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roastedoatmilk · 2 months

Text

Who Kissed Nanami?

Kento Nanami x GN! Reader

Summary: The first year trio see that someone left lipstick on Nanami’s collar so they decide to play detective and figure out who it was

Word Count: 1.7k

Tags: literally so much fluff, the first years follow nanami, heavily implied itafushi, some sprinkles of nobamaki, nanami and reader being disgustingly in love with each other

Little Things Masterlist

This was also posted on ao3

A/N This was heavily inspired by a selfship commission i have from my lovely friend cassecreeoute let me know if y’all would like to see it :D

Something was different about Nanami, that much Yuji could tell. He wasn’t quite sure what it was but the stoic man seems to have a bit more pep in his step as of late. While out on missions Nanami seemed more adamant than usual to leave at exactly 6pm, making quick work of whatever it is that’s keeping him. On multiple occasions the pink haired boy has caught his mentor smiling at his phone; two things that the man doesn’t often do. On this day in particular the elder man came into work with a faint red mark peeking up from almost right under where the collar of his shirt meets his neck causing alarm bells to go off in the boy’s head. Yuji decides that his best course of action is to go to Fushiguro and Kugisaki with his findings. He manages to catch Fushiguro while he’s leaving his dorm only offering a small “Need to talk to you.” before grabbing the spiky haired boy by the hand and dragging him down the hallway.

They managed to find Kugisaki sitting beside Maki in the courtyard, the two girls leaning over a phone discussing something in hushed voices. As the boys drew closer they were able to catch a bit of their conversation.

“I’m telling you Maki he’s obviously hiding something.” Nobara whispers to her elder classmate before continuing.”Nanami doesn’t seem like the type to share stuff like that anyways.”

Maki nods along before looking up and seeing the two boys approaching them, still holding hands with each other. A smirk grows on the green haired girl’s face seeing this before she stands up and says her goodbyes to the trio. The boys make their way over to their counterpart sitting down next to her. Nobara looks the two boys up and down in annoyance.

“What do the two of you want?” The ginger girl huffs, “I was having a conversation you know.”

Yuji flushes in embarrassment, lowering his head before responding in a hushed voice “I think Nanamin has someone special in his life, I’ve noticed some stuff about him lately.”

Hearing this Nobara visibly perks up giving the cursed boy her full attention, grabbing him by the shoulders she shakes him while saying “Why didn’t you start with that, tell me everything you know right now!”

“Kugisaki, if you expect him to answer you need to stop shaking him.” Megumi says, speaking for the first time since Yuji dragged him to the courtyard.

The elder girl stopped shaking the boy, giving him a break so that he can say his findings. Taking a deep breath Yuji then tells the two everything that he has noticed, even showing them the photo he sneakily took of the mark on Nanami’s neck. Nobara snatched the phone out of his hands to examine the photo further, zooming in as close as possible on the photo.

“I definitely recognize that shade of lipstick, a bit too red for my taste personally.” The girl speaks before handing the phone back to its owner.

Yuji pockets his phone, collecting his thoughts for a moment before declaring “I think we need to investigate where Nanami is going after work, he told me he has somewhere to be tonight.”

A bewildered look crosses Megumi’s face as he listens to the boy next to him, not really wanting to spend his night following the blond stoic man around. However Nobara seems equally as determined as the pink haired boy to figure out what Nanami is hiding. The two of them lean into each other and whisper ideas of where the man could be heading to.

Later that night at exactly 6pm Nanami stands from his desk, paperwork already completed, and starts to head out for the night. The first years watch as the door to his office opens and he walks out, heading straight for the entryway of the school. The three students spring into action, following behind the man at a reasonable distance.

They watch as the man pulls out his phone and calls someone the second he walks through the school’s barrier. Yuji and Nobara gasp as they see the man smile as he says he’ll meet whoever is on the other end of the line at a restaurant a few blocks away, their jaws drop even more as they hear the man say that he loves the person and that he’ll see them soon. Nobara grabs the two younger boys and forces them into a group huddle.

“He’s definitely seeing someone, we need to follow him to the restaurant and find out who it is.” The girl whispers conspiratorially. Yuji firmly nods agreeing with her while Megumi just sighs before nodding as well.

The three continue following behind the taller man, making sure to keep their distance. When he arrives at the restaurant he visibly perks up when he sees a person sitting at one of the tables by the window. Making his way inside the trio watch as he walks over to the person, coming up behind them and placing his hands over their eyes causing the person to laugh as they try and guess who it is covering their eyes. Nobara and Yuji’s eyes widen as they watch the person remove his hands from their eyes then stand up and turn around to face Nanami, placing a kiss on his lips leaving behind a mark in the same shade as the one on his neck. Nobara lets out a squeal so loud that it causes the two lovers’ heads to snap in her direction. The first years freeze in place knowing that they are now caught spying on the older man.

Nanami lets out a deep sigh, pinching his fingers between his eyes and shaking his head. His partner however just laughs at the shocked faces of the kids, leaning into Nanami’s shoulder for support. The older man's shoulders now bouncing as he also chuckles at the kids. The three stand there in complete shock watching the two adults laugh at their expense.

“W-we are so sorry for following you Nanamin, we just had noticed some stuff about you lately and wanted to find out what it meant.” Yuji stutters, his face completely red at this point.

“Yeah!” Nobara chimed in, “Besides it was Itadori’s idea in the first place I was just following along.” This caused the pink haired boy to bow his head in shame, nodding along to the words of the older girl. Megumi stands with the two before waving shyly at you, his face a vibrant shade of pink.

You laugh even harder at the three students before making your way over to them standing in front of the trio. Nanami follows behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s very nice to meet you two and it’s nice to see you again Megumi.” You say to the kids, your voice gentle as if talking to a baby deer. A bright look in your eyes as you speak to the kids.

Yuji’s head shoots up towards Megumi at hearing that the dark haired boy had met you before, Megumi refusing to look at his friends mutters a “It’s nice to see you again too.”

Yuji and Nobara round on him after he speaks, the elder girl staring daggers into the green eyed boy.

“Why didn't you tell us that you knew about Nanami’s partner huh??” Nobara squawks clinging to his arm.

“Do you not trust us, is that it Fushiguro?” Yuji asks with fake tears in his eyes, playing into Nobara’s act.

Megumi frees himself from Nobara before he tentatively reaches out to hook his pinky around the pink haired boy’s own. Megumi takes a few moments before speaking to his friends in a soft tone, “It just wasn’t my place to reveal that sort of information, I figured they were keeping it a secret for a reason.”

The other two nod in understanding, giving up the act they had been putting on finding his reason acceptable. Yuji locks his pinky around Megumi’s in response. The two boys shyly looked at each other before the clearing of a throat caused their heads to snap up. Nanami and you are still standing there watching the trio, a small smile gracing both of your faces.

“Have any of you eaten yet?” The tall blond man asks the trio, his voice soft. The three shake their heads in response, and on queue Yuji’s stomach starts to growl. Causing everyone to let out a laugh.

“Come on kiddos, let's get you guys some food before you have to go back to school.” You say, ushering the kids into the restaurant.

The three sitting in the booth across from where Nanami and yourself sit. You spend the next few hours getting to know the kids as you all eat. Answering any of the questions that the trio had. After all of the food was eaten and the kids ran out of questions, Nanami paid the bill before telling the kids that he’ll walk them back to the school. The three groan not yet wanting to go back but follow the elder man anyways. Before they leave Nanami gives you a peck on the lips, a smile gracing his face as he looks at you.

“I’ll be home as soon as I make sure that they’re all back in their dorms.” The freckled man murmurs, placing yet another peck on your lips. You laugh at the man before nodding and turning to the kids.

“It was lovely meeting you both Itadori and Kugisaki, and it was great seeing you again Fushiguro.” you tell the trio. Wrapping the three of them into a quick hug.

“It was nice meeting you too.” Yuji and Nobara blurt at the same time causing you to smile even wider at them.

“It was good to see you again.” Megumi mutters his face still pink from embarrassment.

You let the three go and Nanami ushers them towards the exit, the three dragging their feet behind him. Laughing at the kids as you watch them go, you hope that you’ll be able to have dinner with the trio again soon.

A/N here’s part two i had tons of fun writing this i hope y’all enjoy it as always lmk what y’all think in the comments 🫶🏻

#kento nanami #nanami kento #kento nanami fluff #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #nanami jujutsu kaisen #jjk nanami #itafushi #nobamaki

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garpen · 3 months

Text

Masterlist

Personal: @funklope

Gotham Twitter AU:

Started: 2024 June 15

Last Updated: 2024 September 02

Account Profiles

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

Part Fourteen

Part Fifteen

Part Sixteen

Part Seventeen

Part Eighteen

Part Nineteen

Part Twenty

Part Twenty-One

Part Twenty-Two

Part Twenty-Three

Part Twenty-Four

Part Twenty-Five

Part Twenty-Six

Part Twenty-Seven

Part Twenty-Eight

Happy Birthday Tim

Part Twenty-Nine

Part Thirty

Part Thirty-One

Part Thirty-Two

Part Thirty-Three

Part Thirty-Four

Part Thirty-Five

Part Thirty-Six

Happy Birthday Damian

Part Thirty-Seven

Part Thirty-Eight

Part Thirty-Nine

Happy Birthday Duke

Part Forty

Part Forty-One

Missing Texts in Part Forty-One

Part Forty-Two

Happy Birthday Alfred & Jason

Part Forty-Three

Happy Birthday Lian

Part Forty-Four

Part Forty-Five

Art Used In AU, Made By Beautiful Artist:

JayRoy Wedding 1 by @candleonfire

JayRoy Wedding 2 by Me

JayRoyWedding 3 by @corujalesbica

DickKori Wedding 1 by Me

DickKori Wedding 2 by @melorivers

Kid Nose Picker Jason by @corujalesbica

DickKori Wedding 3 by @corujalesbica

Koriand'r Wedding Dress by Me

DickKori Wedding 4 by @annakabeybeh

DickKori Wedding 5 by @ratsonfire

Damian x2 by @cinnamon-ginger

DickKori Wedding 6 by @annakabeybeh

Hospital Visit by @prosnconsofbreathing

Nightwing Peach by Me

SuperBat Dance by @cricket-moth

JayRoy Carry by @prosnconsofbreathing

DickKori Wedding 7 by @whizb0

Damian Snake by Me

Gotham Tarot

Cards That Fit The Characters

Pt. 1 The Fool: Harley Quinn

Pt. 2 The Magician: Duke Thomas

Incorrect Quotes:

#1: Jason and Bruce

#2: Dick and Damian

#3: Tim and Jason

#4: Duke and Damian

#5: Jason and Tim

#6: Jason and Stephanie

#7: Dick, Wally, and Donna

Misc. Art by Me

Joker Painting

Koriand'r

Superboy Fit

Nika and Damian

Wonder Woman Painting

Poison Ivy Sketches

Olympic Athlete Bruce Wayne

JayRoy "And they were both boys"

Steph Selfie with Jason

Fics

In The Waiting Room

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alonetimelover · 9 months

Text

pairing: (ex)Harry Styles x Ginger Spice's daughter!reader x Max Verstappen

fc: Sabrina Carpenter

summary: They broke up and she decided to disappear and write a heartbreaking song. Through this process her old friends from F1 were with her. With one two-time World Champion getting closer and closer.

warnings: swearing, cheating, Harry is an asshole in this (sorry!)

a/n: Long? Oh yes. It's a long one. But also my first F1 related fic, hope you enjoy!

masterlist

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f1 and redbullracing

liked by yourinstagram, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 349 392 others

f1 Is there a better way to start 2023 season than with YN YSN (sweetly called the tiny boss of Red Bull Racing) in the paddock? We say there is NOT! Welcome YN, we hope you have the best time with us!

view all 19 323 comments

yourinstagram thank uuuuu!

danielricciardo THE boss is here!

landonorris *heart eyes*

charles_leclerc Welcome back, YN!

ynupdates oh how i missed her face

ynsmybestie 5 months without even a photo of her finger online... it was a draught

ynsmymama yn's a vroom vroom girlie?????

ynsmybabie F1? is she a fan? tiny boss? what is going on?

⤷ ynupdates I feel like I'm the only one that knew. YN is Christian Horner's (red bull racing boss) step-daughter.

⤷ ynsmybestie isn't his wife ginger spice?

⤷ ynupdates yes! she's YN's mum. how do you guys not know that?

⤷ ynshands maybe because she's using her grandma's surname and not her mother's?

formulafan49 so we're getting las vegas content in bahrain? this sport is getting out of control with all those celebrities attending

⤷ landonorizz why are you being bothered by somebody that knows almost everything about formula 1? go be mad somewhere else

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yourinstagram

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 2 201 302 others

yourinstagram hiii💛 took a break and wrote a song. you're losing me is out now! i love all of you my pathological people pleasers.

view all 91 393 comments

danielricciardo be a happy song with me?

⤷ yourinstagram running to you right now

⤷ landonorris bringing mum's biscuits

⤷ maxverstappen1 I'll bring myself 😊

⤷ danielricciardo you lot weren't invited, but come in... I guess

landonorris you're the only person I'm not mad at for making me cry, ynn

⤷ yourinstagram you've heard the song before, lan

⤷ landonorris shhhh

⤷ danielricciardo it won't make her fall in love with you, norris

⤷ landonorris fuck you man

maxverstappen1 💛💛

ynupdates WHAT IN THE HELL HAPPENED HERE

ynsmybestie I won't recover. I fucking won't recover

ynsmymama I'm gonna die... its so sad. its heartbreaking. I'm losing myself

hArrysbtch woah, my heart cannot take this

harrysmoustache firstly, break my heart and take it, yn

harrysmoustache secondly, why is the whole f1 here? wtf

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, harrysmoustache and 45 202 others

harryupdates In his latest interview Harry was asked about his private life - especially his relationship with YN. After the question of "do you feel like you throw a great love away?" Harry answered with "I don't know. I don't regret a lot of things in my life but that's [the relationship] probably one of them." You can read the interview via the link in our story!

view all 4 201 comments

hArrysbtch suddenly a six year lasting relationship was a mistake???

hArrysbtch ehh, harry. i kinda feel that the breakup (from Harry's side) happened a long time ago. there is no sparkle anymore

hArrysbtch now let me start on not mentioning her name like EVER "my last partner" her name is YN, why he can't just say it? it's been going on for years. since they started dating really...

harrysmoustache that wasn't the best interview

ynsmymama about 'you're losing me': "every artist has their imagination that they write down and then release. sometimes it's good and sometimes it should be kept private. i'm not the one to size it up." THAT WAS FUCKING LOW

⤷ harrysmoustache as much as I love him that was petty af

⤷ hArrysbtch especially when almost all critics named this song one of the best LYRICALLY and MUSICALLY in the last few decades

ynshands "I don't know if you can be ready to move on from a longterm relationship. it's definitely harder than from something that lasts months or two years." THIS MOTHERF****R IS TALKING ABOUT NOT BEING THE ONE TO MOVE ON BUT HE DID WHILE STILL BEING IN A RELATIONSHIP??????

⤷ ynsmymama this is called audacity

⤷ harrysfan49 cheating was never confirmed, was it?

⤷ ynsmybestie yes, it was. right after harry's "announcement" yn posted a story with lyrics from 'illicit affairs'. i think that's enough of a confirmation.

ynsmybestie yeah, here he comes again not being able to fucking say her name. those 6 years meant nothing?

⤷ harrysfan92 maybe he doesn't want to share his private relationship online

⤷ ynsmybestie i don't understand that. you're loving a person for six years, claiming them the love of your life, but saying the name is hard? he never mentioned her in interviews (my closest friend, my partner, someone I love). he couldn even show up at her birthday party because he had a photoshoot. just to point out, the drivers showed up in London, even though they had a race in Imola the next day.

⤷ harrysfan87 you guys are toxic. just gonna blame him for the breakup? unbelievable.

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ynupdates

liked by ynsmybestie, landofan92 and 88 203 others

ynupdates YN AND LANDO AT THE NIGHTCLUB IN MONACO!!!!!

view all 6 001 comments

ynsmybestie NO FUCKING WAY

ynsmybestie SHE LOOKS SO HOT

ynsmymama the way he looks at her ??? 🫠

ynsfan92 find somebody who looks at you just like lando looks at yn. YOU CAN'T

⤷ ynsmymuse have you seen how max looks at her?

landofan92 do I need to change my bio from norizz to yesrizz?

user39 yeah, moving on quickly when her exboyfriend is talking about how he adores her

⤷ ynsmybestie where??? because i only saw how awful he was to YN from the moment they broke up

user02 yeah, move on quickly and go trough all the drivers

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yourinstagram added to her IG story!

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lando.jpg

liked by yourinstagram, maxverstappen1 and 1 004 392 others

lando.jpg yn showed her favourites

view all 203 494 comments

danielricciardo LIAAAAAR. SHE LOVES ME MORE.

⤷ yourinstagram of course

⤷ lando.jpg i love your sarcasm

maxverstappen1 💛

yourinstagram not my fault you were the only ones available for photos

⤷ maxverstappen1 I don't mind

⤷ lando.jpg neither do I

⤷ danielricciardo I DO

⤷ charles_leclerc I DO TOO

ynsmybestie hot

ynsmybestie but also i see you YN with favouring Max and Lando, i see you girl

ynsmymama why I've never realised how hot those two are???

ynshands is there a thing she does badly?

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ynupdates

liked by ynsmybestie, maxandyn and 68 574 others

ynupdates YN and MAX VERSTAPPEN at the bar tonight in Zandvoort, celebrating Max's win!

view all 4 206 comments

ynsmybestie SEE? you defend the girl, you get the girl!

ynsmymama i mean i was rooting for them but i am still speechless

ynshands YAS PARENTS

maxfan85 after the race that he had, tying to yet another record and getting a girl? is there a thing he can't do or can't have??

ynsfan93 sooo, do we say they're together orrr?

⤷ ynsmybestie i mean, look at them. i have many friends but i'm not that cozy with any of them

⤷ ynsmymama i vote early stages of dating. yn's a touchy person in nature so you know, it can be that

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yourinstagram added to her IG story!

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a/n: do you want to see more of them?

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part 2

#f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen social media au #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen x singer!reader #max verstappen fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x ex!reader

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mariasont · 4 months

Text

They Think I'm Pregnant - A.H

a/n: i feel like this is kind of shitty but alas here we are!

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: the team thinks you're pregnant and you decide to have a little fun with it

warnings: reader is not preggers promise!, honestly the team gossiping is so lol, suggestive content per usual

wc: 1.3k

"I mean she has been kind of moody lately."

The gasp that rose in your surprise was quickly smothered as you pressed yourself against the wall, pushing into it as if that would make you invisible somehow.

"Well, interestingly enough, there has been considerable growth in her chest area. It's due to elevated levels of estrogen and progesterone, which I've noticed with her." Spencer stopped abruptly, the sound of Morgan's muffled laughter in the background. "I'm not saying I make a habit of such observations. Okay, um, don't tell Hotch I said that."

Casting a skeptical eye down your shirt, your frown deepened. Sure, your boobs had grown, but that was a testament to a little happy relationship weight, not the fodder of their theories.

"Nice one, kid," came Rossi's voice, and you could almost see the smirk on his face.

"Oh my gosh, guys, this is like, the best news ever! A mini-agent in the making! Can you imagine how cute she's going to be? I'm going to get her the cutest outfits!"

"Garcia, how do you know it's going to be a girl? Did the baby send you a text?"

The baby? Was rational thought absent among them? It must be. You crossed your arms defensively.

"Okay, maybe we should pump the breaks everyone. Why do we even think she's pregnant in the first place?"

JJ—your voice of reason. You could kiss the ground she walked on.

"I'm just putting two and two together. She walked out, and there was a pregnancy test in the trash that wasn't there before."

Your eyebrows drew down, and the increasing shuffle from the room prompted you to make a beeline for Hotch's office before anyone saw you snooping. But in your defense, Emily snooped first.

The moment the door clicked shut, you lunged for the blinds, bypassing any attempt at a greeting with Aaron. The blinds clattered shut, so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash.

"Honey, what are you—?"

His words hung unfinished as you whirled around, pressing your pointer finger to your lips as if he were a kindergartner about to walk down the hall.

"They think I'm pregnant!" you hissed indignantly, jabbing a finger toward the door as if it were a portal to the rumor mill itself.

His face drained of color as his eyes darted from your face, down to your stomach, and finally rested on your tits. "Are you?"

You slapped his shoulder. "No!"

"Then why do they think that?"

You recounted every piece of evidence they had collected, giving special attention to Spencer's bodily hypothesis as a subtle form of retaliation.

"He said what?"

You laughed, draping your arms around his neck as you made yourself at home on his lap. He leaned back in his chair, arranging you so your legs were stretched out across his lap.

"Focus," you said desperately. "They think I'm pregnant."

"Sweetheart," he chuckled, his hands finding their way to your waist. "Does it really matter what they're assuming?"

Your lower lip jutted out, fingers threading through your hair as you mulled it over.

"You're a genius." Your arms were around him in an instant once again, leaving a big, messy kiss on his cheek as you hopped down from his lap and strode towards the door.

Who cares if that's what they think?

So, you devoted your day to your greatest talent: stirring the pot. If they were set on believing you were pregnant, why should you interfere? Better yet, why not enjoy their theories and have some fun along the way?

You pulled every trick in the book.

In the morning, you bolted from the briefing room with a hand clamped over your mouth, you later reappeared, ginger ale and crackers in tow--which you knew JJ would understand. No one said a word.

In the afternoon, you turned up your nose when Emily offered you coffee, which in turn caused her eyes to bulge out of her head, but still she said nothing.

In the evening, you staged a sudden craving for the strangest of snacks, convincing Spencer of your dire need for pickles dipped in peanut butter. You sent him on a wild goose chase for it, and he did it, no questions asked.

All of these, as some would say--childish antics, lead to a big pile of nothing because no one was brave enough to just ask you.

So now that you were all gathered around Rossi's living room, with the day's efforts in vain, you were forced to drastic measures.

The wine glass was mere inches from your lips when the whole lot of them were up in arms--a blabbering, spiraling mess.

Garcia, her mouth a perfect 'o' of scandalized red, was quick to wrestle it from your grasp, hoisting it just beyond reach as Morgan promptly confiscated it, placing it atop the tallest bookshelf, as if you were a child meddling with contraband.

"What are you thinking?"

"Are you crazy?"

"What are you doing?"

"Hotch, do you see this?"

Their words bombarded you all at once, a rapid-fire of overlapping sentences that was impossible to decipher. A giggle escaped you, hand instinctively rising to your lips. Sure, you had braced for a reaction, but this was beyond anything you had imagined.

You played dumb, your head canting to one side as your brows contracted. "What?"

You basked in Aaron's exasperated eye roll, his hands coming together as if in prayer while he let you revel in the moment. He was a good man.

"What do you mean what? I love you so much, but you have to be out of your mind," Garcia probed, her hands clutching on to her necklace as she looked side to side at the others.

You opened your mouth, ready to provoke her further, but Spencer beat you to it.

"Given the potential impact on blood volume and plasma osmolality, it's really not advised to drink alcohol, considering your condition," he said, fidgeting with his tie while nodding to your belly.

"What condition?"

"Oh, come on! We found your pregnancy test in the trash today!" This time it was Emily speaking, her hands on her hips as she gave you a knowing glance. She quickly muffled her exclamation. "Hold on, you've told Hotch, right? If not, I'm prepared to get on my hands and knees and beg for your forgiveness if necessary."

"You all are ridiculous!" you declared, rising from the couch and moving toward your abandoned wine. Aaron was quicker, offering the glass to you. "I'm not pregnant, and if you nosy nellies had bothered to ask rather than speculate, you'd know that.”

You took a large gulp of your wine. For emphasis. Your colleagues' mouth hung agape, all but Rossi, who smirked and toasted to the absurdity with his whiskey.

"You heard us?"

"Reid, let's just say, I'd appreciate if you would reserve those observational talents for the case files, not on my girlfriend's anatomy," Hotch suggested, the warmth of his hand seeping through the fabric at your back as he casually sipped his scotch.

You watched Reid's complexion turn a spectrum of pink hues, his apology barely above a whisper as laughter bubbled around us.

"Wait so then whose pregnancy test did I find?" Emily's words caused a collective breath to catch, glances shifting suspiciously around the room.

JJ's hand shot up, laughing as Garcia barreled into her side, arms wrapping around her before she could even get the admittance out. The room buzzed with congratulatory cheers, everyone sharing hugs and kisses as JJ told the story.

Aaron chose that instant to lift his hand to his neck, his lips meeting yours in a kiss so gentle it turned your insides to jelly. He eased back, his breath mingling with yours as he mumbled, "you know, the idea of you pregnant...it's not something I'm opposed to."

You let out a soft giggle, nestling your head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart bleeding into your ear. Your gaze drifted to your friends, toasting with raised glasses--minus JJ--with laughter and chatter filling the air.

"Is that so? Cravings, mood, boobs and all?"

You felt the rumble of his chuckle through his chest, the sensation tingling against your cheek. "All of it."

Rising onto your toes, you reached up to cradle his ear, lips grazing lightly against it. "How about we head home and practice? And then if you put a ring on it, I’ll consider it.”

That was the first time you had Irish goodbye-d a party.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotcher fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff

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luminiamore · 5 months

Text

SOUL, PT.2

basketball player ony x black spiritual reader

first part here.

warnings: bomb dick, vibrating panties (idea came to me last minute)

masterlist

The day finally arrived. The man you had been crushing on for months— the man who sucked the soul out of pussy just two days ago— was taking you out on a date. Your nerves were racking up, your breathing heavy as you stared at yourself in your mirror. The scent of lavender and the burning blunt you just rolled are lingering in your nostrils. It was 5 p.m., 30 minutes before Ony told you he was coming with your outfit.

You were stuck in the mirror, fixing the baby hairs on your ginger wig as you took another hit. Your head was being hit pretty hard by the effects of the marijuana. Your gold and stone bracelets jiggled around with every movement you made. Why were you so nervous? This is the same man that slobbered over your clit on your clit appallingly not too long ago. So, why were you so nervous? You jumped when you heard a ding coming from your phone.

“omw mama.”

Another hit. You read the text without even clicking on the message, and if Ony was the type of nigga to go 50 on a 20 road, you had about 10 minutes before he came knocking on your door. You quickly wrap a pink silk robe from one of your hangers on your body, not putting on panties because you have a gut feeling. You already showered, already lathered your body in your strawberry body milk. Your light makeup sat perfectly against your skin, your lips brown and glossed.

The only thing left for you to do was to spray a bit of your Kayali Sugar Candy perfume, and after the final spritz, you heard a light knocking sound coming from outside your room. Your heart is beating ten times faster— he didn’t even tell you he was outside. Another hit, and you ash it out outside your window.

Your feet could barely be heard on the ground as you rushed to open the door and shit. Seeing Ony outside of his usual attire was doing more to you than you cared to admit. He was in a white dress shirt and black suit pants— all dressed up for the date he was taking you on. His hair was freshly cut, the first two buttons on his shirt were loose, and he had a freshly ripened hibiscus bouquet in his right hand and a medium-sized bag on his left. How did he know those were my favorite flowers?

“Heard you tell that girl you always with that you really liked these.” He smirks a bit when your eyes widen in realization that you said your thoughts out loud. You grab the flowers from his grasp, fingers burning when you accidentally graze his hand, and mutter a small, “Thank you, they’re beautiful. Come in, Ony.”

His aura alone was so potent, so calm and safe, and inside, you knew your spirit guides were probably cheering you on. Your cat’s immediate approach to him, rubbing its head on his legs, was a sign that you made the right choice. Waiting for him to pet her, she plopped down on the floor, and unsurprisingly, Ony crouched down to honor her wishes.

You wanted him to take you now, but you knew Ony was a man of his word. He wouldn’t fuck you until after tonight. You just had to wait until after tonight. You glance up to where a regular clock is hanging above your door.

5:25.

..Waiting until after tonight suddenly seemed like forever.

“Not as beautiful as you. You smoking in here?” The smell of it was immediately detected when you opened the door. He smiled internally because he was waiting outside your apartment in his Hellcat while he texted you and lit his own joint. You really were meant for each other.

Ony thought you looked good enough to eat. Again. Nothing but a thin robe on you, accentuating your curves and showing a slight peak of your voluptuous brown tits. Flashes of you moaning his name and bucking your hips wildly onto his tongue started slipping into his mind— would it really be wrong to taste you again?

Your pretty voice breaks him out his thoughts, “Yea, you want a hit? Or two?” You release a chuckle, the sound making the tall man shiver a bit. He takes a deep breath— patience. He has to have patience. You’ll be moaning his name soon enough.

“Nah, was smoking before I got here. Here, mama.” He hands you the bag he was holding after you got done putting the flowers on your kitchen counter. You were a bit.. skeptical when Ony asked if he could dress you for tonight, worried that he might choose an outfit that you wouldn’t like.

What you didn’t know is that Ony observed you. Studied your peculiarities and the way you dressed when you walked up into Econ, he wouldn’t have asked such a question otherwise. He had precise knowledge of what to give you, and it was evident when you took the bag from him and found an exquisite crochet skirt set.

The skirt ended with shades of light to a deep royal purple, and the top had no straps. Flower patterns were all over it. There was also a pair of shoes, white mini heels with thin straps. And when you reached the bottom of the bag, you saw panties, purple, and flower patterns all over it, too.

“Ony, this is- It’s gorgeous. I-”

He kisses your cheek and gently pushes the items to your chest, “Go put ’em on. Reservation’s at 6:30.”

You giggle and nod, rushing to your room on your tiptoes. In your living room, Ony is waiting for you, lying down on your comfortable couch and petting your cat after she jumps onto his lap. He has reason to believe that you two wouldn’t make it outside if he came inside your room with you.

You take your time, slowly putting each piece on to not stretch the crochet material. Your last step was the panties, and you couldn’t help but feel that they were slightly heavier than any of the panties you owned. You’re about to examine it a little more, but you stop short when you hear Ony’s voice: “You ready, mama?”

Any confusion about the panties was long gone after you put them on, following the heels. After spritzing your perfume one more time, you grab your keys and head out the door, Ony following closely behind you.

It was a peaceful ride to wherever Ony was taking you, with only soft Brent Faiyaz music playing in the background and the light-burning sound of the half-finished joint he offered you. At every red light stop, you would let him take the hit until both of you finished it.

He parked his car in front of a garden-like spot just before you ashed it out, just in time. You are about to reach your hand to open your door but fall short when you hear a click!

“You should know better.” Was all he said before he got out of the driver’s seat and got to your side. As he opens the door for you, he grabs your hand to guide you out and leads you to a person who is ready to seat you both. Hand in yours the entire time. “Reservation for Onyankopon, please.”

The man gives a smile and gestures for you both to follow him. It would be an understatement to describe how beautiful the area was when you surveyed it. It was like a restaurant in a garden of flowers. You are led by the person to a table surrounded by grass and daises, with occasional butterflies flying around you.

“How did you even find this place?” You ask in complete awe. Ony spent a while trying to find a place he knew you would like. You didn’t seem like the type of person to like classy restaurants, and he definitely didn’t want to take you to some low-end place. He wanted to find something that resembled you. A place where you would feel completely comfortable.

And well, when you sat down, and a white butterfly made its way onto your awaiting finger... Ony couldn’t help but think he made the right choice. You look like a goddess. An ethereal being that was all his. “I drove by it one time, and it reminded me of you. You like it?”

He hoped you did. The expression on your face wasn’t telling him enough. He wanted to hear the words come out of your mouth, or else he would drown in his anxiety. All he wanted to do was please you.

“I love it, Ony.” A bright smile graced your face. You never looked more pretty— aside from when you made those gorgeous faces when he was pleasuring you.

A server came to take your order, Ony ordering for himself before the woman turned to you,

“And for you, miss?”

“Could I please have the-” The sensation of intense pressure vibrating on your clit causes you to stop your sentence with a faint gasp. Both of your hands are gripping the table to provide support.

“Miss? Are you okay?”

“You good, mama?” You look up when Ony questions and catch the faux concern in his eyes, his lips twitching up a bit as he almost fails to contain his smile. This was his doing. You knew those panties were different. And you seriously should’ve questioned why he bought you a pair anyway. Fuck it felt so good.

You steady your voice so you don’t stutter when you speak up, “… I’m okay. Could... I have the-the Shrimp Fried Rice, p-please.”

You curse yourself internally when you stumble upon your words. You observe as she reluctantly nods and accepts your order. You would’ve flushed your head down in embarrassment, but in your defense, you had a vibrator going at full speed on your clit. Fuck whatever she was thinking about you right now.

The minute she walks away from the table, you give Ony the meanest glare you could muster— which, to him, wasn’t doing much. In retaliation, he just turned the vibration up, causing you to yelp silently.

“Ony! W-why?” You whimper out as quietly as you can so as not to raise attention from the people around you. He just shakes his head, amused at how weak he could get you.

“You look so pretty like this, mama. Enjoy yourself, hm? You deserve it.”

He couldn’t get his mind off the events that occurred when you came to his dorm. Could you even blame him? For wanting to see more of those pretty faces you make. For wanting to eat you whole again.

He realized he couldn’t outright finger you in a public setting, not here anyway. He didn’t want to wait to fuck you so he could witness you fall apart like you did last time. He longs for you with a strong desire. Even 72 hours later, the flavor of your juices is still lingering on his tongue. “But-”

“Shh. Just try not to get too loud, yeah? Don’t want anyone else seeing those gorgeous faces you make.”

Squeezing your thighs together, your head falls back against your chair. This goes on for a good while, Ony just staring at you, biting your lips to stop the moans bottling in your throat from getting too loud. He watches as your pretty lashes flutter open and close while your eyes roll in the back of your head.

You rub your lower hips against the chair subtly in quick, fast motions to stave off your impending orgasm. Light gasps released from your throat when you feel a burning sensation in your abdomen. Just when you start feeling like the dam is about to burst and ruin the only thing that holds you up right now, everything comes to an end.

The vibration, your rubbing— nothing but your ears buzzing can be heard until you finally register what just happened. You don’t have time to dwell on it much because your waiter comes back with what you both ordered.

“Would you like some water, miss?” And this time, Ony grants you the mercy of answering for you, ears still buzzing and clit still twitching because of your ruined orgasm.

“She would, please.” When the waiter walks away from your table, Ony almost cracks under the pleading look you give him. He can’t believe it took him this long to ask you out. What if someone got to you before him? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

Your soft and crackling voice reaches his ears, “Please, Ony. Let me-”

“Eat your food, mama. I said enjoy yourself, never said you could cum.”

Giving him a pout is all you can do, and his tone indicates that this is not a subject for discussion. The rest of the night went surprisingly well. The conversation was full of rich details about both of you. Only told you many stories about him, how he got to be a basketball player, and how it was a dream of his since he was a toddler. In return, you told him how you even started your spiritual journey, spoke about your childhood even because you were just so comfortable around him.

He didn’t turn back on the vibrator for the remainder of the evening, only listening to the sweet melody of your voice whenever you said something or laughed at something he said. It seemed like you hadn’t been here for that long when the bill came. You were truly in the present moment with Ony, so you lost all sense of time. But you caught a glance at your phone— 9:30.

Damn. It’s already been three hours? Ony takes out his wallet and pulls out some cash. He gently grabs your hand to pull you out of your chair so that you and he can leave together. Before you know it, you both are on your way back to your apartment. What catches you off guard is the intense vibration from the restaurant coming back, causing you to let out a loud moan in his passenger seat. Your passenger seat after tonight, if he was being honest.

Your body thrashes against the seat belt, hips bucking wildly because you are still so horny after being left on the edge like that. “F-Fuck!”

He pretends to be unfazed, his eyes still focused on the road as you release the honey moans contained in his car.

“Can you hold it f’me? You’re almost home, mama. I’ll make you cum as much as you want when we get there.”

He must like torturing you. That’s the only explanation. At his words, you don’t think you ever worked harder to stave off an orgasm in your life. The pressure feels so good, your body bubbling with heat and the pleasure being felt in every corner. You wail when the vibrator hits a particular spot on your clit due to your hips rapidly shaking and moving.

Your breathing starts to become erratic as you release light hiccups. Your efforts to not cum are so intense that tears are falling from your brown eyes. Why was it taking so long to get home?

“I n-need to.. cum. Please!”

How do you do that? Look so divine while your pussy is being overstimulated? He almost wants to let you have cum because you look so pretty while trying to beg for him. But then he thinks about how he doesn’t want you finishing on anything other than the massive tent in his pants, and he figures— you can wait a bit. He’s pulling up in your garage anyway, and he wasn’t going to fuck you in his car for your first time together.

Your heavy breathing and the sudden slam of Ony’s door are all that remains in the car when he puts it in park. He opens your door and swiftly holds you in a bridal style to your apartment number. He presses light kisses to your cheek, his tatted hand rubbing gently on your wide hips.

He doesn’t wait a second to devour your lips once you open your door, your moans being muffled by the sheer force of the kiss. His lips were soft and sweet against yours, fitting perfectly as your lip gloss was smeared onto him. Still in his hold, you weakly point to the direction of your room, which he follows wordlessly. Heels are long gone, and been thrown in the hall amid your make-out session.

He plops you down on your mattress, and you don’t hesitate to yank him down towards you into another brutal make-out session, your smooth legs encircling his waist. You gasp when he firmly squeezes the fat of your tits, allowing him to dip his tongue into yours, deepening the kiss.

Fuck, you wanted him so bad. Your skirt rises, and soon, there’s nothing but his pants and your panties separating the two of you. Ony was unusually big.. you knew this when you first saw his print at his dorm. And right now, as he was fumbling to take his belt off, your mind was scrambling, trying to figure out how you were going to fit all of him inside of you.

All thoughts went out the window when he ripped your damp panties off in one go and immediately started playing with the obscene amount of slick that’s been gathering ever since he came to pick you up. Your cute sounds are heaven to him.

His deep voice whispers in your ear, “You’re so wet, baby. Don’t need me to prep you, right?”

His fingers are moving rapidly against your clit, as he is awestruck by how his hands keep slipping off out of rhythm due to your wetness. Or maybe he was already drunk on you, desperate to split your pussy apart on his cock. His pants aren’t even entirely off before he’s fisting his fat cock out of his boxers and slapping his brown tip right on your pussy lips, creating wet squelching sounds.

“Could just slip right in with how you’re leaking all over your sheets. You gonna take it, mama?”

And he was right. Your wetness was creating a dark stain on your bed, likely gonna start seeping into the mattress. You sneak a glance down at Ony’s ministrations, and you immediately try to move your hips away. This man was dead-ass walking around with a third leg. It was so big, it actually scared you. How the fuck was that supposed to fit inside of you? Even your last fling wasn’t this hung.

He immediately pulled your hips back towards him, refusing to let you run away from the deep fucking he’s been craving to give you. “Don’t do that. Take it f’me, baby. Please?”

You whimper, his pleading tone getting you even more wetter. “O-Ony.. you’re too b-big! I can’t- Ooo fuck.”

You didn’t have time to finish your sentence before he sank his length past your tight walls, making you feel every inch of him. Fuck, he was so deep, and he almost wanted to cum right there. He looks down at you and shit.

You never looked more beautiful, as he said. Your mouth is constructed into a lovely “o” shape, and your eyes roll back so deep into your skull he can see your white eye sockets. You were drooling, the feeling of his dick inside of you simply too much for your tiny brain to handle. He wasn’t gonna last long.

Your wet cunt was so stretched out, and Ony didn’t even give you a second to relax before he started feeding you deep, harsh strokes. You could do nothing but let tears fall from your eyes and wail his name so loud you’re sure you’ll probably get a noise complaint from your neighbors.

“Gorgeous. Such a good girl taking my dick like this, you love it baby? Talk to me, mama.” He pleads as his face is buried in the crook of your sweat-filled neck, the feeling of your pussy being better than he ever imagined. Than he ever dreamed of. The sounds you both were making were so lewd, so nasty. But it was bringing you much closer to splashing all over his disheveled dress shirt.

“So-so good, Ony! L-Love it s’much.” Your pretty cries make him groan loudly against you; you can feel it vibrating against your chest. Your mind is blanking, and the fire in your stomach that you felt twice today is coming back, only much stronger. Your already overstimulated clit is causing it to come much faster.

With every thrust he gives you, you give Ony a beautiful yelp. And he could only watch your face contort as you struggle to find something to hold on to, to ground you. You’re a bit dense if you think he would let you do anything other than feel every spec of what he gave you. He grasps both of your hands with only one of his hands and presses them above your head.

“Pussy’s so damn good, shit. M’gonna cum. Where you want it, mama?”

And you respond to him so eagerly, choking on your spit when he presses down on your stomach, his bulge being prominently displayed every time he thrusts in and out of you.

“Ahhh! M-me too! Inside, Ony. P-Please Ony, cum in m-me.”

He can’t say no to you, not when you beg him to fill you up with tears like that. The final straw for you was when he forced his tongue into your panting mouth again, swallowing every gasp and moan that managed to fall past your lips. You make a sudden and unwarranted shriek against his mouth, and your pussy splashes all over him.

He groans as you babble his name repeatedly, allowing salty tears to flow freely down your cheeks. Your body twitches as your pussy creams and squeezes tightly around him, and that’s enough for Ony to shiver as his cum spurts past your womb. He should have slowed down or stopped because now you both feel overstimulated.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop thrusting his hips rapidly against you, the feeling of you squirting on his dick quickly becoming something he wanted more of. He needs you to do that again. He needs you to spray your sweet juices so hard it reaches his face. Your chest is heaving as you try to wriggle your hands out of Ony’s grasp to slow him down. Your attempt doesn’t do much but make him tighten his grip on you,

“Give me another one, mama. Come on, just one more, baby.” And by the look on his face, even you can tell it wasn’t just going to be one more. You were in for a long night.

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#onyankopon x black y/n #ony x black reader #onyankopon x reader #aot onyankopon #ony x y/n #onyankopon x black reader smut #onyankopon smut #onyankapon #onyankopon fluff #onyankopon x you #aot x black y/n #aot x reader #aot smut

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nincompoopydoo · 8 months

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*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ nincompoopydoo // WIZARDING WORLD MASTERLIST

theseus scamander

⋆ caught in a crossfire [series]: Theseus and his team of Aurors are tasked with a mission to take down a recent movement formed by dark wizards and witches with the intention to erase all muggles. The night takes a turn when you arrive at the scene unknowingly and it seems you’re the next target. ⋆ in search of a grecian beast: As you, Theseus, and Newt find yourselves on a secluded Grecian beach along the Aegean Sea, an endeavor unfolds to seek out a Hippocampus. However, plans don’t turn out as expected. ⋆ for old times' sake: Theseus attempts to convince you to leave your desk. ⋆ happy christmas, dung brain: you visit the Scamander household on Christmas, seeing Theseus after a long time and the two of you’re not sure what to do with all these feelings. ⋆ bertie botts: Theseus gets injured during a fight and you’re mad. ⋆ overnight shift [series]: you and Theseus were known rivals among the Aurors at the British Ministry of Magic. ⋆ false signs: unsaid feelings turn into what seemed as unrequited love to Theseus but it turns out you’re in love with him as much as he is in love with you. ⋆ tea at newt's: newt plays accidental matchmaker. ⋆ envy: you’re jealous, although you hate to admit it, of Theseus’ rather flirtatious assistant. ⋆ trespassing: trespassing during a mission leads to a life or death situation when you and Theseus find yourselves entangled with a dangerous dark wizard. ⋆ war and anguish: theseus returns home as a war hero but you’re engaged and he doesn’t know what to do with himself and his feelings for you. ⋆ crimson cheeks and ivory snow: you spend a snowy day learning to ice-skate with the help of your crush, Theseus. ⋆ behind the sofa: you rant to Newt about his brother’s constant teasing at the workplace which led you to seek a hiding spot behind the sofa when Theseus unexpectedly shows up at his brother’s place. ⋆ shadows on ancient stone walls: soulmate AU: Where the outline of your shadow is your soulmate.

newt scamander

⋆ scamander: you are constantly being used by a ‘friend’ of yours but when you reached your limits, Newt is there to comfort you.

james potter

⋆ healed [series]: you and James had been the best of friends since your Hogwarts days. Thus, you grew strong feelings for the boy, feelings stronger than just plain platonic although you knew about James’ extreme infatuation for the beautiful and intelligent ginger, Lily James. ⋆ you owe me butterbeer: you and James are best friends and you are constantly helping him get Lily’s attention, even if you didn’t like doing so, simply because of your crush on James himself. However, things take a turn and James catches on a little later that he may not truly have feelings for the redhead but instead for someone who has been there with him all along. ⋆ mistletoe and holy moly, are you trying to kiss me?: James is trying to get you to kiss him under the mistletoe.

sirius black

⋆ flowers: you’re the quirky and socially awkward girl that Sirius has a crush on but his flirting ways seem to not work on you. ⋆ prejudice: you’re a Slytherin who stood up for a Ravenclaw against your own housemates which caused you to be attacked. Having been sent to the infirmary, you’re met with the charming Sirius Black.

remus lupin

⋆ alive and true: having found a lost friend, living in the countryside of Yorkshire, feelings of once hidden affection start to bloom in the need to be alive and good things to be real. ⋆ war changes you: Remus comes to visit you at the Hogwarts infirmary involuntarily sparking some old feelings you might have had for each other after not seeing each other for so long.

fred weasley

⋆ good, pure, and beautiful: the Leaky Cauldron serves as a sanctuary to drink your problems away for the night but a certain ginger always seems to find his way to you. ⋆ sheperd's pie: you desperately need a break from studying for your upcoming OWLs which left Fred Weasley, your best friend, the responsibility of coaxing you to do just that despite you being quite headstrong. ⋆ near death: Fred Weasley dies. Nearly.

george weasley

⋆ where two lonesomes meet: in the midst of a Christmas market sits a bench where two walls meet. Here is where two lonesomes meet. ⋆ nature mourns with the mourning: you and George finally find solace after the Battle of Hogwarts. ⋆ five to four: you comfort George after the Battle of Hogwarts. ⋆ snowball fight at midnight, that's christmas to me: where George simply had the audacity to force you to a battle of snowball in the middle of the night, out in the cold.

#masterlist #theseus scamander x reader #newt scamander x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #james potter x reader #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader

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harryslittlefreakk · 5 days

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kiss it better

summary: when y/n doesn’t show up to work, harry takes her care into his own hands. ceorry x PA y/n

warnings: mentions of illness and vomiting! just plain fluff other than that

wordcount: a little over 2k

a/n: in honour of me being gravely ill 😀 this is probably not very good lol whatevs!!!! i wanted to write and fluff was calling my name

masterlist

Harry glanced at his watch, frowning as he realised something was off. You were always punctual, always greeting him with a smile and a steaming cup of coffee before he even stepped into his office. But there was no sign of you. His desk was a little too tidy in the absence of your swirling handwriting on sticky notes and files. It smelled musky without the sweet coconut of your perfume to counter the dominance of his aftershave.

He set his briefcase down, pulling out his phone to dial your number. He knew he shouldn’t call you, that whatever kept you from work was obviously important, but he needed to know. The phone rang into Harry’s ear a few times before going to voicemail, his brows knitting as he left his office in search of an explanation for your absence.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out, an email pinging through to his phone almost as soon as he opened his mouth to ask where you were.

Without thinking twice, Harry grabbed his coat and headed for the door, his heart thudding with concern, for reasons that he couldn’t quite place. You never missed work. You were always so reliable, pushing yourself even when you shouldn’t, even when Harry told you not to. If he was in the office, you were too, always leaving later than him and getting in earlier.

He stopped by a small deli as he left the office, ringing his mum in the middle of the fresh produce aisle to get her family-favourite soup recipe. Some fresh bread, vegetables, milk and teabags, medicines and ginger shots.

Harry was carried by some sort of unseen force, a desire to be the hero for a day. It wasn’t until he reached your building’s main entrance that he thought to question what he was doing.

He hadn’t even told anyone he was leaving - his briefcase was still sat on his chair, his work untouched. He was skipping on his own company to show up at your door laden with supplies like he was close enough to you to be your caretaker. He shook his head gently, his out-stretched finger reaching for your buzzer before he even made his mind up on whether to stay or go.

He was at your front door a few minutes later, the groceries hanging limply in his hand as he took in your appearance, his features softening as his eyes trailed over your face. Your usually bright skin was dull and pale, your brown eyes outlined by reds and purples, the tip of your nose tinted pink, your lips dry and cracked.

“Harry? What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice thick and hoarse.

You pulled your cardigan tighter around your waist, wishing the building would just collapse around you, a stray meteor would strike you down, anything to not be standing in front of your boss in your skimpy pyjamas while he looked at you like you were a wounded puppy.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

You shrugged, stepping back into your door as Harry moved towards you. “I didn’t want to bother you. It’s just a cold.”

“Bother me?” He shook his head, stepping around you and pulling the door closed behind him. “You’re never a bother, y/n. I was worried.”

Before you could protest, he was already moving into your small kitchen, setting the groceries on the counter. “I bought supplies. Have you had any medicine? You go sit down and I’ll bring you some over. Tea, coffee, water?”

You looked around in a daze, your gaze flitting between the front door and Harry as your brain struggled to catch up. Medicine, supplies, tea, sick, worried. His words were buzzing around your clouded mind, your brows knitted as you stepped towards him.

“Harry, you don’t have to-” you started, but he shot you a pointed look over his shoulder. You knew that face all too well. It was the ‘I’m in charge here, and we both know it’ look that you’d seen him giving to clients and staff countless times over the past year, usually followed by a smirk in your direction.

“Sit. That’s an order,” he said with a hint of a smile. “I’ll take care of everything.”

You sighed but obeyed, shuffling over to the sofa and sinking into the cushions. You knew better than to argue, especially with the way your body was aching after only walking to the door and back.

“I’ve had medicine already,” you told Harry, nodding your head towards the packet on the coffee table. He padded over, reaching for the pills with a satisfied smile.

“Good girl. Where are your mugs?”

Good girl. You pressed the back of your hand to your cheek, knowing instantly that you were burning up and it had nothing to do with the flu.

“Top cupboard on the left,” you muttered, your voice tiny as Harry stared down at you.

You’d found yourself in a dangerous game. It was hard enough to control yourself around Harry in the office with your wits about you, but with him in your home, apparently intent on taking care of you, calling you a good girl, you were almost ready to plan the wedding.

“Oh no.”

A sudden wave of nausea washed over you, your eyes glued to the floor as you scrambled to your feet, rushing past Harry as if he wouldn’t notice if you went fast enough. You barely made it to the toilet before the nausea overwhelmed you, your body heaving.

Within seconds, Harry was behind you. He knelt down, one hand gently pulling your hair back from your face while the other rubbed over your shoulders. “I’ve got you,” he murmured softly.

Now you really wished someone would smite you down. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, both from the force of being sick and the embarrassment of having Harry see you like this. You tried to apologise, but another wave hit, cutting you off.

“You’re okay,” Harry whispered, his hand never stopping its gentle motion on your back.

You slumped back against the wall, exhausted. Harry stood up to wet your flannel, crouching in front of you to dab at your forehead and cheeks, his touch tender and careful, as if you might break.

The ridiculousness of it all almost made you laugh. There he was, in his thousand pound suit, his curls perfectly styled, wiping the sick from your face as you poured like a child in your Barbie pyjamas. And it was only 11am. There was plenty of time for things to get even worse for you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse and weak. “That was mortifying.”

“Hey, none of that,” Harry said firmly, but his eyes were soft as he studied your face. “You’ve taken care of every one of my needs for a year. You’re sick, I’m not going anywhere.”

He pulled you to your feet, keeping a tight hold of your hand as he guided you back to the sofa, fluffing your cushions before you sank down.

You closed your eyes, your body aching with fatigue and the lingering embarrassment of being so messy and vulnerable in front of your boss.

As if he could read your mind, Harry sat down beside you, his arm wrapping tightly around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “I’ve got you,” he murmured again, his voice ghosting over the top of your head. “Just rest. I’m not leaving.”

You let out a shuddering breath, the warmth of his body against yours easing some of the lingering chills. Slowly, the tension began to drain away, the exhaustion tugging at you. You turned slightly, pressing your face into his chest, the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

He shifted, carefully adjusting his position so you could lie more comfortably against him. His fingers stroked through your hair, chills shooting straight down your spine.

“You’re okay,” Harry whispered, his lips brushing against your hair. “I’m right here.”

When you didn’t respond, Harry stayed still, holding you close, his heart aching at how fragile you suddenly seemed to him. He would keep you safe, he promised to himself.

—

You were still glued to Harry’s side when you woke, although he’d clearly been busy while you were out cold.

His blazer was slung over a chair, his shirt sleeves rolled up as they always were after a few hours of work. His arm was still tight around you, his free hand dancing across the keyboard of his laptop as he stared and muttered at the screen.

Your lips curled into a little smile with the realisation that he’d been up and about while you slept but had still come back to cuddle you. Your hand instinctively flew to your mouth, covering your smirk before Harry noticed just how happy you were to wake up at his side.

His eyes snapped over to you, his eyes crinkling as his mouth stretched into a grin. “Morning, sunshine,” he teased, setting his laptop to the side.

A gasp fell from your lips as you looked beyond him for the first time since you opened your eyes, realising how little light was left. “It’s nearly dark, Harry. How long was I out?”

“A while,” he shrugged. “It’s a good thing. Your body heals while you sleep.”

You pulled away from him to sit up straight, suddenly conscious of the wet patch on his shirt, his tattoos stark against the translucent fabric. “I kept you hostage here for hours while I drooled all over you.”

“I’ll forward you my dry cleaning bill,” he smirked, peering down at the mark. “I don’t mind, really. I had Tony bring my bits over,” Harry shrugged, nodding towards his laptop. “I got quite a lot done. Maybe we should work from home more often.”

“I won’t be making a habit of chucking my guts up in front of you and drooling all over you,” you whispered, your cheeks blazing hot.

“Glad to hear it, sweetheart. How are you feeling? Do you fancy eating?”

You nodded, running a hand through your wild hair. You didn’t even want to imagine what you looked like. It was becoming increasingly more apparent that you’d have to change your name and flee the country the second Harry left you alone.

But as he padded away from you, you listened to him bustling around your kitchen, the familiar clink of plates and cutlery, it felt all too comforting and all too normal.

Harry came back with a tray, a steaming bowl of soup, some toast, and a cup of tea balanced on top, a tea towel thrown over his arm. He set it down carefully on the coffee table, then sat beside you, watching as you guided a spoonful of soup past your lips.

“This is really good,” you murmured, surprised at how the warmth seemed to spread through you, easing the ache in her throat.

“Glad you like it,” he said, looking pleased. “My mums recipe. I’m half convinced your head could fall off and that soup would manage to cure it.”

You managed to eat most of the soup, under Harry’s watchful gaze. When you finished, he cleaned up quickly, then returned with a fresh cup of tea for you both and a blanket.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you said softly as he draped the blanket over you.

He gave you a gentle smile, pulling your legs onto his lap. “I wanted to. You take care of me. Let me take care of you for once.”

The energy shifted in the room, the atmosphere clouded with something unspoken. You rubbed a finger over your lips, your gaze lingering on Harry as he traced patterns over your skin.

He glanced over at his laptop, pushing the screen closed. “Alright, I think we’ve earned a movie,” he said, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “What’s your favourite?”

You shrugged, turning your attention to the tv. “I always watch Harry Potter when I’m sick.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Barbie pyjamas and Harry Potter. Maybe I don’t know everything about you.”

“Simple pleasures,” you shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

As the movie played, the sky gradually darkened, the light from the screen casting soft shadows across the room. You’d pulled your legs from Harry’s lap at some point, sinking into the sofa beside him as you sipped at your tea. He kept his eyes on you as you put the mug back down, then without a word, he gently wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer.

You hesitated for a moment before relaxing against him, your head resting on his shoulder. It felt more natural earlier, when you were still dazed and cloudy and overwhelmed with embarrassment. It still felt right, comforting and familiar, but you were so much more aware of your proximity now. Still, when Harry’s hand began to rub slow, soothing circles on your arm, you melted into him.

You glanced up at him after a minute, catching his profile in the flickering light. His eyes were focused on the screen, but there was a softness to his expression, a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

He must have sensed your gaze, because he looked down at you, his eyes locking with yours. For just a moment, the movie, the room, the soft pounding of your head all faded away.

Harry’s hand stilled on your arm, his fingers lingering as if unsure of what they wanted to do next. Then, slowly, he reached up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your flushed skin.

“Y/n..” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. There was something in his eyes, something vulnerable and almost hesitant, as if he were seeking permission.

Your breath caught, your heart quickening. You pushed your head against his touch, just the slightest movement, your eyes never leaving his.

That was all the encouragement Harry needed. Leaning in slowly, he pressed his lips to yours, the kiss so soft and gentle it was almost like the ghost of a breath against your skin. His hand moved to cradle the back of your head, his touch careful, still so gentle as if he was scared he’d break you.

But his kisses were sweet, unhurried, and full of something you couldn’t put into words. He kissed you like he was savouring every moment, like he thought it might be the only time he’d ever feel your lips against his. You felt your whole body surrender to him, enveloped in the warmth and care of his touch.

“You’re going to get sick,” you whispered when he pulled back, his thumb swiping over your bottom lip.

He leaned in again, pressing another soft kiss to your lips, then one to your temple, his arms tightening around you as you buried your head in his chest. “I think I’ve spent enough time in your company to end up catching your germs anyway. At least I got to do that,” Harry murmured, smoothing a hand over your hair.

You stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the movie forgotten. The world outside didn’t matter, the weight of how shitty you felt didn’t matter, the impending infection you’d passed to Harry didn’t matter. In the quiet shadows of the evening, you snuggled closer, feeling his heart beat steadily against you, and for the first time in a long while, you felt truly content.

“Stay with me?” you murmured, her voice barely audible.

“Of course,” he promised, his lips brushing over your hair.

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ktownshizzle · 28 days

Text

Wild & Free | Part 1 of 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Everybody says they want to marry Min Yoongi. But what if he only wants to say 'yes' to you.

Alternatively: While on the last leg of their PTD tour, Yoongi discovers there was such a thing as drive-thru weddings in Las Vegas - spontaneous, wild, exciting - something his pretty little brain can't seem to process having lived the last decade of his life planned to perfection by his management team, which includes you. When he goes down a rabbit hole of Youtube videos about The Little White Wedding Chapel (Omo! Michael Jordan got married there!), he starts getting all sorts of ideas - all of it starring him and you.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Childhood friends to lovers, Idol!au, Coworkers to lovers (reader is a HYBE employee)

Warnings: Mild angst, cursing lol, mentions of sex, pining and lots of it, reader is insecure, couple of idiots truly, covid didn’t happen, one mention of recreational gambling (we're in Vegas!), canon moments I botched for my own use, ginger Yoongi is a warning in and of itself, angry Yoongi, cliches ‘cos meh, possible inaccuracies about Las Vegas - been there once, but details used in the story are just from research. Also, I get that Las Vegas weddings might seem tacky to some. Coming from a background of traditional, elaborate ceremonies, the characters in this story are genuinely surprised by this simpler approach. After all, a wedding is really just about you and your partner, and that’s the essence we’re exploring here. ♡ If you can get on board with that, then let's head to the Tunnel of Love! Viva Las Vegas! 🙂

Word Count: 7.2k (approx. 30 mins.)

Posting date: August 31, 2024

Dividers: @/saradika-graphics

Part One | Part Two | Masterlist

"Yoongi, marry me!" You shout at the top of your lungs, earning laughs from the people around you.

On the other side of the room, a couple of other people shout the same catchphrase, including Kim Taehyung, who seems to get the most kick out of it out of all the members.

Coerced to do one of those Tik Tok dance challenges, Min Yoongi stands in front of the room, hides his face behind his hands and you watch in delight as he awkwardly sways his hips side to side. More cheers erupt and two seconds after he decides he was done.

"Hajimaaaa!" Your friend says to no one and everyone, cheeks burning as he stalks back to the chair he was occupying across yours.

You push his beer bottle towards him, "Good job, gramps."

"Fuck off," he says with no real bite, taking a long swig off his drink to cool off his reddened cheeks.

It's great to finally get some down time with the crew. After such a fast-paced, high production tour, everybody needed to blow off some steam. This Korean BBQ restaurant off the Strip was the perfect venue to get the team together for samgyupsal and drinks. The vibes are, as the kids say, immaculate.

You are already sufficiently buzzed so you sit down as Seokjin takes his turn to do the challenge. He really seems to be more into it than the man currently giving you a look.

"I heard you." He narrows his eyes at you almost accusingly.

"What? It's the new viral catchphrase," you shrugged. "Everybody and their grandma is saying it these days."

"Not their grandma."

"You should be flattered."

Stop, you thought he would say. But his response catches you off guard.

"Only ‘cause you said it."

And he has the audacity to lick his bottom lip, a ghost of a smirk forming.

Fuck. Your throat dries up. When did it get so hot here?

“And in case you’re wondering…” he leans forward, a dopey-ass grin now on his face. “The answer is yes.”

Record scratch.

Did he really just-

Thankfully, you recover.

“Stop playing,” you say, trying to sound casual. But your face probably betrays the internal turmoil happening in your brain. You fear the day will come that he will have caught on to the unshakeable something you have been harboring for the better part of the last decade.

See, there’s always been an unspoken tension between you and Yoongi, something neither of you ever addressed or acted upon. Perhaps, in your younger days, there were moments when you felt your friendship was on the verge of becoming something more. But then he debuted as an idol, and things took off, and you were robbed of time. With his group’s growing popularity and you managing his personal career, the possibility of exploring anything beyond friendship and your work rapport became even more distant.

You feel like a bug under a microscope the way he observes you with a lopsided grin and while you try to hold his gaze, this clown interrupts.

"If y'all done eye-fucking each other, some of us are heading back." A drunk Park Jimin says with a mischievous grin, eyes crinkling like crescents. You could almost throw up.

Your eyes shift back to Yoongi and he just blinks in that blank way he does and bends to collect his bag from under his chair, completely ignoring his bandmate.

‘Fuck you,’ you mouth to Jimin hastily. Just enough time before Yoongi emerges with his backpack and your tote, which he already slung on his own shoulder.

You try to take it from him, but he waves you off.

"We're in bus 2," Jimin sings-songs and walks off, looking every bit the trouble-maker.

Thing is, you made the mistake of confiding in Jimin once, last year. You got drunk after getting dumped by some guy you met on Bumble three dates down, though it really was the sting of learning that Yoongi took one of Psy’s backup dancers out for coffee, even if it was just casual, that pushed you off the edge and into a bar in Hannam Intersection. Coincidentally, Jimin was there with that cute idol from Shinee and some other guys, but he joined you when he saw you looking like shit.

After learning about your long-standing crush (thank God you did not drop the L-bomb), Jimin would occasionally tease you, much to your chagrin. He’s careful not to push things too far, but it’s clear he sees himself as a bit of a cupid. You keep telling him that nothing will come of it, but he just won’t let up.

You are scared for things to change between you and Yoongi, not when everything is just how it’s supposed to be.

Not when you believe in your heart that if anything would have happened, it already should have.

And you would snuff the last embers of the torch that you keep holding out for him if only you knew how.

"Drive-thru weddings?" Yoongi enunciates in English, with the slightest lisp that you have always found so endearing. As your tour bus passes by chapel after wedding chapel, he continues to wonder out loud. "People get married there?"

Namjoon turns his head to look at Yoongi from his seat in front. "Yeah, hyung. They don't even need to get out of their car. It's just like a McDonald's. But they get a marriage license instead of a burger."

“Really? And people do this? Like, randomly?”

“Yeah, some celebrities decided to do it that way, but I assume many people do, too. I mean, look how many we’ve passed already.” Namjoon says with a tiny grin, cheek dimpling.

"Mm." Yoongi hums and you're curious about that faraway look on his face as he stares outside.

“Are you interested?” You joke lamely, instantly regretting opening your mouth. Why do you keep propositioning him? You blame that ‘one for the road’ shot of soju you downed on the way out of the restaurant.

He studies your face, before he replies lowly, so only you can hear, “Are you asking?”

Fuck, he’s bold. He’s also a bit drunk, but everyone knows he can drink anyone under the table. You know this is not the first time he got weirdly flirty with you after one too many drinks, so you take it in stride.

“What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas,” Hoseok's voice booms from the back and with a chorus of laughs ringing inside the vehicle, you take that as a sign that this is definitely just the effect of being in Sin City.

A few beats after and you steal a glance at Yoongi, finding his gaze transfixed at a sign that read: "The Little White Wedding Chapel".

Last day of the Las Vegas tour and while you are glad it is almost done, your heart aches as you remember that this is also your last one, ever. Your 60-day notice is already running, having tendered your resignation a month after LA wrapped up.

As great of a job as it is, your heart seems to always be at odds because of the lingering feelings you have for Yoongi. Everyday, you find yourself trapped in the limbo of unspoken feelings and missed chances. The endless “what ifs” weigh you down, and you can’t summon the courage to confront them. It’s not anyone’s fault but your own, and you hoped that stepping away from this life might jumpstart your next chapter, as BTS is also about to embark on theirs.

With the group taking a break for solo projects and gearing up for their military service, it seemed like the perfect moment for you to explore something different, too. Maybe finally open that cafe you’ve always wanted. Maybe you can also meet somebody, especially since your eomma has been on your back even more lately about giving her a grandchild.

You weren't planning to sever ties with Yoongi entirely, or at all. There’s too much history between you two to just walk away from the friendship. But you were desperate to let go of the emotional baggage.

The thing is, you have not told anyone. Not even Yoongi. Especially not Yoongi. It is highly likely that he will try to stop you and press for reasons, and you can't tell him that you’re in love with him, can you? Just… no. What a fuckin’ cliche.

You don’t know when you will be ready to tell him the truth, but it needs to be soon.

You find him on the side of the stage, eyes locked in on his phone that he held with one hand and you already can tell he is watching a documentary with the way his face is screwed up in concentration. His ‘watching a cat video’ face was infinitely more smiley, that's for sure.

He lifts his sleepy eyes up as you approach, handing you a latte that he apparently picked up for you from that place across the street, because the coffee from the catering ‘tastes like shit.’

Before you can say thanks, Yoongi exclaims, “Omo! Michael Jordan got married there?”

Your confusion must be written all over your face, because he quickly explains, “You know in one of those drive-thru wedding chapels we saw the other night. Wow. I can't believe Jordan did that.”

He pauses the video and turns the screen toward you, revealing a white building decked out with all sorts of decorations reminiscent of Valentine's day. The way he looks at you, expectantly, makes you feel like you should share his excitement, but you're a bit stumped. “Yoongi-ah, why are you watching this?”

He fidgets with a sheepish grin. “Well, I’ve never seen anything like this before. Korean weddings can be so complicated, you know? Hyung was really frustrated with all the traditions at his wedding.” He shrugs, still looking a bit embarrassed but trying to stay casual. “Here, it seems like you just need the right person. And maybe some courage. Okay, a lot of courage. I just— I don’t know, I find it fascinating.”

He nods to himself, gnawing on his bottom lip.

Totally endeared, you hop to sit beside him on the stage, bump your shoulder with his, and say, “Go on, press play.”

The tiniest of frowns that has settled between his brows smoothes out and he angles the screen more towards you before resuming the video.

Turns out it really is fascinating (Omo! Joe Jonas also got married there! But wait, isn't he divorced now?), so you watch a few more clips, before soundcheck starts.

You’ve always known Yoongi to have massive hyperfixations. In fact, you’re not at all surprised when that night during the concert, he even cheekily says to the crowd during his ment, “Welcome to Las Vegas, with the drive-thru wedding.” And of course, the audience eats it up, those wearing Shooky headbands, veils or holding “Yoongi, marry me” signs end up being the loudest.

But while you’ve supported all his previous mini-obsessions (League of Legends, Dalgona coffee, woodworking) until he over-indulged to the point of almost flushing it out of his system, you are not quite sure how else to help him with this one.

Unless of course, you… hah, you wish.

The tour wraps up successfully. The boys have different group and individual schedules before they return to Seoul. For Yoongi, a shoot for his photofolio, and some b-roll content for his upcoming documentary was on deck for him, you, and his crew.

The drive up to the desert was pretty uneventful as mostly everyone was asleep. You arrive sometime in the afternoon and immediately get to work in order to catch the golden hour. Yoongi has disappeared into the makeup trailer and you busy yourself with checking the preps.

The theme was glamping. Though Yoongi would never admit that that was the concept he approved. He would most likely say something more deep and poetic, that the setting is a poignant portrayal of his growth as a person and a metaphorical exploration of his artistry… Or something like that.

Things were running a little later than you like, which always happens when you are doing shoots overseas, so you volunteer to help with the set design. Placing some of the props near the camper van, you take a second to decide whether to use the metal cup or the ceramic mug, when a sleepy voice interrupts your thoughts.

"Set looks great. Good job."

You turn your head to look at Yoongi and wow his hair is orange.

The color of his favorite citrus and of course he looks sexy as fuck. He smells phenomenal, too–like mandarins with a hint of spice. You are in so much trouble. Seems your mouth is filled with cotton the way you are unable to make a sound.

“Yah! I spent hours on this new hair, you're not going to say anything?” he whines with a small pout.

You snicker at his cute expression, reaching out to touch the ends of his hair very lightly else the glam team unnies might scold you. “You look like a cat.”

“Ugh,” he groans, walking away with what you now realize is a stick of marshmallows in his right hand.

“No, Yoongi, it's cute,” You follow him as he stops in front of the bonfire, roasting the marshmallows over it briefly before taking a bite, still not placated by your words.

You decide to put him out of his misery. “You look good. Like really good. ARMY would probably even say sexy.” You inwardly cringe at the last bit–using ARMY to voice out your inner thirst, really?

Nonetheless, Yoongi's reaction is priceless. His lips stretch into a thin line, chin dimpling as he pretends to not enjoy the compliment that he very well fished for.

“Ok quit acting like an emoji and let me take your photos for IG.” You take your phone out and snap a few pics of him posing with the marshmallow, some without it. A couple of him grinning, gummy smiles on display, and you know you need to keep some of these for yourself when the inevitable comes and you won't see his face everyday.

“C’mere,” he pulls you to his side, arm going around your shoulder. A whiff of his musk has you swooning which you hope he does not notice.

Your phone is taken. He snaps a few selfies of you both and tsks when he sees your lock screen.

“Tablo-hyung, still? You know he's literally married and has a kid, right?”

You make a face and snatch your phone from his grasp. “Yah! As if you're not an idol and your face is not the wallpaper of thousands of people.”

“I think you mean millions.”

“Ass.” You try to shove him, but his hand closes in on your phone again.

Swipes and taps later, he seems satisfied and your phone is handed back to you, before he walks off without so much as a goodbye.

What did he do?

Wait.

Tablo is gone.

And the tableau in his place is one of the photos you just took with him. Eyes twinkling, smiles identical. The picture of a seemingly perfect couple.

Oh, damn. You really are a goner.

You send the pic to Jimin a little later. His response was unwelcome.

Jimin: You two have literal heart eyes for each other. So cute.

You: Not helping.

Jimin: Just tell him how you feel.

You: Again, not helping.

Jimin: What's your plan?

You: Do you really wanna know?

You ring him. Might as well tell somebody.

In between layouts, Yoongi films interviews for some magazines. You have complete faith in him and his media relations skills at this point. Smart, thought-provoking Yoongi can wow any interviewer, sometimes to the point where numbers have been slipped inside his coat pocket. Thank God this one is on Zoom, ‘cause you can’t deal with something like that happening right now.

You caught wind of something that he said during the interview and you made a mental note to ask him about it later.

“Sometimes, it feels like my life is just a sequence of obligations and schedules,” he tells the online reporter. “I can’t even remember the last time I made plans for myself. Being here in Las Vegas is refreshing. It’s like everyone is just living by their own rules. I don’t think I’m like that at all.”

"Do you want to be like that?" The reporter asks.

"Maybe..." he shrugs, sinking a bit lower on the chair he was on.

It was late and the crew was just winding down before packing up the set.

“How was your day?” he asks you with a soft smile. You can see the tiredness in his eyes.

“Not bad,” you say, taking a spot beside him on the picnic blanket that was still on set. He seems pensive.

“Did you ever think we would get this far?” he asks. “Couple of Daegu kids, now running around in America.”

“Who would've thought…” you say, observing him. His eyes were stoic, but you know he's got something else on his mind, something bothering him.

“You said something in your interview earlier.”

“Nothing bad, I hope?”

“Not bad per se, I just never heard you say it in an interview before. About not feeling like you can make your own plans. Like life has become a series of schedules.”

He hums and takes a sip of something from the mug he is holding. Your nose tells you it is definitely not hot cocoa.

“I’ve come to terms with it for the most part, you know,” he sighs looking out into the vastness. “But plans are good. Makes me feel like there is a point to all this.”

You follow his line of vision and sigh. You knew he was feeling a lot of stress lately. His life was not easy. You hate that you have to pile on top of it.

“We need to start planning D-day soon. It's going to be so busy with the album and the tour and all the content we have to make. Oh God, we might have to do fan calls, but I'm so embarrassed when I do it.”

You mimic his hum, getting disoriented with his use of ‘we’. He still doesn't know that word would be null and void soon.

“By the way, we gotta come up with a different name for the Youtube show. I can't pronounce it. Sich? Sush? Shit-”

“Suchwita,” you say, guilt settling in your tummy.

“...and we have that collab with Halsey for what’s that game again? Doom? No, Diablo! We used to play that before, remember? I think we might be doing a music video for that one.”

Just tell him. This would be the best time.

“Look, Yoongi I-”

“Thank you,” he suddenly says, in a tone so soft, and the way he punctuates it with your name makes your heart soar.

Your eyes snap to him, the slight pinks dusting his cheeks make him look like the teenage boy you met in music school.

“I’m not good at this - fuck, this is so awkward - umm but I've really been meaning to tell you that I appreciate you.” He continues, “You're really important to me.”

You try to fight back a smile at how elated you are, but can’t. And maybe he needs to see how happy this is making you. How happy he is making you.

In the years that you've known him there were two distinct moments that made you believe that just as you have been in love with him, maybe he was in love with you, too. And as you watch him rub his crinkled nose, trying to act chill but can't, you somehow convince your fickle heart that this might be the third.

“I’ve been thinking a lot, with all this talk about our ‘chapter 2’...”

“Yeah?”

“I know things are going to change, but I’m glad you’re still here. I honestly don't know what I'm doing half the time, but you, you give me direction,” he smiles, a hand scratching the back of his neck.

“Are you seriously thanking me for my constant nagging?”

“No,” he chuckles to himself. “I’m thanking you for being my friend.”

Oh. Ouch.

His lips keep moving and moving, and he is saying things with a fond smile, but your ears can’t register a single word. Except that single word: friend. Because, that’s all he sees you as, and that’s all you’ll ever be, and lest you need a reminder, that’s why you did what you did.

Disappointment cracks through your core and your lungs are suddenly devoid of air and you feel the urgent need to step away.

“Sorry Yoongi, I- I have to go.”

“Huh?” The light in his face fades, replaced by a frown and confused eyes that are watching your every move.

“Wait, did I say something? Tell me what's wrong.”

Don’t cry. Shit. Don’t cry.

“I've nothing to tell you.”

You grimace at how stiff you sounded but before you can rectify anything, your feet take you to the nearest trailer. You close the door and drop to your knees as uncontrollable sobs rack your body.

You rein yourself in after a few minutes, wiping your tears on the back of your sleeve. You fish your phone out from your pocket, the photo on your lock screen twisting the knife lodged in your heart.

You ring the first person on your recent contacts.

“I can’t do it, Jiminah.”

“What happened? Talk to me.”

You tell him how you were just talking and it was getting deep then he got sentimental and said thank you…

“For being his friend.”

A beat, then Jimin finally speaks. “He is such an idiot.”

“I can’t do this,” you say, with finality. “I’m going to finish this tour, but I’m really leaving. I can’t be around Yoongi anymore.”

You finally get a couple of days off and decide to dodge Yoongi after coming back from the desert. It’s oddly easy—he’s not seeking you out like he usually does. You left him hanging the last time you talked, and now you’re stumped about how to fix things. You and Yoongi never really fight, at least not seriously. You handle work stuff through Kakao, like sending over today’s recording schedule for the award show. He left you on read.

Jimin immediately calls out for you as you step inside the set. It was just one of the penthouse suites in the hotel you were staying in. You feel awkward as some eyes shift over to you as you barely had time to fix yourself, you just aren't in the mood.

“Hi,” you respond simply. “How's everything?”

Jimin glances over his shoulder, and you follow his gaze to find Yoongi staring blankly at the coffee table, a face of thunder.

“He knows. He heard you on the phone with me.”

Your heart immediately drops to your ass. “Shit.”

Jimin shrugs, a mixture of sympathy and amusement on his face. “Yeah, he’s pretty confused… and a little pissed.”

“Did you–”

“I would never,” Jimin interrupts quickly, holding up his hands. “It’s not my story to tell.” He pats your shoulder reassuringly. “Just talk to him. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You’re not sure if Jimin’s optimism is comforting or just making you more anxious. You’ve spent years imagining every possible outcome, every scenario where he finds out you felt something deeper. And most of those scenarios end in heartbreak.

Either way, you know you’ve got to face the storm brewing in Yoongi’s eyes.

The shoot goes on without a hitch. You and Yoongi avoid each other like the plague, so much so that one of the makeup unnies takes notice. You downplay it, not wanting to be the subject of workplace gossip.

The schedule wraps up and as you get ready to leave, there is a light tap on your shoulder.

“Hey noona,” Jake says, looking a bit nervous but flashing a tentative smile. “Umm, a bunch of us are heading out tonight. If you don’t have plans, you should join us.”

Jake’s one of the newer camera guys, and while he’s been nice—always greeting you and opening doors—he’s barely scratched the surface of what could be considered a friend. He’s not just polite; he’s actually pretty cute. You’ve never really hung out with him before, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes it hard to say no. It was one of the last nights you have in Las Vegas, and maybe, you should live a little.

“Ok. What time are we leaving?”

“Can we meet at the lobby by 10?”

Just as you’re about to respond, there’s a loud crash from the other side of the room. You catch a glimpse of Yoongi and Jin amidst a flurry of crew members rushing over. Whatever happened, it looks like it’s already being dealt with.

“10?” you repeat, still distracted by the commotion.

He nods.

“Got it,” you reply, trying to shake off your unease.

Jake adjusts his backpack and gives you another nod, his smile still lingering as he heads out. “Cool. See you tonight.”

“Ok…” you nod, a little dazed as you watch Jake fistbump one of the producers on the way out.

“Hot date?” Jimin appears out of nowhere, casually sipping his Americano. His grin is a little too knowing—clearly, he was eavesdropping.

“Not really. He just mentioned that a few people were planning to go clubbing and asked if I wanted to join.”

Jimin’s eyes light up. “So, he wouldn’t mind if we tagged along, right?”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

Yoongi lifts his wine glass at you, smiling and unbothered.

Is this him extending an olive branch?

“Hey, Danbi, Eunchae…” he says, his gaze drifting past you to the two girls from Design. They look momentarily stunned, then offer hesitant waves, clearly not accustomed to this rare gesture from the usually wordless Yoongi.

Seriously?

This asshole.

A knot of frustration tightens in your stomach. Not only is he acting like nothing happened, but he’s also playing it cool, like he’s completely unaware of how much this is getting under your skin.

You’re sad, but now you’re kinda pissed, too. And the worst part of it all, he knows he looks fine.

Ginger hair slicked back to reveal the fresh undercut, He’s wearing some black shirt and black pants, with Jordans you would guess, and you know if it was any other man wearing that, he would have been stopped at the door.

You shift the strap of your dress slightly, conscious under his taunting eyes. The little number was something hot you recently picked up, the kind that might end up on somebody's floor.

“Are you going over to them,” Jake asks casually, leaning closer to your ear.

“No,” you say, breaking eye contact with Yoongi and moving to the next table where the others were, with Jake following closely behind.

A chorus of hellos started as you reached the table. There were a couple of girls from Hair and Makeup and some of the videographers, too. As if on cue, a tray of colorful shots are suddenly placed on the center console. The night is about to begin.

Jake has been incredibly attentive so far, but the truth is, it’s someone else’s attention that you want. You are hyper aware of Yoongi’s presence and it’s like having an itch you couldn’t scratch.

You spot Yoongi by the bar, alone and absorbed in his own world. As usual, he's oblivious to the pair of women casting lingering glances in his direction.

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and make your way towards him. You notice his shoulders tense and stiffen as you approach, a clear sign of his unease, which almost made you want to retreat. But you know you can't go on another day of this unresolved tension with him.

“Yoongi, can we talk?”

He looks up, smirking as he swirls his drink. “Nah.”

Alright. You were not expecting that.

“Look, I just wanna explain–”

“It’s cool. You don’t have to,” he cuts you off, his voice casual but his eyes fixed stubbornly on the lowball glass he’s holding.

“But I–”

“You don't wanna be around me anymore, simple. Dunno why you're here.”

“Wait, Yoongi, you don't understand.”

“Don't understand? You never told me shit.” You notice how his fists are clenched, knuckles turning white. “I would have apologized if I did something wrong. Thought you knew that. Thought we were friends.”

It’s that word again. You chuckle bitterly. “Friends, I know. You keep saying that.”

At this he looks up at you, brows furrowed, but it was your turn to avert your gaze.

“‘Kay. You're leaving anyway, right? You can start now.”

“Fine.”

“Bye.”

You take a few steps, but something tugs at you, pulling you back. You glance over your shoulder, hoping to catch him watching you leave, wishing he’d somehow intervene, stop you from walking away.

But he isn’t there. His chair is already empty, the space where he sat now as vacant as if he’d never been there at all.

No one knows you better than Yoongi, and apparently no one else can hurt you quite like him, too.

The night is young. The club is electric. It is the hottest spot in town and you are hell-bent to experience it to the max.

Spirits and sugary shots tempered the hurt that settled in your gut after your encounter with Yoongi, now replaced with an urge to forget, to almost rebel.

The dance floor becomes your sanctuary. Shots of sweet, potent liquor flow, loosening you up and syncing your movements with the music. The crowd sways around you, a sea of bodies, but Jake remains a constant anchor.

His hands rest confidently on your stomach, your back pressed against his chest as you grind slowly against him. With one arm raised, you hook your hand around his neck, letting your bodies move in perfect rhythm. It's been a while since you let yourself go like this, but it's Vegas, after all.

You can feel the warmth of his breath as he leans in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “You’re so sexy, noona.”

“Wanna get out of here?” The words leave your mouth before your brain can stop you.

Jake's eyes widen slightly, but he nods, quite enthusiastically actually, and you think: fuck it, he's cute and you are leaving the company anyway.

Disappointingly, the heat between you and Jake cools with every passing second as you make your way back to the hotel. Yet, you cling to the idea of seeing it through, driven by the need to prove a point: that a) your life doesn't revolve around Min Yoongi; and b) you are attractive and can pull anyone, even if Min Yoongi does not want you.

In another world, this would be a whirlwind of clothes flying off, bodies pressed against walls, hands exploring with urgency. But instead, you both enter the hotel room in silence, the air heavy with a tension that contrasts sharply with the passionate encounter you’d hoped for. The quietness between you feels like a stark reminder of how far you are from the fantasy you envisioned.

Jake notices the maze of thoughts you were lost in.

“Noona,” he says, placing his jacket over the arm of the couch. “Are you sure you want this?”

Want. It was hard to stitch words as a response to that. Not when your heart has only wanted one person for years.

To be fair you do want Jake in your bed tonight. Objectively, he is super attractive - his soft, wavy hair, those wide, doe eyes, and a jawline that could cut glass.

No time to waste. You turn to him, slowly unzipping your dress and letting it slip to the floor. “Does this answer your question?”

“Yes, yes, it does,” he walks in long strides over to you, yanking up his shirt in one fell swoop, revealing his toned stomach.

His hands cup your face and soon you feel his lips against your… neck? Ok, you can get into this. It’s not like you hate it.

He spends a few moments kissing you there. You close your eyes, willing your brain to shut off and just be in the moment.

“Can I touch you here?” One of his hands ghosts the side of your rib, inching towards the underside of your breast.

But before you can answer, loud knocks pound at your door.

“What the hell?” You hastily pull up your dress, zipping it up quickly. The furious raps continue and you can hear a voice behind it.

Jake follows you as you head to the door, picking up his tee from the floor and pulling it over his torso.

Bothered at the urgent banging, you don’t think to view the peep hole as you swing the door open, revealing

“Yoongi?” you squeak.

“Get out.” Eyes bloodshot, he strides past you and goes for Jake, who quickly tries to side-step him, moving a few steps back to create distance between them.

“Yoongi-ssi?” Jake's eyes, wide as saucers, go to his elder then to you, before a realization dawns on him. “They said you weren't– Fuck, I swear I really thought–.”

"Get. Out." His voice is cold, laced with a fury you’ve never heard from him before. He grabs Jake by the arm, practically shoving him toward the door.

Jake casts a pitiful glance back, mumbling, "Sorry, noona," even though he’s done nothing wrong. But you don’t see it. Your hands are covering your face, trying to shield yourself from the shock and shame crashing over you as the scene unfolds.

“Fuck off, kid.”

And then the door slams shut.

Yoongi paces the room like a caged animal, his hand raking through his sweaty hair in frustration. His breathing is heavy, almost ragged, as if he’s on the verge of losing control.

You finally find your voice. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You can't just barge in my room like that!”

“I just did,” he fires back. “Why are you with him?”

“It's none of your business. But since you really wanna know. I was about ready to fuck him.”

He clenches his jaw, his voice strained. “Did he touch you?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck!”

His hand shakes as he drags it through his hair again, his frustration barely contained. “Did you want him to?”

You can't understand why he’s asking these questions, why he’s reacting like this.

“Yoongi,” you exhale heavily, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. “Why are you here?”

Yoongi’s POV

Min Yoongi likes being in Las Vegas. The city buzzes with an electric energy, a stark contrast to his own chill demeanor. It’s a place where neon lights flash all night, and the unpredictable atmosphere makes him feel like a fish out of water—a thrilling kind of discomfort. He doesn't get why a city so loud and chaotic captivates him, but it does.

He was never one for outlandish, over-the-top spectacles, but the Cirque du Soleil show he watched with you and Hobi the other night instantly became one of his favorites.

He never liked recreational gambling, but the way you lit up with joy and hugged him tight after winning just 20 bucks at a random slot machine—it’s now one of his most cherished memories.

He never fared well in big, buffet restaurants, but if it means hearing you shout “Yoongi, carry meeee” (so stupid) as you beg him for a piggy back ride after downing five heaping plates, then maybe he can start looking up some buffets back home, too.

Las Vegas is free. Las Vegas is wild. Min Yoongi is not.

At least, not until that night when he tore past wild and plunged into nothing short of primal.

Straight out of a segment from The Animal Planet, he was a tiger, lounging contentedly with his pack. You were his queen, his chosen mate—though you don’t know it yet. But when a looming threat emerges, the alpha in him awakens, tapping into ancient survival instincts to protect what’s his.

First, he observed the threat.

Some guy from production. Jake. He’s HYBE's new ace videographer from Australia. Isn’t he younger than her?

Oh shit, this was the dude Yoongi actually handpicked to be the director of photography for his documentary. He might have to rethink this, depending on how things play out.

Fucker has his hand on your back and you shift subtly so his hand falls away. This is good, you don’t seem to be too into his advances, Yoongi tells himself, relaxing slightly on his chair.

Second, he assessed the situation.

Unfortunately for him, the situation escalated quickly.

Never in his life has he ever wanted to gouge his eyes out so badly. If he could actually shove his fingers in his eye sockets and scoop his eyeballs from his skull he would have done it right then. Yet somehow he couldn't look away. There was a sick, sadistic pleasure in watching you lose yourself on the dance floor. Like a voyeur, he stared, mouth slightly parted, breathless as your body grinds in time with the bass. He didn’t want to acknowledge the other man in the picture, the one that wasn’t him.

“You’re drooling, hyung,” Jungkook teases, and Jimin erupts in a fit of giggles, almost falling out of the bar stool.

Yoongi wants to deny it. But between the ache in his heart and the boner in his pants, he did not have it in him to lie. “Pass me a napkin, dipshit.”

Third, he sensed danger.

Unfortunately again, he had to use the toilet at some point. And as he returns to his spot on the balcony, he panics.

“Where the fuck is she?”

Jimin looked at him, warily. “They left.”

No, he thought. No, no, no they’re not leaving this club. They are not leaving his sight.

Fourth, he took decisive action.

A rush of adrenaline coursed through his body spurring him to run out the door, his phone on his ear as he tries to reach his driver.

“Hyung, stop.” Jimin runs to keep up with him. “Where are you going?”

“You know where.”

“Why?”

His head is pounding. He cannot think straight. And Jimin asking so many questions is so fucking annoying.

“You know why.”

Jimin sighs exasperatedly. “Why didn’t you idiots just talk about this like normal people?”

He doesn’t answer his friend, but he knows Jimin will be coming with him, whether he likes it or not. Because Jimin, nosy as he may be, is also one of the last real ones in his life.

Fifth, he confronts the threat head-on.

Which has brought him here, in your room, acting like the unhinged motherfucker he never aspired to be.

Your stern voice shakes him from his thoughts. “If you’re just going to stand there, just get outta here, Yoongi.”

“No.”

“No?” you let out a huff, a bitter sound cutting him. “You got some fuckin’ nerve. You ask me all sorts of questions, but you can't answer mine, huh?”

He has never seen this look in your eyes, and he starts to regret the hasty decision to come to your room.

Now, he was confronted with the first and very real possibility of you walking out of his life.

“Again, why are you here?” you ask, your voice a notch softer than it should be. It’s clear you’re exhausted, your tear-filled eyes an indication, wanting nothing more than for everything to make sense.

He cautiously pads towards you and gently reaches out for your hand. To his relief, you let him take it and he envelops it in both of his.

He takes one good look at you, committing your face to memory, because in his mind, this could be the point where your friendship ends.

He takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes for a moment, before a confession finally spills from his lips. “Because I can't lose you.”

You blink and a lone tear spills free.

“I heard you on the phone with Jimin and what you said broke me. I keep thinking what I did wrong, but I can't figure it out. Then I saw you with that guy and I lost my shit. You know I'm terrible at expressing myself, but I need you, ok? More than I can say. Don't go. I can’t let you go.” He tugs you gently towards him, encasing you in his arms.

It didn’t take long for you to return the hug, pressing your cheek against his chest, and he is certain you can finally hear his heart that beats only for you. How he wishes he can summon the courage to say so. But the moment feels so delicate and he wants to tread lightly.

“Yoongi…” you sigh out his name and his heart races at how tenderly you seem to have surrendered to him.

“I’m so sorry that I was such a dick to you. Didn’t mean to ice you out. Honestly, that’s the last thing I ever wanted.”

“What is it that you want, then?”

“This.” He tightened his arms a tad against your frame to make a point, before pulling his head back, just enough to be able to see your eyes when he says, “You.”

Your breath hitches and he is unable to read the expression in your face. Was it just shock? Was it dismay? A slight panic bubbles in his throat. Did he misread the signs? Did he just blow it? But you felt so pliant under his touch, you still do. So he had to ask, even if your response might just end him.

“Y-you don’t want this?”

“No, I do, I do,” you say, almost too quickly, nibbling on your bottom lip afterwards. His thumb goes to caress your cheek, and you lean slightly into his touch.

‘Fuckin’ do something,’ his brain screams at him, the way it has for years now.

So many words are still unspoken between you two, but as he looks at the affection and the want in your eyes, he decides–fuck it, you can talk later.

"I really want to kiss you right now," he finally admits, his voice low but steady. "Is that okay?"

You nod, but hesitate. "I’m just—” you place a hand on his shoulder, as if to anchor yourself on him. “I’m afraid that if I start, I won’t be able to stop.”

He lets out a breath, a smile playing on his lips as he sees yours curve into a shy grin.

“That’s exactly what I want,” he murmurs as he closes the gap, his lips almost grazing yours.

“I don’t want to just be your friend anymore, Yoongi.” Your nose nudges his, inviting him to make the next move.

“You were never just a friend,” he whispers against the corner of your mouth.

“And after this,” you say, moving your hands to the back of his neck, “I might want you all to myself.”

His lips brush against yours, featherlight. It’s barely a kiss, just a fleeting touch, but it leaves you both craving more.

“Baby,” he breathes, “I’m already yours.”

A/N: What do we think??? Feedback is appreciated! Do we hear wedding bells, or nah? See you in Part Two! 🙂

Tag: @tea4sykes @mggv97 @jajabro @yooglefics @codeinebelle @tinytan-gerine @comingupwithacoolnameishard @dontcribuyabag @mizz-kraziii @angelfuzzy2 @marnz1990 @speedyhandsbonkpalace @amarawayne @coffeedepressionsoup @little-cherry01 @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @lolpanda94 @parapiop7 @wobblewobble822 @dazzlingjade @storyofafangirl @yoongrace @mzbtsreads

Thank you so much for reading, you beautiful human! xo

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