways of his planet on you. He just wants to stay here and keep your couch warm for you, hold your hair back when you wash your face in the morning.  warnings; smut in the forms of cunnilingus, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, anal, tit play, and all that jazz bc surprise its tentacle porn rating: mature (18+) miscellaneous; FLUFF, strangers to friends to lovers, curious alien kook, there’s a saber tooth tiger mention, virginity is a social construct, they both have skewed perceptions of sex and love, and idk what else word count; 17.8k

notes; someone said once “all u ever do is write college aus 😃” and i was like lol true but i was also a virgo and was like “i’ll prove u wrong” and next thing i knew i was writing a 17k alien au clap for me lads

special thanks to; my savior and editor rumu ( @kigurumu​ ) who very politely tells me when im making up words n also when shit doesn't make sense but lets me make stupid final decisions that will come back to bite me in the ass<3 and also my gf yeji @suqakoo​ who watched me crash and burn about ten times while writing this monstrosity of  fic and just laughed her support amazes me<3

BEFORE READING SEE HERE; body marks, under eye marks, sixam that i stole from the sims 4 

He comes with the sole purpose of populating this uncharted territory with his seed. 

Jungkook has been on many missions abroad. He’s visited about every planet in Sector 76 before this, the largest collection of neighboring galaxies known to exist. And because of that, he likes to think he’s well educated in extraterrestrial affairs, quite knowledgeable in the barbaric ways of the foreigners. They see, they mate. Pretty simple. 

For the past couple years, as leading field researcher of Sixam, Jungkook has been exclusively studying every creature he comes across. He enjoys cataloging their habits, their mating cycles, and the unique culture they develop, sometimes intentionally and sometimes not. 

Granted, he’s never been on a mission like this. 

This type of mission has never been his. 

When the great planet of Sixam wishes to settle colonies of new species— Sixamian bred with whatever other species that have deemed suitable —they usually task people like Namjoon or Seokjin, both high ranking generals of the Sixamian Intergalactic Corp. with a near immaculate genetic makeup. Their genotypes carry strong traits, and are oftentimes most reflected in their phenotypes as well. Beings like Namjoon or Jin are the epitome of what it means to be Sixamian, which is why Jungkook is surprised when they ask him to place his seeds on Planet 43 Z-7 of the Via Láctea solar system, otherwise known as ‘Earth.’

It wasn’t that Jungkook had major self image issues, nor did he think he was particularly bad to look at. In fact, Jungkook thinks he’s pretty amazing. Of course he doesn’t compare to Namjoon or Jin, but quite frankly, the comparison is skewed by the fact he works in a different field than them. You cannot compare black holes to asteroid belts; in a similar fashion, you cannot compare military generals to scientific researchers. 

Anyway, Jungkook has never been to Planet 43 Z-7, but some of his coworkers have. They all claim it is a beautiful place, filled to the brim with life and culture never before seen. 

Frankly, Jungkook doesn’t believe it. 

He’s seen hundreds of planets, thousands of species, so he hardly feels amazed anymore. There is nothing enjoyable about other planets when he comes from Sixam, quite possibly the most intellectually advanced one in the universe. And he says this having met Yoongi of Planet 732 T-1, another being near immaculate in terms of cognitive abilities.

But not as perfect as Sixamians. 

Hoseok says Planet 43 Z-7 has all sorts of unique artifacts, like these edible arrangements called ‘hot dogs’ you eat between two pieces of raised yeast. Planet 43 Z-7 has been unmarked for eons now, but is a popular hideout for rebelling Sixamians during their early years. Jungkook was never one of those types, but he has a handful of friends who were. 

Needless to say, Jungkook isn’t looking forward to his mission. He asks Namjoon and Jin for tips on how to approach the reproductive members in the species, if there’s any protocol he needs to follow, but they simply laugh it off. They’ve both had the pleasure of, well, pleasuring some of the most beautiful creatures in the universe, so Jungkook’s incompetence must be a sight to see. 

Airship handler Jimin is the last face he sees on Sixam. He’s as relaxed as ever, strapping Jungkook into his travel pod like this is just another one of his research trips and not his first ever population operation. He pats his shoulder once, tells him to bring him back something called a ‘Nintendo DS’ that his partner Taehyung has been begging for since the last time they went to Planet 43 Z-7, but Jungkook has no idea what that is. 

And then he’s off. 

Jungkook has long since grown comfortable with the emptiness of space, a desolate feeling that oddly made him feel at home. But, as he hurtles towards his destination, there’s a newfound sense of anxiety that consumes him at the thought of this unknown planet— this ‘Earth’ that his fellow Sixamian friends speak so highly about. 

He lands in a field. Well, ‘lands’ is a bit of a stretch; his pod comes to a stop a few feet above Planet 43 Z-7’s surface, hovering over the natural flora that seems to grow in abundance in this part of the planet. It’s… dirty, compared to the sleek skyscrapers and glowing structures of Sixam. 

He steps out tentatively, the vegetation crunching beneath the boots of his skintight spacesuit. The folks back at Sixam had told him that whatever the residents of this planet breathed in was compatible with Sixamians, but he still hesitates to click off his helmet. 

The planet is quiet, save for the quiet chirping of some creature underground. The AI on his helmet pulls up the information before his very eyes, the advanced technology quickly tapping into wherever it was these beings stored their information. A mole cricket, he reads, first documented by a researcher about two hundred human years back. Very annoying. 

His pod seals itself shut again, presumably heading back into orbit until Jungkook calls for it again. With it gone, he’s faced with the vast nothingness of Planet 43 Z-7, just grass and trees with very few things in between. He’s beginning to suspect Jimin might have sent him to the wrong coordinates, a void space on the planet with nothing but vegetation for miles. 

Part of him is frustrated, beyond annoyed that he cannot even complete the one thing he came to do if there is no being in sight. But another part, the part of him that had been nervous to even accept this mission, feels grateful. Well, there was no use complaining about it now, he thinks. He pulls up his virtual journal, ready to catalogue every bit of vegetation he can set his eyes on. 

After a while, his helmet becomes stuffy, the digital screen that plays over the glass piece fogging up with his breath. So Jungkook takes his chances and clicks it off, the sudden wash of oxygen filling his lungs quickly. It’s fresh and moist? It smells like his laboratories back on Sixam, the ones that took years of countless trips around the universe and meticulous gardening to cultivate. Yet here on Planet 43 Z-7, this type of phenomenon is common, and apparently, ignored by its residents. 

One man’s trash was another man’s treasure, he supposes. 

He’s scanning a peculiar organism, reddish and dome-shaped, when he hears the first crack of a twig. Immediately, his defenses rise. Jungkook was by no means a skilled warrior, but most Sixamians fared better than other creatures in the universe. Save for the few barbarian, primitive species they’ve encountered, 9/10 times any wild encounter was in their favor. 

His eyes scan over the perimeter of the field, scanning, scanning, scanning— until he spots two, huge, glowing yellow eyes from distance. His eyes widen, flicking on the retractable blaster from his wrist and pointing it at the creature. 

It’s bigger than him, with eyes that look over only a short distance before gradually dying down. He wonders if that’s the scope of its field of vision, crouching down along the vegetation. He creeps closer, rounds the bright beams until he can see the creature’s side, an oddly shaped thing, almost like a shell. It has wheels, he realizes, mentally jotting down the fact this species is advanced enough to develop such technology on their own. 

Right as he’s beginning to lower his wrist, deciding this metal creature posed no threat from its lack of movement, something smaller moves around it, carrying a compact version of those glowing eyes. 

Jungkook panics, wildly clicking through the modes on his wrists. He jumps from his blaster to the thermal detector, and the smaller creature that moves around the metal beast has a heat signature he’s never seen before, warmth that begins at its core but doesn’t drop drastically as it fans out. And then he’s switching to his electroscope and is startled to see that the smaller creature even carries an electric charge beneath its outer membrane. 

This is terrifying, he thinks to himself, wondering why his friends back home had decided to trick him into believing Planet 43 Z-7 was remotely safe. 

Before Jungkook can act rashly and accidentally kill that terrifying creature, he’s blindly stepping into a hole in the ground, a dip in the field. An uncontrollable yelp tears itself from his throat at the roll of his ankle. 

Immediately, the yellow eye is upon him, flickering over his kneeling form in the vegetation. Jungkook freezes, caught in the all-seeing rays of the yellow eye. He wonders if this is the end, the end of an undoubtedly legendary run, as the creature slowly approaches. 

Its figure is shrouded, the blinding eye turning them into just a silhouette that closes in on Jungkook fairly quickly. He squeezes his eyes shut, wishing he never stepped out of his pod, when the beam flickers off. 

“Hello?” a hesitant voice calls out, and then he’s met with you. 

You had always believed holding out until marriage would come as an advantage. You played it safe your entire life, always did what you were told. You had grown up in a relatively traditional household, always following the rules like a good kid. Your parents said no dating until seventeen? You waited until seventeen. Your health classes in school said practice abstinence? You practiced abstinence. 

Following the rules was what got you into a prestigious university. Following the rules is what got you your first, quite admirable, job. Following the rules is what had gotten you into your first serious relationship with your boyfriend, who became your fiancé, who would become the man to cheat on you three nights before your wedding. 

Being a virgin— that symbol of purity —was supposed to make you desirable to men, you thought. It was supposed to protect you from bad experiences, keep you perfectly polished until the time came. You had many a friend who had engaged in sex at a young age, experienced mind blowing sex that would never be topped, even by their own future husbands. You had saved yourself from disappointment by saving yourself in general. 

Except that concept, that meticulously followed tradition, was what ultimately drove your fiancé away.

Three days. 

Three days before you would marry and lose that treasured thing you had been carrying around for the past twenty-five years, flushed clean down the drain all because he couldn’t wait any longer. He had managed four years with you, four memorable years where he had religiously told you he loved you every chance he got, regardless of your lack of sex life. Just to blow it for some barely legal chick at a bar. 

Needless to say, you were done. Absolutely finished with him and your friends who claimed they “weren’t surprised” only after the fact, or your parents who had urged you to try again. You were done with this saving and waiting all for a man who ultimately did you dirty. You needed to get away from it all, and the only way to do that was to leave the city all together. 

Your parents were uncomfortable with the idea. They said it was too brash a decision to give up after one try. But your whole future had been riding on this one try, and to have it completely ripped away from you crushed not only your hope but your pride. 

On the other hand, your grandmother and her lifelong experiences with men understood you just perfectly. She was old, living in a retirement home near your parents’ home in one of your city’s many suburbs. There was a house out in the countryside, about a two-hour drive from the city. She had grown up there, and even though she hadn’t lived there in years, she simply couldn’t bring herself to sell it off. So she gave it to you. 

It was a cute little thing, a stereotypical farmhouse surrounded by miles and miles of nothingness. Well, your neighbors were about half a mile off on either side, but who was walking half a mile for a cup of sugar? No one. 

You loved it. 

It was peace and quiet, long days of focusing on yourself and your tiny garden outback. There was no societal pressure to act right, or forced ideologies to make yourself the ‘perfect woman.’ It was just you and a stray cat that visited now and then, spending day after day reading and writing, working from home. 

The trips into the city were far and few between. There was a general store close to your house, nestled into a quaint little town you visited every so often. And the mailmen still had to make their stops through here, so everything was practically at your fingertips. The only thing you had to do in the city was drop by the main branch office of your job. Your work had mostly been over a computer before, so moving to work at home was rather easy. However, there was still the occasional board meeting to sit through. 

So here you were, three months into your new living situation and on your way back home from the city. The evening sun is beating down hot on your yellow Beetle. You were in desperate need for a check up, but you kept pushing it off and telling yourself tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. It seems tomorrow should have been today, because by the time the sun is setting, home is still another thirty minutes away and the temperature gauge is climbing to unhealthy levels. 

The Beetle pushes for another two minutes before wheezing to a stop in the middle of nowhere, your angry slaps against the dashboard doing nothing to revive it. With a muttered curse, you switch the car off. The front lights remain on even as you round the dead car, angrily kicking the tire with your heel. It doesn’t budge. 

You sigh, sinking down to your knees beside the opened door you came out of. The nearest mechanic was still a forty minutes’ drive from here, and you doubt anyone is still open. The con of small towns is that most of the businesses close after sunset. One glance at your phone lets you know it’s way too late to call anyone for help. You contemplate just walking to your house, but it’s dark and far, and your heels were only meant to be worn for an hour or two during your meeting. Not for an entire transcontinental trek back home. 

Sighing, you decide your best bet is tinkering around yourself. You weren’t a total idiot, so you hope whatever is wrong with your car is something you can fix on your own. You shoot back up to your feet, patting the blood back into your face as you round the car. 

There’s nothing but you and the Beetle for miles on end— or so you think. 

Just as you flicker your flashlight over the expanse of grass, there’s a startled shout that scares the living daylights out of you, flashlight fumbling in your hand in your haste to see what it was. 

Great, so not only were you stranded in the middle of nowhere with nothing but your heels to carry you to safety, but now there was also a man out there, hiding in the tall grass like a voyeur. 

It’s a terrible idea, but you approach him anyway. There’s a huddled figure, a gleam of a bizarre outfit that has you shaking in your heels as you step closer to the edge of the road. And when you finally get close enough, the light shining over their figure, you’re not exactly sure what you’re looking at. 

“Hello?” you call out, and are met with the most violet eyes you’ve ever seen in your entire life. 

Jungkook thinks you are an odd creature. 

To begin with, you carry an electrical charge at your fingertips but are unable to revive your rickety metal ride with said touch. It is undoubtedly a trait he does not remember cataloguing in any other species before yours; it might rival the Sixamians’ aura sensing abilities, the little triangular markings beneath their eyes that allowed them to alter another’s emotions. Electricity beneath surface, he mentally notes for the nth time that night. 

The inside of your vehicle is disgustingly mediocre, a mixture of old clogs and pipes he’s only seen in ancient Sixamian textbooks. Still, they’re devastatingly easy to figure out. One simple twist of a lid later and your car is revving back to life. You squeal and clap, clacking around on the frankly terrifying footwear you call heels that are practically knives as stilts. 

Amazing, you cry, moving like a mini tornado around him. You don’t seem the least bit phased by his appearance, despite the initial shock you’d gotten when you first made eye contact. Actually, Jungkook thinks you might be the quickest extraterrestrial being to accept his existence as fact. He has to wonder what exactly goes on here that has these Humans, as Jimin has called them, so desensitized to the appearance of otherworldly figures such as himself. 

You invite him into your moving death trap, not the least bit concerned with the chest piece of armor he removes and tosses into the seats behind him. Jungkook has been in a lot of near death situations, and somehow your manner of driving this metal box marks high on the list. 

“My home,” you tell him when you finally pull up to a tiny shack of a house. It’s about the same size as his personal lab back on Sixam, so he wonders just which one of you is being deluded by the size. The car engine shuts off with a practiced flick of your wrist, and then you’re making your way up the front steps without sparing him a glance. 

“Lovely,” he says at the entrance. He moves to travel deeper inside, but you warn him to remove his shoes. He does, hesitantly, bare feet padding along the wooden floors behind you. “Forgive me,” he apologizes, watching you bumble around a small space with a standing cooler and heat box. “I haven’t asked your name.”

You hum, tugging out two cups from a hanging cabinet. You fill them with a white substance, followed by a light brown powder that almost makes you sneeze, before shoving them into the heat box that begins suspiciously counting down. “__ ___,” you offer. 

Jungkook frowns. “You have two names?” he asks skeptically. In Sixam, rarely anyone had two names. “Are you a government official?” 

You laugh. “No, but I do work for an office. I have one name, and then my last name,” you explain. 

This only perplexes him more. “A last name?” he repeats. “What is the purpose of this last name?” 

You shrug, and the heat box beeps loudly. Jungkook twitches, ready to aim his blaster once more but you calm the beeping box with a gentle click that has the front opening, the most heavenly scent wafting into his nostrils. Oh Jungkook definitely needed to take that back. Much to his surprise, you hand him one of the handled cups, the sweet smell making his eyes roll into the back of his head. 

“Well,” you say, seemingly unaware of the way you just changed Jungkook’s entire life. “I have my name, and then I have my family’s name. Like, to show we’re in the same group, kinda,” you explain. “And it also helps sort of differentiate you from other people with the same first name.” You settle down on a seat in front of the counter, carefully blowing across the liquid contents of the mug. Jungkook doesn’t get why until he tries to take a sip and the liquid scalds his tongue. You laugh. “Gotta cool it down, silly.” 

He feels silly. In fact, he feels beyond embarrassed that someone who is not a Sixamian is looking at him with the same eyes you look at an infant with. He has a strong need to reinforce his superiority over you. 

“Well I am Jungkook,” he announces proudly. “Jungkook of Sixam. The only Jungkook of Sixam, because we do not believe in sharing something as intimate as our names with another,” he huffs. You scoff, a genuine look of amusement crossing your features that Jungkook simply does not understand. 

It’s with a practiced grace that you set your cup down on the counter, face coming to a rest in in the palm of your hand as you watch him talk over himself about the intricacies of Sixamian names, and how each one is carefully selected at one’s first celebration to honor the first long year of life they overcame. That look on your face, that disgustingly entertained expression does not melt away, even when Jungkook hastily calls your people imbeciles to your face. 

“Yeah, well,” you shrug, staring deep into the contents of your hot cocoa, as you had called it when offering him a second cup, as if you don’t seem to disagree in the slightest. “Humans are like that. 

There’s a quality to your voice, a rather melancholy tone that curls around your words that stops Jungkook’s tirade against your race for a moment. There’s a look in your eyes, hollow and alone, that he cannot place. He wonders if it’s from past experiences or from a shared Human trauma. Either way, he does not understand. 

It’s with a shake of your head that you look up at him again, sweet smile back on your features. “Humans are selfish creatures, Jungkook,” you say. 

He is not sure if he believes you. 

Jungkook has traveled to many parts of the universe, has visited places your tiny Human brain may never comprehend. Yet he has not always received this treatment. There have been missions where he has been picked on and abused for his curiosity, rudely ejected back into the vast emptiness of space just because he wanted to know more, learn more. Not every planet welcomes him with a soft smile and a warm place to stay. 

Despite the initial unimpressed confusion he felt upon entering Planet 43 Z-7, there is something about the quirk of your lips and gentle tapping of your fingers that intrigues him. 

Huh, he thinks, subconsciously cataloguing your mannerisms in his head. He will write about this later. 

You let Jungkook sleep in your quarters, a small area with a mattress that he sinks into with delight. There’s a change of clothing you set out on the edge of the bed, a rather shabby set that matches yours. He is reluctant to peel away his bodysuit, even more so when he realizes he is standing naked on a foreign planet with a very strange creature clattering around downstairs. He hurries into the clothes. 

You peek your head into the room later on, carefully flicking off the lights as he settles onto the mattress. Jungkook is beyond tired, body fatigued from hurtling thousands of light years through space in such a short amount of time. The abundance of breathable oxygen is still something his body has to grow accustomed to. Your voice is soft as you whisper out a goodnight farewell that he can only sleepily mumble back. 

Jungkook is quite literally the most gorgeous person you have ever seen. Well, person is a stretch considering you’re not entirely sure what he is, or where he’s from. When you found him, sadly crouched in the middle of nowhere, you wanted to convince yourself he was some random college boy lost on his way to a costume convention. But he’s not. His big purple irises are oddly bright, practically luminescent, and that’s definitely not something one could achieve through stage makeup. And he’s not a college student either, despite how youthful he looks, but a foreign being at least three times your age. 

Or so he says. 

Honestly, you’re torn between wanting to write him off a nutjob or believing he is this highly intelligent extraterrestrial being. In the case he is the latter, you find it odd that of all the planets in your solar system— a whopping eight, maybe nine —he chose crappy old Earth to visit. 

Jungkook moves like a fine tuned instrument, graceful limbs wandering around your home and backyard the next morning. His little head piece, a unique accessory that wraps around the base of his skull like a microphone headset or something, seems to keep him in constant communication with his fellow brethren so long as he wears it. So he wears it all the time. 

Still, you’re able to differentiate between his messages back home and his mindless mumbles. Those usually happen more often than not, soft muttering as he inspects your garden, vivid descriptions of the plainest things like an onion. 

“Lemonade’s ready,” you call, stepping into your backyard. Jungkook peers over your rosemaries like a bunny, wide eyes scanning the pitcher you set out on your back porch’s table. Carefully, he steps around your meticulous rows of vegetables. He’s wearing the clothes you lent him last night, a pair of shorts and a shirt your brother had left when he visited a few weeks ago. They fit him nicely, shorts just shy of his knees. 

“This is lemond-aid?” he asks quizzically, tentative hands reaching for the quickly perspiring glass. He has unique markings that begin at his hands, twisting and curling carefully around his arms. They’re gold in the sunlight, contrasting softly against his relatively peachy skin. There’s a matching set on his knees that wrap over and around his thighs, beneath his shorts. He looks every bit the celestial being, yet here he is marveling over the lemon slice balanced on the rim of his glass. 

“Lemonade,” you correct, sitting down on your rocking chair. Your floppy sun hat protects you from the brutal rays of the sun, practically scorching in this summer heat. It reminds you of the honeymoon you were supposed to take a few months back. You stomp out the memory. 

Jungkook takes tentative sips, stopping every few seconds to smack his lips at the taste. Then, suddenly, he’s plopping down on the wooden planks of your porch criss-cross applesauce. The bracelet-like contraption he had removed from his suit is sitting on his wrist by itself, with Jungkook rapidly tapping some unseeable button on it until a blue hologram appears between the two of you. 

“Woah,” you gasp, the projection flawless and stable. Jungkook gets to work tapping at it, unrecognizable symbols appearing on the screen. His glass of lemonade is by his knee, ice tinkling inside. 

“Lemond-aide,” he repeats, mouth moving awkwardly around the world. He glances at you for confirmation. You shake your head. Frustrated, he scoots up beside you, pressed against your leg like a puppy. “Say it,” he commands, tapping at his screen once. 

You clear your throat. “Uh, lemonade?” you offer. Jungkook nods, clicks something else, and then your voice is repeating itself back to the two of you. He looks for your approval once more. “Perfect,” you nod, slightly bashful to hear your own voice played back like that. 

Content with your approval, he gets back to work, clicking and typing wildly at the screen until it’s filled to the brim with those strange symbols. When he’s done, he says his name and date into the same recording device and shuts off his hologram. “It is an interesting thing,” he says quietly, bare feet swinging over the edge of the porch. “A sweet drink procured from a tangy fruit.” 

You nod, can’t stop the smile that consumes your features at his childlike wonder. You know it’s not his fault that such simple things astound him, but there’s something about Jungkook’s genuine curiosity and snarky tongue that make you feel young again. Like a teenager in her prime, sitting with a silly high school boy. Not a woman sitting on the cusp of thirty, alone and untrusting of the world. 

“What are hot dogs?” Jungkook cuts in abruptly, turning to face you with those purple eyes of his. You can’t help it; you laugh. 

“I have some in the fridge,” you answer, leaving your rocking chair and him on the porch. Jungkook doesn’t sit still for long, quietly trailing behind you inside the house. The stray cat is here today, slinking around your ankles as you scour the fridge for the hot dogs. It’s a perfect day for a barbecue, you think, with hot dogs and lemonade. 

The cat wanders over towards Jungkook, sniffing at his ankles before nuzzling against him too. “You also have smilodon on your planet,” he comments. “You are comfortable with such murderous beasts in your home?”

You furrow your brows. “It’s just a cat,” you shrug, leaning down to pick up the furry baby. He purrs against your chest while Jungkook glares at it. 

“Have you taken its teeth for your own?” he asks. 

“What?” you laugh. “He has all his teeth.” 

Jungkook frowns. “No, his unusually large canines,” he explains, mimics two giant fangs with his fingers. “Is this a kitten of a smilodon?” You have no idea what he’s saying at this point, rubbing the cat’s back gently as Jungkook talks over himself. He does that a lot, you realize, ramble about facts you would otherwise see as of little importance. 

The afternoon is spent grilling hot dogs, Jungkook carefully trailing the cat he has taken to calling Smilodon. You watch from the grill as he follows the cat around the garden, gently shooing it off when it gets too close to your broccoli plants. He’s cute, you think, watching him maneuver around your plants with the grace of a trained dancer. 

He absolutely adores the hot dogs, spending another twenty minutes typing out one of those funky journal entries into the computer in his wristband. He asks about the Nintendo DS, something that makes you laugh boisterously at the absurdity of the question. 

When it gets dark outside, he stands in one place and stares up at the sky, rendered motionless at the sight. Jungkook doesn’t like coffee, but he loves hot cocoa. He settles in to watch the nightly news with you, every five minutes filled with an abundance of questions about your planet— which he refers to by a unique set of numbers and letters you’ve never heard before —and what you like to do. Every tidbit of information is documented in his wristband. 

He sleeps on the couch this time, feeling shameful to have pulled you away from such an amazing mattress. He says goodnight shyly from the bottom of the stairs, followed by a tentative wave he saw you give the mailman that morning. You say it back and fall asleep, the alien in your living room not making a peep. 

Thus a whole week passes with Jungkook of Sixam.

On the seventh day of his stay, Jungkook is woken up by the quiet beeping of his headpiece. It’s Chief Kim Namjoon, calling to ask how his population operation of Planet 43 Z-7 is going. Jungkook stills, the quiet chirping of the birds outside your window filling in the space. The water is running somewhere inside your house, signaling your conscious state. 

His answers are quick and sharp, nervous laughter falling from his lips as he rushes to end the call with Namjoon. He manages to do so just as you appear in the living room, skin nice and dewy from your morning shower, eyes still showing signs of your peaceful slumber. 

“Good morning,” you rasp quietly, a soft ruffle of his hair as you pass by Jungkook on your way to the kitchen. His face feels warm, under eye markings surely glowing a vivid red at the gesture you have gradually ingrained into him, one that makes his heart rev up like an engine preparing to shoot off millions of light years into the distance. 

Jungkook enters the kitchen behind you, your pet smilodon greeting the two of you with a gentle head butt against his ankles that is unlike any other smilodon he has encountered before. He sits at the counter as you work on breakfast, the faint scent of your cucumber body scrub wafting by with every turn you make in the small kitchen. 

And then he’s thinking. 

There are a few crucial bits of information that Jungkook has come to realize over the past week, some of which he hears directly from you, others he picks up from watching your ancient projection in the living room. 

One: of the variety of human genders that exist on Earth, you are one that seems to carry the specific set of bodily structures necessary for reproduction. He’s inspected you carefully the last few days, watching the way you move and carry yourself, just to ensure such is true. By finding you right away, Jungkook was halfway to his goal of settling his seeds on Planet 43 Z-7. 

Two: unlike most humans of Planet 43 Z-7, your body seems oddly… preserved, to say the least. He knows you are familiar with their reproductive rituals as he’s watched a few of said rituals on the projection box in your living room with you. They were very normalized among your people, with almost every broadcast including at least one mention of them every day. Despite that, your body shows no significant reaction to the scenes, and one sneaky scan of your vitals shows Jungkook that you have yet to participate in this ritual yourself. 

Lastly, Jungkook has come to the terrible, godawful conclusion that he does not wish to rope you into breeding with him for the sake of Sixam’s colonialist ways. There’s something about you and your people that does not deserve to be seized by Jungkook and his people. A sort of untouched quality of the progression of your species.

As the oldest and most advanced planet in quite possibly the entire universe, Sixam holds significant power over everyone else. Their higher order brains have helped many a planet follow the right path in attaining the same level of perfection. They were saviors of some sort, touching every planet they visited with the finger of a god. While there were certainly some Sixamians who did not believe in this way of life, of stretching their hold across entire galaxies, others did. 

Jungkook had always fallen in the middle. He had no particular desire to reign over the planets he visited, because his interests had always laid with the existence of the individuals on said planets. He was a researcher, not a military official like Namjoon or Jin. But he has to admit that time and again his research has procured the same results; while there were certainly other planets where the beings were more beautiful or the landscape more stunning than that of Sixam, there was not a single planet that matched their advanced mental capabilities. 

Until now. 

Your civilization moved in a rather fluid way, always changing and never settling. There were eras he learned about on TV, revolutions where one invention rose to prominence, where one sub-race rose to power. Even now, a simple scan through your news broadcasts leaves Jungkook curious. For the first time in a long time, his countless journal entries of information do not lead him to a plausible conclusion. Would you make it right and settle your disputes? Or would this endless fighting, sometimes carried out passively and through words, other times with the use of advanced weaponry, continue until the end of time? Jungkook didn’t know. 

And it was wrong of him to ask you to carry the burden of introducing an entirely new species— a Human and Sixamian at once —for the sole belief that it would somehow “fix” your planet. For the sake of your people, it was best if Jungkook just bugged off. 

And yet, the soft scent of your body lotion, the gentle brush of your hands against his scalp, the delicate way his name rolls off your lips like you’re tasting it for the first time, they all make his heart beat unnaturally fast beneath his skin. They make him yearn for a feeling, an emotion, he cannot quite describe. 

He was in trouble. 

Ovulation creeps up on you early into the next week. 

You hadn’t been too focused on it this time around, mostly just worried about your period and how awkward it would feel around Jungkook of Sixam. Preoccupied with stockpiling pads and finding your heat pad, you forget about the few days before the period. The time where your libido rages like an animal that has been poked at one too many times. 

The realization dawns on you slowly. Jungkook is sitting on the couch, avidly watching a documentary on ancient civilizations. He’s got one hand in a bowl of popcorn you set out for him, another mindlessly toying with a stray thread on a throw pillow. It’s when he looks at you with those big purple eyes, lips pouty and pink, that something distinctly carnal flickers on inside of you. 

You ignore it. You wrap those feelings in a box and shove it deep into the recesses of your mind. 

But Jungkook was devastatingly handsome, that much you’d known from the moment you saw him. When he’s not in the sun, those Sixamian markings wrap around his body in charcoal streaks, peeking out from the hem of whatever clothes you find for him everyday. For the most part, he’s been running through the pack of plain shirts you picked up from the general store, and the same two pairs of shorts on rotation. His body is artfully toned, thighs big and bulging, but waist small and tapered. His lower lip is the juiciest pink color you’ve ever seen, plush and soft, framing two rows of pearly white teeth. His hair is jet black, part favoring one side more than the other. 

His hands are firm on the rare occasion he touches you; on your hips when you stumble around the kitchen, on your shoulder when he’s pointing out a particular constellation to you. Jungkook’s presence slowly begins driving you to insanity. 

The worst thing is, you cannot tell if his curiosity comes from your status as a potential partner or his overall interests in your species. You want to convince yourself that he is just as interested in your body as an individual as you are his, but those hopes are dashed with every question he asks. Where does the sink drain? Where does the chocolate powder come from? How far is the nearest government official? 

So you calm your thoughts, push them away with the same practiced ease you’ve mastered from a young age. Your purity remains untainted by others, only teased in the shower when Jungkook is wandering around outside. Then and only then do you offer yourself a reprieve, press your fingers down between your thighs and wonder what it is like to have someone else there. 

You picture two purple eyes peering up at you from below, a pink tongue carefully licking against your puffy folds until you’re shaking. How well endowed was a Sixamian? You didn’t know, but you imagine them to be quite big if the subtle shifts you catch of Jungkook every now and then are any sign. 

One finger wiggles past the tight ring of muscle surrounding your hole, the intrusion makes your knees buck. You sink along the shower wall, huffing and puffing as your fingers dance along your swollen clit, thumb swirling hurried circles around the bud until you’re cumming, body spasming from the force.

The water rains down on you, washes your shameful acts down the drain. Vaguely, you wonder if Jungkook is still outside or if the heat drove him into your air conditioned home. Did he hear you? For all his curiosity, you’re certain there are some aspects of the human experience that Jungkook did not want to see. His roommate/caretaker/only-human-friend masturbating was probably one of them.  

It has been years since your fantasies included any other man, faithfully revolving around your ex-fiancé until the very end. It is scary how quickly the mere idea of Jungkook riles you up, how that violet gaze is enough to tear you apart. 

When you resurface in the living room, the house is still. The only sounds are that of the grandfather clock in the hallway and the occasional creaking of the pipes. Jungkook is still outside, you sigh in relief, catching his fluffy head of hair bounding across the front yard with Smilodon on his heels. When he turns, you catch his eyes and he pauses. He offers you that same cute wave he learned last week, gentle smile gracing his features. 

It’s the soft curve of his cheeks, eyes crinkling at the corners, that make the rapid thumping in your chest settle. You raise your hand, waving back through the window. All was well. 

For now. 

The next morning brings with it an overwhelming sense of anxiety. Namjoon calls him again in the morning, and this time Jungkook cannot skirt around the truth. He hurriedly tells his friend of his findings, of the beautiful society that flourishes on Planet 43 Z-7, and the never-ending personalities he has the chance of encountering. There is an author fansign, you told him, of a book he thoroughly enjoyed taking place next week. There is a woman in town who can fix any technology sent her way. There is a group of children who pass by and sell you food, these flattened things called Girls Cout Cook Ease. There is so much to see and so much to learn that it has Jungkook unconsciously projecting his excitement via his under eye markings. 

You come downstairs mid-call, smiley and ditzy. You were normally a bubbly person, but this much excitement can’t possibly be yours. It’s the sign Jungkook needs to settle down, but Namjoon offers him one too. 

Much to his chagrin, he warns Jungkook against getting too comfortable, tells him to finish his operation and scram as quickly as possible. The Higher Sixamian Court does not take kindly to Sixamians becoming enamored with other planets, especially if they are as advanced as Jungkook claims them to be. He’s rushing out information, begging Jungkook to finish or abandon his mission, anything but stay too long, and before Jungkook can respond, their comms are abruptly shut off. 

He’s left blankly staring at your coffee table, Namjoon’s caution ringing loudly in his ears. 

After the effects of his accidental influence wear off on you, you shake yourself awake, confusedly glancing around the place before shrugging it off. “Morning,” you say, the same as ever, patting his head softly. Jungkook watches you begin your daily routine, the kettle running on the stove as you get to work preparing his hot cocoa. 

For a moment he wonders what it’s like to be like this, to live like this. Free from the standards of Sixam as you go about your morning. There is no drive in you to conquer everyone, no overwhelming need to ‘fix’ those around you. You exist by yourself in this tiny house outside the city, like a moon always circling but never interacting. He knows you have your own circumstances that drove you here, issues where you suffered that same grueling past of people forcing ideas and beliefs upon you as Jungkook. But now you’re here, housing an extraterrestrial being such as himself without any payment. 

He wants to be like you. 

He wanders over towards the kitchen, returning your sleepy smile when you catch his gaze. Jungkook likes this. He enjoys seeing you in the morning, still trailed by the remnants of sleep, with skin tender to the touch. The smell of cocoa filling his nostrils, the chirp of the birds outside your window. He likes Smilodon and the mailman, and the woman half a mile from here who brought you peaches the other day. 

Most importantly, Jungkook likes you. 

Not as a breeding partner or convenient hostess, but as a person. Your laughter makes him feel warm inside, like he is genuinely appreciated as is. You’re gentle with your words, and even more so with your touch; hands pat his head, hold his arm when he stumbles too close to the garden. 

Jungkook does not want to impress the frankly tyrannical ways of his planet on you. He just wants to stay here and keep your couch warm for you, hold your hair back when you wash your face in the morning. 

He wants to remain beside you. 

It’s a little stuffy inside your house today, a problem you solve by cracking open the kitchen window. A nice breeze flows over the two of you, pushing the scent of the cocoa and your coffee his way. But a sweeter one follows, something thick and earthy that rolls off of you in waves. Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, tries to ward off those sounds he heard from you just yesterday afternoon. 

Those whiny sounds, airy whimpers that had drifted down from upstairs. A wet squelch that had registered a little too loudly to his superior ears. It had haunted him last night on the couch, made Jungkook twist and turn until the fuzzy image of you relieving yourself went away. 

Jungkook wanted to help with that too. He wanted to put his hands and his mouth in places you needed him most, pleasure you like you deserved. 

But how could he tell you all this and more? Did he even have the right as an invader to profess his infatuation to you? This Planet 43 Z-7, this Earth, was filled to the brim with interesting things, yet you remained at the very top of Jungkook’s list. He couldn’t leave, not now, but he couldn’t stay either. His entire presence in itself was a ploy to spread his seed, a fact you continued to be unaware of. 

Namjoon’s words bounce around his brain, twist and wrap around him until he’s shakily reaching for his mug. He couldn’t stay here any longer under this false pretense. He couldn’t lie to you another day, another second more. He was tired of being a sheep. It’s with this conflicting resolve that he commands himself to confess this to you at once. 

So he spills it all out to you. 

From the complex history of the Sixamians to his assignment of this mission. You listen quietly as you munch through breakfast, nodding along to each new point he brings up that changes the story. He tells you about the population mission, about how he was sent here to spread his superior genes over the land, but how he’s let that sit on the back burner while you taught him all sorts of new things. If you are unimpressed with Jungkook and Sixam, you don’t show it. 

“So you came to... breed?” you ask when he has finished, hands neatly folded on your lap. Breakfast is finished, plate scraped clean. 

Jungkook nods shamefully. “I was asked to contribute to the reconstruction of Planet 43 Z-7,” he says, repeating the practiced reasoning every Sixamian has heard at least once in their life. But in front of you, it makes him cringe. 

The grandfather clock in the hallway clicks along quietly, the soundtrack to Jungkook’s desperate read of you. Your eyes are focused on the plate before you, lost in thought at the abundance of information he has just thrown on you. He could easily switch his influential abilities back on, brighten your mood like he has been taught to do with countless other species since the beginning of time. But it feels wrong to subject you to that, to strip you of your emotions, even if it would save him the discomfort. 

Instead he sits in silence. 

Jungkook waits patiently, even though every fiber in his being is telling him to get up and make a run for it. Escape before he can see a look of disgust aimed his way. But he has come to value your opinions as equal to his, and the thought of leaving you by yourself does not sit well with him. So he waits. 

It takes a few minutes of contemplation before you grace him with an answer, nervously rubbing your hands over your thighs. “I understand, Jungkook,” you exhale tightly. “But I don’t think I’m the partner you are looking for.”

“No! I was not— It was not my intention,” he stammers, waving his hands all over the place in his hurry to explain. He sucks in a sharp breath. “I do not wish to force such a burden on you, __,” he manages, “I would not do that to you.”

He is about to pat himself on the back for his save, when suddenly the corners of your lips take a sharp drop. “Oh, I see,” you mutter, arms self consciously wrapping around your frame. “So you don’t see me as a suitable partner?” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen at your drawn conclusion. “No,” he chokes, and your frown deepens. “I mean, yes, I do see you as a viable partner to engage in reproductive activities,” and now he’s spiraling, the surprised look on your face only fueling his pea-brained ramblings, “I just—I assumed you did not enjoy that? 

His excuse sounds so unbelievably weak even to his own ears. 

“What made you think that?” you ask. At the rate this conversation is going, Jungkook fears his brain will soon fry itself out. 

His mind is a spinning mess, like the inside of a vacuum that rumbles and turns with each new thought that enters. What was he supposed to say? That he’s heard you in your most intimate moments, moments where you hid from him? Or that he’s done countless scans on your body when you weren’t looking and came to the same result every time; that result being that you have never been touched by another before? And what was he supposed to draw from these conclusions if not that you abhorred such intimacy?  

“I-I heard… you,” Jungkook admits quietly. “And, I felt your emotions. They were nervous.” He does not need his thermal detector to feel the heat that floods your face. “I did not want to impose on such a fragile moment,” he continues. “And I apologize if my actions have made you uncomfortable.”

“No, no,” you wave off, pressing the back of your knuckles to your cheeks. “I apologize for doing something so inappropriate with you in my house.”

Jungkook’s brow furrows. “Do you not enjoy participating in sexual activities, __?” he asks curiously. 

You gulp loudly, obviously startled by his question. Which part of it, Jungkook doesn’t know. He nudges your knee with his, urging you to answer. A shaky exhale, and then you’re rambling. “I-No, I do,” you rush out, avidly avoiding his gaze. “I, um, I just have never, uh, been with anyone.” 

“Oh,” Jungkook blinks. “Is that why your reproductive areas are strangely well preserved for a being your age? I was beginning to wonder about the complexities of Human reproduction after meeting you, __. Is there a certain tradition one must follow to copulate with you?” 

“No, no,” you rush to correct. Jungkook has obviously said something that upset you, because when you speak again your aura is tainted with the hints of irritation. “Tradition is stupid,” you explain slowly, a sense of heartache consuming him at your rather lonely figure. He is beside you, yet feels a thousand light years away from your heart. “I was just a fool.”

His gaze softens, carefully placing a hand on your knee comfortingly. He doesn’t have to say anything more, just let you know he isn’t far at all, and you understand. You lean against his shoulder, the same sad look in your eyes. The grandfather clock ticks on in the hallway, in sync with the slow rhythm of your heart. Jungkook places a kiss to the crown of your head. 

The day drags on. 

Your morning chores are finished quickly with Jungkook at your side. He obsesses over the plants and plays with Smilodon. You make apple juice today with the fruits that fall from the tree out front. Jungkook enjoys it, but not as much as lemonade. Still, it gets its own entry in his log. 

He asks more questions about your world, straying away from the ones he had last week that seemed to exclusively revolve around the fauna and flora. Now, he is interested in your Human way of life. The TV confuses him, and he doesn’t quite understand the difference between dramas and news stations. So you explain as best you can for him. 

His main issue lies in his inability to comprehend the constant strife within your planet, especially when you explain to him topics like poverty or homelessness. Sixam is nothing like Earth, he says, because everyone on Sixam is looked after and taken care of as deemed appropriate. There is no division of classes because deep down, every Sixamian acknowledges they are superior to the rest of the universe. It sounds like a utopia to you, but you’ve read enough books to know how those usually turn out. 

That fact intrigues Jungkook as well. How Humans can be aware of so many altering concepts and beliefs, yet desensitized to all. He doesn’t get it, and explaining the concept of fiction existing on a separate plane only confuses him more. 

Eventually you bring it back to tradition, somehow, that dreaded word you’ve come to abhor. Jungkook enjoys learning about your culture and your way of life, little things you do here and there. But as most things do in your life, the conversation circles back around to your failed marriage. 

“Ah,” Jungkook says. “So it is tradition to save your first reproductive act for the one you ‘marry’?” You nod, toes tucked up into the couch. It’s a little before sunset now, the orange hue of the outdoors leaking into your living room. “And then you take their last name? That is very confusing, __. I thought this last name identified you to your fellow Human, how can you so easily change it around?” 

You laugh. “It's complicated,” you offer. Jungkook chuckles as well, obviously overwhelmed with all the new information you provided him with today. 

Jungkook nods pensively but you doubt he understands. “I see,” he mumbles, fingertip tapping against the armrest he’s leaning against. It’s a tell tale sign that he desperately wants to document what you’ve said in his supercomputer bracelet but is holding back for the sake of this moment. You think it’s rather sweet. “So copulation does not always secure you a partner.”

You shrug halfheartedly. “People have different drives,” you say. “Some of them want love and some just want sex.”

“And you?” he asks suddenly, big purple eyes swirling with entire galaxies. “What would you like?” 

A lot of things, you think, but when it comes down to it, when Jungkook asks you with his pretty eyes and pouty lips, you can’t find the right words. “Both,” is your measly reply. “What about you?” 

He seems just as thrown off by your question as you, eyes widening as he leans back. The living room is bathed in warm splashes of color, the last of the sun’s rays painting Jungkook in a rather romantic light. You can’t look away. “I too would like both,” he admits, idly tracing the tip of his finger along the markings that decorate the tops of his knees. “This notion of attraction beyond the physical realm is not common in Sixam,” he answers. “Sixam is very… strict about what a relationship entails. 

You set your mug down on the side table, shuffling around until your toes poke his hip, arm thrown over the back of the couch. “How so?” you ask. 

Jungkook’s lips push out into a frown. “The Higher Sixamian Court has long since ruled that mating rituals between citizens are strictly limited to those that will produce the most immaculate genome,” he says, as if that is just another simple, everyday fact of life. It is for him, but not for you. 

“So, are you like… assigned?” you press, suddenly wondering how a being as curious and sentimental as Jungkook has survived so long in a place like Sixam. “And like, do you raise kids together?”

“Until the end of their first era,” Jungkook supplies, as if that makes the slightest bit of sense. “And sort of. Sixam is not that oppressive,” he jokes, but there is something about his eyes missing their usual glow that tips you off. “I have yet to copulate for reproductive purposes.”

You pause. “But you have for… fun purposes?” 

Jungkook looks at you seriously. And then, ever so slowly, the little marks beneath the corners of his eyes, the little triangles that usually flare blue, fade into a lovely pink shade. “I-“ he stammers, obviously flustered by your question. “I have.”

Your mouth parts into a little o. “With other Sixamians? Or….” Jungkook flushes, nods meekly. His expression seems off, like it isn’t a particular fond memory he carries. “Was it bad or something?” 

He sighs. “It is… very lacking. Nothing like the scenes depicted in your projection box.” He nods towards the TV, you barely contain a giggle at its name. You reach for your mug instead. “There is no,” he waves a hand in front of his face. The last rays of sun catch on his hand and turn his charcoal  markings a pretty gold. “No expressions of adoration beyond what is necessary. And I do not particularly enjoy that.” 

You nod understandingly. “You're soft,” you tease, watch his little triangles light up again at your words. “It’s okay,” you reassure him, “so am I.”

He says nothing, just stares blankly out the front window as the sun disappears behind the horizons, leaving thousands of glittering lights in its wake. Not man made but natural; right. “I think your last name is lovely,” he suddenly announces. You chuckle against the lip of your mug, but Jungkook doesn’t find it amusing. He turns to you with that sparkling purple gaze, like you’ve hung those stars outside yourself. “There is no other __ ___ like you.”

Your face feels warm, and you’re not sure if it’s from the coffee steam rising from the mug or Jungkook’s unexpected reassurance. It makes your heart tender, sends a shock through your system that leaves your body buzzing. “Thank you,” you say sincerely, covering the palm he rests over the couch with yours. 

Jungkook doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t need to. 

Ovulation ends, but your blossoming feelings for Jungkook do not go away. 

The next morning his comms remain shut off. Jungkook has never had his communications back home cut off, save for the time in his first era where he brashly spoke out against his superior in a lab. He was young and had much to learn, took too many risks and didn’t consider the consequences. He guesses he hasn’t grown much since then as he watches you tend to your garden. 

“Smilodon urinated in the closet,” he announces, witnessing the smile slowly slip off your features. He lets you revel in your annoyance for exactly two seconds before following with the phrase he heard on your box the other day. “Just kidding! You are being prank’d. 

Your frown is nothing like the expression the program’s contests exhibited following their supposed pranking. “Jungkook, that’s not funny,” you huff and his heart sinks. A soft snort. “Okay, maybe a little,” you concede with a terribly contained smile. 

He bounds over, kneels down beside you, and begins pulling the overgrown weeds out with you. “I saw it on the projection box the other day,” he explains excitedly, tossing the weeds into the bag between you two. “I did not know such pleasure could be received from silly broadcasts like that.” You nod, say something about all kinds of dumb shows existing before a pout taints your lips. “What's wrong?” 

A long sigh from you. “I think the sun isn’t reaching these,” you tell him, lifting the stem of a sad looking tomato plant. It’s the closest one to the house, often covered by the house’s shadow when the sun shines best. “They’re sad.”

He tilts his head to the side quizzically. “Sad?” he repeats, reaching for his wristband before he can stop to think. If his extensive journaling reads right, your planet’s vegetation follows similar patterns to that of another’s, requiring allotted amounts of sunlight and water to flourish. “How can it be sad?” 

Caught up in his notes, he doesn’t realize you’ve migrated to the other side of the garden now, dutifully picking out more weeds. “Well, it looks sad doesn’t it?” Jungkook glances back again. The tomato stalk is significantly droopy and malformed, smaller than its brethren who sit only a few inches away in direct sunlight. It’s colors are dulled and almost… sad. Huh. How peculiar. 

He chances one glance back at you, deems you far enough, and then channels the entirety of his energy towards the tomato plant. It wiggles a few times, kind of like it’s dancing, before you’re calling his name from the other side. “What’re you doing?” you ask, hand on your hip. Jungkook stills. 

“Um,” he drawls. The plant returns to its sulky state. 

Garbage bag full of weeds, you pass by him with a shake of your head. “Don’t do anything weird to my plants, silly,” you chide. Jungkook huffs, follows behind to take the bag off your hands. You thank him, join him for his walk around the house until he tosses the bag into the garbage can out front. Before he can retort and engage you in a playful argument regarding his superior abilities, you’re crouching down by the spigot out front. It’s making a weird hissing noise that has Jungkook frowning as he walks over. 

Right as he approaches, you make the amateur mistake of turning the handle, water spewing out from the gap between the spigot’s mouth and where it’s supposed to meet the hose. You screech, and Jungkook can’t shut it off fast enough. 

In the end, both of you are drenched. 

“Ugh,” you groan as you walk around the house to the unlocked back door. Jungkook trudges behind, just a teensy bit annoyed by the mud that quickly stains his rubber sandals. “This is so annoying!” you complain loudly, shaking yourself off like Smilodon when it accidentally fell into the sink the other day. “Ruined my day.”

At that Jungkook frowns. He does not want your day to be ruined, especially not by some faulty spigot outside. You were too good for such emotions, too perfect in his eyes. Sadness and the like did not suit you; they had no place ruining your beautiful features. You’re huffily patting yourself down at the back porch now, distress prominent on your features as you most likely consider the second load of laundry you will have to do today. 

The tomato stalk glances at him sadly from the ground, and before Jungkook can stop himself, he’s breathing in deeply and pushing his generally relaxed attitude onto you. You can be mad later, but right now Jungkook doesn’t want to see you sad. It’s effective immediately, your gloominess quickly fading away. You breathe in deeply, eyes falling shut, and when you open them again you’re offering him the most gentle smile he has ever seen. 

And a soaked through shirt that highlights the shape of your red undergarments. Jungkook’s eyes widen, unconsciously flicking down to the sight you present him with, and a different emotion floods his senses. 

It’s quite possibly his biggest mistake. Because while he can easily look away, it takes longer for those emotions to fade, and soon they’re being reflected on you. 

“Wow,” you exhale, shaking your head in confusion because these aren’t your emotions— you probably know they’re his. Jungkook feels terrible instantly. 

“I’m sorry,” he rushes out, scrambling up the steps to guide you inside. Simultaneously, he’s shutting down his influential abilities, scolding himself for slipping up with you like this. You most certainly did not want to feel this way around Jungkook, yet here he was quite literally projecting onto you. “Please, let’s go inside.” 

You nod, jolt when his hand touches the small of your back as he guides you in. “Oh,” you gasp, and Jungkook has to bite his lip to force himself from making the situation worse, from thinking thoughts you would not approve of. “Why— what's happening?” you ask in a breathy tone, lingering by the staircase Jungkook tries to push you up. 

He sighs. “I— I was trying to brighten your mood,” he admits, metaphorical ears pressed against his head like when Smilodon gets scolded for knocking down a plant. “And, um. There was— the, um, sight of your undergarments distracted me for a moment.” You glance down and seemingly become aware for the first time that your bright red bra is on display, shyly covering yourself with your arms. 

“Distracted?” you mumble softly, leaning against the banister of the stairs. Your skin is radiating more heat than Jungkook ever recalls, face demurely turned down towards the floor. He could have sworn he stopped projecting minutes again— why were you still behaving like this? Did he break you? Did he exude more energy than he meant to, accidentally extend the length of the emotions? “I’ll go upstairs now,” you announce quietly, touch his arm almost sensually as you pass by. 

Your skin is warm, that heavenly scent that Jungkook craved rolling off in waves— but he was certain he’d stopped himself before anything became too overwhelming. Were his emotions stronger than he had fooled himself into believing? There was no way he had felt or looked as riled up when he accidentally influenced you. So where exactly were these emotions coming from? What exactly was making you behave this way even after he’d withdrawn his influence? Could it be...

Jungkook watches with wide eyes, almost certain that your behavior, though sparked by his initial slip up, was entirely your own at this point. 

There was a lot of weight behind that. 

The water turns on upstairs, and he has to strain his ears, still his breathing, just for a hint of your sounds. But they’re there, quiet successors to the louder moans you’d let out the other day. They make him shiver, melt against the staircase as his cock twitches in his pants. His body comes alive, something distinctly carnal twitching beneath his skin, blossoming out at the base of his spine. 

And still, as he grinds his hand into his palm, it is not merely the sight of your red undergarments that render Jungkook useless. No, the ghost of your smile at his poorly executed prank follows, brands itself into the inside of his eyelids as he slowly falls apart. 

Was it your own emotions that had made you like that? he wonders, sinking to his knees in the hallway. If you came down right now, you’d certainly catch him. But Jungkook can still hear your muffled cries from upstairs, and furthermore, Jungkook wanted desperately for you to catch him. He knows you won’t, but the idea makes him shiver, has him coming in his bottoms shamefully. 

“What the,” he huffs, sweat trailing down his forehead. His brain replays that look in your eyes. That emotion you displayed that, although it may have been planted by him, was taken by you and magnified. Had you been just as excited by the sight of Jungkook’s wet body as he had yours? And if such was the case, was your attraction to him limited to the physical realm?

He doesn’t want to delude himself, but your words from the other day ring loudly in his ears. Soft, you had called him, for wanting something both physically and emotionally intimate. But you were the same, or so you claimed. 

Was it so wrong for Jungkook to think that ideology applied now?

That night you join Jungkook outside for his routine stargazing. He sits on the porch while you sit on your rocking chair, mugs of hot cocoa in hand as Jungkook retells his adventures across the universe. 

Space is bigger than you thought, with a culture far more complex than Earth’s. It makes you wonder how Jungkook, who has quite literally seen it all, can become so enamored with this place. There’s bigger and better somewhere out there; planets that won’t force terrible traditions on him or task him into ungodly missions. Yet he lingers here, in this quiet space between your garden and your house, head on your lap. 

His hair is soft, almost like silk, and he enjoys having it touched. “I do not wish to leave,” he admits quietly, empty mug long since set aside. You hum, encourage him to elaborate. “The beauty of the universe lies entirely on Planet 43 Z-7.” 

You snort. “No way,” you say, trace your hand down his jawline. Jungkook says nothing of your wandering hands, skin warm to the touch. Some of his markings decorate his neck, curl around the pale skin in perfectly symmetrical swoops. They creep beneath the hem of his shirt, and you wonder what they look like down there. 

You flush those thoughts away, that afternoon’s events still fresh in your mind. From your understanding of the events, Jungkook had been excited at the sight of your body, so he obviously had to hold some attraction towards you. But how much of that was purely physical and how much was emotional? 

“I want to have your last name,” he announces suddenly. You choke, breath caught in your throat from the randomness of the statement. Your reaction makes Jungkook pull away from your touch, stare at you with wide eyes like you do him. 

“I— what?” you stammer, having gained back your composure. Or at least some of it. “Jungkook, I don’t think you know what that means.”

He frowns, shuffles around until he’s facing you, and lays his head across your lap again. This time, those purple eyes that dance with nebulas and stardust zero in on you. His hair tickles your bare thighs, makes you unconsciously press them together when his warm breath fans across your skin. “You amaze me,” he murmurs, eyes glazed. “I have never seen a being like you, who lives so far off from society, thrive in their own bubble— is it too much for me to want to live like you? Be with you?”

“Huh?” you ask, ever so eloquently. 

Jungkook smiles, turns his face to hide it against you. Pink lips brush against your skin, your hands unconsciously shooting into his hair to guide him away. When his head rolls back, he’s got this rather melancholy look on his face. “The beauty of the universe lies entirely on Planet 43 Z-7,” he says again, “and I am looking right at her.” 

Your face burns. 

Heart hammering in your chest, palms sweaty, you don’t know what to say. He looks at you with that vibrant gaze, drinks you in like you’re the finest of wines and your heart absolutely cannot handle it. Your brain fumbles for a response but by then Jungkook is standing up, head tilted downwards cutely as he observes you. One hand in his, thumb gently swiping over your knuckles. “I would like to show you every expression of adoration possible, __,” he murmurs, presses a kiss to your knuckles before disappearing back inside. 

You stay outside, turning his words inside and out, backwards and forwards, until you deduce that Jungkook of Sixam most definitely harbored the same feelings for you as you did for him. It’s odd, because it is exactly what you want but the idea scares you to death. The last time you let a man into your life under a similar guise you ended up wasting years of your life, clinging to this grand finale you never got. And now this foreign being was proclaiming his feelings for you, possibly propositioning you for the same thing. 

Did you want Jungkook? Yes, undoubtedly yes. He was free from the shackles of tradition that had held you down so long, didn’t believe in this twisted notion of your body being “sacred.” He was a breath of fresh air, unlike anyone you’ve ever met before (although part of that was due to his alien heritage).

However, he was not free of flaws, and perhaps that is what entices you more.

Jungkook, though he looked and spoke like the perfect man, was a being of his own, with struggles of his own. He too had his own handful of painful memories, toxic ideologies that followed him around. But Jungkook was willing to learn, to change. And you admired him for it. 

Tip-toeing back inside, you find the house shrouded in darkness. The steady tick of the grandfather clock lessens the rapid beating of your heart. Jungkook is sitting on the living room couch, legs pulled to his chest. Muscle memory has you reaching out for the top of his head like always, ready to pat his fluffy hair as if you hadn’t just spent the last twenty minutes outside doing just that. He turns around just as your fingers touch his soft strands, purple eyes meeting yours. You trace your hand down the side of his face, knuckles brushing over his cheekbones; he puckers his lips, bestows a second tender smooch against you. 

“I like when you do that,” he says, voice unexpectedly loud in the otherwise silent house. As he speaks, he shifts to the side, arm thrown over the back of the couch to look at you completely. You swipe your thumb over his bottom lip and he gulps. “Makes me crazy.” 

You chuckle, releasing him to round the couch. Jungkook’s got this sweet smile on his face, hand outstretched for you. When you take it, he tugs you onto the couch, flush beside him. Your thigh is practically thrown over his, his other arm wrapped around your shoulders. You heart flutters and you can no longer look him in the eye. 

But that’s okay because Jungkook can. He ducks down, dark hair tickling your skin as his breath ghosts over your lips. “May I?” he asks softly, nose bumping against yours. “May I have the honor of pleasuring you?”

Your breath catches in your throat, answering with a tiny nod that makes his lower lip brush against yours teasingly. “I-If I am suitable,” you mumble, tingles spreading all over your body. 

Jungkook smiles, pretty and bright, as he turns his head to slot your mouths together. “No,” he says, “if I am suitable. You are more than enough.” Lips brush against yours, shaky breath meets yours, and then he’s kissing you. Slow yet suave, carefully molding against you as if he is afraid of breaking you. His lips are like two soft pillows, moving against yours in a practiced rhythm that makes you tremble against him. Every bit the measly virgin, but Jungkook likes you just so. 

He pulls away with a pop, his figure shadowed by the darkness of the room. But his eyes, purple irises, glow brightly. Like two pools of cosmic dust swirling around his dark pupils. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this before, but you hardly saw Jungkook in the dark anyway. He hides them too soon, eyes fluttering shut as he leans in again. 

The second time, there’s a faint flick of his tongue against your bottom lip. The action makes you gasp quietly, lips parting for a fraction of a second. But Jungkook is quick, slips his tongue past your lips. It’s lewd; his breath mingles with yours, tongue pushing against yours. Slick and dirty, spit traveling between your two mouths, but Jungkook makes sure you’re okay, sinfully wrapping his lips around your tongue when you get too brave. A moan escapes you, fingers squeezing around his. 

Jungkook squeezes back, pushes forward until you’re pressed against the back cushions of the couch. “This okay?” he husks, low-lidded eyes meeting yours when he pulls away. You nod, words caught in your throat. Jungkook’s gaze lasers in on your mouth, and he seems to have an internal debate before eventually pulling away to kiss your neck. 

You tilt your head back, choppy exhales creeping out from between your lips as he kisses down the column of your neck, untangling his hand from yours to press against your hip instead. It’s with a devastatingly slow speed that he eventually slinks away, finds himself kneeling between you on the floor with hands dancing over the tops of your thighs. Your heart is beating a thousand miles in your chest, threatening to rip itself right out when he meets your eyes a second time. 

He pushes your legs apart, not once looking away as he gently encourages you to raise one. Lips pressed against your knee, slowly trailing down the skin of your thigh. Your hand squeezes at the couch cushions. Jungkook pulls a startled yelp from you when he tugs at the backs of your knees, makes you slump down the couch with your legs perfectly spread out for him, feet flat on the floor. Then he’s back to kissing you, languidly pressing smooch after smooch against your scorching skin until he’s reaching the apex of your thighs, stilling once to look your way. 

“Go ahead,” you choke out, hands clutched over your chest, as if that’ll keep your heart from up and running away. Jungkook takes your admission and moves on, puckered lips meeting your mound through your clothing. It’s the first time you’ve ever had someone else so close to your most sensitive areas, and rightly so, you whimper. 

“Shh,” he soothes, thumb pressing against your hip as he carefully hikes one of your legs over his shoulder. You’re quivering like a leaf, lower lip bitten raw between your teeth as you watch him move between your legs. “I don’t wish to hurt you,” Jungkook murmurs. 

Another press of his mouth against you, this time right over where your bud hides, and the sensation makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. His fingers tighten around the waistband of your shorts, take your underwear with them when he begins pulling them down your hips. You push yourself up briefly, let him slide them down your legs and bare yourself to him for the first time. 

Your cheeks flood with warmth, hands unconsciously reaching to pull your shirt down, but Jungkook catches you. Fingers tangle with yours, warm breath fanning over your slick folds. Unconsciously, you tense up at his proximity, the stark realization that this was the moment you had waited for for a good chunk of your life suddenly hitting you. Jungkook seems to notice you crawl inside your head, drawing you back with a squeeze around your hand, luminous eyes meeting yours. 

“If you need me to stop, I will,” he reassures you.

The blood is rushing to your ears, his words nearly lost in the madness. “Aren’t you scared?” you ask quietly, voice wobbly, holding his hands so tightly you’re surprised he doesn’t complain.

Jungkook shakes his head. “No,” he answers. “Would you like to know how I feel?”

Hesitantly, you nod. Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut, but the little triangle markings beneath his eyes begin to glow. Like fireflies in the dark, two little lights that intensify as he exhales.

And then, suddenly, you’re flooded with a new wave of emotions, similar to yours but not. They feel like yours, but are distinctly his, make you arch against the cushions with a soft groan. 

At the forefront, lust that swarms your senses and makes your body melt into the couch beneath you. It makes you shiver, nipples peaked beneath your top as his feelings and their intensity grow on you. It feels like drowning, like swallowing a thick and sticky substance that lingers in your throat and refuses to go away. It’s how he feels about you at this moment, so strongly it could drown him. 

So overwhelmed with that sensation alone, you almost don’t recognize the second emotion that Jungkook takes and pours into you. 

Warm and comforting, like being embraced by a thousand doves, kissed by a swarm of butterflies. It’s different from the first, doesn’t tap directly into your physical body, but wraps around your heart, creeps into your thoughts. Until you’re rolling your eyes back open and meeting his, the feeling so plainly spelled out across his features. 

Sheer and utter adoration. 

“Oh,” you breathe, face scorching to the touch following the emotions Jungkook’s just revealed to you. 

He grins, shy, and squeezes your hand. “What do you want to do?”

Biting your lip, you take initiative and hook your knee over his shoulder, the same way he had shown you just moments prior. “Please,” you murmur, “show me more.”

And Jungkook does.

A soft kiss against the inside of your thigh, nose running along your skin teasingly. And then he’s faced with your puffy lips, pink skin slick with arousal. Jungkook sighs softly, tilts his head as if he’s analyzing his next course of action, and then carefully places his mouth against you. 

“Mmmh,” you whimper, hips instinctively bucking into the touch, never having felt such intense pleasure before. Jungkook doesn’t mind as he languidly kisses your folds, eyes shut as he loses himself in the motions. The first swipe of his tongue makes you twitch, arms flailing but Jungkook holds them down, entwined fingers pressed against the couch. 

His tongue is an entity of its own, wet muscle pressing and licking at your most sensitive areas like it was made specifically for this. Never mind talking, Jungkook’s tongue was made to lap at your pussy like this. He licks a long stripe up from your quivering hole to your engorged clit, curling at the end as if you were nothing more but a sweet for him to mindlessly play with. 

Your muscles clench up, the leg thrown around his shoulder unconsciously pulling him closer until his nose is pressed flush against your clit. Jungkook breathes in deeply, moans softly but it sends earth-shattering vibrations up your core until you’re a whimpering mess. “O-Oh,” you cry, sweat clinging to your skin as Jungkook continues lapping at your folds. 

He releases one hand, uses it to push your other leg further away to properly slot himself against you. You take the opportunity to wildly reach for him, grabby hands lost in the silky waves on his head as you urge him closer to where you need him most. You’re not even sure where that is anymore, your clit or your entrance, but Jungkook switches between the two just fine. 

That warm tongue prods at your entrance, tip sinking inside just enough to make you gasp. It’s a new experience for you, someone’s tongue touching and stroking you there, and it feels like an entirely new door opens from that action alone. You whimper his name, dig your nails across his scalp like maybe he’ll grant you a reprieve and pull away. But you don’t really want that, and so you’re happy when he stays where he is. 

The hand that had rested against the juncture of your hip glides up, lays flat over your mound with his thumb idly swirling around your clit. The combination of his tongue breaching your hole and his fingers playing along your clit makes you spasm. “Wait,” you sob, the muscles in your thighs twitching as he licks away. “I-I’m gonna—“

An overpowering wave of relief floods your senses shortly before that last syllable can escape your lips; everything goes tight and then suddenly you’re on a cloud, cum spilling from your heat and onto his waiting tongue. Jungkook licks it all up, slurps loudly against your clit as the last waves of your orgasm run their course. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing up your navel, t-shirt pushed away as he goes. 

When he reaches your face, you’re quite embarrassed to find the area around his mouth to be glistening with your juices. “You’re incredible,” he says, easygoing smile on his lips. But there’s something hard and heavy against you, snuggled between your thighs, that makes your face heat up all over again. 

You can’t find the words to respond, and lose the opportunity when Jungkook captures your lips with his again. He’s more assertive this time around, roughly pushing against you until you’re certain you’ll bruise. But it feels good, makes you wrap your hands around him as Jungkook grinds down against you. When he pulls away, he’s got this dark look on his face, out of place against such bright eyes. 

He says nothing as his hands creep up your waist, push your t-shirt and bra out of the way, until he’s cupping your breasts in his palms. Experienced hands massage them thoroughly, roll the soft skin between his fingers. His mouth is against yours again, tongues pressed together; Jungkook groans and the sound shoots straight between your thighs. He pinches a nipple between his fingers and you whimper, break away from his kiss to hide your face against his shoulder.

His cock is heavy against your folds, the thick material of his pants slowly stimulating you again. The cotton brushes against you, most certainly picks up your wetness as it goes, and Jungkook lets it as he continues to grind down against you with his hands on your tits. Your hands tear their way down his back, fist the material of his shirt in your hands. “Off, off,” you plead, desperate to feel more of him against you.

Jungkook complies, sitting up to yank his shirt over his head. You were right about his markings, dark swoops and circles that decorate his chest and abdomen before tapering down around his waist. Your mouth salivates at the sight, blindly reaching for your own clothes as if one look away will make him disappear. 

He doesn’t.

In fact, the removal of both your tops only makes Jungkook hungrier, completely abandoning your lips to suck your breast into his mouth instead. “Jungk— fuck,” you wail, slipping further down the couch as you lose yourself in Jungkook’s embrace. His teeth nibble at your swollen bud, roll the sensitive skin around before pulling off with a wet pop. 

Your breath jumps when he reaches behind you, corded arm locking around your waist as he repositions the two of you, unsatisfied with the previous position. He lifts you up with his undoubtedly superior strength, one palm beneath your thigh as he plops you down across the couch more comfortably, head neatly resting on a throw pillow. 

Your heart is in your throat, desperate to memorize the man before you, inked skin, lean and meaty, vibrant violet eyes that focus solely on you. Before he can join you on the couch, Jungkook steps away, tucks his thumbs into his waistband and swiftly removes them. His engorged cock, bigger than any you’ve seen in any erotic video— and that was saying a lot —springs up against his navel, flaming tip glaring right at you. Your pussy quivers at the sight. 

“Come here,” he husks out as he moves towards you. You welcome him with open arms, a soft groan of his name against his lips as he shoves his tongue past. His hands are everywhere now; one squeezes at your breast, hand molded to the flesh, while the other runs along the underside of your thigh, guides it over his waist. And another tickles around your navel, soft—

You shriek, eyes snapping open as you tug Jungkook over you as a shield. “What was that?” you heave, wide eyes roving over the dark living room, like maybe you’ll find Smilodon traversing the carpet and it was his silky tail that came too close. 

But Smilodon doesn’t usually appear at night, nor is there anything else in the living room with you and Jungkook. Your heart hammers in your chest, carefully meeting his dark gaze until something thin and distinctively alive appears over his shoulder. Another scream tears itself from your lips.

“Hey, hey,” Jungkook shushes, pulls away to cup your face in his hands. “Forgive me,” he says tenderly, “we are so similar, I forget you do not possess extra arms.”

You pale. “E-Extra arms?” you choke, eyes focused on the thin ‘arm’ that slinks out from behind Jungkook, almost screeching again when a second one appears on the opposite side. And then a third, a fourth. 

It is no arm, but rather… a tentacle? Sans the weird suction cups. They’re thin little things, no thicker than his wrist, that dance behind him as if they have a mind of their own. They move as if suspended in water, soft lilac skin tenderly touching yours. You shiver, its smooth skin odd against your supple flesh. Jungkook relaxes, but draws them back anyway. “Forgive me,” he says again, taking your hand in his to press a peck against it. Your heart flutters at the gesture that was slowly driving you insane. “I shall keep them at bay.”

You nod shakily, but cannot deny the curiosity that picks at you when they slink back into the base of his spine, blend seamlessly against his skin. “What… what do they do?” you ask tentatively. 

Jungkook hums as he descends upon you, featherlight kisses against your shoulder and up your neck. “Hmm? They help me out,” he explains mindlessly, pulling you flush against his cock again. A moan tears itself from your throat, eyes fluttering shut as you force yourself to focus on the moment again. 

But your hands unconsciously wander down his spine as he kisses you, circle the skin where your swear they had to have disappeared beneath, until Jungkook is pulling away with a confused expression on his face. “Would you like to see them again?” he asks quizzically, sweat forming along his hairline. 

You cannot play it off any longer; meekly, you nod. “I— they were interesting,” you admit in a quiet voice, nervously twiddling your fingers over your chest. 

Jungkook says nothing for a second, until he’s lightly chuckling and pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Okay,” he concedes, and goes back to rolling his hips against yours. 

About to protest, the words are robbed from your throat when something soft and blunt tickles your thigh. “Oh,” you shudder, prevailing through the initial shock as Jungkook’s ‘arm’ slides around the diameter of your thigh to brush against your cunt. It’s silky and smooth, pushes against your lips until it’s emerging past them, slipping inside of you.

You gasp, head lolling backwards as the sensation gets to you. It feels the same as your fingers do when you’re in the shower, but it moves differently, gauging your reactions as it curls within your walls. Jungkook muffles a low chuckle against your chin, kisses spread over you until his tongue is back down your throat.

“Feels good?” he asks, hot mouth against yours. You nod jerkily, hands digging into his biceps. Another appendage tickles around your waist, dips into your navel and makes you giggle. It’s a sound that’s frankly out of place amongst your moans and whimpers, but it makes Jungkook smile. It eventually moves away, continuing its soft caresses elsewhere. 

The one that plays in your pussy has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, jaw slack. Perfect for Jungkook who pushes and prods until his saliva is dripping down your throat, catching in the corners of your lips. It impossibly fattens inside of you, makes you choke just as a different one dances around your neck. “I— I,” you stutter, boneless beneath him as the soft tip traces around the column of your neck tenderly, lovingly. 

There’s so many different areas to focus on: one rubs comfortingly beneath your breast, while another fucks into your cunt. The contrast has your head spinning, unsure of where to look. 

There’s something about the one inside of you that makes you feel so sticky and wet, more so than before. Like it’s oozing something out, making the glide against your walls smoother than before. It makes your body tingle, sends a feeling down your spine that you’re almost certain isn’t normal. 

At the same time, there’s a brush along your thigh again, a tight coil around the flesh of your skin tightly that encourages your legs apart. More room for Jungkook to squeeze in. It wraps around you, slithers past its sibling and prods against your ass. Your heart skips a beat, buck into Jungkook’s embrace as it slips between your cheeks— you gasp. It releases that same substance that makes everything so wet. You tremble at the touch, body already so overwhelmed. 

Your attention is snatched away before anything can happen, Jungkook tugging you closer until the ridges of his cock are running along your folds, each push sending his goddamn tentacle deeper inside of you. You moan, hands shakily traversing his skin until you’re cupping his face in your palms. “More,” you hoarsely whisper, dazed eyes meeting his. “Please.”

Jungkook nods, presses one more kiss against your lips before shuffling around. The appendage inside of you swiftly recoils, has you shivering from the way it slips out of you so easily. As it finally emerges from your folds, you find it’s slick with cum and something slightly pink, sparkly and wet as if it’s got precum of its own. The sight amazes you, makes you want to touch it. Before you can, it’s moving again. Much to your surprise, it doesn’t go away, doesn’t return to hide within Jungkook’s body, but wraps around his cock tightly. Purple tendril against engorged skin, makes him sigh at the squeeze. 

He holds the base of his cock, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek as he regards you with an unrecognizable look. One hand on your thigh, fingers gripping tightly even before he’s done anything. “Tell me you want this,” he exhales, “please?” 

You nod hurriedly, hands reaching for his hips to urge him closer. “Want this,” you assure him, quiver when the head of his cock presses against your folds. Bigger than your fingers, bigger than that damned appendage, and it was going inside of you. “Want this so bad,” you whimper, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. A squeeze around your breasts, a flick against your nipples. It’s not Jungkook’s hands, and that fact makes you shiver. 

They curl around your breasts, frame the mounds gently before the flatted tips meet your nipples, tease them with featherlight nudge. 

Eased by the certainty of your words, Jungkook relaxes. He places a hand on your hip, the other still holding his cock as he lines himself up with your throbbing entrance. You’re so wet, dripping in your own cum and whatever that tentacle released, thighs slippery and shiny. The anticipation in your chest swells, pushes against your rib cage until you’re afraid it’ll break. The little markings beneath his eyes flash and suddenly it’s gone, replaced with a sense of comfort that only doubles when he flashes you a tiny smile.

The first press of his cock makes your back arch, has you knocking every throw pillow off the couch as he slowly eases his way in. “Oh god—“ you sob, the sudden intrusion being questioned by every muscle in your body. Immediately, two of his tentacles snap forward, release their soft grip on your neck and their wrap around your breasts to caress up your sides, smooth ends practically kissing your skin with their soft nudges. 

They by no means lessen the pain, but their butterfly touches are a nice distraction that tickles your skin, makes you whimper softly as Jungkook slowly sinks into you. 

Jungkook ducks over you, tip of his nose against yours. “Breathe for me,” he instructs, even though his breath is labored against yours. One appendage cups your cheek, curls softly around your ear to hold your head still— you feel so spoiled with all the attention. You make an effort, breathe in swiftly through your nose as Jungkook pushes in deeper.

Slowly, the discomfort fades away. It melts and in its wake you’re left with a dull numbing sensation that starts in your toes and magnifies as it reaches your ears. It grows until the weight of his cock inside of you has you drooling, eyes unfocused as you watch Jungkook push himself to the hilt, the ridges of the tentacle wrapped around his cock making you jolt with every push. 

At the same time as his cock thrusts inside of you, a sneaky little thing continues it’s dance between your cheeks, pokes and kisses at your hole like it’s testing you. It is, really, because you've never had anything up your ass before— up until a few moments ago, you had barely had anything in your pussy. 

This was your first time, yet two seperate holes were begging to be filled, clenching tightly at Jungkook kisses along your chest, hands wound beneath the small of your back. The playful tentacle near your behind does just that— plays until you gently reach back for it, trembling hands giving it the go ahead it needs to finally plunge itself within you. Like an excited little being, it flutters against your hand a soft, kiss-like press against your palm before returning to its favored spot. 

It chooses the perfect moment to press in, takes advantage of Jungkook’s first few slow thrusts to slip its way inside. A loud moan tears itself from your throat, and Jungkook joins along. “I-I’m sorry,” he pants, mouth against yours. “I-I just want to feel you.”

You shake him off, body twitching from the utter fullness you felt, the weight in between your folds and your ass that moves in opposing strokes. His cock, wrapped in those bulging ridges, pushes in just as the tentacle in your rear pulls out, and the sensation is enough to make you whimper and sob. 

It feels good, amazing even, and you almost can’t believe it’s happening. Jungkook’s lips slot against yours, slow and lazy as he lets your body grow familiar with the stretch. He kisses you until the cat-like grip you have on his shoulders weakens, replaced with wandering hands that trail down his spine. The base of his spine where his protrusions appear is unique, makes him buck against you when you wrap your hands around one appendage.

“S-Sensitive,” he says as an apology, never mind the fact you want him desperately to fuck into you like that again. You voice such thoughts and Jungkook groans against your skin. “Really?” He chokes out, “I can move?”

One nod and then he’s off, for real this time. 

He’s slow at first, like he’s hesitant about hurting you, but you tuck one leg around him, pull him closer until he’s forced deeper inside of you, and from there everything is a downward spiral. You forget Jungkook of Sixam is superior for more than just one reason, harsh reminder given in the strong snap of his hips that would have otherwise sent you flying off the couch if that same strength wasn’t channeled into the arms he held you with. 

You reach for his hair, desperate to feel that comforting silk between your fingers, but then there’s something wrapping around your wrists. It pins your hands down, twists around your wrists twice before snaking up and curling along your fingers. Like it wants to hold your hand, wants to fill the spaces for Jungkook. The thought makes you burn, insides a boiling mess as he fucks into you, hands held down above your head.

“Jungkook,” you sob, squirming in his hold. It’s like whenever you move, there’s something there, holding you down or fucking you senseless. He responds with a grunt, roughly thrusting into you over and over until all you can manage is a series of hiccups. 

The ridges around his cock, the added thickness lended to him by his extra appendage, has every shove past your lips sending tingles like an ascending xylophone shooting throughout your body. The rhythmic stretches make you huff like a dog against him, brain fuzzy and overwhelmed. 

At the same time as he delivers killer grind after grind, another arm, the one that had been left out of the fray, slithers around your chest, looping twice around your frame and caging your breasts between them. Like bondage, except it’s Jungkook’s own body holding you down. 

You don’t think about the absurdity of it too much, couldn’t anyway. Your brain is a scrambled mess of Jungkook’s lips and incandescent eyes, lost in the purple galaxies and stars he holds, slowly slipping away from reality with each brutal thrust he gives. His name tumbles from your lips, and yours from his. He holds you like you’ll slip away, sweaty skin pulling you impossibly closer with each roll of his hips.

The thick appendage buried within your ass makes you squirm. It’s a tight fit, one you don’t get too stuck on because for every reprieve from its maniac thrusts you are met with the equally ferocious slam of Jungkook’s cock. So it stays in the back of your mind, this curling tentacle that stretches the tight rim of your ass apart. 

You were stuffed to the brim, eyes rolling back as you struggled to keep up. A soft brush along your jawline makes you gasp, before your mouth is tentatively filled with something soft and pulsing. Oh, you would die, you think, mindlessly sucking around the tentacle squeezed between your lips. It fattens in your mouth, pushes roughly against your tongue in rhythm with Jungkook’s cock. You cough, gag even, but it doesn’t move away. It drips a thick substance down your throat, disgustingly sweet. 

“Please, please,” he pants, quiet and lost among your own higher-pitched moans. Your leg hikes itself further up, accidentally brushes at the base of where two of his tentacles protrude, and Jungkook jolts against you. His cock presses so deep into your walls, you swear you feel him kiss your cervix. “__,” he pants, tongue lapping at the skin of your neck, picking up the sweat and replacing it with his thick saliva. “Be mine, please.”

Your heart pounds with the beat of a marching band's pace, loud thundering that competes against the slapping of Jungkook’s skin against yours. You whimper around the weight in your mouth, the idea he places in your head only fueling that lifelong dream of yours. Your grip around the appendages that hold your wrists down tightens, its faint heartbeat-like pulse felt between your fingers. 

“Let me be yours,” Jungkook moans, pulls out once only to slam his cock past your folds, hold himself there as your brain scrambles to rewire itself. As he says this, your mouth is freed, saliva and that sticky wet substance sloppily splattering across your lips and chin at the rather harsh exit. “And you will be mine.”

“Yes, yes!” you choke, dribbling drool down your chin.

It ends too soon.

Jungkook reaches a hand down, thumb feeling for your clit, but he’s pressed so tightly against you, it takes a second before the rough pad makes contact. That simple swipe, one half circle, is enough to make you unravel. “J-Jungkook,” you wail, biting down against his shoulder, “I’m—“

Your orgasm swallows you whole, his tentacle in your ass joining alongside you. It bursts inside of you, makes your ass leak with cum when it finally pulls out. 

“I’ve got you,” he shudders, stills when your pussy clenches down around him, creamy pleasure dripping down around his cock. Your cries fill the air, body falling slack against the couch as you struggle to recover. Your head is a foggy mess, clouded by the slow snap of Jungkook’s hips as he reaches his arousal. Each push against your folds feels even more intense now, overstimulated walls fluttering wildly around him as his cock slips in. 

His body stiffens and he swiftly pulls out, every ridge of his cock sucked back by your pussy, and when he finally frees himself— from your clenching walls and his tightly-gripping tentacle—he spills over your abdomen. Sticky and pink, like the strawberry lube you keep in your drawer, except its come out of Jungkook as a result of your rump in the sheets. 

As quickly as his body locked up, it slumps just as fast, heavy muscles and long limbs crashing down over you before you can react. 

“Jungkook—“

The sun shines in through the front window, wakes him from his slumber slowly and then all at once. He accidentally shifts into a patch of sunshine, the blinding light irritating his eyes until Jungkook is forced awake. His body aches but has never felt better, a weird sense of relaxation flooding his senses. For a moment, he is confused.

Eyes scan over the room, purple irises carefully calculating every bit of information until he catches sight of Smilodon’s furry tail and the memories of last night come swarming back in. He sits up quickly, whirling around for any glimpse of you, only to find you’re nowhere in sigh—

“Morning.” A small hand atop of his head, fingers stroking against his scalp. Instantly, Jungkook melts into the touch. 

You walk past him and into the kitchen, where you get to work making the usual breakfast for you and Jungkook. He watches you from the couch, naked beneath the blanket you’ve so graciously covered him with. The sun leaks into the kitchen, paints you in soft shades of orange as you amble around the area. 

The scent of hot cocoa fills the air, calling him to the space behind you after he dresses. “Good morning,” he says shyly, presses a kiss against your shoulder. Hesitantly, he lets his hands slide around your waist, lock over your navel. You don’t push him away, simply pat the side of his head as Jungkook snuggles into you. 

You don’t speak about last night and neither does he. You eat eggs for breakfast and Jungkook playfully knocks his foot against yours beneath the table. “Don’t play footsies with me,” you laugh. Jungkook quite likes footsies. 

Morning chores are skipped, pushed off in favor of sitting in front of the couch. You sit beside him, flush against his side, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. The projection box tells him about the weather, says something about a stock market, but other than that, it is relatively quiet. 

There is no mission to complete, no tradition to uphold. It is just Jungkook in this new and not as scary world. The mailman always visits, and Smilodon shows his face every now and then. It is a routine he adores, but not as much as the Human at his side.

He doesn’t remember taking his headpiece off until it beeps from its spot on the coffee table, three distinctive chirps that signal an incoming call from the Higher Sixamian Court.

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

#goldenclosetnet #bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook x reader #alternative ending by rumu omits the last paragraph and we all pretend to live happily #but im evil so we suffer together #jeon jungkook x reader #jeongguk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts smut #mine

[kikis-writing-world]

Bug in the System

Summary: Reader has a complicated relationship with Nathan, living and working with him. They’ve always been nervous to bring up prescription medication, so shit hits the fan when they runs out and their mood plummets.

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x GN!Reader that struggles with mental health.

Word Count: 2k

Rating/Warnings: Mental health - depression and anxiety are expressly mentioned and reader is in a bad low. Talk of medication and ramifications of not taking them. Mention of doctors. Brief mention of sex. Worries of the stigma around mental health. Lots of swearing because it’s Nathan. Unedited/Betaed. it’s almost fluff in Nathan’s asshole way, there’s a happy ending.

A/N: I blame @foxilayde​ that I’m suddenly writing for Nathan... I hated him when I watched the movie and now here we are. Idk, this idea hit me last night while trying to fall asleep and I couldn’t get it out of my head. I had to write it.

You weren’t sure how to define the relationship you and Nathan had. He wasn’t your boyfriend - not only did that feel so juvenile, but also… he just wasn’t. There had never been a declaration of love between the two of you, no commitment to monogamy or even non-monogamy. The two of you lived together, worked together, slept together- it could almost be called a friends with benefits relationship, only… softer. You ate dinners together, danced around the house together, and cuddled together when watching movies. You also spent days, sometimes weeks at a time where you hardly spoke to each other when engrossed in a project. Did this form out of attraction, or emotion, or was it an inevitability when two adults - whose sexualities, attractions and availabilities lined up accordingly - lived together in isolation for an extended period of time? 

In summary: there was no easy way to define what was between the two of you, and you were happy there were no other humans around to ask. You didn’t feel the need to defend what you shared, but you had no desire to try to label it either.

Despite the friendly and casual nature of whatever the relationship was, there were still things that you had yet to admit to Nathan. The dwindling supply of medications tucked safely in a make-up bag inside the drawer of your bedside table felt like a ticking time bomb. You only had so many doses remaining and it wasn’t like you could walk down to the local pharmacy for a refill. Any supplies coming to the fortress of a home had to be called in, ordered, and helicoptered to you. There was no way to do it without Nathan finding out along the way.

You watched the pills slowly empty from their plastic bottles like a reverse hourglass. Despite the effects they had on your malfunctioning brain chemistry, they never quite tampered down the anxiety you had about opening up about your mental illness, let alone to someone like Nathan.

Nathan worked hard and played harder. He strove to be the best him he could be at all times. He accepted nothing less than perfection and no matter what the relationship between you two could be defined as -coworkers, employer/employee, friends, friends with benefits, lovers -  you didn’t want to disappoint him.

You avoided and avoided until inevitably, the last pill came out of the last bottle. It only got worse from there. Without the anxieties in check and the chemicals being balanced, the insecurity flared even worse. Your inner voice told you that you deserved the unhappiness flowing through you, that you should just stay in bed and give up since Nathan would kick you out of the house soon enough: he’d either get tired of your low mood, your falling productivity, or he’d discover your secret and be done with you.

He noticed. Of course he did. You stopped dancing, stopped cuddling, stopped fucking. Then you stopped eating, stopped talking, stopped leaving your room. You felt like you couldn’t get out of bed at all. You spent your time sleeping or curled up under your blankets in the dark room wishing you could sleep more. That or just disappear.

That was where Nathan found you, a month and a half after you’d run out of your meds.

“What the fuck is going on with you?” He barged into your room one morning… afternoon… you had no idea what time it was.

Nathan turned the light on and you could hear him pacing. “Are you sick? Do I need to call in a doctor? Are you even alive under there?! Hello?!”

You sighed, forcing yourself to sit up and prove you were alive, awake, and hearing him. The blankets dropped to your waist, revealing what you were sure was an absolute mess of a human. You knew what you looked like the last time you’d been brave enough to look in the mirror and you were sure it was even worse now.

Nathan cursed and you swear he nearly recoiled at the sight of you. “Are you in here dying on me or something?” He questioned. 

You weren’t sure how to answer, what you could possibly say to him.

“Hello?!” He snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Is anybody in there?!”

You blinked as he crowded you, hysterics growing as you seemingly ignored him. You could tell he was close to grabbing you and shaking you, and you didn’t know if your body could handle that. As it was, your muscles had protested sitting up. Instead, you leaned over and opened your drawer, taking out the zippered make-up bag.

You tossed the pouch at him, hearing all the plastic bottles click together as it landed at his feet. He bent down to pick it up, opening it carefully like he thought some sort of creature might jump out at him. His brows furrowed when he saw the bottles inside and dumped them out onto the mattress.

“Are these all empty? Fuck did you take these?” He questioned, panic rising in his voice. “Are you trying to OD on me or something? Shit.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, about to call for help.

“No.” You croaked. “Well, yeah. I took them… but… they’re my meds.” You gave in. “I’ve been taking them since I got here. I[was taking until they ran out.”

Nathan looked down at the bottles, picking one up as he read the label. “What are they for?”

“Depression mostly. Anxiety.” You shrugged, listing the simple ones.

Nathan was quiet as he read the bottles. You had no idea if he knew what any of them meant. It’s not like the labels read “Take one daily to stop the crazies!” The names, the dosages, the frequencies meant nothing to someone with no experience… but then again, Nathan wasn’t just anyone.

“How long?” He sighed, turning to sit on the edge of the bed.

You would have deflated if you didn’t already feel as low as you could go. Having assumed the worst, you weren’t surprised he couldn’t look at you.

“I was diagnosed in junior year-”

“No, I mean how long have you been without your meds?” He interrupted you, turning to stare  you down.

“A month.” You shrugged. “Almost two.”

“For fucks sakes.” He grumbled, turning to his phone again and typing away.

“I’ll pack my shit. Just, give me a few days and I’ll go.” You mumbled, laying down on your side and facing away from him. You didn’t want to watch him posting for a new assistant or scheduling the pick-up or whatever he was doing. You’d wallow for a bit, probably take a nap, and then you’d pack anything here that was important. Fuck the rest. You didn’t have the energy. You didn’t care.

“The fuck are you talking about?” He asked distractedly, like he hadn’t heard you as his cogs of his brain jumped to life. He did that a lot when he was preoccupied. He would hear your voice, realize you’re talking, but not absorb the words. Sometimes he needed to ask 3 or 4 times until you gave up and texted him instead.

“I’m bringing in a doctor. You need to get checked out before you start back up on anything. You’re not supposed to go off of these without supervision. Says so right here. Black and white.” He chastised you.

You frowned, looking over your shoulder in confusion. You saw him still typing away on his phone, holding one of the empty, orange-tinted bottles in his hand. He set it down, picking up another. He took a picture, looking over the label quickly for himself before setting it back down.

“What are you doing?”

“Sending him the labels so he knows what he’s walking into. Why the fuck would you just stop taking your meds?” He sniped. “Why didn’t you get more? I fucking ask you if you need shit and you just conveniently forget your pills?”

You picked at a thread of the blanket, not wanting to watch him as he grew angrier with you. As soon as you were in good health and his conscience was clear, he’d be rid of you. You were sure of it. It was more than you’d expected to be honest.

You heard the quiet noise from his phone, indicating the email had been sent. That meant his attention wasn’t divided as he rounded back on you.

“Why won’t you answer me? It’s like fucking talking to a wall or something. If I wanted one-sided conversations, I never would have brought you up here. Why didn’t you get more?!”

You took a shuddering breath before answering. “I didn’t want you to know.”

“Know what? That you take medication?” He scoffed in disbelief.

The room was quiet as you didn’t answer, but you could practically hear his brain processing, whirring like a computer with a squeaky exhaust fan.

“Hey, look at me.” He ordered, his voice dropping in volume to a kinder tone, but it was still not a request. It was a demand. You sat up again, looking at him stare at you with dark, angry eyes.

“When a program isn’t working, do you throw away the whole CPU or do you debug it and fucking find the fix?” He asked. You didn’t answer, assuming it was rhetorical.

“Your software is fucked, and these,” he picked up one of the bottles to hold up between you two. “These are the fix. Why the fuck would you be embarassed about shit like that?”

You shrugged your shoulders, dropping your gaze again. “You’re…” you struggled to find the words, but Nathan jumped on your train of thought frighteningly quick.

“Me?! So it’s my fault? I eat brown rice and salad and work out every day so I’m some health nut hippy who wouldn’t understand, is that it?”

He was putting words into your mouth, but he was essentially getting the point. You were scared he would reject you, mock you, think less of you.

He crawled towards you on the bed, cupping your chin a little too tight as he lifted your face. He was clearly done having you look away from him. “I’m a fucking reclusive genius who lives in the middle of ass fuck nature and only lets people come and go with a goddamn keycard! Do you not think I’m self-aware enough to realize that? A fucking prodigy, multi-millionaire by 15, CEO of the most successful technology company in history. The President calls me and I hit ignore. Do you really think I’m not self-aware enough to know we all have our own brand of fucked up?” He laughed.

“If you need these to get through it, to be my little genius-” He released your jaw to cup your face in both hands, giving it a shake. “To keep up with my shit, to live here without losing your mind at the isolation, to be my dance partner and dinner partner and movie date - then fucking take them. Would I be having to tell you this if it was for your blood pressure or a heart condition or something?!”

His phone buzzed and he released his hold on you, leaning back to read the message that had just come through.

“Doc’s gonna be here tomorrow morning. Gotta keep you hydrated until then and you should try to eat.” He summed up the message as his eyes skimmed the screen. He tucked his phone back into his pocket before slapping your blanket-covered thigh. “What are we eating tonight? Your choice.”

“I’m not hungry.” You mumbled.

“Not an option!” He declined as he stood off the bed. “What are we eating?”

You sighed, letting your head fall back as you thought. “Grilled cheese?”

“And tomato soup? Coming right up.” He leaned over to you, cupping the back of your head as he pulled you close enough to kiss the top of your head. “Rest. I’ll bring it in when it’s ready.”

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl @din-damn-djarin @dinthisisthe-wayson @seasonschange-butpeopledont @kesskirata​ 

#Nathan Bateman x Reader #Nathan Bateman x GN!Reader #Nathan Bateman x You #Nathan Bateman imagine #Nathan Bateman drabble #Oscar Isaac Character Fanfiction #Wookietales #Nathan Bateman

[jinpanman]

It's You

pairing: hoseok x fem. reader (+ lowkey yoonjimin)

word count: 14k

genre: pg15, fluff, friends to lovers au, teacher au, coworkers au

warnings: a lot of awkwardness, excessive blushing, drinking, some non-explicit nsfw (dirty thoughts, brief mention of boners, hoseok blurts out wanting to put babies in you😌)

synopsis: An accidental confession throws your years-long friendship with Hoseok into disarray.

a/n: my first finished fic in 2 years!!!!! WOW. from what started out as a literal dream months ago to a 3k monster of illegible scribbles to a 9k mess to this. thank you to the BSH members for being amazing and helpful and oh so wonderful. thank you to Connee @writerly-love​ for being so lovely and encouraging uwu she writes so check her out y’all 💖 and the biggest BIGGEST thank you to my beta reader Melissa @hauntedlilies​ for doing me the biggest solid and helping me with 31982 things in this fic. you have been the best help and your advice and commentary is invaluable to me. thank you for encouraging me and thank you for loving my idiot characters! she draws and writes btw. check her out!!💖 i hope you enjoy this story, dearest reader 🥺🌱 (edited 05/2021)

yoonjimin drabble: It’s You 2.0

Is it normal to be so endeared watching your students jumping with excitement around your colleague?

You love your students, you do. Why else would you have become an after school teacher?  Sometimes, though, there are days when you’re scrambling to come up with an activity hours before the kids flock in from their day class. It’s tiring to always have to be on your toes in order to meet the needs of your students—which change at the switch of a light every day!—but it’s a welcome weight in your life. 

You’re thankful that you don’t have to do it all on your own. Every other week you collaborate with other teachers at the school to foster friendship and camaraderie outside of your student’s usual age range. Today your class is combined with Hoseok’s, and they are all too excited to see their favorite Mr. Hobi. Not that you blame them.

Hoseok claps his hands, drawing the attention of your students whose loud chatter lowers to a hum, albeit still excited. The students flock to him like little ducklings to their mama and you absolutely cannot help but giggle at the sight. He has such a natural chemistry with children and choosing a life as an educator fits him so well. 

Your eyes wander to where your colleague is situated in front of the class. He instructs the students to raise their hands along with him and together they stretch for a good minute. His face is scrunched in a goofy smile as his head tilts, causing his glasses to slip down his nose. Would he mind if you walked over to fix his glasses?

The herbal tea he brought you before class warms your hands as you stand in the back to observe. The steam from the cup brings out a lovely smell of peppermint which you inhale happily. Despite being a strong advocate for coffee and knowing next to nothing about tea, he somehow knew the exact type of tea you liked to drink. You take a long sip and listen to him entice the children with one last hour of fun before they have to go home.

“Okay kids! Today we’re gonna make the ground really pretty for everyone to see tomorrow morning! What do you say?”

They all cheer and he directs them to stand in two orderly lines in front of either of you by the front door while he hands you a bag filled with chalk sticks of varying colors. You raise your brows in curiosity.

“Last minute decision?”

He scoffs and hands a chalk piece to the next student in line.

“No!” You raise a brow at him and he sighs in resignation. “Fine, yes. But no one needs to know that, okay?”

You both laugh in complete understanding of the teacher struggles. Oh, the simple life of a child; so easily amused by a little piece of chalk.

“Teacher, teacher! Come look!”

One student pulls you away from your bad attempt at a portrait of Grumpy Cat, the greatest cat to have walked the earth. You walk over her and she points out something she drew on the cement.

“Look! It’s you and Mr. Hobi!” she exclaims in excitement while jumping up and down.

Sure enough there are two clumsily drawn stick figures. You assume the one with glasses is Hoseok since he’s donned a pair of round glasses today, paired nicely with his red flannel. You applaud her artwork, thanking her for drawing you so nicely, when another student comes up from behind you and squints at their peer’s drawing.

“That looks like Mr. Hobi and his girlfriend!” they say.

“No! That’s not his girlfriend. That’s Ms. Y/N!” she stomps in defiance.

The two students argue until they both yell for Hoseok to come over. Their loud commotion gains many of the other student’s attention and they all seem to watch on with curiosity. He casts a puzzled look at your direction to which you shrug, not entirely sure what your students are trying to prove. When he’s standing beside you they both shoot rapid fire questions.

“Mr. Hobi, who does this look like?”

“No, no! Mr. Hobi, who do you think these are?”

“Do they look like you and Ms. Y/N?”

“No, do they look like you and your girlfriend?”

“Do you even have a girlfriend?”

The other students have somehow flocked around you during this squabble. They giggle and you hear a unison of audible gasps in approval and join in on the questioning.

“Yeah! Do you? Do you?”

Hoseok stands there like a deer caught in headlights, not knowing what to do. His eyes flicker over to you, silently begging for help. Both your students are normally well behaved and usually do well not to ask personal questions about information you don’t voluntarily share. You can’t fault them for forgetting to be polite in the heat of the moment. They are children, after all, so you do your best to redirect them.

“Hey hey, why don’t we let Mr. Hobi speak before you ask any more questions, okay? Remember what Mr. Slug says?” 

They slouch over and robotically recite Mr. Slug’s motto about letting other people take a turn to talk but their eyes still glimmer with hope. It’s clear Hoseok doesn’t know what to say. As much as you want to laugh at his skittish stance, you know it won’t do to leave your fellow teacher hanging. The laughs can come later when the kids are gone.

“Alright, kids why don’t we—” You start to change the subject to shift their attention elsewhere when a student behind you speaks up.

“Ms. Y/N you have to help us!”

The other students join in and echo the plea to find out who Mr. Hobi’s secret girlfriend is. You cup your hands around your face so no one can see you mouthing to Hoseok—earning several groans from your students—and exchange silent communication with him. The easy smile on his face tells you that it’s okay to humor your students today, so you begin to laugh with your students and egg him on.

“Mr. Hobi, please, please, will you tell us?” you ask, putting on a half hearted puppy face and clasp your hands together to appease your students.

You swallow back a snicker at how his face morphs into embarrassment. So maybe this isn’t what he thought you’d pull, but his reaction was worth it. You tease him and poke at his reddening cheeks.

“Ahh, you don’t need to do that,” he mumbles from his pouty lips.

You pull away before he can snatch your hands. Your students laugh at your antics and chant “Mr. Hobi has a cruuush!” You chant along with them in good fun, giggling at your friend’s increasingly flushed face. He seems to finally find his senses and holds his hands up in defeat.

“Alright, alright! Calm down and I’ll tell you who she is.”

The students jump in place, cheering for their victory. His gaze lingers on you, but you think nothing of it, instead donning a shit eating grin. The children waddle in even closer, eager to hear what he has to say.

“Okay, well she’s this really, really pretty lady who likes cats a lot.”

“Ooh, like Ms. Y/N’s cat she drew?” one student interrupts and points to the striped cat you have yet to finish.

“Mhm! Just like her cat.”

“What else? What else?”

“She also doesn’t like coffee at all and makes fun of me for drinking it.” You raise your eyebrows and nod your head in approval. Whoever this lady is, you like her already.

“What does coffee taste like?”

It’s clear he didn’t expect that question and fumbles with trying to explain what coffee is to five and six year olds. You rub at your cheeks, aching from having been smiling for so long. It’s impossible not to smile when you’re around Hoseok. Simply being near him has always been enough to get you to smile.

“Tell us more about your girlfriend please!”

You hadn’t expected them to still be after that and you laugh at their boldness.

“Yeah, c’mon. Who’s this secret lady who hates coffee as much as I do?” you ask cheekily.

“Ah,” he looks away and scratches at his nose. “Well she’s—” 

Just as he’s about to reveal more about this mystery woman, the dismissal bell rings. He clicks his tongue and cackles at the disappointed faces all around him.

“Oh well! Guess you’ll have to wait ‘til next time, kids. Let’s get back to class.”

The students moan and groan but they comply and head back to the classroom to be picked up and go home.

It’s become routine to walk out to your cars together any time your classes are paired. Today is no different. Hoseok waits for you by the door, hair tousled from running after students and long sleeves rolled up his arm, revealing a black watch wrapped around his delicate wrist. As he fiddles with his phone, the rings on his fingers glint under the afternoon rays that sneak through the classroom door sidelight.

“You took your glasses off,” you nod your head at the glasses now tucked inside his shirt pocket. “They looked good on you.”

“Ha. Nice as they are, wearing glasses for too long hurts my ears.”

“Aw, poor baby,” you coo and reach forward to rub his ears. 

He grumbles and swats your hand away. He pushes open the door and motions for you to go first. You think back to the earlier fiasco with the children and wonder how is he still single? Having known him for many years prior to working together, you remember many interested suitors, both men and women alike, trying their hand at wooing him. You can’t think of a single person who doesn’t like him, or at least have a begrudging respect for him.

Outside of your job, you also know he’s the life of the party when you meet up with your friends. Your mind briefly wanders to what it would look like if you were coupled with him. Maybe you’d drive home together and wind down after a long day at work. Then you’d change out of your work clothes, cook a meal together and dance while you’re waiting, maybe even cuddle in bed together until you fall asleep. You’re thinking dangerous thoughts and you take a mental note to chastise your inner conscience when you’re alone.

“So,” you clear your throat and pretend like you hadn’t just imagined a particular fantasy about the man walking beside you, “since the kids brought it up, now I’m actually really curious.”

“Oh man, not you too,” he groans and rubs a hand over his face.

“Hoseok, come on! We’ve been friends for years now and you know what, I don’t remember you ever dating? At least not seriously. Is there anyone you’re interested in these days?” You see the hesitance on his face but you press on. “You know me, Hobi. You know I won’t tell anyone. Not even Yoonji.”

Yoonji, half of the reason why you and he are friends in the first place. The other half being her twin brother, Yoongi. You met Yoonji in your first year of university, and through her you met the crazy bunch you now call your friends. Hoseok and Yoongi had been friends long before college. Once you and Hoseok became acquainted through the twins, you’d bonded over the mutual suffering dealt by them. It had been easy to get along with him, and it didn’t take long at all to move up from acquaintances to friends. You were more than happy when you found out you both had been hired and placed at the same school after university.

He shakes his head at your request. “Nah, you wouldn’t know her anyway.”

“Okay, see! So there’s no problem in me knowing! ‘Cause I don’t know her.” You bump shoulders with him and tug at his arm. “Look, if you really don’t want to tell me, I’ll drop it. I promise. But I really am curious about the person who’s stolen Mr. Hobi’s heart.”

You’ve stopped in front of his car and now there’s nothing to distract him from your pleading face. You do your best not to look like a wide-eyed crazed cat lady and more like the pleading Puss in Boots. You hope it’s working.

“You really wanna know?”

“I do! But only if you’re comfortable telling me.”

“Promise you won’t run away when you find out?”

You’re puzzled by the shift in his demeanor, in the way his voice has dropped to nearly a whisper, but you nod anyway and extend your pinky finger out to him. He brings up his hand to wrap his pinky around yours. You’re taken aback by how seriously he’s taking this, but you wouldn’t do anything to betray his trust. He waits for a few seconds, then nods, seemingly satisfied and stuffs his hands inside his jean pockets.

His eyes are downcast and with a heavy exhale he says quietly, “It’s you.”

You blink. Then you laugh. And you can’t stop laughing. The nervous energy rolls off of you in peals of inappropriate laughter. It isn’t until you see he’s frowning—an expression that doesn’t cross his face often—that you try to reign in your nerves and calm down. 

“You got jokes Hoseok!” you say, trying to lighten the sudden sour mood.

“I’m not trying to be funny. I—I like you.”

Your residual giggling immediately subsides when you realize he really is serious. A wave of confusing emotions wash over you. You’re shocked, you’re confused, and you’re in denial. This can’t be happening. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly as your brain flips through your dictionary of words to try to understand what you’ve just heard.

Frustration spills out of his lips when you remain mute. “It’s you! I want you! It’s been you for years. Is that not what you wanted to hear? Are you satisfied now that you know?”

Wait. What? 

Your mind still hasn’t caught up and all you can do is stare at him. You catch a quiet "fuck” escaping his lips as he roughly rakes his fingers through his already messed hair. He gives you one last glance before he dashes into his car. Seeing him leave finally gets your tongue working.

“Wait.” You try to grab his arm but he’s already shut the car door. “Wait Hobi, I—I’m sorry. No, no wait please!”

He drives off without a single glance back.

You have never felt like the shittiest person to exist on this planet until now. You survey the lot to make sure no one witnessed this scene and are relieved to find no one. You scurry into your car, forcing back the hot tears that want to come out. 

You don’t deserve to cry after being so cruel. Even if it was unintentional. You scramble for your phone as soon as you’re strapped in. The screen immediately unlocks once your face is in view and you swipe on your best friend’s number starred at the top of your contacts list.

Yoonji picks up after the third ring and her voice drawls out through the speaker, “Did Hobi finally spill the beans, ‘cause thank fucking god.“

You briefly register that you can hear Yoongi in the background talking to another man whose distressed voice sounds vaguely familiar. Blinking your tears away, it takes a second for Yoonji’s words to sink in and you are, for the second time today, at a loss for words. You’re out of the parking lot when your voice finds itself but your brain has yet to catch up, still stuck on those three words that came out of Hoseok’s mouth.

"Wait, wait, wait. Yoonji. You knew? About him? But—wait. How did you—why didn’t you know—er, tell me?” Your free hand flies wildly in the air as you drive.

“He’s not exactly subtle about his feelings for you, you know. Do you not remember last month when you complained about wanting milk tea and he immediately dropped everything to personally drive to a shop 10 minutes away to get you one—a large one, might I add!—with ‘for miss beautiful’ written on the side of the cup?” 

“He does that for everyone,” you mumble into your phone.

“No he does not. You’re just a dumb squirrel and apparently he’s attracted to dumb squirrels.” You don’t need to see her to know she’s pacing mid rant and examining her freshly manicured nails like the princess she is. You wish you knew how she had the funds and time to repaint her nails every other week.

“How come I never noticed?” you ask, pointedly ignoring the squirrel jab.

“Again, you’re a dumb squirrel—”

“What am I gonna do? I didn’t mean to make him feel bad about confessing to me. I feel like such an ass,” you whine into your phone, once again ignoring her insult. You roll your eyes at the fake sounds of her humming in thought. She enjoys making you antsy beyond belief way too much.

“Yoonji! Stop teasing me please!” Your face contorts into the best puppy face you could muster, and you’re sure the driver next to you is giving you a weird look.

“Ew, gross. I can feel your puppy eyes on me 70 miles away. Stop it.”

Worth it.

“Well first of all,” she begins, “you were an ass. How would you feel if you confessed to someone and the first thing they do is laugh? That was shitty of you, babe!”

If you weren’t driving, you would have hung your head in shame. “Yeah, I know…”

“Mhm. At least you know.” As much as she loves you, Hoseok’s her friend too. You don’t blame her for not comforting you. “Anyway, you could go about this several ways. One, let him down easy. Or two, open your eyes and realize you feel the same way. Or three, avoid him for the rest of your life and run away to a convent to make certain you’ll never see him again.”

You whine again, just as pathetically as the first time. “You’re not helping! Those are all impossible!”

“Fine, fine.” She sighs into the phone. “So answer this for me then. Do you like him?”

And that there is the million dollar question. Do you like him? You’ve never given yourself the luxury of seeing him in that way. He was obviously a very attractive man with an equally captivating personality. Yes, he may have made your heart flutter at least a dozen times in the time you’ve known him. Okay, so maybe more than a dozen… 

And yes, you may have indulged in one or two fantasies about what it would be like to date him but you never allowed your mind to wander farther than a few innocent thoughts. You valued your friendship with him far too much to divulge in selfish daydreams. You reveal as much to your friend.

“Babe, all I can tell you is that knowing Hoseok, he’s probably at home wallowing in despair and embarrassment and will probably hate himself for making you uncomfortable. Aaand drinking himself silly because he’s stupid.” 

You hear Yoongi snort in the background.

“B-but I’m not—”

“So go tell him yourself then!”

“Ah Yoonjiii..” you whine... again.

“Figure it out, bitch! I gotta finish painting my nails now. Love youuu!” She hangs up before you can wail her name once more and you’re left to stew in your feelings for the rest of the evening.

The following day, Hoseok doesn’t show up for work. Or the next. By the third day, you’re tempted to ask your supervisor if he still even works here. Okay, so maybe you’re overreacting a little bit. Maybe Yoongi would know if he was still alive, but then he’d pry into why you’re asking in the first place and you’re not ready to answer any questions. 

You’ve just gotten home and your shoulders droop heavily. You have yet to receive any news or texts from Hoseok since he left you in the parking lot that day. It didn’t help that the kids were exceptionally testy today.

Your mind is riddled with worry, but rather than for yourself, you worry about him. Actually if you’re being honest, you’ve been thinking about him endlessly since then. You hope he’s taking care of himself. You want to apologize. You need to apologize. This realization is what helps you to make your decision. 

With a sudden blaze of courage, you grab your purse off the couch and head out to the bus stop just a street down your place. It takes about thirty minutes with one bus transfer that leads you directly to his apartment complex. You’ve been there many times and while you know the route by heart, this visit feels like a whole new experience.

Your feet know exactly where to go and how many steps to take, leading you out the bus, into the apartment complex, and up the elevator until you’re standing in front of his door. You stare at his door and a brief flash of doubt rings alarms in your head. You ring the bell before you can overthink your actions. A few seconds later his voice chimes out from the speaker box.

“Who is it?” 

His voice sounds very tired. Has he not been sleeping well?

“Hello?” He tries again.

You lightly slap your cheeks, bringing yourself back. You weren’t even aware you had frozen up.

“Hey, it’s me. Um, Y/N.”

No answer.

"Can we—can we talk?”

Again, you are met with silence.

Your fingers twiddle with the hem of your shirt, unsure of your next move. You came all the way here on complete impulse. You don’t do well when you don’t have a plan. And right now, you have no plan, which is ironic, considering you’re a teacher for young children who require a level of spontaneity every day. 

You’re itching to escape but your feet remain wooden against the pavement. You bend your head down and glare at your legs, willing them to move goddammit. You nearly find the will to finally bolt when you hear the door creak open. Your head whips up and you immediately seek out his face. You come eye to eye with a disheveled looking Hoseok hiding behind his door. His bleary, sunken eyes follow you warily as you take a step forward and blurt out his name, but before you can get another word in he addresses you.

“Look, I don’t need a pity party okay?” He pauses to slink further away from the already small opening through the door. “Especially from you. It was a mistake and I’m sorry that happened. I shouldn’t have told you like that and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That was a bad move.” 

You open your mouth and breathe in, ready to counter his allegation but he puts a hand up, an unspoken request to continue talking uninterrupted. “I just need a few more days to clear my mind. I can’t promise I’ll be okay soon but—”

You interrupt him anyway.

“I’m not saying no Hobi,” your voice is meek but you mentally pat yourself on the back for finally finding your voice.

“Wha—what? What did you… er, what do you mean?”

“I,” you pause to collect your thoughts but alas, when you have no plan your brain goes haywire and your mouth rambles away without your permission. “Well, first I want to apologize for forcing you to talk and for not taking you seriously. I really didn’t mean to disregard your feelings or make fun of you. You didn’t make me uncomfortable at all actually! It’s just that… no one’s ever—I mean, I didn’t think you saw me in that way and, well, I mean I always thought you were cute. You’re so handsome and dreamy and you’re funny and when you smile your eyes crinkle into little moons and your hearts a smile. I mean! Your smile, it makes a heart and I love it so much and I, um, but I didn't—I mean I don’t know why you even like me in the first place.” You laugh nervously, anxiety rising up inside you like bile at not being able to get the words out right.

A warm hand wraps around yours and you’re bewildered. He’s opened the door just big enough to let his hand out to hold yours. He’s the one hurting and yet he reaches out to comfort you when you showed the slightest unease. If anything, he should be lashing out at you right now. The warmth in his eyes tells you he has no intention of doing that. His thoughtfulness and care towards you, even after you hurt him, causes your heart to stutter and you fight on despite your nerves.

“I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m still not sure about my feelings but I’m willing to try? If you are too? I don’t really know how to do this, but—but I’m willing to explore whatever this could be with you. And I’m not saying you have to consider my feelings because that isn’t fair to you. You can absolutely tell me to fuck off and I won’t bother you again. Um, yeah I think—I think that’s it.”

God, you can’t wait to get home so you can punch your pillows for rambling so much! You stand there, staring at the side of the door so it looks like you’re looking at him but you’re really not. Your halfhearted smile slowly dwindles into a tight lipped smile the longer he stays silent and you’re wondering if now’s a good time to skedaddle.

“Okay, got it. I’m sorry Hoseok—” You turn your back to him, completely prepared to walk away with your tail tucked.

“Can I hug you?”

You whirl around and blink owlishly at him and stutter embarrassingly so. “What?”

“Can I hug you?”

“I mean, y-yeah? I guess?”

You’re dying internally over how your voice squeaks and inflects into a higher, unsure tone. He pushes the door open and pulls you by your hands into his arms, effectively drawing you away from your internal conflict. The feeling of his warmth around you sends your heart into an unfamiliar tangle of emotions. 

Hoseok has always been the best bear hugger. He believed hugs revealed what a person was like, and his preference for full hugs definitely conveyed his desire for physical contact with the people he loved. This hug, though, was different in the way that he held you so close to him, with his face nuzzled in your hair. You breathe in his scent that’s brought you comfort throughout the years and wrap your arms around his waist. You feel his arms tighten and pull you closer into him. You pray the stuttering heartbeat felt between the two of you isn’t only yours. 

After a long minute of silence—which somehow felt like one hour and one second all at once—he murmurs close to your ear, “If this is you giving me the okay, then I’m not gonna hold back anymore and I’m going to pursue you honestly. And… hopefully show you that my feelings for you are sincere.”

You let out an involuntary squeak much to your horror and hide your face into his chest, not trusting yourself to speak. You feel the shake of his shoulders as he laughs, the puff of breath tickling the back of your neck, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. He eventually pulls away from your hug but instead of letting go, his hands reach down to hold your own and he looks down at you with shining eyes. His face paints a tender gaze and the combination of how he smiles at you has you bashful so instead, you focus on the way his thumb rubs against yours. It only sends your heart into further overdrive.

“It’s late.” His voice is soft as he speaks to you. "Did you drive here?”

You shake your head no. Then you gasp and tilt your head in mild bewilderment.

Okay but why didn’t you drive? Are you dumb or are you dumb? You try to convince yourself you took the bus to save Mother Earth. Not because you were in such a hurry to see him that you forgot you have a car.

“Let me drive you home then,” he says and squeezes your hands.

“No, no it’s okay. I can get a taxi!”

He shakes his head in disapproval. “I can’t let you do that. It’s dark out now and I’d feel much better if I take you myself.”

“Hobi, I’ll be fine. I promise!” His brows furrow and you bring your arm up to flex your bicep. “See, look! I’m a strong girl.”

He’s entirely unimpressed and rolls his eyes. “Look, either you let me take you home or you’ll have to sleep over tonight. I don’t want you going home by yourself.”

“Eh?” Well, you certainly weren’t expecting that. You’re a deer in headlights thinking about a night alone with him. Nope. No way. Nu-uh. Vetoed. You won’t survive. Especially not after your almost-kind-of-but-not-really confession. 

You sigh in defeat and bow your head.

“Fiiine. You can take me home, I guess.”

He grins and while you’re pouting that he won this trivial argument, your heart is whistling a happy tune at seeing a smile grace his face once again. You wait outside while he grabs his wallet and keys. When he reemerges from inside his house, he gestures to his left.

“Ready to go?”

“Mhm!” You motion for him to lead the way and you follow after him.

The car ride back to your place is quiet, save for the low ambiance of his music playing on the stereo, but it’s a comfortable silence. You have more questions you want to ask. There’s still a lot you want to know, but you figure you’ve both had enough of a surprise tonight. You trust that there will be many opportunities in the near future to ask.

Once he’s parked his car outside your apartment, you turn to thank him and bid him goodnight only to be met with an empty seat. He’s already outside, waiting for you.

“Hobi you didn’t have to come out!” you protest as you exit the vehicle. “It’s cold!”

He only hums in response and walks with you to the front entrance. You’re half expecting a goodbye hug, considering he’s out here with you, and you’re surprised to feel your chest swirl in disappointment that he does neither of those. Instead, he takes a step away from you and the words that leave his mouth bring you a comfort you didn’t know you needed.

“We’ll take this slow, yeah? I don’t expect you to know how you feel by tomorrow or even next month. I’ve waited this long. I can wait a little longer.”

He strokes your cheek, lingering in front of you for a few more seconds. He leaves you with his touch etched onto your cheek. You fall asleep with the sole thought that you wouldn’t mind falling for Jung Hoseok.

The following morning feels like a daze and you’re on autopilot for the rest of the week. Before you know it, it’s your biweekly get-together with your gang. You’d gained a chaotic but solid group of friends in your college days. While the group has slowly decreased over the past two years after graduating, your bond is still as strong, even if you don’t meet as often as you used to.

It’s Hoseok’s turn to host this time and you’re freaking out. You recount every conversation you’ve had with him this past week at school. The both of you made a point to only talk about school related topics, very obviously ignoring the elephant in the room. The only thing that’s changed is the rate of daily text messages between the two of you. You now awaken to “good morning texts.” Throughout the day, you send each other “this reminded me of you” texts and end each night with “how was your day?” texts. Your heart is slowly becoming conditioned to jump any time his name appears on your phone screen. Today is no different. Your heart is racing at the thought of finally seeing Hoseok outside of work.

[Y&Y’s Minions Group Chat]

Taetae: aye bro heads up im bringing some juice w me

Taetae: yknow. for us nonalcoholics.

Hobibi: 👍

Yoonji(min’s Wife): weak ass bitch 🙄

Taetae: Shut up or im not bringing jimin with me 🥱

Min Suga: she just punched me cause i laughed man wtf

Taetae: 🤣🤣🤣🤣

You: LOOOLLL it’s what you deserve

You: also tq for bringing juice taetae 🤧 idk if i can handle another of jimins mystery concoctions 😩

Taetae: that’s what you got hobi for right?

Hobibi: Exactly ;)

Min Suga: right. like he can hold his alcohol????

Hobibi: also can yall actually come on time so we can start our movie early?

Hobibi: dude i’ve gotten better at drinking tghank you very much

Yoonji(min’s Wife): sorry what im jared 19

Min Suga: she lies. shes putting makeup on for Park

[IMG_2831 delivered]

You: lmaaaoooo you got called out babe!!!

Yoonji(min’s Wife): fuck you min yoongi. find ur own ride there bitch <3

You snort reading through the messages. One day someone’s gonna fight and you have no doubt Yoonji will be one of the contenders. You’ve already resigned yourself to the role of her babysitter, knowing full well you’ll be tending to her every whim and command the day it happens as well as the following day of her recovery. Your phone pings again. 

It’s a separate text message from Hoseok.

Hobibi: i can’t wait to see you beautiful :)

You gasp audibly and your face heats up instantly. You’re grateful there’s no one around to hear you. What should you text back? You’re still unfamiliar with the Hobi who flirts. He is flirting, right? You fumble with your phone, heart racing a mile a minute, texting a (hopefully) flirty reply back when Yoonji’s winking selca takes over your screen. You drag your finger across the Accept button and her voice drawls out from your speaker.

“I’m heeerre!! Come outside so we can get wasted tonight!”

You snort and hang up without replying back to her. As soon as you plop into the passenger seat she thrusts a bottle of alcohol into your hands.

“Drink.”

Apparently, her idea of calming you down is with some pregame booze. 

It doesn’t help.

When you arrive at his apartment, you attach yourself to Yoonji’s back, but she was having none of that. Her shared telepathic powers with her equally chaotic twin brother draw them together as soon as they’re in the same room. You squeak at having been left behind and follow her, intent on hiding behind her the whole night. 

In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t have blindly followed after your friend because the person accompanying Yoongi was none other than his best friend who also happened to be the man you were trying to avoid… which wouldn’t have worked anyway considering this was his home. Yoonji drags you out from behind her and you’re given no chance to pretend like you weren’t hiding. 

You shoot daggers into her boobs, praying that her boobs will swell and explode right in front of Jimin for outing you like this. You clear your throat and straighten out your shirt, then exchange greetings with the two men, feigning nonchalance. You don’t mean to but your eyes flicker down Hoseok’s figure. His hair looks freshly dried and curls around his face in the most beautiful way. A thin blue crew neck sweater hangs off his shoulders and hugs his torso just right, but when do his clothes not fit him well? It’s cut low enough to just tease the outline of his collarbones and it doesn’t help you with your already heightened nerves. You gulp and lower your gaze. For some godforsaken reason, he decided it was a good idea to roll the sleeves up and expose his forearms. You’re on your way past his hips when—

“You look beautiful tonight.”

Oh dear, did he catch you staring? 

His voice draws your gaze back to him and you find him looking right at you with a shy smile that flutters your heart. A compliment from him would usually have elicited a laugh and a “thank you Hobi.” Now, it evokes a stutter and a burning face. It’s a change the twins catch onto quickly. They exchange knowing glances which neither you nor Hoseok see, too busy staring at each other.

And then you’re colliding into each other.

“Oops!” Yoonji cackles and raises her glass to her brother.

"My bad. My hand slipped.” Yoongi raises his own and clinks his drink with hers. They take a sip and completely ignore the two frozen statues beside them.

“Hey, what do you say we go say hi to the soulmates?”

“Right on my sweetums. Let’s go find your loverboy.”

“You’re disgusting and also you’re wrong.”

Yoongi forcefully links arms with his sister and they shuffle away still bickering, meanwhile you and Hoseok are a blushing mess, locked in each other’s arms. His hands burn pressed against your lower back and you pull yourself away from him. You ignore the way your body screams at you for leaving his warmth. Your eyes flit around, looking at everything except for him. And then it lands on a sliver of skin peeking out behind his sweater that had risen up in this blunder.

Wait. This is bad. Don’t focus on that. 

Focus on your annoying best friend. Yeah… this is all her fault.

“Sorry Yoonji’s such a pain in the ass.”

“Understatement of the year.” He snorts and readjusts his sweater back down. You bite back a pitiful whine and suddenly you have no idea who you’ve become.

“They’re both menaces. Remind me never to have them in the same room again.“

You laugh at the truth in his words and then it’s back to a dead silence. One you’re not used to, especially not with him. He rubs the side of his arm and clears his throat.

"Um, well, you know, if being here makes you uncomfortable it’s okay to leave. My feelings won’t be hurt. Or I can just, I don’t know, not talk to you tonight? If that’s what you want?”

You wince at his offer.

“No!” you say immediately, wanting to remedy his misinterpretation of the nervous waves radiating off you. “I wanted to come! I… well, as nervous as I am, I wanted to see you?”

He lets out a dry laugh. “Oh, right. I could definitely tell from the way you hid behind Yoonji as soon as you got here.”

You force out a weak laugh at having been caught. Should you apologize or yeet yourself out of this situation? Thankfully, he makes the decision for you.

“Why don’t we go say hi to Tae and Jimin? Since you just got here.”

You swallow the apology that hangs on your tongue and nod slowly. You walk in silence to where the rest of the gang is gathered. Yoongi and Jimin are engrossed in a conversation about the latest EP released by their favorite duo RM and JK. Meanwhile Yoonji is making very no-so-subtle heart eyes at Jimin while Taehyung is chatting away about something she obviously has no interest in.

You’ve known Jimin for a few years and he’s only just started coming along this past year to your meetups with Taehyung, his childhood friend. He integrated so well into your little group and you all were quick to adopt him and dub him as the Resident Giggly for how beautiful his laughs were. His bubbling personality also somehow snatched the Resident Shady’s heart, despite her always denying it. You decide to do your friend a solid and save her from Taehyung’s ramblings. It’s definitely not to distract yourself from the Resident Smiles beside you.

“Hey Taetae!” you call out to the broad shouldered man who turns around, bright eyed and smiley. You notice a cup in his hand that you hope is just juice. He doesn’t drink often but when he does… Well, you certainly won’t want to be present.

“Y/N you’re here! Finally someone who will listen to me!” He pulls you into a side hug.

You laugh. “That’s ‘cause she’s too busy making goo goo eyes at—oof!”

Yoonji shoves Taehyung who still has his arms draped around your shoulder. He trips and sends you nearly toppling over as well. An arm wraps around your waist to steady you. Hoseok pulls you to his side, a safe distance away from the two rowdy ones.

“If you both know what’s good for you, you will shut up or else!” she hisses between her teeth. The blush growing on her cheeks tells you otherwise, though.

“I love you too, Yoonji poo!” Taehyung teases and pinches her cheeks.

She slaps his hands away, scowling. Then her attention redirects to you and you don’t like the way her eyes have turned alight. She nudges Taeyung and nods her head at you and Hoseok. He looks at the pair of you and his lips turn up into a sinister smirk.

“Well, well, well. Wouldya look at that?” You don’t like that both his and Yoonji’s smug faces are now focused on you. “So anyone wanna tell me when you two became a thing?”

You and Hoseok share a confused albeit nervous look. It’s then you realize how close you are to each other and you don’t hate the close proximity.

“You do realize you have your arm around her, right hyung?”

It’s not until he points it out that Hoseok realizes he never let go of you. The arm that rested around your hips tears away from your body and falls back limply to his side. Yoonji snorts at how fast he let you go and you try your best to hide your disappointment, calling upon all the times you’ve had to school your face of irritation at work.  You note that he doesn’t move away though, and his hand ghosts yours with every breath he takes.

“Don’t be mean Tae,” you scold him and push him away.

“It’s not like that. We’re not a couple.” Hoseok’s strong protest wavers at the last word and the way his ears redden don’t do well to support his claim. Your face flushes at his word choice.

“Who’s not a couple?” Jimin pops in, hands propped around Taehyung’s shoulder.

Taehyung eyes Yoonji and says with a smirk, “You and Yoo—mmph!”

Yoonji pounces on Taehyung and slaps a hand over his mouth. In typical Jimin fashion, he falls to his knees, laughing at their bizarre antics. As much as those two clashed, you knew they loved each other a ridiculous amount. You tug at Hoseok’s shirt sleeve and ask if he wants to get a drink.

He nods in agreement. “Yeah, let’s go before they strike again.”

The two of you share a laugh and head into the kitchen where two glass bowls are filled to the brim with dark liquids. The smell of alcohol reeks from the one nearest you and you nearly gag.

“Did Jimin make this?” you scowl and point accusingly at the punch bowl with a dark red liquid sparkling dangerously. You hope alcohol doesn’t spread through air particles because if it does, the other punch bowl is surely spiked by now.

“What did you expect?” He chuckles and hands you a glass cup.

You grab the ladle laying beside what you hope is the nonalcoholic drink and pour into your cup.

“Hey, so um… about earlier,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, “er, sorry about that. I didn’t even know I was still... touching you.”

“Ah, no it’s okay. I didn’t know either actually.” You take in a breath and brace yourself for what you’re about to admit out loud, “To be honest, I kind of liked it.”

You hear him take in a sharp inhale after your confession and you wonder who’s blushing harder. Probably you. You hand the ladle to him and hold your breath when his fingers graze yours.

“I’ll keep that in mind next time.” He recovers quickly and winks at you. Your recovery rate is much slower and his wink only sets you back further. “So, um, I’ll let you catch up with everyone. I gotta go set up for the movie anyway. I’ll see you later, okay?”

He briefly reaches his hand to brush against your cheek, then leaves you alone, starstruck in the kitchen, to be the good host that he is. The rest of the night goes off without any other hitches. Plenty of laughter is shared between the lot of you. Jimin may have tried to spike the literal juice bowl a few times, but both Taehyung and Yoongi dragged him away each time. 

Throughout the night, you find yourself unconsciously scanning the room for Hoseok only to be met with a pair of brown eyes already looking at you. Each time you make eye contact, you both blush and look away at having been caught staring. Each time it happens, your friends turn around to stick their fingers in their open mouths and fake a gag.

You’re on popcorn duty as the evening begins to settle down for the “movie” part of movie night to finally start. You emerge from the kitchen with three large bowls with freshly popped and buttered popcorn. You sigh with resignation when you see only two available empty seats. One next to Hoseok on the love seat and one in between Yoonji and Jimin. You absolutely are not ready to be in such close proximity with Hoseok for the next two hours, but you also don’t want to cock block Yoonji. 

Although she’d never admit it to anyone, you knew she harbored a secret crush on Jimin. Anyone else outside your group and they wouldn’t know any better, but every one of you except the object of her affections knew those faux mean jabs and rosy cheeks were reserved for Jimin and Jimin only. You have a suspicion that he felt the same way about her with the way he always seemed to apparate in whatever room she’s in just to giggle at whatever she says or does. You can’t wait for the day they both stop toeing the line and confess to each other.

You pass out two of the three bowls of popcorn and peek over at Yoonji and Jimin. Jimin’s leaning over the empty seat, phone outstretched to show something to Yoonji. Their voices are hushed but you can see her lips curled into a dopey smile. Right, no cock blocking. Your gaze flickers to where Hoseok is seated. Okay girl, you got this. No time to be a chicken or Taehyung and Yoonji will never let you live it down.

Your leg collides with his when you sit down and your poor heart is once again fluttering. Should you let it stay there or should you move your leg? Why are you suddenly so self conscious about every move you make around him? The answer was obvious but let a girl stay in denial, please.

Unbeknownst to you, the man sitting next to you was going through his own inner turmoil. Should he act like his usual self? Should he be chill? Should he try to flirt? He wants to put his arm around you, but what if he came on too strong and scared you off? Before the both of you noticed, the film was already ten minutes in, popcorn in your hands untouched.

“Hey, Hobi! Y/N! If you two aren’t gonna eat your popcorn, pass it on!” Taehyung shouts over the movie with a mouth full of popcorn.

He pulls you out of your thoughts and you grimace at the way the light from the television makes the butter grease around his mouth shimmer in the dark room.

“You’re disgusting. Swallow your food before you speak, you heathen. And for the record, we aren’t sharing.”

Hoseok grabs the bowl from you, smushes it into his chest, and grabs a large handful shoving it into his mouth as if to prove a point. Several pieces of popcorn fall out of his hand back into the bowl. In his haste, he gets grease all over his outer mouth. Your mind dares to flash a dirty thought about the lubricant on his lips and you cup a hand over your mouth. 

Oh god. 

Your brain really just went there. 

You make a point to ignore the way your body heats up and instead reach over to wipe the oil off his mouth with a swipe of your thumb. He looks at you quizzically and when you lock eyes you both freeze. His eyes grow comically wide, his jaw locked mid chew.

Hold on. Did you just touch Hoseok’s mouth? With your thumb?

“Gross.” Taehyung grumbles at the sight of you and turns away to focus back on the movie.

You pull away quickly and shift in your seat. “S-sorry your mouth was dirty and, um, well, sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Um… thank you.” He wipes off the remainder of what you miss with the back of his hand and offers you a sheepish smile. And with that, you fall into another silence, popcorn once again forgotten. 

Great. Back to square one.

By the time the end credits roll out, everyone is dead asleep save for you who remained wide awake thanks to your very imaginative and hyperactive brain. You decide to disregard the awkward cloud that hung over you and Hoseok tonight to figure out all your sleeping arrangements. It isn’t unusual for everyone to crash at the host’s place, drunk or sober, so it shouldn’t be too much trouble. You arch your back off the couch and stretch your tense body, letting out a soft moan as your muscles loosen up.

“Hey, Hobi?”

When you don’t get a response you look over to find him leaned against the couch with his eyes closed and lips scrunched in a small pout. His chest raises rhythmically and you feel bad for having to wake him. You’re nearly tempted to push back his hair to get a better look at his sleeping face. You scoot closer to him and shake him by the shoulder while softly calling his name. He jolts slightly and his eyes flutter open, scanning the room until they fall on you. Your breath hitches in your throat seeing his eyes slowly light up with recognition.

“Hobi,” you try again, voice quiet so as not to disturb him, still in a state of slumber. Your hand rests on his arm and you can’t find it in you to remove it.

He calls out your name, tenderly, carefully. You bite your lip to hide the way it wants to curl into a smile at the way he whispers your name. You don’t realize how close you’d gotten to him until his hand moves a mere inch to rest atop yours. You twist your hand up until your palms are touching. Your fingers instinctively curl around the slots between his own. You feel his fingers twitch but neither of you makes a move to actually embrace, instead reveling in the way both of you vibrate with warmth.

“Sorry I woke you. I just figured you wouldn’t appreciate having everyone drooling all over your couch and carpet tonight.”

He shifts in his seat so that he’s sitting upright and squints at the fallen figures scattered around the room. Then he shrugs.

“Who gives a fuck. Let them sleep there.”

You giggle at his remark and nod in understanding. It would only be too much work to try to move them and you definitely did not want to deal with a drunk and sleepy Yoongi.

“Why don’t you go sleep in your room then, and I’ll see you in the morning?” You take the popcorn bowl laying haphazardly on his lap and set it on the coffee table in front of you. 

“No, no. You go sleep there. I’ll sleep here tonight.”

You scoff. “You don’t need to be a gentleman, my dude. This is your house, it’s late, and we both need to sleep.”

“You’re exactly right, it's my house. My house, my rules. And I say that you’re sleeping on my bed tonight. I won’t let you take the couch.”

“Hoseok!”

“Do you want to share it with me then?”

Your words die in your mouth and you gape at him. He nods and says, “That’s what I thought.”

“Oh my god, you are insufferable. Fine, take me to your room. Wait.” Your ear begins to burn as soon as you blurt out that sentence, the insinuation not lost on you. Oh god, why did you have to say it like that? “I mean, uh, er, I’ll just go by myself.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. C’mon, I’ll take you.”

If he’s flustered by your request, he doesn’t show it. Instead he helps you up from the love seat and leads the way to his room. Despite having been to his house many times, you’d never actually seen his bedroom. There was never a need to go in there and now the first time you’re going in is after you find out he likes you. It’s a lot to process.

His room is a lot cleaner than you thought it’d be. The first thing to catch your eye is a shelf filled with a mixture of figurines and music albums. You appreciate that he hasn’t abandoned his likes and hobbies for the sake of appearing more mature. Beside it is a desk littered with books and paper scrap, presumably for work. In the left corner of his room rests his bed; a thin wool blanket lies unmade at one side.

“Sorry my room is so messy. I didn’t think anyone would be sleeping in here tonight,” he says as he rummages through his drawers.

“If you call this messy, you don’t wanna see my room,” you mutter.

He says nothing back until he finds what he’s looking for. He calls your name and tosses a large shirt and gym short your way.

“You can change into those. I think they’ll be comfier than what you have on right now.” He turns away and scratches the back of his neck. “Um, I’ll, uh, let you do your thing and, um, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thanks, Hobi.” You reach out for his hand and squeeze it. He’s blushing again. You like it when he blushes. Maybe you’ll have to initiate this more often. Holding his hand, that is.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, beautiful.” The giggle that escapes from your lips causes his heart to soar. He looks at you standing in the middle of his room and smiles. It’s something he’s only dreamt of and he knows it’ll be a portrait etched into his memory for a long while.

You wait until he’s closed the door behind him to soak in the feel of his room. This is the room where he sleeps in, where he changes in, where he… Nope. Not gonna go there. You strip off your clothes and discard them in a pile by the bed. The shirt he gave you is thankfully oversized and you decide to forgo the shorts. No one’s going to come in tonight and you loathe wearing pants to bed. After climbing into Hoseok’s bed, you’re hit all at once with his scent. Fuckfuckfuck. He smells good. Your brain seems to manage only that one thought. Again, it’s a lot to process.

Does he have a side of the bed he prefers to sleep on? Does he have a preference at all? Does he sleep fully clothed or… You gasp at yourself and shake your head. Bad thoughts. Unnecessary thoughts. But not unwelcome thoughts. You spend the next while thinking back on the unexpected turn of events that transpired the past two weeks.

Hoseok has been a continuous and pleasant presence by your side. What was once only brief greetings in passing easily evolved into a comfortable friendship. As easy as it was to befriend him, your relationship never became stagnant. There was always something new to learn about each other and it didn’t bore you to talk about topics you’d already previously discussed. It definitely helped that he was just as eager to talk with you. Now you know part of the reason why he seemed to like being around you so often. Not that you’re opposed to it.

Your mind wanders back to earlier this evening when his hand rested on your hip. It was such a foreign feeling but you liked it a lot more than you anticipated. If you think really hard you can still feel his touch. You lied when you told him you didn’t know. You felt everything the moment he put his hands on you, from the way his bicep flexed against your back to the way his fingers absently circled your clothed waist. Almost like it was meant to happen. You can’t stop the smile and warmth that spreads on your face and you roll around the bed, squealing into your hands.

“Bye teachers!” Your last student waves goodbye as they leave with their older sibling.

You both wave back and resume cleaning up the classroom after your last activity. There’s not much left to do thanks to the children helping to clean up before it was time for them to leave. You grab a disinfectant and wipe down the snack table while Hoseok neatens up the rows of desks and chairs.

You may be a bit distracted at the bright blue striped collar shirt that pulls taut at his chest whenever he pulls his arms back. He has at least three buttons undone, not that you’re counting. You’re wiping until the table suddenly disappears beneath your hand and you nearly fall on your face. You catch yourself just in time and move onto the next table, pretending as though nothing happened. He clearly saw you though, if his snickering in the corner is anything to go by.

“I’m about done, Hobi. How ‘bout you?” you ask him as you shove the last of your paperwork into your work bag.

“Yep! I’m good to go.”

He’s fidgeting by the door when you finally grab your bag and walk towards him. His eyes are downcast and worries at his lower lip, but you don’t press him about it. Instead, you nudge his shoulder and motion for him to leave with you.

When you exit the building, he asks, “Are you doing anything this weekend?”

A smile creeps up on your face. “No plans. What’s up?”

You already know the answer and your heart rate is picking up the pace from the anticipation. He curls his pinky finger around yours, eliciting a contented sigh from both of you. He hums thoughtfully and swings your hands around as the both of you walk to the parking lot at a leisurely pace. Neither of you seem to be wanting to leave this moment just yet.

“If you’re not busy, I’d like to take you on a date tomorrow.” His voice is firm and unwavering.

Your smile only broadens. “I think I’d like that a lot.” 

He nods shyly and his face beams at your reply.

“So I was thinking—and if you think it’s a lame idea please tell me!—but I was thinking, since you’ve recently started a rock collection, maybe we could… go to the river and find you some rocks? Maybe you can help me find some rocks too?”

You didn’t think your smile could grow any bigger. It’s been a few weeks since his accidental confession and you were truly moving at a snail’s pace. Not that you weren’t grateful for it. It’s really allowed for you to take the time to evaluate your friendship and your newfound feelings for the man walking beside you. You’re stealing glances at him more often these days, thoughts straying to how he’s doing. Your phone’s found a new activity, consistently vibrating with text notifications from him. He makes you happy.

You’d been waiting for him to ask you on a date. Yes, it’s the 21st century and no, you don’t need no man to make the first move, but you still wanted to wait until he initiated it. You’re almost surprised by his date suggestion, but you know Hoseok. The wonderful man has always been thoughtful and considerate of his friend’s passions and hobbies. You just didn’t expect him to be so in tune to your interests. Knowing he was aware about your current rock obsession causes an eruption of butterflies and giddiness to flutter in your chest.

“Oh, wow! You’re full of surprises, Hobi. Of course I’d love that! Maybe we can even have a little picnic afterwards.”

“I think I’d like that a lot,” he echoes your previous words. “So, it’s a date then?”

“It’s a date.”

He still hasn’t let go of your pinky finger by the time you reach your car which automatically unlocks from your near proximity. The day still has so many hours until sundown and already you’re buzzing with excitement for tomorrow. Neither of you have stopped smiling since you left the classroom and you decide to give him a surprise of your own.

“Close your eyes for me?”

He raises a brow at your request but complies and shuts his eyes. You wave your hands around his face to confirm they really are closed. Once you’re certain, you grab onto his shoulders for leverage and tiptoe upward to plant a kiss on his cheek. With a teasing smile, you rush into your car. He jolts, eyes shooting back open at the sound of your car door closing. Giggles escape your lips, watching him standing in a daze. You wonder if he’s as out of breath as you are, despite not having done anything cardio related.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hobibi,” you say as you reach across the opening to poke his nose.

His lips curve into a lopsided grin and he moves to brush his lips against your finger. You shiver at the sensation. He starts walking backwards to his car and brings 2 fingers up to his forehead to salute you.

“See ya, beautiful. I’ll call you tonight?”

Your heart leaps at how hopeful he sounds. “I’ll be waiting, handsome!” 

You wait until he’s inside his car, wave goodbye one last time, and then drive off.

By the time he walks you to your apartment after your date, the moon has risen high in the sky and encompasses the both of you in a faint glimmer.

Today had been the perfect day to go to the river and you both spent hours crouching in the river bed, your faces nearly touching the water in order to see the rocks clearly. It had truly been a wonderful date and you came home with a good handful of small river rocks to add to your collection. 

You love that this wasn’t a conventional first date. It did, however, bring a different type of first date anxiety because of the fact that you were already friends. Sweet Hoseok didn’t let the nerves take control though. He’d pulled you into the cold water with him as soon as you got there, effectively washing away all worries. You shared plenty of laughs and water fights today. You’re still damp from spending so much time in the river and while the evening breeze should have sent goosebumps all throughout your exposed skin, you’re instead filled with a cozy warmth merely being in the warm and calming presence of Hoseok. 

“I had a great time today, Hobi. Thanks for taking me out to find cute rocks.”

“And thanks for making me wet,” you add for good measure. You snicker under your breath when he chokes on air.

“Oh my god. Um, you-you’re welcome. Your rocks are just as cute as you! Um, and thanks for packing us delicious food.”

It’s entirely too amusing seeing him flounder at your brazen declarations. You liked this shy Hobi. Actually, you’ve come to find you like a lot of different Hobis. The one who brings you tea every other morning at work, the one who walks you to your car even when you’re not teaching a class together, the one who has recently started calling you every night just to say goodnight, the one who blushes any time you compliment him, and most definitely your favorite: the one who has given you a beautiful friendship as the foundation of this newfound relationship with one another.

You have always loved how his smile seemed to shape into a heart. A beautiful physical display of the love he so eagerly and openly shares with the world. Here in this moment though, you know this smile was only for you and you are suddenly so eager to kiss those heart shaped lips. You sigh happily and reach up to smooth down Hoseok’s wind blown hair. You clasp your arms around his neck and bask in the stillness, soaking in the memory of his glowing face under the moonlight.

“Don’t forget to take care of your rocks, okay?”

“Yes, Ms. Y/N.”

“Gross. Don’t call me that,” you scrunch your nose in distaste and push him away. “You can go home.”

He laughs again and grabs your face to plant a kiss on your forehead. “I’m glad you had fun. Go rest up, okay?”

Okay, so maybe you were kidding when you pushed him away. He moves to let go but you grab onto his shirt and lick your lips in anticipation. Maybe you weren’t taking conventional steps and yes, there is that unspoken social rule not to kiss on the first date but you don’t care. 

Some time halfway into the day, you were swept in a sudden wave of acceptance—of your feelings for this man, of toeing the line between friends and potential lovers. For the remainder of the day you were plagued with thoughts about how kissable his lips are. Splashing him with water until he was soaking wet did not help your dilemma. You zone in on his lips and surely he picks up on your cues because he removes your hands from his shirt within seconds and keeps them clasped in his hold. Your eyes quickly shoot up to glower at him. He chuckles and swipes a thumb across your lips, his expression mirthful.

“Let’s take it slow, yeah?” An echo of what he had said that fateful night in front of his apartment.

You quietly grumble in understanding, knowing he was right not to rush into this, earning you a beautiful laugh to slip from his annoyingly beautiful mouth.

“I won’t say no to another kiss on the cheek though,” he teases.

You scoff at the audacity. “You’ve lost that right. Goodbye!”

He laughs at your outburst and learns forward for another kiss on the forehead. With a final wave goodbye and a heart ready to burst, you head inside. In hindsight, you should’ve known Hoseok’s a glutton for “taking it slow.”

Tonight you’re at his apartment to Netflix and chill. Literally.

It’s been several official dates—and many more unofficial ones in between—throughout the three months since your first date. Many cuddles, many accidental boners pressed against your thigh during said cuddles (leading to some awkward repositioning and pretending it never happened), and many kisses shared all around your faces save for your lips. You’re cuddled up against him tonight watching a rerun of Running Man when you’re hit with a pang of need that you’ve become intimately familiar with these days. 

You want to kiss him. Every time you get too close, though, he’d move away. You try not to let it get to you. You really do. But it’s hard not to feel the sting every time you’re rejected. You know he likes you and he knows you like him too. Amidst these thoughts, your mind drifts back to the day you finally confessed that you liked him too. You suppress a laugh thinking about how much of a blubbering mess he’d been. You just wish you knew why he didn’t seem to want to kiss you.

Thinking about all the times he’s rejected your advances completely kills your mood. You unconsciously pull away from him and scoot closer to the other side of the loveseat. Tears are pooling under your eyes and you’re blinking furiously, willing them to disappear. You don’t mean to suddenly feel this way and you certainly don’t want to ruin the good atmosphere tonight. 

Hoseok laughs and comments on something in the show but you can’t bring yourself to muster up fake enthusiasm. You feel something rub against you and you flinch until you realize it’s Hoseok pulling you back to his side. His face is masked with worry and he rubs your arms in a comforting motion.

“Hey there,” he murmurs. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head and adjust your posture on the couch. His eyes furrow at your lack of response and he pauses the show. He shifts to face you and holds your hands.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You bite down on your lip, willing yourself not to cry. You’re usually not embarrassed to cry. In fact you’ve cried many times in front of Hoseok, but those were different times. You don’t want to scare him away. Of course, your body never does like to listen to you. Your chin quivers without your permission and it was like the dam broke. Hoseok’s frown only deepens and he immediately scoots closer, cupping your face in his hands. Your eyes flutter close, completely embarrassed that you’re crying in front of him.

“Oh god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry.” You try to move away but his hands hold your face firmly in place, wiping at your tears with his thumbs.

“Baby, don’t apologize. If you really don’t wanna talk about it I’ll drop it. I will. But you know that I’ll make time to listen to you whenever you’re ready, right?”

You take in a deep, shaky breath. The pet name doesn’t help with your already frazzled emotions and you whisper, “No, it’s…we—I can talk.”

He doesn’t speak, instead waiting for you. You’re tempted to ask him to forget it and pretend you’re okay but you know if you never address this, you’ll continue to be stuck in this limbo and you don’t know how much longer you’d be able to handle it. Might as well be direct about it. Beating around the bush never did anyone any favors.

“Why don’t you want to kiss me?” Your voice cracks and comes out weaker than you meant it to. The following seconds are completely silent. You can’t even hear Hoseok breathe. His lack of reaction causes fresh tears to fall down your face.

“I’m sorry,” you both say.

“I-I thought we’re good now, you know? And, I don’t know, I figured that since we—”

“Wait. Wait, baby let me speak first. Please?”

You hiccup and nod your consent. His thumbs stroke both sides of your face, continuing to catch your tears. His brows are still wrinkled and you want nothing more than to smooth them out.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I didn’t realize it was hurting you this much and I’m sorry I didn’t notice… I know it’s selfish of me and it’s not a good enough excuse but to be honest I don’t think I’d be able to deal with it. And I’m gonna sound really corny but I just know if I kiss you once, I’m scared I may never want to stop and if… or when you decide you don’t want me anymore, um,” he pauses to lick his lips and laughs nervously. 

You flinch at his words. Was he still holding onto that? Your heart now aches for an entirely different reason. It hurts that he still thinks you’re unsure about your feelings for him. Has he been stressed about that all this time?

Before he can go on, you push him until he’s resting against the couch cushion. You swallow down your insecurities. It’s something you can come back to later. Feeling bad about him not wanting to kiss you holds little value when he’s been worried about this for god knows how long. His hands fall from your face and you maneuver yourself until you’re straddling him, giving him no chance to look away from you. It’s true that he liked you first and that he had longer to realize his feelings for you but you knew what you felt for him was genuine. You were in this for the long run and tonight you want to make it very clear to him.

“Hobi.” 

It’s your turn to hold his face in your hands. His eyes glisten with unshed tears and your heart lurches. “Do you still think that I don’t like you? That I don’t want you? I’m sorry I must not have been a very good girlf—” You stop yourself barely in time. You didn’t mean to let that slip. You’ve yet to establish your relationship with Hoseok, and you didn’t think it was a good time right now. Your blunder didn’t seem to be lost on him though, as you feel his heartbeat race against your chest and his grip that found purchase on your hips tightens.

“I may have been unsure in the beginning, and it may have been new to me at first but my feelings for you now… I love being your friend but you know what? I also love getting to know this other side of you. This side of you that only I get to see. I like when we pretend that we accidentally color code our clothes at work. I like it when our students and our stupid friends tease us. I like that you send me ugly cat memes and that I can send you stupid tweet screenshots. I like it when you come home with me to cook dinner for us. I like all of it.”

You pause to give him some time to let it sink in. He’s staring at you with so much longing and hope that it almost scares you, but you know you yearn for him just as much. If this goes well, maybe you can be scared together.

“I don’t want to go back to being just friends, Hobi. I want to keep exploring life with you.”

His palms are hot against your hips and his breathing becomes erratic. You lean into him until you’re certain he can feel your heart beating at the same frantic rate as his.

“Do you feel that?” He nods. “You do this to me. And... as for my daily problem down there,” you flush, looking down at where you’re connected below the waist. You look up to see him just as flustered, “is because of you too.”

“Loving you... falling in love with you is so easy.”

You feel his breath hitch at your implied declaration. And you realize your mistake too late. Was it too early to say it? Is it too late to take it back? He makes no move to say anything so you attempt to do damage control. In the form of distraction.

You lean even closer into him, pressed flush against his chest until your lips brush against his earlobe, knowing full well this was his weak spot, and say softly, “So there’s this guy I’m into. He’s really tall and handsome. He likes to drug himself up with caffeine every morning and will one hundred percent drop 200 bucks for limited edition shoes without a single thought. Can you guess who it is?” You don’t give him a chance to reply. “It’s you, Hobi. It’s you and only you and I really, really like you.”

Your confession is honest and true. What happens next is entirely unexpected and you would have fallen off his lap if not for his firm grip on you. He practically lunges at you and before you can process it his lips are moving roughly against yours. You had always thought your first kiss with Hoseok would be soft and slow, much like how he’s moved throughout your budding relationship, but no. He kisses you with a hunger you didn’t know he was capable of. He nips at your bottom lip, earning him a soft groan from you.

“What are you doing to me?” he murmurs into your lips.

You don’t respond. You can’t. Your brain is still trying to catch up and process what just happened.

You pull away from him and you blurt out dumbly, “Oh my god you’re kissing me.”

He laughs contentedly and nestles his face in the crook of your neck. He plants a faint kiss, causing you to shiver against him.

"You drove a hard bargain. I couldn’t not kiss you after that.” A quick peck on the lips. “And for the record, I really, really like you too.”

“Kiss me again, Hoseok.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Epilogue

The wind tries to steal your hat away but you hold onto it before it has a chance to fly off. It’s a breezy day today and your boyfriend had the absolutely brilliant idea to teach you how to longboard.

This brilliant idea ends up being him skating down steep hills at the park while you walk in the grass behind him. You had shouted at him several times to slow down or he’d end up hurting himself but of course in typical male fashion, he ignored you every time.

You’re in the middle of firing a comeback at Yoonji’s most recent text about how gross you and Hoseok have become now that you’re a couple when you hear a cry from your boyfriend several feet away. He’s going down a rather steep hill when the wind picks up sudden speed. Loose gravel breaks his smooth run and you watch in horror as he loses balance and tumbles onto the pavement. He hisses as his skin skids against the rocks.

“Hoseok!”

You stash your phone into your purse and run to him. As you get closer he schools his pained expression, in an attempt to hide any pain he may be feeling.

“I’m fine.” He attempts to reassure you before you can start fretting over him.

You immediately kneel down in front of him, ignoring him and grab his hands to assess the damage.

"You shouldn’t have gone so fast,” you scold as you rip out a few alcohol wipes from your bag. You’ve heard one too many horror stories about people injuring themselves falling off skateboards, so you’ve learned to keep several wipes and bandages handy when you found out Hoseok owned a few of his own. You carefully wipe down his scuffed palms and arms. You worry about his knees too but that’s something you’ll have to take care of at home.

He silently drinks in the image of you kneeling between his splayed legs, tending to his barely-there wounds. His heart may very well burst right there. You blow on his hands and flick your eyes up briefly to find his face mere inches from yours, looking at you with such a fond look.

“Ah, babe you’re too close to me,” you mumble shyly and lightly push him a few more inches away.

This only prompts him to lean in even closer until your foreheads knock together and his nose bumps with yours. It’s been several months since you had the “kiss talk” and made your relationship official. It’s been several months and yet your heart is still sent into a panic when you catch him staring. It’s barely your fault that you react physically when he makes you so nervous. You squeak and push his face away from you, causing him to fall over. His chuckles morph into a gruff wheeze as he falls. Embarrassment momentarily gone, you fuss over him again.

“Hobi! Oh no, I’m sorry!”

He lunges for you and pulls you down on top of him. Unfortunately for him, you didn’t expect him to grab at you and you brace your legs for your eventual fall.

“Oof! Oh god!” He exclaims in pain.

He recoils from you and grabs his crotch, rolling away into a fetus position. “Oh god, baby please be more gentle with me! I won’t be able to put my babies in you if you break me!”

You both freeze from his declaration. You, more so in shock, and he, in mortification. You’ve certainly had your fair share of heavy petting and make out sessions since that night at his place… Okay, fine so you can’t keep your hands off each other for even one day and you kiss every chance you get, but you have yet to go any farther than that with one another. Your sanity has been slowly dwindling the longer you go without knowing how he looks and feels. Hearing him basically say he wants to cum inside you in the near future has you perking up instantly. You watch as his eyes grow comically wide and he immediately sits up, pain forgotten.

“Oh shit shit shit. I said that out loud didn’t I? Oh god. I’m sorry I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—I mean it’s—I know we only just started dating and we haven’t even talked about sex yet and—I’m sorry. Oh my god.” He buries his head in his face, ready for the earth to swallow him whole.

You tug at his shirt and focus intensely on where your fingers are fumbling with his shirt and mumble barely loud enough, “I wouldn’t be opposed to it, you know?”

He swears he feels his dick twitch. Great. It’s not broken. Awesome.

When he doesn’t respond you continue on, “W—well not right now!" 

He snorts. "Obviously not. We’re in public, silly… Unless you’re into that? I mean it’s not my thing but I’m willing to try it if you want us to—” Your eyes widen at his bold declaration and slap a hand over his mouth to prevent him from finishing that sentence. You can’t lie though, the idea has you quivering on your knees.

“Hobi!” You hiss. “I meant not for a few months!”

His eyebrows raise and you’re quick to fix it. “I-I mean next year?”

You feel his lips curl into that awful smirk he fancies anytime he turns you into a blubbering mess. Then you feel something thick and wet against your palm.

“Ew! Hobi!” You pull your hand away from him. He leans into you, tongue still out, and licks your lips before you can shrink even further away. You don’t have the energy to protest again, too engrossed on how good his tongue feels.

“Don’t tempt me with the patience game because we both know I’d win.” He grins when you pout at him because you know he’s right. “I can’t wait to explore this new territory with you, baby.” 

You flush at his remark and stand up to create some distance to prevent yourself from doing something stupid.

“I need to find your skateboard,” you breathe out and run away from your cheeky boyfriend. 

“Longboard!” He corrects you and watches your figure trail away from him.

Hoseok muses how he got so lucky that you, the one he’d been pining after for years, actually reciprocates his feelings. He picks himself off the pavement to help you find his longboard. He thinks he’ll hang it up somewhere in his apartment later today as a commemoration of this lovely date. And he definitely can’t wait to get home and find out how long it’ll take for you to break underneath him.

a/n 2.0: HI ISN’T HOBI HOBI JUST A DREAM???? i hope you liked this fic 🥺 pls share your thoughts with me💗 my asks and dms are always open 💕 like.....always.... <<3333

(gif credit: @jengkook)

#bts fanfic #jhope fluff #hoseok fanfic #bts fluff #hoseok fluff #jhope #hobi #jhobi #the sweetest man #how do u tag things #i can't believ ei did this #pls read ;w; #i worked hard uwu #now lemme go hide in my cave #f:it's you