#I HAVE TWO MORE FULLY PLANNED OUT AND TWO OTHERS WAITING TO BE PLANNED
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mammalsofaction · 2 hours ago
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A/N: Whoops, this came out a little more angsty than I originally planned.
Perry hates having to go to HQ.
Oh, he's got nothing against the building itself, and his relationship with most of his coworkers is fairly amicable. Perry just hates having to go there, since he generally prefers spending his free time (spare enough as it were) around family, and other assorted loved ones. There's almost nothing he needs to do at HQ that he couldn't fulfil in the lair beneath his house, or the office in his room, anyway. And shit always, always goes down when he has to spend more than 5 consecutive hours in his assigned office cubicle.
Of course, they key word to the first statement was "almost."
And predictably, the aforementioned shit he was waiting for strolls into his space half an hour past lunchbreak, slapping a couple of polaroids on top of his desk by his elbow.
Pinky waits patiently for Perry to give a damn, and Perry looks up warily when Pinky Garcia-Shapiro stays suspiciously quiet for a whole minute. Pinky gestures to the photos, and Perry takes a look, goes back to his computer, before realization hits him upside the head like a steel pole and shoves itself down the back of his spine, sitting him ramrod straight in his crappy office chair as he picks the first photo off the top of the deck.
Pinky's waiting with his eyebrows raised when Perry swirls around to face him fully. It's not what it looks like, Perry signs, and flinches when the look he receives in return is less than impressed.
Does that matter? Pinky signs sharply in return, instead of speaking aloud, which was the biggest sign if ever that Perry's not only screwed up, but he's screwed up bad. It meant that they're keeping this conversation on the down lower than low, and he owes his Pinky big time. Clint found these on the carnival security footage two days ago, and I had to talk him down from reporting to HR. I made sure he knows you owe him your life, and then some. Pinky continues, uncharacteristically serious. It's the most off-putting thing in this entire scenario. He's not Carl, Perry, not every intern in this company's all too happy about keeping their mouths shut about your goddamned crush. You took him to the pop shop? What were you thinking?
I was thinking it was an accident. And it was barely a date. Perry retorts sharply, hands stuttering on that last little tidbit. Wait, screw that, it wasn't a date at all. We were just-we were technically stalking Vanessa on her outing-
I'm not the goddamned Colonel, Perry. Pinky interrupts sharply, slicing his hand through the air. You don't have to make your excuses to me. It doesn't matter what it was, unless you're standing by Francis' desk when he has to answer for the shit leaking up the grapevine. It matters how it looks like. Perry, you don't need me to tell you to be-to be careful.
Perry grunts, slumping into the back of his chair, hands slapped over his eyes as he attempts to calm himself down. I know, he signs, one handed. I know, Pinky, I'm sorry. Thank you.
And he is sorry. He is as much grateful that Pinky caught it first, being the Chief of OWCA's digital security division, as well as that he had enough weight to throw around to stop these photos from leaking onto Francis' desk. Pinky didn't have to, but of course he did, because they were friends, and Pinky cared about him.
These last few years have been...hard. Harder, knowing Heinz was getting so ready to hang up his labcoat (at least in the evil sense of the word), a growth in character proportional to this terrifying, unnameable thing growing between them, full of weight and wonder and meaning.
It's made him reckless. And everyday that passes them by without having Heinz in his arms, it's getting harder and harder for Perry to remember why that's a bad thing.
Pinky sighs, squeezing his shoulder. "Hey," he says, out loud this time, so that Perry takes his hand off of his eyes to peek. "On the plus side, I've never seen the guy look so happy."
Perry feels his ears burning in embarrassment, and Pinky laughs, low and sincere.
"You guys look cute together." Pinky teases, and laughs when Perry swats at him, shoo-ing him out of the cubicle. He does leave, eventually, and Perry knows he owes the man lunch for at least the next two weeks, and taking over his next spare mission, at least.
He leaves the photos behind, and Perry picks them up, his hand reaching for the lighter he keeps on his lowest desk drawer to burn them over his wastepaper basket. They are likely the very last trace of such damning evidence of Perry's...Perry's fraternizing, too risky to keep around, and he has to burn them. He has to.
Heinz was caught laughing, in one of them, his hair ashen-grey around the edges from the debris of his latest failed Inator, but there was no sign of bitterness and regret in his features. Perry remembers how the wrinkles by his eyes had started to curl down his cheeks, like paper folded down the same joy-filled routes. Laugh lines. The photo could not capture the light in his eyes then; The setting sun had painted the slant of the pier a blood orange, but looking into Heinz's darling blue eyes was like looking into an eternal summer, evergreen.
They shared one drink, because Perry wasn't hungry, but Heinz wanted something sweet, and there wasn't anything Heinz wanted Perry didn't want to pay for. The two straws were a compromise, and the bartender had given them both a sly, knowing look Heinz had not understood, but Perry had. It took him hours to cool down the blush from his cheeks.
Heinz had called him cute.
In another photo, their heads are bent together, conspiring over Vanessa's love life, and Perry does not mistake their fingertips over the tabletop, his palms curling over the back of Heinz's own.
I've never seen the guy look so happy.
Damnit.
DAMNIT.
Fuck. Damn. Shit.
Perry throws the lighter back into its drawer with a vengeance, clutching the stack of photos like a lifeline. He slumps over his desk, burying his face into the crook of elbow to muffle a frustrated scream. Is this really how he was going to repay Pinky's concern? By shutting his eyes and spelling out his own doom, tucking the evidence of his own sins into his fucking wallet? Was he stupid?
(Is Heinz worth it?)
Yes, Perry knows, because the one person Perry could never rightly lie to was himself. Yes, he is.
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fatgirlonadate-blog · 2 days ago
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21 Days - Day 15
Something inside of Xavier has shifted. You can’t quite define it or give it a name, but you can sense it, see it in every glance and feel it in every touch. He is not the same man he was yesterday.
What a difference a day can make.
The change isn't anything obvious—most things haven't changed at all. He is as shy and sweet and earnest as he has always been. He still blushes when you touch him, he still pouts when you tease him, and he is still playful and warm.
But the shadow behind his eyes, the hint of sadness in his smile, is disappearing. There is a growing certainty in him that was not there before, as if he has made a choice -some choice- and it has freed him in a way that seems to extend beyond just his secrets.
It's absurd, but you can't shake the thought that he chose you yesterday—that, somehow, you were always a choice he had to make. You don’t even know what the alternative might have been, but now, when he looks at you, the affection in his eyes feels complete, as if it’s here to stay.
Maybe his fevered promise not to leave again was truly meant for you after all. But that only raises more questions—had he been planning to leave you? And when did he leave the first time?
If you were the choice, then what was the other option?
He has remained tight lipped about this particular detail - unwilling to share any part of it. Other small secrets about his past have trickled out in fragments over the past 24 hours—never fully explained and always a little vague, but still unmistakably genuine. He’s trying to open up, and you’re trying your best not to push him. The rest will come later, you tell yourself.
In the meantime, you have a much more immediate issue to deal with.
There is no other way to put it - Xavier has become adorably, maddeningly clingy. He hasn’t let you stray more than an arm’s length since yesterday, and if he weren't so infuriatingly old fashioned, you're pretty sure he'd have slept with his cock buried deep inside you last night. Instead, he’d settled for holding you close, your back pressed firmly to his chest, with his hand resting possessively between your thighs.
It’s not exactly a bad thing; in fact, you love him even more like this. Every time he teleports to your side instead of walking, you can’t help but laugh, as if the seconds saved are simply too precious for him to waste. You marvel at the confidence in his touch now, the way he explored your body this morning like he owns it. And you fall even deeper for him every time he willingly gives you some crumb of information about who he really is.
You're savoring every moment with him and wish you could pause time and stay like this, just the two of you, forever. But you have a plan today - one that he cannot be a part of because it would spoil the surprise.
"Xavier," You whisper, trying to pull away from his insistent kisses, "I really do have to go soon. I have to check in with Jenna. In person this time. You know how she feels about being kept waiting."
Xavier acts as if he didn’t hear you, keeping you pinned firmly against the front door. His lips find a sensitive spot on your neck, biting gently before soothing it with a warm flick of his tongue. By now, he’s already delayed you at least ten minutes with those distracting, lingering kisses—reminders of just how skilled he is with his mouth.
"Xavier," you say more firmly.
He huffs as he pulls back just far enough for his blue eyes to lock onto yours, and the pout in them is nearly enough to break you.
"Why are you calling me that?" He asks, his forehead dropping to yours as he holds you to him, his nose rubbing against yours.
"What?"
"You usually call me Xav now. Or bunny."
A soft laugh escapes your lips at his confused, slightly pouty tone. "Xavier… Xav, I really need to—"
"But...," He protests, ducking his head to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck again. "Let's go together. We're partners. I go where you go."
"It's supposed to be 24-hour surveillance, Xav. You know we both can't go. We already agreed on this yesterday."
"Yesterday was yesterday. Can't we make a new agreement today?"
The whine in his voice is killing you, but you really do want to surprise him. This birthday needs to be special; he deserves to feel special.
"Not this time, Xav."
Xavier's mouth trails down to your neck, each kiss sending a spark through you as his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you firmly against him. You have to bite your bottom lip to keep from moaning as you feel the insistent press of his hardness against you, even through the layers of clothing.
"Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?" he murmurs, his voice a low, promising whisper.
His mouth is pure temptation against your skin, making it hard to remember why you need to leave. But there will be time for this later—hopefully endless time, forever, if you have anything to say about it.
"Bunny, please." You breathe out, threading your fingers through his hair to gently tug his greedy lips away from your skin. "I have to get going. I'm going to be late."
Xavier pulls back and fixes you with the saddest puppy dog eyes that have ever existed. "I can't believe you'd actually...leave me alone in this house."
"I'll make it up to you when I get home, I promise. And I won't be gone long."
Xavier sighs and nods as his arms tighten around your waist. He lets out a defeated groan, and mumbles, "How long?"
"It's just a few hours. I'll be back before you know it." You smile gently at the boyish sulk that has spread across his face as he continues to mope and press small kisses along your jaw.
Finally he gives in and lets out a heavy sigh that fans out along your skin. “Alright,” he grumbles, releasing his hold on your waist and taking a step back.
The small bit of distance clears your head just enough, and you shake it slightly, trying to dispel the lingering desire coursing through you. God, this man has you so wrapped around his finger that you can barely think straight.
You flash him a quick smile and turn to open the door, but pause, throwing him a puzzled look as he moves to follow you.
"Xav, you know you can’t come with me, right?" you say, a mix of amusement and exasperation in your voice.
He nods, pulling the door open and gesturing for you to go ahead, slipping an arm around your waist as he guides you through. "I know," he says with a grin. "I’m just escorting you to the station. I’m allowed to do that, aren’t I?"
It’s hard to believe that the man who used to vanish for days, even though he was just next door, now can’t imagine being apart from you for more than a few hours. It’s a clinginess you’re not used to—not from him, not from anyone—but oddly, it doesn’t bother you. There’s something deeply comforting about being wanted this much, and you can’t help but hope it never changes.
"I’ll miss you," you say, rising on your tiptoes to press a kiss to Xavier’s cheek as your train pulls into the station. "And try not to blow up the house while I’m gone, alright?"
He looks like he wants to argue, his hand tightening around yours, but then his eyes soften, and he gives you a gentle smile, slipping into his practiced, fake-husband role. “Come back soon, Mrs. Shen. Stay safe.”
He’s an exceptionally good fake husband. So convincing, in fact, that the word itself—fake—irritates you as it echoes in your mind on the train ride into the city. Your marriage to him is fake, yet with each passing day, it feels more real. The thought of it ending… It's almost unthinkable.
As soon as you step off the train and into the city, your plan for the day begins to unravel. The check-in with Jenna is mercifully brief, but her urgency to wrap up this mission leaves you tense and uneasy as you navigate sidewalks that are already too slick for comfort.
Snow in October is a rarity in Linkon, but here it is—thick, heavy flakes falling from the sky, dusting the sidewalks in a thin layer of white. It’s beautiful, but bitterly cold, and you're not dressed nearly warm enough for it.
You shiver as you wander from shop to shop, collecting things for Xavier’s birthday. A surprise party had crossed your mind, but inviting a bunch of fellow hunters to your covert mission apartment didn’t exactly scream discreet. So instead, you’ve opted for something simpler—something you hope he’ll love, even if it has the potential to set the place on fire.
But if it makes him happy? It just might be worth the risk.
The cake ingredients were easy enough to acquire, but the decorations were trickier, the items scattered throughout the city, rather than all together in one single shop. By the time you finish collecting everything for the perfect birthday cake, you're freezing and damp with snow. 
The warmth of the nearby cafe and the promise of something sweet was impossible to resist, and you sigh with relief as you dump your shopping bags onto a table and strip off your cold, damp jacket. A steaming cup of hot chocolate and three macarons later, your phone buzzes in your purse. You dig through the clutter of your wallet and keys to find your phone. It vibrates in your hand again as you pick it up and the screen glows with a notification:
(4) Voice Messages from Xavier
Xavier: Is it snowing there?
Xavier: We ran out of vinegar. Can you get some on your way home?
Xavier: Are you on your way back yet?
Xavier: Are you talking to someone outside right now?
You try not to smile at your phone like an idiot, but you fail as warmth floods through you at the sound of his voice. It’s amazing how a handful of words can make you feel so secure. There's something foreign but comforting about having someone care for you like this - someone waiting for you to get home. It's been a long time since you've had such a simple luxury, and you hadn't realized how much you've missed it.
You: I have to stop and pick up a few more things. But I'll be home soon.
Xavier: What do you want for dinner?
You're contemplating the least disastrous option as footsteps approach your table, and you glance up just in time to see a familiar face.
"Fancy meeting you here, miss bodyguard. There are easier ways to find me, you know. You don't have to stalk me." Rafayel smirks.
He slides into the chair across from you, meeting your wide-eyed gaze as he casually plucks a green macaron from your plate and takes a bite.
Has he always looked like that? you wonder as he flashes you a playful, disarming smile.
Seeing Rafayel is like looking at a masterpiece—he’s almost too perfect, so striking it’s hard to believe he’s real. You thought you’d grown used to his looks ages ago, that you had built up a certain immunity to it. But a few weeks apart have undone that, leaving you vulnerable to his effortless charm again.
Xavier is undeniably handsome, but Rafayel—even dressed simply in a sweater and dark pants—is goddamned majestic.
"Raf! Hey! Uh, what...what are you doing here?" You manage, surprised.
He's wearing his signature look of lazy amusement. His inky purple hair is slightly damp from snow, and he runs a hand through it as he takes another bite of your dessert.
"What do you mean? I come here all of the time. Shouldn't I be asking you that question? You're supposed to be locked away somewhere trying to catch a bad guy, yeah?"
"Oh, shut up. I haven't been locked away; the mission is just taking a while. I came into town today for a mission update." You say, and wave toward your bags, "and some shopping."
His eyes flick toward your bags, narrowing on the pastel letters spelling 'Happy Birthday' across the card that's peeking out.
"Mission update, hm? Interesting," he drawls as he pops the remaining bit of macaron in his mouth. "I'm surprised you escaped your tower, your highness. You haven't really bothered to respond to my texts for the past week. I was starting to think you'd been captured or that you got possessed by Wanderers or something."
"Uh," you stammer, quickly sliding another bag over the one he's eyeing, shifting awkwardly in your chair. "Sorry about that. I’ve just been... really busy."
Though his tone is playful, there's a hint of hurt beneath it that tugs at your heart, just as it always does. He’d deny it until he was blue in the face, but you know he can’t stand feeling ignored—and it sucks to know you're the reason for it this time.
He shrugs and leans back, draping his arms across the back of his chair as he casually crosses an ankle over his knee. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Secret missions and saving the world and whatever. Same as always."
The tired sound of resignation in his voice makes your smile falter, and you can only guess at what's really going on behind those galaxy eyes of his.
After countless late-night phone calls, you used to wonder if there might be something real between you and Rafayel. He was a flirt—that much had been clear from the start—and you’d brushed off his advances, wary of reading too much into them. But sometimes, when it was just the two of you, when the flirting grew a little more heated or the light touches became bolder and hungrier, you were almost certain there was something more. That he felt it, too.
But he never took it further, and the moment would fade as if it had never happened at all.
It doesn’t matter now, you remind yourself, tearing your gaze away to stare out the window. The sky has darkened, snow falling steadily against the glass, and your train will be leaving soon. Whatever might have been between you is just a memory now—one you are scared to dwell on any longer.
"We'll catch up when my mission is over, okay?" You swear, rushing the words as you stand up and shove your jacket on, reaching for the bags on the floor. "I'll come over, you can tell me all about your newest exhibit, and we'll make fun of Thomas together. I pinky promise."
"What?" His eyes widen, and he quickly stands, reaching out to still your hand as you go for another bag. "You’re leaving already? You just got here."
"Raf—" You sigh, guilt gnawing at you for more than one reason. Xavier is waiting. "I really do have to go. My train leaves soon."
His grip tightens around your wrist, his warm hand almost scorching hot as he stares at you with a rare flash of desperation in his eyes. It makes him look vulnerable for just a fraction of a moment, and something inside you tightens, torn between the urge to ease the ache you've caused in him and the need to put distance between yourself and old feelings you’d rather not think about.
"Let me walk you to your stop then," he says, his tone light and easy, but he's still holding your hand prisoner. His suggestion isn’t really a suggestion—it’s more of a demand.
"Fine," You say, rolling your eyes dramatically even as a smile forces its way onto your face. "But make yourself useful. Help me carry this stuff."
Rafayel grins and lets go of your wrist, bending to scoop up most of the bags. "Jeez, these are pretty heavy. I better get some kind of awesome reward for all of this labor."
A chill wind and swirling snowflakes greet you as you step out of the café, making you mutter a curse under your breath. If you’d known it was going to snow, you’d have worn a real coat.
"I hate snow," you grumble as you fall into step beside him.
"What do you mean?" he grins, bumping your hip with his. "Snow is like magic. Look around!" 
He gestures to the snow-dusted trees and buildings blanketed in white. "Each flake is unique, perfect in its own way, turning everything ordinary into something miraculous, if only for a moment. And...it also looks really pretty in your hair."
His enthusiasm is infectious, and his words make you feel warm despite the chill wind cutting through the thin material of your jacket. Maybe you don’t actually hate snow after all.
The walk to the station goes by in a blur as you catch up on the last two weeks: gossiping neighbors, Thomas, how cold the city is this year, his new exhibition, your boring surveillance work—keeping it light and casual.
It almost feels like nothing has changed—the two of you chatting, him cracking jokes and teasing you to get a reaction, and the way your stomach flutters every time he brushes against you. He doesn’t do that by accident; you're sure of it.
A pang of longing hits as you realize just how much you’ve missed this. Despite how he gets under your skin like no one else, his friendship means more than you’d ever care to admit. 
Yes, he drives you crazy, and your feelings for him are confusing—but he’s always had this way of making the world seem brighter, lighter, and somehow more beautiful than you could ever see it on your own.
"It's so cold. I’m frozen solid," you declare, setting your bags down on the bench outside the train station. You’re about ten minutes early, and the air is only getting colder. Your fingers sting with the chill, and you blow on them in a vain attempt to warm up.
Rafayel sets the rest of the bags beside yours with a chuckle, shaking his head, "You're right, it is cold. Too cold for my delicate hands." He pouts, his brows knitting together as he exaggerates a shiver and opens his arms wide. “Hold me.”
"Raf..." You laugh, amused and exasperated.
"Come on, cutie. Don't you know how body heat works?" He quirks a brow, stepping toward you. "You wouldn't let me freeze to death, would you?"
His smile is dazzling, effortlessly charming, and completely irresistible—the kind that melts your resolve into a mushy mess. It’s the sort of smile that can't be refused.
You reluctantly return his smile, already mostly deaf to the alarm bells ringing in your ears, and step into his embrace. ��Okay, okay. Just for a little while.”
Rafayel laughs, a warm sound rumbling through his chest as he wraps one arm tightly around you, pulling you close. With his other hand, he tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, his cold fingers brushing gently over your cheek and neck. The sharp, clean scent of him—citrus and sea salt—fills your senses as you lean into him, soaking in his warmth.
The alarm in the back of your mind grows louder, more frantic, the closer you get. Yet the soft thrum of his heartbeat, syncing with yours, drowns it out, and the warmth of his breath against your skin is enough to silence the knot of warning you feel in your stomach. The familiar scent that clings to him wraps around you like a shield, blocking out even the smallest of doubts.
"Hold still," he says softly, his fingers threading through your hair as he gently combs it out. "You've got snowflakes in your hair."
A sarcastic remark hovers on the tip of your tongue—of course you have snowflakes in your hair, he does too, it's snowing—but the warmth in his eyes as he strokes your hair holds you silent. His fingers are gentle as he carefully smooths your hair back even as more snowflakes continue to fall, and he leans even closer to see his task clearly in the dim evening light.
Your cheeks flush as he moves closer, leaning into you, and a familiar warmth builds inside of you, making it hard to breathe evenly. You turn your head away from his hand, but he frowns and gently cups your cheek, tilting your face up to his.
"Hey," he scolds gently, "I'm not done. Don't move."
But his hand doesn’t return to your hair. Instead, he gently caresses your reddening cheek, a soft smile spreading across his face. "You're being pretty shy," he murmurs.
And you are. No sarcastic remarks or witty comebacks come to mind, not with the way he’s pressed against you, the softness of his touch on your cheek, and with his face so close to yours. The only sound you can make is a quiet hum that doesn't mean anything at all.
His eyes roam from your cheek to your ears and down to your neck, and he slides his hand along the same path. "Hmm. Your cheeks, and your ears, and even your neck...are all so cold. Do you want me to help warm you up?"
It’s not just warmth in his eyes anymore; it’s heat, and your stomach flips as he drops the tone of his voice to a low purr. The feel of his warm breath against the side of your neck makes your pulse quicken and your own breath catches in your throat.
"Is it working?" He whispers, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks.
You nod, barely breathing, as the heat that has built inside of you threatens to ignite into a blaze, your body trembling as you press against him.
“What about here?” Rafayel asks, shifting to the other side of your neck. His warm breath caresses your cool skin before he nuzzles close, trailing slow, lingering kisses from your ear to your neck.
He’s never kissed you before; of that, you’re certain. Yet somehow, in this moment, it’s as if you’re reliving a memory. His warmth, his scent, his touch, the way his body presses against yours—it feels natural, achingly familiar, as if you’ve known it all along. You could lose yourself here, drown in the sensation, and never surface again.
You’re trembling, but not from the cold, as Rafayel pulls back, his hands gently cupping your face. “You’re so quiet,” he says, his voice laced with curiosity. “I haven't the slightest idea of what’s going on in that head of yours. Have my awesome heating skills truly rendered you speechless?”
All you can manage is a shaky laugh, more like a breathless gasp, unable to form a single coherent word as a wave of déjà vu hits you, overwhelming and intense.
"Looking at my bodyguard..." He pauses, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. "I can't tell if she's happy right now..." Leaning in, he brushes a soft kiss against the corner of your lips, then locks eyes with you. "Or maybe she's not?"
You stare, wide-eyed, unable to break free from the grip of the dizzying familiarity of this all— frozen in place by how deeply, unexplainably right it all feels.
"Raf, I..." You trail off, lost for words, unsure of what you're trying to express, but knowing you have to say something. Anything. That you can't do this with him, or that you need more of him. Or that, sometimes, two things can be true.
Before you can untangle your thoughts or find the words to express your conflicted feelings, he silences you with a kiss. It’s gentle at first, tentative—his lips brushing softly against yours. Then the kiss deepens, his mouth pressing to yours with an intensity that feels raw, as if the longing comes from the depths of his soul.
You’re drowning now, clinging to him as if he’s your anchor amid the waves of emotion and memory crashing over you. For a moment, time and space collapse, and it feels like this has always been your life, as if this is just one second in a lifetime spent with him like this.
But the brush of his tongue against yours snaps you back to reality, and you tense in his arms, your hand moving to the back of his neck to gently pull him away.
"What?" he whispers, breaking the kiss as he rests his forehead against yours. "Do you want me to stop?"
His voice sounds so tender and hopeful that it breaks your heart a little, and your stomach twists with guilt as you lean away from his embrace.
In another life, you’d beg him to keep going. In another universe, you’d be his completely—mind, body, and soul. You can feel the way his heart calls your name.
But not this life; not in this universe. In all of the world, there is only one call your heart answers to, and it is Xavier's.
“Raf,” you whisper, your voice soft and aching, “I’m so sorry, but—”
"I know what you're going to say," Raf cuts you off before you even finish, hurt replacing the warmth in his eyes, "Sooo you don't have to say it."
He drops his hands from your face and steps back, and the cold wind that cuts through you is nothing compared to the burning ache flaring to life in your chest.
He runs a hand through his hair, shaking loose a few snowflakes, and lets out a bitter laugh. “I guess things with the ‘fake’ husband aren’t so fake anymore, yeah?”
"I love him," you admit, the words escaping before you can stop them, leaving you stunned. You’d never said it out loud before, never dared to voice what you felt. But now it’s out, and there's no taking it back.
Rafayel laughs again, a choked sound that gets stuck in his throat, and looks up at the sky as if searching for an answer there. After a moment, he groans softly before his eyes return to yours, "Oh, that intense, huh?"
You nod, silent, unwilling to say anything more for fear of deepening the hurt in his eyes. The few feet of space between you feel insurmountable, and you itch to close the distance, to reach out and comfort him somehow.
Rafayel sighs, his hand motioning toward the empty air, as if Xavier were standing here, too. "Is he... is he better than me?"
"No, Raf," You groan, the ache in your heart burning even brighter, "He's not better. It's just...different. I can't explain it."
Rafayel looks away again, his lips pressing together in a tight line, before turning back to you with an uncharacteristic seriousness in his eyes. "Just...promise you won't forget about me, okay?"
Tears sting your cheeks, and the hurt, desperate sound of his plea is all the proof you need to understand that a broken heart can keep breaking.
"Oh, Raf, I could never forget about you," you promise, stepping closer. You reach for his arm just as the train pulls into the station, the loudspeaker announcing its arrival.
"I won’t," you swear, ignoring the blaring sound. "Never."
He steps back from your outstretched fingers, and his voice and eyes harden as he replies, "You will. You always do."
The train stops, passengers streaming past, and you open your mouth, trying to reassure him—but no words come. A wave of uncertainty hits as his cryptic words echo in your mind, and you fail to make sense of them.
The option to reach for him, to pull him close and comfort him, is stolen from you as he turns around and starts walking back in the direction you came.
"Get on the train," he calls over his shoulder, "Don't keep Romeo waiting."
You hesitate, your fist clenching as your heart and mind fight for control. Watching him walk away feels like losing a part of yourself, though you can't quite understand why.
You board the train with tears in your eyes, and search through your purse for your phone. You send a quick message to Xavier to let him know you'll be there soon, and try to collect the pieces of your heart as the train speeds toward home.
Xavier chose you yesterday. And today, you chose him.
This star isn't going anywhere. 
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gremlin-girly · 3 days ago
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Kinktober 19
Kinks: Praise/breeding
The Perfect Jotunn Bride Part 2
Tags/warnings: SMUT, macrophilia (bc he's still a giant), overstimulation, vaginal fingering, p in v, creampie, breeding kink, no beta, Loki (he's a warning), slight dub con, praise (good girl), Spitting, monster fucking (ig), monster cock, stomach bulge, multiple orgasm,
My warnings are non-exhaustive and likely I've missed some, please read at your own risk. And Minors do not interact!!
Summary: Following the night of your husband’s return, Loki finds your notes on the Jotun language and introduces you to a new way of studying.
Word count: TBA (on mobile sorry!)
A/N: did I only have 5 hours sleep and got back from work two hours ago? Yes. Did my phone post a fic I'm working on before it was ready again? Also yes. I'm very tired... so the mistakes are aplenty (probably). I'll fix them later (probably).
Translations are at the end! I used this little website so I apologise in advance if there are mistakes!
Part 1 | Part 2 (you're here!)
Prev | Next | Masterlist
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Loki was awake before sunrise. The memories of the night before flitted in and out of his brain as he held your small form in his arms. You looked peaceful in this state; a welcome change from the worried, fearful or angry looks you usually sported.
Loki did consider pulling you tighter to him but didn't want to risk stirring you from your slumber, knowing you would likely be in a foul mood after the events of last night. His ruby eyes flitted to the corset in tatters next to the bed, making a mental note to get another that would fit a little better and look as equally beautiful.
After half an hour, he removed himself from you with a sigh, careful to keep from waking you. He'd not had chance to investigate you what you'd been working on and, after setting the fire alight, he reached for the nearest notebook you had left strewn on the floor, flicking through the pages.
Some of the script is random notes but other parts are words and phrases in Jotun, with colourful translations in Asgardian next time them. An unfamiliar warmth blossoms in Loki’s chest as he looks between your dreaming form and your notes, but a wicked smirk quickly appears as his plans for the morning change.
Loki treads back to the bed, re-taking his place next to you, discarding your notebook lazily to drape his arm over your waist.
“Wife,” Loki punctuates the word with a nuzzle into your neck, making you stir. Your eyes flutter and then you blink a few times, brows furrowing as you wake. Memories of the previous night crash through your brain and your eyes fly open fully, face flushing as you look over to your husband lying beside you with a mischevious gleam in his red eyes.
“Wife," He says again, voice low. "Have you been trying to learn Jotun?"
You attempt to gather the bed sheets around you, swamping yourself in warmth amd protection, but Loki’s giant cold arm prevents it. He instead looks down at you, waiting patiently for your response. Slowly, you nod your head.
"You know I can help teach you.” Loki murmurs into your ear. "And I can make it fun."
Your head tilts back slightly, eyes wide and Loki drinks in the sight. Your chest is heaving under the covers and your face is bright red at the thought of what fun Loki could possibly have in mind for you.
"Loki," You breathe. "Last night-"
"You were exquisite, wife." Loki’s eyes bore into yours and you feel as if you're shrinking, however, your body betrays you by making heat pool between your thighs at his praise. "And I want more. Especially now, knowing you've been learning my tongue."
“You’re so busy – I couldn’t ask you to-“
“We can start right now,” he purrs, his large hand tugging away the covers, exposing your naked form. Loki's tongue drags across his lips, and you remember just how well he'd teased you with it the night before and you shiver. "I'd forgo any amount of royal duties if it meant being buried in your sweet cunt."
You can't stop the short gasp that bubbles out of your throat and your eyes widen. You heart is running circuits, blood rushing heat everywhere. Loki’s words leave you skin like gooseflesh, your nipples pebbling at the thought despite your thoughts of him. You didn't even want to think of the way your pussy throbbed.
Loki seems to enjoy the sight before him, knowing you want more of last night's activities and knowing the effect his words have on your delicate Asgardian body. He runs his hand upwards to cup at one of your breasts rolling and tweaking at your nipple gently and you fight back moans.
"Does my wife like that idea?" He taunts in a whisper. "Being split open by your husband? You already wear my mark."
His chilled thumb runs over the love bite he'd left on the top of your breast the night before and he eyes it proudly. His eyes flicker to yours for a moment before he presses his face against yours, the heat of your skin warming his own.
Your own small hands inch up his strong arm that's holding you down, eyes quietly pleading but for what you weren't sure.
"Loki." You murmur to him as he nips at the sensitive skin on your neck.
“I’m going to say things to you in your Asgardian tongue and you will repeat it in Jotun for me.” Loki’s tone doesn't leave any room for argument and your chest heaves with a mixture of nerves and excitement. "Each correct answer will be rewarded.”
You press your legs together as another wave of heat flushes through you and try to look anywhere but at Loki as your cheeks redden with sudden shyness. Loki smirks and trails kisses along your shoulder and chest.
"Isn't that a good idea?" Loki lips gently kiss over your breasts, his cold tongue licking playfully at your pebbled nipples. “Don’t worry, we will start easy.”
Easy was numbers. Loki held you close to his side  to murmur numbers to you in Asgardian, ensuring you couldn’t move away. His free hand trailed over your body softly, at first.  After each answer he would shower you with praises, often giving piece of soft, warm flesh a squeeze before continuing to trail your sides again. Each time he’d squeeze, you found yourself making small noises, and by the time you had reached the number ten, you found yourself agreeing that this was  a far better way to learn than through children's books and notes.
When you reached fifteen, Loki’s fingers trailed down to your sex and tapped your clit, making you jolt in his arms. He continued to draw small, tight circles around the bundle of nerves to ensure you continued to whimper and grow more and more pliant.
“Good girl,” he cooed, kissing the top of your hair. “Isn’t this nice? Being rewarded for your good behaviour? Smart little wife.”
You can feel the dampness leaking from your core as Loki works his ministrations on your clit and you mewl into his shoulder, gripping his arm so hard your fingers ached. The brashness of your own sounds make you flood with shyness and shame. You were loving all of this newfound attention from Loki, even if you knew you shouldn't be.
When you reached twenty you were red faced and panting into Loki’s chest. He'd been horrifically slow saying the numbers, prolonging his torture of your clit. He knew exactly how to draw you to the edge and keep you there, before giving you moments of respite before bringing you right back to that edge. You were beginning to see stars and your pussy ached around nothing. You'd considered begging for his fingers, begging for some relief, but when your half-lidded, lust-glistened eyes met his you knew you'd get something far better than his fingers.
 "You've done so well for me, smăr einn." Loki says shifting to cage you against the mattress with his arms. His knees push your legs apart with ease and you gasp loudly when you feel the tip of his cock brush along your inner thigh. "Are you ready for your reward?"
When you nod Loki says dramatically. "Words, wife. Use your words." He sits back on his haunches and your eyes grow wide at the massive length standing tall between his legs. You swallow thickly, wondering how he'd manage to squeeze in to you... and your cunt flutters at the thought. Loki smirks down at you, pumping his cock a few times and then spitting onto your sensitive clit. "You know how much I like to hear you beg. Let me hear you say how much you want your husband."
Your voice dies in your throat when Loki runs the head of his thick cock from your spit covered clit, all the way down to your wet hole. He nudges it testingly with a curious look and you squeak a gasp. Your pussy flutters again and you can't think of anything else other than him being inside you.
"Come on wife," Loki teases with an edge of impatience. He taps his cock against your clit, watching you writhe beneath him in pleasure. "Imagaine how good it'll feel being full of my cum."
"Líka!" You cry out in Jotun, surprising both you and Loki; whose heart thuds harder in his chest. "Líka maðr!"
"Fast, wif." Loki huffs, rolling his hips slowly into yours. Your mouth is an open scream as Loki pushes into your tight hole, your pussy immediately constricting around his cock. Loki sighs, reaching a hand to toy with your clit again. You jerk at the sensation, his cool skin against your scorching heat never ceases to make your pussy wet.
You whimper as Loki’s cock finally reaches its hilt and Loki makes a loud, gravelly groan.
"Look at how well you take me," Loki urges, his voice breathless. His other hand goes to knead your breasts and your eyes flutter, glancing down. Loki’s hips are slotted between yours, his cock buried inside you as promised, but above where his hand rolls your clit, there's an obvious bulge.
Your pussy spasms at the sight, and Loki grins down at you, slowly moving his hips backwards and then forwards, allowing you to adjust to his size.
"Loki." You keen, heaving breaths beneath him. "I- fuck."
Loki huffs a chuckle, dragging his cock out before plunging back into your pussy. He'd been correct before, he'd gladly avoid royal duties to have you splayed out like this on his cock. You curse louder than before, almost screaming and gripping the covers beside you; Loki would have been concerned if your legs didn't spread wider and your cunt didn't gush the way it did over his cock. Spurred on to move faster, Loki picks up the pace, continuing to lavish your breasts and clit with attention that makes your eyes roll.
"You're doing so well," Loki pants. "Such a good girl for your husband. I can't wait to see my seed drip from your pretty little cunt."
Your walls clench down around Loki and he curses. He moves his arms forwards, interlacing his fingers with yours before leaning down, pressing you into the bed as he fucks into you.
"My wife," Loki growls into your neck. You're a moaning mess under him, but you manage to turn your face towards his; your lips kissing haphazardly until you find his lips. Loki’s hips stutter and his moan is smothered by your lips - the first true kiss you'd given him unprompted, unlike the forced kisses he'd managed to manipulate from you at your wedding or for social aspect but a real, genuine kiss.
"My husband," you whisper hoarsely back, breath hitching three octaves as another orgasm crashes through your body. "Loki!"
Loki grunts, his fingers almost crushing yours as your pussy to squeeze him tight and he pumps you full of his cream.
You're completely fucked out and breathless, your eyes flutter when you feel a cool hand against your flushed cheek turn your head and your heart stammers when Loki presses a sweet kiss against your lips.
"You were amazing," he whispers, brushing away hair that's stuck to your sweat-sheened face. "I think we should study a few times each day."
You give him a lopsided, cock-drunk grin; the first genuine smile you'd ever given him. "That sounds good to me."
---
Translations:
Smăr einn - Little One
Líka - Please
Maðr - husband
fast - certainly
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arolesbianism · 7 months ago
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Thinks oh so hard abt the spiraling upwards clan founders, especially the birchclan founders. Silly lil kitties who's pasts are drenched in blood with the primary regret of not drawing it sooner
#rat rambles#oc posting#warriors posting#spiraling upwards#long story short they had a shitty awful terrible leader who sucked absolutely ass and they tore him to shreds#I mean that literally they pinned him onto the mountain side and slashed and mauled the shit out of him so hard that his lives evaporated#and several of the cats involved in that scene are sill alive and major parts of the story and I love them#oh also the cat that pinned him through a stab through the throat was his own daughter btw everyone hated his ass so much#and for good reason get his ass#alas in the main story I dont rly get to go too deep into how he harmed everyone involved mostly just three main ones#aka bristlestar because shes murtlepaw's ghost mom dawncrackle because hes also haunting murtle and gullspot because shes bristle's kit#so basically all the flashbacks we get involve those three in some form or another#honeystar was also there and involved but Im not currently planning on having her rly talk abt that#most of her more modern angst is the fact that she was forced into leadership against her will#and shes been alive long enough that shes been leading birchclan far longer than she ever lived in her old clan#but she did go through a lot of shit before birchclan was founded and it definitely shaped her a lot#she used to be a very determined and high spirited lil kitty cat who tried to be optimistic#but her family began to slowly be picked off one by one by both the old leader and the one whod later get evicerated#some of the older cats around her hoped it make her back down from her revelutionary ideas but she noticed that and it backfired on them#instead of being worn down to submission she became absolutely Furious and began to lash out more and become more demanding#it got to the point that she really only had two friends in the entire clan and one of them was her aunt whod later also die after coming#out abt having witnessed the leader killing his own kits#that was the final fucking straw for her and she was fully on board when bristle and dawn started looking for cats to join their rebellion#she did get rly frustrated with them as they waited patiently for the right moment but her remaining bestie kept her from going apeshit#so once the big fight finally broke out she was more than eager to join the hoard of cats chasing the bastard upwards#now unlike some of the other cats involved this legitimately actually made her feel a lot better for a while#for the first time in ages she finally felt like she could be optimistic abt smth again and was excited abt the idea of leaving this place#she had lost so much in this damn place since she was an apprentice and just wanted to finally be able to rest easy#but once they got to their new territory and set up camp things went south real fast as a flood fucked everything up#and after losing the only cat she had left in her life and losing her tail and being made deputy on top of that she deteriorated quickly
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mondaymelon · 8 months ago
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₊⊹ 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 ♡. | genshin!various x gn!reader
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「 "𝐚𝐡, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐩…"」
— in which you kiss him ... accidentally, and indirectly.
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𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 ��� kazuha, gaming, FREMINET, THOMA, KAVEH, chongyun, gorou
— "Ah, wrong cup."
It's a warm morning, yet the shade of the light canopy of trees provides ample comfort. At your words, however, the amicable conversation halts. Gingerly, you place his cup back on its saucer, uttering a quiet apology. "Sorry, sorry..."
Ugh, a quiet moment with someone you'd been pining after for ages, and you likely just sabotaged any chance you had. Making someone uncomfortable is surely not a way to have someone fall head over heels for you. You cautiously glanced upwards, catching the sight of... something you didn't expect...!?
He hid in his hand, raised and flush against his face. It was rather insufficient in the whole "hiding" department, however, for you could still clearly see the fluster on his features and the red cast across the tips of his ears. Just above the cover of his fingers were his eyes, hurriedly averted from yours. His mouth was slightly ajar, but in the moments that passed, his lips moved to form whispers you couldn't quite catch.
You stood, frantic. Really, every one of your plans was going awry. "I'm sorry! I, I'll go get you a new cup-"
"He caught his hand in his before you could fully depart, clutching it tightly. His usually cool skin was warm. "N, No, I- It's fine..."
He watched your face brighten with relief as you sat back down, completely cheery again, and released a breath quietly.
Ah, how was he supposed to tell you that the mere sight of your lips touching where he had put his made his heart skip a beat?
— It simply wasn't fair.
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𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 — HEIZOU, KAEYA, CHILDE, venti, ayato, LYNEY
— "Wait, let me try..."
Word had gotten around of a new drink, supposedly "the best in all of teyvat"... naturally, that called for a timely visit. It didn't exactly matter who you went with, though who were you fooling, it did, and he'd been the first one that came to mind when you were drafting a letter. Now, he stood by your side, leisurely swinging his arms while he walked and smiling smugly.
The reason? The moment you reached into your pocket to fish out your wallet to pay the fee for two drinks, you'd found your pockets empty, and that's where he had swooped in, graciously handing over his mora instead. The moment the two of you exited the vicinity of the drink stall, however, he somehow materialized your wallet once more and placed it in your hands with a cat-like grin. That little... you'd be sure to treat him to a meal sometime soon, a favor like that couldn't just be gone unpaid.
...That, and it was a convenient excuse to spend another outing with him.
"Hey, you got the limited edition flavor? C'mon, give me just a sip..." You beamed when he handed said drink down towards you, taking a sip from his straw — until you realized just what you'd done, of course.
It wasn't like it was something dire, not by any means. You were rather the romantic, and the fact that... well, hadn't the two of you just kissed indirectly?
You didn't voice your thoughts, only meekly retreated after handing the bottle back to him, growing even more flustered when your fingers brushed against his in the process. He seemed to hear them, however, and a smirk made its way onto his lips.
"Oh, don't tell me you were aiming for an indirect kiss all along?"
"W- No!" Ugh, that twinkle in his eyes was dangerous. It's easy to see that he doesn't believe you in the slightest. Yet, before you can dispense another rebuttal, he reaches a hand up to your hair and makes a mess of it.
— "Aha, who knew you were so sly~"
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𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 — alhaitham, XIAO, albedo, diluc, neuvillette
— "Is something wrong?"
Well, not exactly "wrong", per se. Instead, there was definitely something wrong with you in particular.
The situation started off like any other would. You found the man in his usual place, and greeted him with a smile, to which he nodded in response. He was a busy person, so you'd decided to take the initiative and make him a boxed lunch, only planning to give it to him and then let him carry on with whatever tasks he needed to complete — only... hey, wasn't it too out of character of him to ask you to feed him??
He glanced up at you, his head subconsciously tilting to the side. Just with that simple movement, a figurative arrow struck your heart. "If it's too much trouble, nevermind-"
You awkwardly coughed into your fist, trying to disperse any awfully hopeful thoughts of "hey, isn't this so romantic!?" in your head — yearning for him was one thing, but projecting your imagination of him would be another entirely. "No, it's fine- I was just caught off guard, is all..." At this point, you were more so convincing yourself than him. You dipped your head in a nod to yourself. Of course, he was so swamped with duties that he couldn't spare the time to feed himself, that was the case, wasn't it?
"Here, open wide..." You took a portion of the food and lifted it up to his lips, and he ate it agreeably. Hamster. He's like a hamster, a thought you really shouldn't be having considering how his disposition was, but seeing him swiftly chewing the portion in his cheeks... you cleared your throat, only to flinch with a start upon realizing he'd taken the utensils from you. Now, he held some of the lunch up to you, gesturing it to your mouth.
"Eh, but this is for you-" You declined, yet the insistence in his gaze only grew.
"You brought it for me, so you should have some as well."
"Well... alright," not willing to bother with an argument you were not likely to win, you ate what he hovered before you gratefully, trying to ignore the way he was staring at you as you ate.
W, Wait, hold on, isn't that the same cutlery he used-
"Your face is red. Did you choke? Here, let me-"
"No, it's just that- we, just now- ah, it's nothing."
— "Mhm."
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( a/n ) new post format and its silly ( i hate everything about this ) :stareyes: ahahah anyways. trying to revive myself so. you guys get ( poorly cooked ) food :>
𝐭 𝐚 𝐠 𝐥 𝐢 𝐬 𝐭 : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader,@fiannee, @aether-darling, @ceneid, @avensuersa, @solxima, @sangoqueenkoko, @haliyamori ...
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minisugakoobies · 6 months ago
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Cross My Heart | KMG
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Pairing: Mingyu x GNReader (afab)
Genre: smut, porn with the barest of plot, friends to lovers (?), non-idol!AU
Rating: M (18+)
Warnings: pussy drunk mingyu, late night texting, biting/marking, fingering, lots of flirting, lots of teasing, grinding/dry humping, dirty talk, cunnilingus, face sitting, come eating, hand job, mingyu's a messy boy, OC is needy and mingyu loves it, mingyu has maybe the tiniest bit of a praise kink, use of pet names - pretty, mingyu requests death by pussy
Word Count: 5.2k
Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own SVT - they just inspire me
Summary: Your crush Mingyu wants (to eat) you.
Text Prompt: You: I can’t stand you Mingyu: Then sit on my face
A/N: Hiiiii I'm writing for svt now and I'm starting with Mingyu because he's driving me insane. This is actually the first in a planned series of 13 svt fics based on text prompts. I'm fully in my self-indulgent era, so this is for everyone who, like me, needs some munch 'Gyu right about now 👅
Unbeta'd as usual. If you like this and want more svt fics from me, please let me know! I'd love to hear what you think (but please be kind I'm fragile 🥺) 💕
SVT Masterlist 💜 Main Masterlist
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It’s finally here. After months of planning, you and your friends have flown halfway around the world for a week of vacation. The six of you arrived just a few hours ago, and after the long flight, the long wait at the airport for your luggage, and the long drive to the hotel, you’re exhausted. 
Well, mentally you’re worn out, at least. Your body? Is still on your old timezone, where it’s currently tomorrow morning. So it thinks that you need to be awake, even though it’s night where you are. You had stayed awake the entire flight here in order to avoid this very problem. 
Fucking jet lag got you anyway.
Unlike you, Seungcheol and Vernon are having no issue sleeping. The three of you are sharing one room, while Minghao, Wonwoo, and Mingyu are sharing another. You glance over at the two lumps tucked in their beds, snoring away like you would be if your body wasn’t so confused.
Because you’re trying to be a good friend and let them sleep, you’re lying on your bed, scrolling lazily through your various social media apps. You could watch something, but you don’t really have the focus right now. Yet you want something pleasing to look at. Something to mindlessly enjoy while you wait for exhaustion to overwhelm you. 
So, naturally, you turn to your favorite nightly pastime - scrolling through your social media apps, looking for any new posts from Mingyu.
It’s an addiction, borne out of your raging crush on your friend. Well, really, he’s Minghao’s friend, you don’t know him as well as you do the others, but still. You’re friendly enough around each other. Which is because Mingyu is so nice, such a sweet and funny guy who always makes you feel more than welcome whenever he’s around. 
He’s also a blatant flirt. At first, his cocky smiles and playful words made you think he might be interested in more than just being your friend, but it wasn’t long before you realized he’s like that with everyone. So you tamped down the hope that burned in your chest, leaving only a simmering crush to smolder forever.
It’s morning back home, where most of your friends have barely started their days, so your feed is fairly dead. There are a few photos from Wonwoo from the flight, including one of Minghao sleeping with his mouth open that you immediately save to your favorites, a couple from Vernon, and, of course, several from Mingyu. You tap into his page.
Mingyu’s an avid photographer, particularly of beautiful things - breathtaking landscapes, delicious meals, himself. Mostly himself, to be honest. Not that you’re complaining. It’s maybe the most mutually beneficial relationship you’ve ever been in. Mingyu loves to provide pictures of himself. You love to admire them. A win-win all around. 
You tap back to home and refresh your feed. A new post appears, from Mingyu. The jet lag must be getting to him, too, if he’s awake and posting right now. The photo is another selfie, this time of him lying in bed, one arm resting behind his head, showing off a perfectly sculpted bicep. God. Could he be more gorgeous? 
Clicking into his page again, you rub your thumb over the screen to make his photos flip by in an endless parade of hot Mingyus. It’s ridiculous, you muse, watching picture after picture roll by, to think about how much time Mingyu must spend on these photos. Making sure he’s got the perfect lighting to bounce off his muscles just right in those gym selfies. Or figuring out the best angle to show off that sharp jawline of his. Just ridiculous. And yet, every second isn’t spent in vain, considering how the photos drew you in like shiny trinkets to your magpie eye. 
It would be so easy to think of Mingyu as a modern day Narcissus, endlessly snapping selfies, drowning in his own reflection on his phone. But he’s never struck you as conceited. It’s something else - a desire for connection, perhaps. A need for-
A tiny heart floats up your screen and you gasp. Shit. You just liked the post the scroll stopped on - one of his many gym selfies, frame zoomed in on his torso, his hand clutching the bottom of his shirt to show off his rippling abs.
Your eye drifts to the date of the photo. Posted eight months ago. 
Quick as lightning, you hit the screen again, shattering the little heart icon. Your pulse is beating too fast. There’s no need to panic. He couldn’t have seen that. Maybe you’re overreacting, but no one needs to know you’re lurking in his profile in the middle of the night, especially not him. 
A notification drops down over Mingyu’s face. A message.
Mingyu: Someone’s up late. 
Ah, damn. You were too slow. And now he’s in your DMs. 
After taking a moment to shriek quietly into your pillow, you write back. 
You: Can’t sleep
Mingyu: Same. Jet lag’s got me fucked up
Mingyu: You know what always helps when I can’t sleep?
You: What?
Mingyu: Creeping through someone’s old photos
Even though he’s not here looking at you, your neck flames with embarrassment anyway. You could play it cool. If only you knew how to do that. 
You: Shut up
Mingyu: It’s ok, I’m flattered
You: Oh fuck off
Mingyu: No really, I am
Mingyu: I like that you want me so bad
Pressing your mouth firmly into your pillow, you swallow another screech. Here we go. Right into the flirting. You can’t handle this right now.
You: Idk what you’re talking about
You:  It was an accident
Mingyu: Oh you were accidentally admiring me? 
You: How did you even notice? Are you just staring at your phone, waiting for attention?
Mingyu: I mean yeah
You snort. 
You: You’re ridiculous
Mingyu: Maybe. But I’m honest about it
You: I’ll give you that
A few seconds go by, then a minute, then two. Maybe you’re boring him. Maybe he’s found something else to entertain him. Or someone else.
When the next notification comes in, you jolt a little. 
Mingyu: What else will you give me?
And now your heart does a funny jump as you stare at his words. God, what a question. How you wish he were asking for real, and not just being playful, like he always is. 
Would it be too real to reply with the truth? “Whatever you want?”
You: I don’t know
You: What do you want?
Mingyu: What if I say you?
Suddenly you don’t understand words.
You: Why would you say that?
Mingyu: Because it’s my answer
Mingyu: I’m being honest again
You: That’s the jet lag talking
Mingyu: Oh come on
Mingyu: You really don’t know?
You: Know what??
Mingyu: How I feel about you
Is he being serious right now??
You: If this is a joke I don’t get it
Mingyu: Not a joke
Mingyu: Hold on
The notification icon on your app suddenly lights up. One heart. Two. Three four five. You open your notifications and immediately start laughing. Mingyu’s going through your oldest photos and liking them, one by one. 
Mingyu: See? I’m obsessed with you
Seungcheol grunts in his sleep, and you press your arm harder over your mouth, trying to muffle yourself better.
You: You’re so annoying, oh my god
Mingyu: So annoying that you can’t stop looking at my photos at 1 am?
Mingyu: Or flirting with me?
You: Is that what’s happening? Are we flirting?
Mingyu: Ok don’t act like you don’t know
Mingyu: I flirt with you all the time
You: You flirt with EVERYONE all the time
Mingyu: Yeah but I only mean it with you
Like any other time this happens, any time his words make your head spin, you put on the brakes, stopping before you start to believe you might have a chance. 
You: You’re so dumb
Mingyu: Are you really going to pretend you’re not enjoying this?
You: Who said I’m pretending?
Mingyu: Me. I know you’re loving this
Mingyu: Because you want me soooooo bad
You: Shut uppppp
Mingyu: Go on, yell at me
Mingyu: You’re cute when you’re mad
You: No really
You: I can’t stand you
Mingyu: Then sit on my face
Your mouth falls open, an amused huff of air escaping in a befuddled laugh at his unexpected response. 
You: What?
Mingyu: Come shut me up. Sit on my face.
You’re blinking so hard, you can hear your eyelids clapping together.
You: Fuck off. Stop playing. 
Mingyu: Who’s playing? I’m serious
Mingyu: Smother me with those gorgeous thighs of yours. I’ll go out a happy man. 
Your gorgeous thighs? He’s never said anything like that before. What the fuck is happening.
You can’t help but picture it - him lying on his bed, you kneeling over him, fingers tangled in his dark hair as you ride that pouty little mouth of his. It’s not the first time you’ve fantasized about it, but it’s the first time the vision has felt… possible. 
Mingyu: No response? You’re just gonna leave me hanging like this?
You: Don’t tease me
Mingyu: Trust me, there are a million ways I’d love to tease you, but this isn’t one
You lay down again, rolling onto your side, curling in on yourself, like you’re trying to contain all the excitement rushing through your veins, keep it from spilling out and over into the room where your friends are still sleeping.  
You: You’re really serious?
Mingyu: Cross my heart and hope to die
Mingyu: Between your legs
Again you laugh.
You: You’re such an idiot
Mingyu: Does that mean you’re not coming over?
You: Like right now??
Mingyu: Why not? 
Mingyu: Wonwoo and Minghao both slept on the plane. They went out exploring
Mingyu: I’ve got the room to myself
You bite your lip, a little harder than you normally would, the sharp sting confirming that you are not dreaming and this is, in actual fact, happening right now. 
You: I guess if I’m not sleeping anytime soon
In the dim light from your phone, you eye the path to the door. You can easily make it out of the room without waking anyone. Should you so decide. 
You: I could come over
Mingyu: I promise I’ll make it so good for you
Mingyu: Eat that pussy like you deserve. Make you cum on my tongue over and over
You inhale sharply. He’s definitely never talked about your pussy like that before. Reading his words has you positively throbbing.
Mingyu: Please, just let me taste you
What else is there to say to that but -  
You: I’m coming over
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It’s a short walk to Mingyu’s room. A rush of anticipation hits you as you raise your hand to knock. It doesn’t take long for the door to open, bringing you face to face with the man whose social media you can’t stop stalking. Mingyu’s shirtless, grey sweatpants hanging alarmingly low on his hips, and if you weren’t already planning on crushing him with your thighs, this insta thirst trap of an outfit would push you right over the edge. 
“That was fast,” he laughs, stepping aside to let you in. “Did you run down the hall?” 
“I thought I told you to shut up,” you shoot back. 
“And I thought I told you to make me,” he smirks, reaching for you at the same time you reach for him, practically mashing his teeth against your lips as he pulls you in for a kiss. Despite what he just said, he’s kissing you, too eager to wait for you to do what he demands. 
It’s rough and messy, all teeth and tongue, both of you doing your fair share to keep the other silent. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say speechless, because Mingyu’s definitely not being quiet, moaning into your mouth, and you’re certainly whining loud enough for the other rooms to hear you.
He presses you back into the door, chest to chest, hip to hip. You tilt your head and he follows, chasing your mouth, as if he’s needing another taste. Your hands roam over his biceps, his shoulders, his neck, covering every inch of warm skin that’s exposed, and he slips his arms around your waist, holding you impossibly tight. Not for one second do your lips part. This is the type of kiss you’ve always read about in your favorite stories - the one that makes your knees weak, makes your head float, makes you forget everything but Mingyu. 
It’s delicious. It’s amazing. It’s every superlative you can think of. But it’s not enough. You want more. Part of you wants to tell him to get on with it, take you to bed, because you’re here to make him eat his words by eating you, but the other part isn’t about to quit kissing him any time soon. 
Thankfully, Mingyu takes care of your dilemma by eliminating the choice. Without warning, he bends his knees and lifts you, big hands secure on your thighs to hold you close to him. Okay, now it’s like one of your stories, the way he lifts you like you’re lighter than air. You’d swoon if you weren’t so busy licking into his lips. All that time in the gym is really paying off
He carries you to his bed, displaying his impressive thigh strength by slowly lowering himself into a sitting position, bringing you into his lap. You loop your arms around his shoulders, desperately seeking his mouth, as if the 0.2 seconds between kisses might kill you, which, honestly, it feels like it might, and you’ve never been in this situation before, making out with the man of your dreams, so for all you know, it will, so why risk it? 
“Stop me if I’m going too fast,” he says between kisses. 
“You can go as fast as you want,” you reply, without even a second’s pause. “Just don’t stop.” 
“Damn, and here I was worried I was coming off too excited,” he grins, face lighting up in delight. Then he kisses your cheek, whispering against your skin at your offended huff. “It’s okay, I like how needy you are for me.”
“Shut up,” you groan, but you know he felt the way you shuddered, so you give up the weak protests and start kissing him again, twisting your fingers in his hair to keep him close. 
Mingyu finally stops laughing when you take his bottom lip between your own, sucking and licking at the plump skin. With a groan, he digs his fingers into your sides, and he starts to guide you back and forth, rolling you over the eye-catching bulge in his sweatpants. It’s a sight that makes you clench, thinking about how much you want to sit on it now, just pull him out and ride, too needy to feel him inside you to even take your clothes off.
But again, you want more. You want what he’d promised earlier.  
He nips his way down your throat until his mouth latches at the base of your neck, sucking and biting, and you whimper, squirming in his hold. “
‘Gyu, please!”
“Please what?” 
He doesn’t lift his head, too absorbed in sinking his vampire-like canines into your soft skin, not sharp enough to pierce, just hard enough that you know you’ll have bruises blooming there tomorrow, little souvenirs of this moment. 
Please everything, you think. You want it all, whatever he’s willing to give, you’ll take. You’re feeling greedy as fuck right now. 
“I want what you promised me.” 
“Hold on,” he intones seriously, right before laving his tongue over a fresh mark. “Let a man at death’s door enjoy his last moments.” 
“Oh my god, you’re so stupid,” you groan, grabbing his face and smashing your lips together. He’s just - just such an idiot, such a stupid sexy idiot and you want him more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life.
“Fine,” he says after a few minutes of frantic making out, a cheeky grin spreading across his face, hands circling around your ass, squeezing as he pulls you closer. “Time for my last meal.” 
He kisses away your embarrassingly pleased moan, and then he maneuvers the two of you around so he’s lying on the bed on his back and you’re straddling him. As he watches with rapt attention, you peel off your shirt. Since you’d been dressed for bed, you hadn’t bothered to throw on a bra. Judging from Mingyu’s expression, you made the right call.  
“Pretty,” he breathes out, wide eyes finding yours, and you have to take a beat, have to take a moment to sit and let the reality of the situation wash over you. The two of you are here, together, in this hotel room half a world away from home. Both wanting this. It’s clear to you now just how eager Mingyu’s been since you walked in. He wasn’t lying - he wants you just as much as you want him. 
With this new understanding, you stand up to slide your shorts and panties off in one go, before straddling him again, and lowering yourself for another kiss. Immediately, his arms are around you, gliding down your back, all the way to your bare ass, taking the biggest handfuls he can. 
“You drive me insane. So pretty, so hot.” 
Mingyu’s words kick the simmering heat in your gut into a full blown fire. You moan into his kiss, grinding yourself against him. One of his hands grips your side, helping you chase the friction, while the other slips between your bodies. When his fingers brush your inner thigh, he lets out a strangled groan. “Oh fuck, you’re so wet.”  
“Your fault,” you gasp, lips fervently pressing against his, licking at the seam of his mouth until he allows you in, so you can roll your tongue over his like you roll your hips. 
“Then allow me to make it up to you,” he grins, long fingers cupping your mound, trapping the heat there in his palm as he rubs it against you. You keen, thighs already twitching. You’re going to lose your mind before you even get to his face. 
You’re not alone in that feeling, as he suddenly reaches for your thighs, urging you to crawl up his body. “Get up here, please,” he begs, flat out begs you, and you slide forward as fast as you can. You need his mouth, right now.
Hovering over him is a little surreal - MIngyu’s big brown eyes are gazing up at you in a perfect replication of your favorite daydream, only it’s so much better than you’d ever imagined, because the expression he wears is one of complete awe, like he’s the one living out his fantasy. Again you feel bold, so you run your fingers through his hair, nails lightly scraping over his scalp. He moans quietly, low in his throat, like he’s trying to hold it in, and your mouth quirks in a half smile as you kneel. 
“Nice knowing you, ‘Gyu.” 
He hums a happy note, lips vibrating lightly just as your cunt reaches them, and you moan quietly. You don’t settle all the way down, because as much as you were playing along with this whole death-by-pussy dream of his, you are slightly worried that you might actually suffocate him, if not because of your weight than because of your dire need, that you might get too lost in the aching desire that’s building inside you, spurred on by the way he’s brushing the lower half of his face and down your folds, just breathing you in, teasing you with his touches but not giving you what you so desperately want. 
“‘Gyu,” you whine, tilting your pelvis forward, to catch his tongue as he traces your inner thigh, leaving a trail of saliva behind. He blows a puff of air across the wetness, sending goosebumps running at the cooling sensation. 
When you try to shift again, he’s quick to wrap his hands up around your hips, holding you still. Not hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to let you know - he’s in charge now. 
“Stay still, pretty,” he murmurs, tenderly pressing a kiss into your skin. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my promise. Cross my heart, remember?” 
With that reminder, he pulls you down further onto his face. His tongue slides into you, nose bumping your clit, and you whimper, hands flailing at your sides, seeking something to cling to, finding nothing but the warm air around you. The pressure on the sensitive bud combining with the wet hot muscle plunging between your slick folds is overwhelming in the best way.
“‘Gyu, oh, that’s so good!”  
Mingyu nods his head vigorously, nudging his nose around, letting his tongue drag up and down your slit. It almost feels like he’s agreeing with you, backed up by the way he grunts brokenly, this deep rumble in his chest that gets strangled halfway through his throat. 
You’re not sure at what point you start thrust your hips. Mingyu helps you find the right pace, big hands guiding you forward and back, forward and back, until you feel the rhythm all the way from your ears to your toes. 
As his mouth slides up to suckle on your clit, his left hand also snakes upwards, cupping your right breast, thumb rolling over your puckered nipple. You shudder, nerves sizzling like power lines, lit up by his every touch.
“‘Gyu…” Mingyu’s mouth pulls another whine from you. You glance down, catching the furrow in his brow, the sweat dripping down his temples. “Oh my god.” 
“Mmmmphf,” Mingyu agrees, or so you assume, unable to understand anything he might be mumbling into you. A particularly sharp suck on your pulsating clit makes your back arch, and Mingyu’s hand falls from your chest, disappearing behind you. 
The sudden rustling of fabric draws your attention. You glance over your shoulder, only to whimper when you catch sight of Mingyu’s hand stroking his erection, band of his sweatpants hastily shoved down, stiff cock so flushed it brings a matching heat to your neck. 
If you were more limber, you’d reach for him, give him a helping hand, but you can’t stay twisted around for long, not when Mingyu’s tongue makes you refocus on his mouth. It’s too difficult to think about anything else right now but the way he keeps plunging inside you, using the thick muscle to fuck you shallowly. 
You can’t stop mewling like a cat in heat, rutting back and forth over Mingyu’s tongue. Even in your daze, it doesn’t escape your attention that Mingyu’s absolutely pussy drunk at this point, depraved moans buzzing endlessly against your most sensitive spots because he refuses to detach his mouth from you long enough to let them escape. Every muffled note reverberates deep in your core, joins the tense chord that’s building inside you to a crescendo. 
“‘Gyu, please.” 
At the sound of your plea, Mingyu stops stroking himself, bringing his hand around to find your clit, middle finger drawing circles around and around and around. 
When you double over, hands sinking into the plush bedding on either side of Mingyu’s head, he grunts, tipping his head to the side so he can speak. “You okay?” 
“Fuck, Mingyu, ‘m good,” you giggle, suddenly hit by a burst of glee, perhaps due to the lack of oxygen in your head, since all the blood in your body is concentrated in your clit right now. “I’m having an amazing night.” 
Mingyu hums again, sounding very pleased, and you meet his gaze, and suddenly you wish his phone was nearby, so you could snap a photo, because this look - hair mussed and clinging to his forehead, pupils blown, nose to chin coated in your glistening wetness - this is a look worth capturing.
“Yeah, me too,” he says, chest heaving as he catches his breath, and the sincerity in his voice steals your own away. If you had any nerve, you’d confess something right now, something you weren’t planning on telling him tonight or tomorrow or maybe ever. But you keep silent, only breathing a tiny exhale of surprise as he slides out from under you, and nudges you onto your back.
Mingyu folds you in half easily, because you’re giving no resistance, letting him shape you the way he desires, and then his mouth is on you again. Now that he's lying facedown between your legs, he’s able to get some much-desired friction without using his hands, grinding his neglected cock into the bed as he concentrates on you. 
His tongue glides over your throbbing nub again, and then his right hand ghosts over your slit. You whimper a soft “Please,” and that’s all he needs to slide his finger inside. The intrusion has you squirming, urging him silently to go deeper, and to your relief, he obliges. But he also locks his other arm over your legs, holding them so you can’t keep bucking your hips up. 
“I said, stay still,” he mumbles, with no anger or heat behind it, just amusement, laced with a slight tinge of cockiness. He knows he’s frustrating you, judging by the curl of his lips as he plunges his finger in and out slowly, way too slowly, teasing you with what you need most. You try to press your hips down onto his hand, to make him glide faster, but he just leans into you slightly, big arm stopping your movements. 
Your whine is beyond petulant. “Don’t tease me!” 
“Pretty, I promise you, when I tease you, you’ll know.” 
And then he adds his middle finger, curling both, pressing on the most sensitive spot on your inner wall. Over and over, his fingers flutter, massaging until starlight bursts behind your eyelids. 
“It’ll be something like this.” 
He withdraws his hand.
“Gyuuuuuu.”
If he was slightly cocky earlier, he’s fully arrogant now, face breaking into a wide grin while he laughs. “Wow, so whiny. You do want me bad.” 
“I swear to god if you dohhhhHHH-”
You break off in a moan when he lowers his face again, loudly lapping at your wetness. Clever fingers alternate between scissoring and stroking, following the changes in your breathing, and you hope that he’s close to being satiated, because you’re teetering on the edge of your climax, only the slightest bit more stimulation necessary to push you over. 
“Mingyu. Mingyu, I’m gonna cum.” You open your eyes, raising your head enough to look at him, to watch with a dropped jaw as he buries his face in your cunt, his own eyes closed in ecstasy, and oh, that’s it - “Oh god, I’m gonna cum!” 
Your warning cry - though clearly appreciated by Mingyu, who groans in answering refrain, hips humping the bed furiously - is ultimately unnecessary, given how hard your walls suddenly clench around his fingers. He doesn’t stop his ministrations, fingerfucking you through your orgasm as your lower half trembles beneath his heavy arm. He holds you in place as best he can, sweetly kissing your clit, while you wail and writhe, pressing your palm into your mouth to keep your cries from waking the rooms around you. 
Eventually your tremors slow, turning into occasional twitches, before your body finally relaxes. Mingyu continues to lap at you, every pass of his tongue getting lighter and lighter, until he lifts his head. He’s the perfect image of lust, eyes dark and desirous, and you claw at his shoulders, needing him close again. 
“Kiss me.” 
He wipes his face with the back of his hand, smearing you over himself more as he rises up to meet you. His cock is hard between you, and you moan, knowing that you did that, that he got this turned on just from eating you out, and extend your fingers to wrap around him.
The unbidden sound he utters when you take his cock and slide it through your soaking folds, coating it in your wetness, is the filthiest sound you’ve ever heard.
“Careful, pretty,” he pants, looking down at your hand. Under his close gaze, you circle the head of his cock before rubbing your thumb over and around the slit there. “‘M close.” 
“Wanna make you come, ‘Gyu,” you tell him, and he hisses, hips bucking into your grip. 
“Fuck.” His long fingers cover yours, guiding you into a faster pace. “But I’m gonna make a mess.”
“Do it. Make a mess.” The need to make him completely fall apart takes possession of you, makes you say things you’ve never said to anyone else. “Come all over me.” 
Mingyu whines, chin dropping to his chest. He’s barely blinking as he stares at your entwined hands. 
“Pretty… don’t say that….”
“Please, ‘Gyu.” All shame has fled your body. “I want it.” 
No further encouragement is needed. Mingyu grunts a few times before he’s painting your stomach in so much white, in little drops and big splashes, doing exactly what you told him, eyes rolling back in his head as he does.
When his high abates, he sits back on his heels, gazing at the mess he created, all the sticky sweat and semen that covers your body. A delirious thought comes to you. Is the sight beautiful enough for him to want to take a picture? 
“Wow,” he murmurs after a moment, shaking his head. “You’re even prettier when you’re covered in me.” 
His dead serious expression is enough to break the haze of lust hanging over you. You throw your arm over your face, too flustered to look at him. “‘Gyuuuuu!”
“Changed my mind, I’m calling you ‘whiny' from now on.” The bed shifts as Mingyu rises. He laughs all the way to and from the bathroom, laughs even harder when you glare at him, reaching for the towel he holds. He surprises you by nudging your hand away. “Let me.”  
His touch is so gentle as he wipes away his mess, then your own. When you’re both clean enough, he lays on his side, draping his arm over you. “Think you can sleep now?” 
Oh, you can sleep. You’re feeling satiated in a way you haven’t for a long time, and now that the rush has worn off, you could knock right out. You should probably go back to your room, ride this calm wave right into sleep, not let yourself get too excited at the thought that this vacation might be the best one ever.
Instead, you grin, sliding your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck. “Yeah. But I don’t want to.” 
“Oh?” Mingyu’s smile mirrors yours. “What do you wanna do instead?” 
“I might have some ideas.” 
He lets you pull him down for a kiss, humming eagerly.
“Tell me what you want, pre-”
A sharp rap on the door startles you both.
“Dude, don’t you dare!” Minghao hisses through the wood. “We’ve been out here forever!” 
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© 2024 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.
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leewritestoomuch · 8 months ago
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Naruto Characters Accidentally Calling their Girlfriend their Wife
MR KRABSSSS I HAVE AN IDEAAA
Fem reader (or if you want to be called wife)
Characters: Naruto, Sasuke, Shino, Kiba, Shikamaru, Choji, Neji, Rock Lee, Kankuro, and Gaara.
(Masterlist is up now) also I’ll be adding Sai to this in the morning
Naruto Uzumaki
He’s talking to some new people and enthusiastically pulls you to his side, a large smile on his face, and he says “This is my wife! Y/N!”
You can’t hide your shock, not fully at least. He’s never called you his wife before. I mean, he’s said things like “you’ll be my future wife, right?” As he giggles or something.
But you are in a state of shock that he introduced you that way.
Nonetheless, you’re happy.
If the person makes a comment about how young or cute you two are for a married couple, he’d realize. Likely, he’d respond a little oddly, stuttering, but recovers and just full sends with the claim you’re his wife.
Sasuke Uchiha
If he’s with you, you’re gonna be his wife anyways. He didn’t get with you until he was sure of that, because it took him a long time to realize he felt that way anyways.
So he calls you his wife with full confidence, before realizing his mistake. However, he doesn’t care too much to correct himself or anything.
Because you are gonna marry him right? (He’s actually really nervous to propose, but he won’t admit that.)
People would probably just believe him immediately considering just how serious he is about you to even be with you.
When you confront him about it later, he’ll ask you if that was okay, explain it was a mistake, but he’ll probably comment on how he’s dating to marry anyways so… you might as well be his wife.
You can probably expect a proposal soon.
Shino Aburame
I can’t fully see this happening tbh. However, let’s say that it does.
He’d probably over explain himself to the person he referred of you as his wife too.
Not that he doesn’t want you as his wife, but you haven’t said you’ll be his wife yet. So he can’t call you his wife. That’s how he sees it.
He’ll probably think he messed up and upset you, so you’ll have to explain it was cute.
Once you explain to him, he’ll see your point. Maybe with some reluctance to lighten up on himself.
He’ll be happy you want to be seen as his wife though.
Kiba Inuzuka
Realized his mistake, but he could not be bothered.
He will keep on as if there is no mistake. As if you are legally married.
He’ll be upset if you correct him in front of people.
It’ll turn into a bit of an argument if you correct him in any way other than sweetly.
Because what the big deal???
If you leave it alone, and talk to him later, now he’s nervous and stuttering. But he’ll likely comment on how he knows you want to marry him so you might as well be called his wife.
Shikamaru Nara
Immediately realizing what slipped out his mouth.
Does he really want you to be his wife? Well, of course he does. But that’s a lot for him to accidentally spill out to some strangers you’re both meeting.
They don’t know he made a mistake, because you roll with it.
Later, he’ll try to avoid talking about it, but if you bring it up, he’ll say it was a mistake, don’t take it so seriously.
If you seem down about his underwhelming response, he’ll likely have an actual talk about his future with you to reassure you that he was just being an idiot when he said that.
Choji Akimichi
He forgot you’re not his wife.
I think Choji would just love you so much that he would simply treat you like a wife. To the point he forgets, you’re not his wife.
If you comment on it, he’ll think about it and probably be like ohhhh right.
He’ll apologize, but more than likely you’ll just say it was cute.
I can see him calling you wifey.
But if he’s gonna call you that, he’s gotta get you that ring. He’s planning on it as yall speak.
Neji Hyuga
You two are waiting a while before calling it official. Plans of marriage are far off.
He’s a little too traditional to jump at marriage quickly.
So when he accidentally calls you his wife, it was to Hiashi. He went pale. Paler than usual.
Later, depending on how exactly that went, he’ll probably be in his head.
Let’s assume for this though, that Hiashi approves of you completely.
Hiashi made a comment, rather he meant it badly or not, Neji will take it the wrong way. Realize he jumped too far.
You’ll have to tell him you find it cute, and rather his uncle approves of you two or not, you’ll be his wife someday :)
Rock Lee
It COULD be an honest mistake.
But let’s be honest,
It’s Lee.
He calls you his wife to your face, to other people, hell, he’d shout it from the roof tops.
So it’s not an accident. He meant it. He will one day make you his wife, so why would he not call you his wife now!
If you have any reserves about being called his wife before actual marriage, he will pout and be upset. He won’t understand.
But, once that’s over, he’s crying and begging for forgiveness.
Please tell him it’s cute that he wants to marry you, even if you do want to have a talk with him about not assuming roles you don’t officially have.
Gaara
HE CALLED YOU HIS WIFE IN FRONT OF A CROWD. so now he’s blushing.
He might correct his mistake, might not. Depends.
He’s a confident speaker, but that threw him off a little bit.
Likely you were a strong shinobi or something and he was trying to give you credit where it’s due, but it didn’t go as planned.
When you too are alone later, you’ll bring it up likely.
If you tell him you thought it was cute or sweet, he’ll turn bright red like his hair.
He likely won’t go on calling you his wife or anything. Maybe in private.
But he’s not ashamed of it. After all, he’s strongly considering marriage.
Kankuro
Called you his wife to his siblings while you were over for dinner.
Temari is not letting him live it down.
“Hey, I think your wife is trying to get your attention.” “I don’t know, maybe ask your wife?” “What about your wife?” From then on out.
He’s frustrated because it was a mistake, BUTTTT honestly, eventually he’ll make some snarky comment about how at least he’s closer to marriage than she is. Then he probably harps on Shikamaru a little bit in defense for his own comment.
(He approves of Shikamaru tho, if he’s being real. He just thinks it’s a little funny)
As long as this is before a certain point.
He decides to call you his wife to your face.
He’ll call you that to tease you now.
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luludeluluramblings · 26 days ago
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SugarBaby!Reader (Neglected!Bat!Sibling) x Tony Stark - Falling in Love
☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️
A/N: Someone wanted more fluff of this and I had thoughts about it last night. Tony isn’t my favorite, but I kinda wanted to challenge myself with this and see if I could try it writing some romance.
A/N: Smalltown!Reader is still coming. Pregnant!Reader will be getting a part 2 at some point. Might post another series, the one army dreamer inspired, because why not? Gonna have sooo many WIPs. But, maybe they’ll give y’all some delight.
Warnings: GN!Reader, Mentions of bedroom activities, fluffy, not edited, hardly anything Yandere. Intended to be
☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️
When you and Tony started dating it had been after he had wooed you at some gala. Something for a long forgotten charity. You had initially been hesitant, knowing his play boy reputation. The one so eerily similar to your father’s Brucie Wayne persona.
Still he was charming, good looking, and had convinced you that one night wouldn’t hurt.
And, it hadn’t. The next day when you were about to crawl out of bed and begin your walk of shame, he had dragged you back. Taking his time repeating the night before and with an encore.
By the time you had finally been allowed to leave the bed, your stomach had let out an embarrassing growl that made your cooling skin flush once more.
Of course, Tony wasn’t going to let anyone he spent such a good time with go hungry. Ordering the two of you room service and a giant spread of breakfast.
It’s in that moment things start to shift. You were a good lay for Tony. A young pretty little thing that was some of the best he had had in a while. (Due to him mellowing out with age, not that he’d ever admit that.) But, it’s the way you look at him, shyly and with such genuine gratitude just for him buying to brunch that makes him stop.
Not pause. Because pause means he’ll end up playing again. And, he’s fairly certain he’s done playing. Because, when you happily sit in his button down shirt, munching on the food he bought you, and listen to him talk about an old project (he wasn’t dumb enough to share anything new he’d been working on) with such bright eyes and enthusiasm he realizes this might be trouble for him. It’s even cuter because he knows you don’t understand a single thing he’s saying, but you’re trying. You’re trying so hard and it’s so cute.
It keeps going on like that. Passionate nights and slow talkative mornings that morph into date nights and fun trips and days lounging together. You’re still honestly convinced it could all end at any moment. Nothing good last in your life. And, despite how desperately you want this to last you know it probably won’t. Still you swear to hold on. To take everything he’ll offers. Even if it’s not much and he leaves you in the end. You’re going to appreciate how full and fulfilled her makes you feel.
For you, you fall in love slow and overtime. It a soft and startling realization when you realize you love Tony. You love him dearly and he could break your heart into a million pieces. But, it would be worth it.
You keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Loving him and waiting for him. To leave.
For Tony, it’s similar. He spoils you he does. He loves the way you look at him when he does. But, as he unknowingly starts to settle, the realization that he’s not showing you off in public as much anymore and that he enjoys just being near even when there’s nothing to talk about hits him in the chest. And, in a Tony Stark like fashion, he spirals for a bit.
It causes him to spend three full days in his lab avoiding the world and his problems. Not sleeping, hardly eating, ignoring Jarvis.
When he finally does emerge, he’s covered in sweat and grease. He aches. He’s tired. He’s irritable. His fully expecting you to be mad he missed your fancy date he had planned. But, when he looks up at you and see’s that exact same grateful look in your eyes, it clicks. You give him that same look of gratitude and adoration every time he does something for you. He’s not doing anything other than being here with you. And, that’s enough for you. You’re in love with him, and he’s in love with you. And your willing to love him as his is and with what ever he gives.
Tony doesn’t confess though. To cliche. Instead he proposes. With no ring, no plan, and covered in grease. But, completely serious. It isn’t long until you understand he really means it, that he wants you for you and you’re leaping in his arms crying, yes. Yes. And the. You tell him to shower, because despite the love you feel and your happiness, he smells ripe.
He chases you around instead, before dragging you into the shower with him.
It isn’t until you both have a small private court house ceremony and he’s dragging you on to a luxury honeymoon that he leans over and confesses. Casually. Like it was a stray fact.
“Oh, hey, by the way, I love you.”
It makes you squawk that he has the audacity to do such a thing, but you lean into him and say it back.
“I love you, too… Silly old man.”
“Hey! That’s not what you were saying when I-“
☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️
You hadn’t even thought about you family with Tony. Hadn’t thought to invite them to the wedding. You did call Alfred as soon as you got back though. Telling him the good news with so much happiness that the old Bulter cried when the call ended. You had sounded radiant, and it broke his heart.
Broke his heart that no one in the family had seen just how beautiful your joy was and that they had never bothered to cause it.
☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️
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marvelwitchergilmore · 3 months ago
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Nobody Important
Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> When you first meet Logan you tell him you’re nobody important. But it soon becomes clear you are a lot more important than you say. 
Disclaimer: Contains descriptions of nightmares, couple of swear words, being drugged (nothing bad, just some chamomile tea). Mostly fluff moments with a hint of angst. I watched X-Men and wanted to write something for him. Reader has powers though they're not specified fully. Not Proof Read.
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When Charles told Logan someone was going to pick him up from the airport, the last person he expected was, well, you. 
Compared to the pristine and fancy cars that were held at the school garage, you pulled up in a beat up old station wagon that looked like it had seen more than a couple of scratches in its time. And you weren’t dressed…like the rest of them. 
Rather than in some kind of pant-suit combo, you were wearing a long sleeve t-shirt, jeans, boots and a heavy brown leather overcoat. 
“Hey, sorry I’m late. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” You began immediately as you stepped out onto the curb and rushed towards him. “I was at the back of the forest collecting some berries and lost track of time. Shall we get going?”
Logan looked you over. You seemed a lot more…energetic than he was. 
“Who are you?”
“Professor X sent me. To collect you. You are Logan, aren’t you?”
“That depends. Who are you?”
“Your ride to the school, unless you plan on walking for two hours in the freezing cold.”
Logan grunted and threw his bag into the backseat. You still hadn’t answered his question but the licence plate of your car matched that of the one Charles had told him to look out for. 
However, fifteen minutes into the drive, Logan asked once more. “Who are you?”
You smiled and looked at him for a moment before moving your gaze back to the road ahead. “Nobody important.”
“Okay, fine. What are you?”
You smiled again. “Nothing you need to be concerned about.”
“Alright, listen bub-”
“Logan, whatever information about me you think you’re gonna have me tell you; it’s not gonna happen. I work with Charles and that’s all you need to know.”
Logan furrowed his brows. “So you’re a telepath? Like him?”
“You don’t need to concern yourself with what or even who I am. But,” you reached down and pulled a file from the driver's side door before turning it over on the steering wheel and handed it over to him. “You should concern yourself about this.”
Logan took it, a little confused, and opened it up. 
“He wants you to know what you’re walking into when we get back.”
After that, the rest of the drive was silent save for one question from Logan, only to have you reply with; 
“All the answers you’re looking for are either in there or are with the Professor.”
He didn’t bother asking you another question after that. Not that you would have answered it anyway. 
Once you finally did pull up to the school, it seemed you were beside him one minute and went the next into some unknown corner of the school because he didn’t see you after that. 
But he still had questions. 
Unanswered questions. 
Like who the hell were you? 
A week later, he still didn’t have his answers. But he did run into you again. 
In the kitchens. 
The entire place was a lot messier than the communal kitchen. It looked like some mix between a witches cottage and a mess hall in a school cafeteria. But it didn't smell as bad. 
Instead it smelt of cinnamon, oranges, rosemary and cookies. 
And somehow
It was relaxing to him. 
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Logan looked up to find you standing at the other end of the kitchen, a bowl under one arm and a spoon in the other. Flour was dusted across your face and your hands were splotched with food colouring stains. Which matched the batch of rainbow coloured cookies behind you. 
“Err, no. I was just-”
“Here, sit. I’ll make you some tea.”
“I don’t really drink..tea.” 
Logan was still taking in the room. Every time he looked back to a spot, he found a new detail to it. Extra herbs, or ingredients, or even flowers. 
You smiled, placing down the bowl and spoon before moving across the kitchen to the simmering pot on the stove. 
“Here, try this.”
“Oh, I, uh-”
“Just drink it.” You sighed a little, with a light smile. Nobody would have to meet Logan to know he wasn’t a tea drinker. But he was also polite enough to accept a drink. 
And he did. 
“Is this where you work?”
You nodded, going back to the fresh batch of cookies you needed to start scooping out. 
“Do you usually work this late past midnight?”
You chuckled a little to yourself. “Sometimes. Mostly it’s because I think of a new recipe and want to try it out when no-one's gonna disturb me.”
“Am I disturbing you?”
“No. Plus, I heard you coming down the stairs. Figured it wouldn’t be long before you found another night owl.”
Logan grunted with a soft chuckle. “I don’t think it’s intentional being a night owl.”
You shrugged. “We all have our reasons.”
Logan nodded and took another gulp of his tea. If he thought he felt relaxed when he walked into the kitchen, he didn’t have a word for what he was feeling after the tea. 
“Hey, what’s in this tea?”
“Not much. Chamomile mostly.”
Logan nodded. But then something shifted. He was getting drowsy. Not relaxed. Not sleepy. Drowsy. 
“Hey, what did you put in this?”
Logan went to stand and repeat his question, but he was out like a light before he could finish. 
Logan, for the first time…ever, woke up slowly. From the light that came flooding in through his window, to slowly turning over and feeling the bones in his body crack just right to allow his joints to feel at ease, to not thinking a thing as his brain slowly turned back into gear. 
Then he jerked up. 
With a grunt, he looked around him. 
He was in his room. 
The last thing he could remember was your tea and the kitchen. 
Flinging the covers from him, he tore his way out of his room and down the hallways until he finally reached his destination. 
The Professor’s office. 
Walking inside, he found the situation entirely too calm. 
“Ah, good morning Logan. Glad to see you’re finally awake.”
“What the hell happened?” 
“You fell asleep. Y/n helped put you to bed before you collapsed on her kitchen floor.”
Logan turned at that moment to find you sat on the sofa by the window inside the office. 
“You.” Logan practically snarled. “You did something. What did you do?”
Logan approached you but where anyone else would have flinched, you didn’t. In fact, all you did was sit back further and smile up at him. 
“She didn’t do anything, Logan. You needed to sleep.”
Logan turned and looked at the Professor. “Don’t mean I have to be drugged.”
Then you stood. “It was just a little tea, Logan. The more exhausted you are, the faster and harder it works. But now you look more rested. Your skin looks less like you’ve been thrown into a washing machine for a couple spins.”
“Are you always this blunt?”
You smiled. “It’s part of my charm.”
“Ain’t nothing charming about this conversation, doll.”
“Really? Because I’m finding this thrilling.”
Professor X smiled. “Okay, that’s enough, you two.”
“She started it!”
You just smiled again. “You’re welcome. If you ever need more tea, you know where to find me.”
With a pat to his arm, you walked past him and said your goodbyes to the professor before heading for the door. 
“Don’t worry about it, you can keep your tea.”
“Have to admit, though. I did help.”
Internally, reluctantly, he did have to. Because despite everything, it was one of the best nights of sleep he’d ever had. 
Another week rolled by and despite Logan doing everything he could to avoid the woman that he still considered had drugged him to sleep, he seemed to see more of you. 
Turns out, you taught cooking and baking classes to the students so they could at least make themselves a decent meal every once in a while instead of quick ramen noodles. And you also taught outdoor survival skills which Xavier had Logan help sub in with. 
But this also meant, much to his chagrin, Logan was actually starting to like you. 
Rather than wanting to storm off in the other direction, he wasn’t annoyed by your presence in the room anymore and you definitely had a way with teaching a group of rowdy teenagers who would rather do anything other than learn normal “camp” things. 
It was actually entertaining watching you teach your students. And even he learnt a thing or two.
Another week passed and Logan found himself back in your kitchen, sitting at the kitchen island, watching you as you lent one palm on the counter top, a pencil between your teeth and two pens behind one of your ears. 
“Want some tea?” You asked him after a few minutes of content silence. 
“Are you going to drug me again?”
You rolled your eyes. “It’s store bought, Logan. I just added a couple extra things.”
“Really, like what?”
Sighing, with a slight smirk, you turned around and pulled the box of tea from the cabinet before throwing it at Logan from over your shoulder. “Read it. It tells you what to add.”
“They actually sell this stuff?”
You turned back to your messy notebook with a smile. “It helps when your grandmother worked in the tea business for forty years. All the tricks of the trade, passed down through generations.”
Logan watched you work- no, dance around the kitchen. You didn’t even have to look at what you were doing and before he knew it, there was another tea in front of him, in a glass mug with hand-painted roasting logs on it. 
Logan looked at it for a moment and then you spoke up, without looking in his direction. “Being a night owl means different hobbies can be created. Glass painting was one of them.”
Logan shrugged with a nod before drinking his tea. The effects weren’t as quick or as “violent” as the first time. Instead, it was calming, then relaxing, then just plain and simple tiredness. 
“Go to bed, Logan. Before you crash into my floor again.”
“How did you get me to bed the last time? I’m not exactly all flesh and blood.”
You shrugged. “I’m stronger than I might look to you. But, go to bed, Logan.”
“Will you?”
“Will I do what?”
“Go to bed, too?”
You turned and faced him. “Soon. I want to finish this up first.”
“What are you even doing?”
“New recipe. I shouldn’t be long. Look, I promise. Twenty minutes, I’ll be in my bed, fast asleep.”
Logan raised his brow for a moment but then stood. If he waited any longer, he might actually crash onto the floor again. 
“Okay, fine.”
And you stuck to your word. Logan heard your footsteps coming up the stairs less than ten minutes later and after that…he didn’t remember much other than just complete calmness and sleep. 
The next couple of nights followed the same pattern. And even if he still wasn’t a tea drinker, Logan was growing a (small) taste for it. 
Until one night he walked in and found you stood in the corner, changing your t-shirt. 
You already wore a cami top underneath most of your t-shirts anyway – especially in the kitchen, but your first one had gotten too messy. So you were safe when changing. Except, you hadn’t expected Logan to walk in when he did. 
He paused for a minute by the door, a little apprehensive to make himself known but also trying to do so, so it wouldn’t seem like he was just watching you change your top t-shirt. But at the same time, he didn’t want you to know he was standing there because he could finally look at you. 
More so, when he saw your shoulder. 
From your left shoulder spread and faded over the top and to your right, a mark similar to a burn. The skin was scarred, yet healed over. A forgotten memory. The strap of your top cut through the larger scar that ran directly across the middle of the scarred skin, almost in a wave. Parts were redder than others but you didn’t seem to be in pain as you pulled the t-shirt over the top of your head and down your body, covering it back up. 
Logan coughed as he entered and you turned around, greeting him as you did every night. 
“New recipe?”
You nodded, looking at the messy t-shirt in your hand. “Yeah, it didn't go over too well with the mixer.”
“Better luck next time.”
And then you both just…talked. 
You were slowly telling him a little more about yourself each night, even if you didn’t know it yet. 
“I just remember being thrown into the wall and waking up like an hour later, completely covered in green brownie batter.”
You both laughed as you told him the story, but then he asked. 
“Is that where the scar is from? On your back?”
It was almost as if you had forgotten about it, having to take a moment to realise what he was talking about.
“Oh, that. No, that…that’s nothing important.”
Logan knew to drop his line of questioning. If you said it was nothing important, then there was no way of getting you to talk about it. 
Until the day he found you napping on the sofa. 
Everyone was outside for the day considering it was winter break and fresh snow had finally fallen on the ground. Except, you had opted to stay inside, and fell asleep on one of the central sofas in one of the quieter communal areas. 
The large windows let a lot of natural light flood in, and the fire that was crackling away in the fireplace was enough to heat the room, especially when the door was closed. 
And it wasn’t long before the quiet hum of the fire and odd crackle of the wood, mixed with the heat and your lack of sleep, overtook you and you fell asleep. You didn’t even wake when your book dropped from your hand and onto the floor. 
“Hey, Y/n, they’re all-”
Logan stopped in his tracks when he saw you. 
Fast asleep. 
He was careful to remain quiet as he walked over to you, cutting between you and the coffee table to pick up your fallen book and place it safely onto the table, where he sat on the edge and took a minute to just…memorise you. 
Since he met you, you had done nothing but be moving. All the time. From the crack of dawn to nightfall, you were constantly going and running and teaching and baking and doing and…hell, for all he knew, you could be something other than mutant or human – even those two needed sleep at some point. 
Hell, even he needed sleep. 
But you were just constantly forever going. 
Lay on your left side, your elbow tucked under your head, you were lightly snoring. Logan brushed the stray hairs that had fallen in front of your face, away, his hand rested on your cheek for a moment, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone for a second. 
You were fast asleep. 
Your worn Beatles band-tee was twisted slightly around your middle, whilst the waist of your jeans had twisted in the opposite direction a little, leaving a small gap that showed Logan the redness from the indent marks of where you had been lay, probably, on your other hip for a while. 
Logan thought about covering you up, and leaving you where you were, for a moment. But he also knew you could be like him when it came to sleep. And it was best to get it when you could. So, rather than chance the kids coming back in and waking you up, he made a decision. 
You flinched a little in your sleep as he spoke to you and lifted you from the sofa. It wasn’t long before he found your room and laid you into bed before covering you up. 
Once more, he brushed the hair from your eyes as you turned onto your side again. 
He looked around for a moment before finding what he was looking for. 
A heavy blanket. 
He lay it over the top of your bedcovers and you, before moving across the room to light the fireplace. 
Only, as he did so and placed the fireguard in front, you whimpered. 
He turned around but you were still. 
Then you whimpered again. 
“No,” you whispered. 
Logan moved over to you quickly and quietly as he could. You fell silent again. 
He let out a small breath and covered you up a little more before leaning down. He didn’t know why, but he pressed a small kiss to your temple before walking away. 
Except you reached out for his hand. 
Logan looked down at his hand that was connected with yours, then to you. You were still asleep. 
But it didn’t look like it was a good dream. 
You were shaking. Your entire body seemed to be paralysed with fear, all the while you were mumbling words Logan just couldn’t quite make out. 
Then the glass of water by your bed started shaking. Then the table it was on. Then your bed. Then the floor. Whatever was happening to you was spreading throughout your room. 
A picture that had been hanging on the wall outside, fell to the floor. 
Quickly turning back to you, Logan took hold of your shoulder. He kept calling your name but it was like you couldn’t hear him. 
“Please…please don’t hurt them. Please.” You screamed and then grunted in pain. Whatever was happening in your nightmare, you were being hurt. Badly. 
“Hey, Y/N! Hey, you’re okay! You’re safe! You’re in New York. You’re at school! It’s not real, Y/N. None of it is real.”
Your head shifted. You were searching. 
“I’m right here. None of it is real. You need to wake up.”
“L…Logan?” 
The violent shaking in your room slowed for a moment.
He was shocked. Maybe…
“Just follow my voice. It’s just a nightmare. I can’t get into your head and bring you out. Just…follow my voice.”
The shaking around your room gradually slowed, but you still were. Then your eyes opened. 
And glowed. 
They were still your eyes just…brighter. 
“Logan?!”
He had stopped speaking. You were panicking. 
“It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m right here.” Logan took hold of your hand and held it tighter. “You’re safe.”
The shaking slowed and your eyes closed again. 
Then everything stopped. 
Everything went silent. 
Logan looked at the glass of water beside your bed. It was like it had never moved. 
Then you gasped and shot up from your bed. You kicked your legs and brought your hands behind you to push yourself up and the covers from you. 
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, hey, Y/n. Hey,” 
You were gasping for breath, dizzy from your nightmare. 
“Hey, it’s me. Whoa. Hey, look at me. It’s Logan.”
He took you by your shoulders then your face. 
“It’s Logan.”
You finally calmed a little, and he watched your eyes search his entire face until you finally recognised him. 
“Logan,” you breathed. 
“Yeah…”
Your shoulders relaxed and you leaned closer to him, wrapping your arms around him. His hand held the back of your head and his other round your back, pressing you further into him. He could still feel your body trembling. 
“What happened?”
“You had a nightmare.” Logan told you. “The room started shaking and I tried waking you up.”
You took a couple of breaths before moving back and pushed the hair from your face and curled your legs up closer to your chest. 
Logan, sat beside them, placed one of his hands on your knee and the other in your right hand. 
“What happened?”
You shook your head. “Nothing-”
“The entire room started shaking and your eyes glowed. That’s not ‘nothing important’, Y/n.”
You swallowed and nodded your head before dropping your gaze and shifting until you were sat up, crossed-legged. 
Logan remained where he was, sat on the edge of your bed. 
“Before I worked as a teacher and cook here, I was one of them.” The last four words came out slowly, almost like you had to convince yourself you were saying them out loud. “I was an X-Man. I was a part of the team.”
“So what happened?”
“The usual. A mission gone wrong.”
“And that’s what the nightmares…”
You nodded. “It was the mission that made me retire. They needed me to do a job, and I couldn’t do it. There were kids, mutants, being held captive. Some rich dick thought he could duplicate mutants. As the team went it, I was meant to be holding ground outside, helping them find their way through. Only, I didn’t shut off my power. We knew they had someone who could detect me if I didn’t. I got so focused on trying to find the kids, trying to make sure the team got to them that the team almost…”
You paused for a minute. You hadn’t told anyone this story. Ever. 
Logan took your hand. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”
You let Logan’s touch soak into your skin. A memory you’d never forget yet never truly remember why you never would forget. 
“They almost died, Logan.” You looked at him and he could see the tears behind your eyes, threatening to come forward and fall again. “Everyone almost died, because I didn’t shut it down. You asked about the scar, the one on my back?”
Logan nodded. He didn’t like where this was going. 
“It’s from that day. One of their scientists had set off some kind of power..thing. Sent me flying blocks away from where I was supposed to be. I crash landed into some old wooden panelling which knocked me down. But once I got up…their Superhuman had found me.”
“Was he the one that-”
You nodded, remembering it as if it was yesterday. “I was thrown, this time on my front. I tried to get up but then all I felt was pure fire. He was burning me. Giving me a reminder of why ‘someone like me, born with the powers of gods’ shouldn’t have them when I was clearly so ‘weak’. By the time he stopped, I realised where he was going. And by the time I got up, everything just…blew up.”
“Y/n, everyone’s safe. You’re all here. Don’t you teach some of those kids?”
You nodded. “Doesn’t mean I don’t forget that feeling. One of the kids had been watching the guards, tracking their materials to find a way out. If they hadn't done that…they wouldn’t have gotten out, Logan. And they almost didn’t. All because I couldn’t fight. I can’t be the reason why I lose my family and the people I love.”
The tears came forward now, streaming down your face at an unstoppable speed. 
“I just can’t.”
Logan shook his head, pushing himself closer to you to hold you. And you let him. Leaning into him, you felt his arms grow tighter around your body. There was a small security in his arms, one that you hadn’t felt in a long time. 
“None of that was your fault.” Logan told you. “I know you and I know this team. You would never intentionally hurt people. And forgetting to turn your powers off? We’ve all made mistakes in moments like that. Sometimes you get so focused on one person, you tend to lose all sense of self. But none of that was your fault. They got out. They’re all here. They’re all alive. And rich dick is spending his life as dust in the fucking wind.”
“Believe me, I’ll be the first to tell you changing your feelings on something won’t stop the nightmares.” Logan continued. “But you need to find a way to let it go. Don’t let them control you. Not when you won. Not when you’re here, with everyone, able to drug me with some store bought tea.”
You laughed a little at that, wiping your tears away before Logan did the same thing, brushing his thumb underneath your eye and across your cheek. Logan smiled a little. Others might have called it a muscle flex, but knowing Logan; it was a small, brief smile. 
“Don’t let them win.”
You nodded, your head still in his hands. 
“Logan? Will you…Can you stay?”
It seemed to take Logan a second to find his answer. What you couldn’t see was that most of that time, he was trying to figure out why his answer came as fast as it did for him. 
“You don’t-”
“I can stay.”
You looked up at him and nodded with a slight smile. 
Moments later, Logan had kicked his shoes off and was lying beside you in bed. 
“Logan?”
“Yeah?”
You took his hand that lay between you both and turned your head to look at him. 
“Thank you for staying.”
It was his turn to turn his head and when he did, he felt something. The same feeling he’d been getting since the day you gave him his first cup of tea. 
Logan just nodded before lifting his arm. “Come here.”
You moved closer to him as he lifted the covers a little so you could do so. Then he dropped his arm around your back, his palm flush against its centre before it slid a little lower to hold you by your waist. 
As your head settled close to his chest, he dropped his head a little, leaning his jaw against the top of your head and as he felt you relax and close your eyes, he did the same thing. 
The moment your breathing became even, and he knew you were asleep, Logan settled back down and held you just a little tighter against him as he closed his eyes and joined you in a dreamless sleep. 
Hours passed and Charles hadn’t seen either you or Logan in hours. But when he spotted a picture frame that had fallen onto the floor, just outside of your room, he sped as quickly as he could down the hall, but paused when he saw the door open and a sight he didn’t think he’d get to witness for at least a few more months. 
From the hallway, Charles peered in to find the snow falling heavily outside of your window. The children and other teachers were still outside playing. The fire had died down a little, but even he could feel the heat from the room. 
And in the middle of the left hand wall through the door, was your bed. 
Where yourself and Logan slept soundly, almost as one. With your face and hand on his chest, and his arm around your waist, whilst his other hand held onto your arm in a soft grip, keeping your hand on him. 
Xavier could practically feel the serenity oozing from the pair of you. He knew Logan was troubled and that you yourself hadn’t felt safe or content in a long time. 
And he would never have to tell Logan of the change you brought to him, or the one he brought to you. The change that helped you feel safe again, content again. Happy again. Without the added feeling that something was about to go off kilter. 
Because Logan already knew. 
And so did you. 
And for Logan, no matter how many times you would tell him you were “nobody important”, you would always be important to him. 
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prettycottagequeer · 8 months ago
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ok maybe I'm a little late to this BUT I'm gonna do a to-do list motivation thingy because I've had the worst two weeks since I started college :)
SO these I should start on asap:
50 I make the snack I really want but I haven't had the motivation to make
100 I clean my dorm. another thing I've been meaning to do for a week
150 I do the presentation about mid-victorian fashion I've been putting off (due Monday)
200 I start memorizing the monologue that was due a week ago (now due Tuesday)
these can wait longer:
300 I spend time outside. It's so nice but I'm getting stuck scrolling because I feel like shit. vicious cycle ect
500 I start setting a better weekend routine (aka getting up before noon)
1k I start working out again. I was doing a routine to get more masc and build muscle and I liked it but life hit me like Crowley driving the Bentley and I've missed like 3 weeks
2k I buy my first binder. I've been coping with sports bras for almost a year now and I haven't been able to justify spending $50+ on a binder even though I know I'd love it and use it everyday.
Do I tag people? I don't know but I'm going to. @the-globe-theatre-maggot @weirdly-specific-but-ok @howmanyholesinswisscheese
here's just some context if you want to read, feel free to skip. some of this I've talked about in the maggot server, some I haven't, but I really just need a place for this to go that's out of my head. tw homophobia, transphobia, car crash(??)
How I Have Been Run Over By The Bentley Going 90 In Central London What Feels Like 50 Times In The Last Two Weeks
I'm going to college about 4 hours away from my parents, and it's been really nice. They.. suck, to say the least. transphobic/homophobic ect, super traditional conservative catholic, racist, all of it. so i tried to move somewhere where I wouldn't have to think about them and I could be myself and do what I can to be happy. March 1st was the start of my spring break, which meant going home because the dorms close. I was already not excited, but I was prepared. the problem with being away from home is I forget just how bad they are. My optimism gets the better of me and I think maybe this time they'll be better. so I decided to not hide my septum piercing.
that was a mistake. it starts a whole fight where they say we know you're trans, you're actually a girl and you always will be, we have the bones argument, they think I'm being influenced by demons or something (if only they knew about crowley) because I want to change my name, and they tell me that going on t will completely ruin my body and give me cancer and other things. They're also mad about my dyed hair, septum, and general style, and say I'm setting a terrible example for my (5) younger siblings and make it a point to tell me just how much of a disappointment I am. I think I'm pretty cute and fun but y'know, whatever. very fun time. I lie so much, don't give them any more details about my identity, and say I'm not planning to go on t to save my ass. which is all on instinct which makes me feel worse because if I'm really trans I should be able to stand up for that, right? maybe I'm faking the dysphoria.
the next morning I wake up really sick, and spend the rest of the week sick and feeling like shit because I'm home and back in the same place and situation I was a year ago that I thought I escaped. at one point I pretty much lose my voice but also kind of get gender euphoria from it. it's weird.
On Friday it's time for me to drive back 4 hours to school, and I make it about 3/4 of the way when google maps takes me on a random gravel road and I crash my car, really crash my car, like sideways-in-a-ditch-windows-broken-crawling-up-out-the-door crash it in the middle of nowhere. (I was fully paying attention to the road, it was raining and super slick) I call my parents because I have no one else to call and I sit in a Subway for 3 hours while they drive to get my car. when they get there they're (understandably) really mad, and they tell me that I'm not mature enough to be going to school so far away and I need to get my shit together and stop depending on them. which. is probably true. but made me feel even more stupid about the fact that I crashed my car. I get back to school and I'm still Very Sick with no energy or motivation to do anything. So I've spent the last week trying to get better and honestly to do anything. it hasn't really worked. I'm a lot better health-wise (Not emotionally), still sick but I have a lot of work due, so I really need a push to get started
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sainns · 5 months ago
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SIGNS OF AFFECTION.
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𝓢.ㅤ the portrayal of their love for you.
OT7ㅤ୨୧ ⠀ femreader⠀ . . .ㅤ fluff, riki's lowkey a third wheel in jake's part oops, he is also a d1 complainer in his part, not proofreadㅤ2224 words
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LEE HEESEUNG “baby, stay with me,” heeseung all but whines, pulling on your arm in an attempt to drag you back down to his bed. his voice is hoarse from not having spoken in a while; you had been laying together in silence, the both of you doing your own thing in each other’s space.
“hee, i have to go,” you try to free yourself from his grasp and you almost succeed but once he notices that he’s losing his grip, he tugs you towards him and wraps his arms around your waist, head resting against your stomach.
“just spend the night, i don’t think your roommate will care,”
“of course she isn’t going to care but i care. i have to go study,”
he looks up, his chin pressing against your stomach, lips forming a pout as he stares at you with a pleading expression. you can’t help but smile at him, bringing a hand up to fix his tousled hair.
you like when he gets clingy like this—he’s always clingy—it’s comforting knowing that he likes your presence as much as you do his. maybe even more, considering he’s always asking you to go over or if he can hang out at your apartment even if you don’t plan on doing anything. when you ask why or propose actually doing something he laughs you off, saying that simply sitting in the same room as you is enough for him. 
“study here,”
“i don’t have my stuff,”
“okay, study tomorrow then,” he sits up, removing his arms from around you. though, he keeps his hands on your waist, squeezing, “i wanna stay with you,”
you stare at him for a moment, acting as if you were debating on whether or not to give in. it was all for show, though; you’re going to give in to him every single time and he knows it. so a smug smile takes place on his lips, knowing that he’s won when you let out a sigh, shoving his shoulder lightly so that he could make room for you on his bed.
PARK JONGSEONG you search for jay’s warmth right when you wake up, eyebrows furrowing and lips turning downwards when you don’t find it. you open your eyes to see nothing, jay nowhere to be seen.
you lay in bed for a minute longer before deciding to get up and go look for him in your small apartment, but before you can even pull the covers away from your body, your boyfriend walks in. 
he looks like he’s been awake for a while—you can tell he took a shower by his still damp hair and he’s already dressed, wearing simple jeans and a t-shirt. he smiles at you, “hey, sleepyhead,”
“hi… you’re up early,”
“i was making you breakfast,” you feel the bed dip from his weight as he sits next to where you’re still laying, “and i cleaned the apartment a little,”
you reach over and grab his hand, placing a kiss against his knuckles, “thank you, but you didn’t have to. it’s my apartment, i can do it myself,” despite saying that, you know he’s going to ignore you, continuing on with taking care of you, your needs, and your apartment.
he hums, but doesn’t respond verbally, instead squeezing your hand in his. the two of you sit in a comfortable silence—you trying to fully wake up and him waiting for you—for what feels like forever until he finally breaks it.
“i like doing things for you, you know?”
“do you?”
“yeah, i do. you smile at his response, lifting your head to silently ask for a kiss. 
he obliges, mumbling against your lips, “you gonna get up and eat breakfast now?”
SIM JAEYUN “how do you deal with jake being on top of you constantly?”
you raise your eyebrows at riki’s question, watching as the teenager throws a piece of popcorn at your boyfriend from the other end of the couch. 
jake throws it back, “dude, i’m not on top of her,” except he is on top of you—his arms wrapped around your waist, head resting against your shoulder. 
“uh… yeah, you are,”
the boys’ argument fades into the background as you think about riki’s question. honestly, you never noticed that jake was, in fact, always ‘on top’ of you.
you don’t mind it, obviously—you enjoy it—but now that you’re thinking back on your relationship, jake really is very physically affectionate towards you. you don’t think you can recall a time where his arms weren’t wrapped around you, or his hand holding wasn’t holding yours, or he wasn’t standing so close to you that the both of you looked like you’re glued together.
“jake,” you interrupt their argument, laughing as you poke at him cheek, “maybe you should pull away before you try and defend yourself,”
he scoffs at you in faux annoyance, doing the exact opposite of what you told him to do—he pulls you closer to him, practically forcing you onto his lap. you’re sitting sideways, your head against his shoulder now.
“nope, you’re warm,”
“i don’t think it’s cold,”
“i’m cold, though,” shrugging, he places a kiss on top of your head, “also, ki, she’s on top of me, so you’re making zero sense,”
“i just watched you move her on top of you,” riki groans, throwing a pillow at the both of you, making you laugh when the two begin arguing again, the movie you had been watching long forgotten.
PARK SUNGHOON everyday you are beyond thankful for park sunghoon, whatever higher power there is must really like you to give you the opportunity of being his girlfriend.
the fact that he’ll wake up at 3:28AM just to go buy you some kind of snack or food is one of the things you love about the man, simply because you know almost nobody who would ever do that—unless their partner was pregnant—but he does. 
“i love you, by the way,” you smile, tapping your feet in excitement against the car floor, stopping when you feel sunghoon’s hand squeeze your thigh gently.
“because i’m going to go get you an ice cream?” he turns on the blinker, stopping before turning to the right, driving to a nearby convenience store where you’re planning on getting said ice cream.
“that too, but i just love you in general,”
“yeah?” he glances at you, an eyebrow raised.
“yes,”
“good,” his thumb rubbing circles against your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, “i love you too, i hope you know i’d never get up this late for anyone else,”
“i hope not,” the car pulls into the convenience store’s empty—save for the singular employee’s car—parking lot, sunghoon putting the car into park. he gets out, leaving you alone in the car for a brief moment, rounding to your side and opening the door.
he leans against it, staring at you with a soft, fond smile. the look makes you nervous, your face heating up at the prolonged eye contact. it gets to be too much after a few seconds, and you reach up to cover his eyes with your hand, “okay, stop staring, you’re weird,”
he lets out a laugh, removing your hand from his eyes, “i’m weird? you’re the one who wants ice cream at three in the morning,”
“well, you still drove me here, so you’re equally as weird. you could’ve said no,”
“nope, i can’t say no to you. it’s impossible,” 
he doesn’t say anything else as he grabs your hand, helping you out of the car. you’re perfectly capable of stepping out of it yourself but you let him help you, not really thinking about it—a habit that’s formed after years of dating him. you smile to yourself, the cold air of the convenience store making you shiver while you follow behind sunghoon to the small freezer section.
KIM SEONWOO you smile when sunoo hands you a shopping bag, looking inside to see an album you’d been wanting for a while now. you’d only mentioned it to him once, an offhand statement that you moved on from immediately after saying it. you should’ve known sunoo was going to remember and buy it for you, even though you could have bought it yourself.
noticing something else in the bag, you move the album out of the way, your eyes widening in surprise when you see that he also bought you the phone charm you’d really wanted. you hadn’t been able to find it in any stores, though, and yet somehow sunoo did.
“those are the ones you wanted right?” his eyes go back and forth between you and the bag, watching your reaction, “i saw the charm and remembered you wanted it, so i got it. it was the last one,”
“mhm, it is, thank you,” you take it out, looking it over with a grin on your face, “you didn’t need to get the album, i could’ve bought it,”
he waves you off, “it’s fine. i just got it while i was there. you like them, though, right?”
“obviously, i like them,” you lean forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, embracing him. he hugs you back, placing his hands on your waist. he can’t help but let out an exasperated sigh when you continue your sentence, “but i feel bad that you’re always wasting your money,”
“i don’t waste money, it’s for a good cause. as long as you like it, angel, then who cares. i’ll get you whatever you want, it’s not a big deal,” he pulls away from you, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek, pulling you into a gentle kiss.
YANG JUNGWON “you look pretty in that shirt,” jungwon says, snapping yet another photo of you since you started your clothing haul. you giggle, looking at him through your mirror—he’s looking at his phone, probably scrolling through the pictures he’s taken so far.
“you don’t have to take a picture of every outfit, won,” you turn, walking over to sit next to him on your bed, “i’ll wear them again,”
“but i like taking pictures of you,” he shows you his phone, a photo of you from earlier on his screen. you hadn’t noticed him take this one—it was while you were wearing one of the first outfits you had tried on, your face in a weird expression. you assume jungwon had taken in while you were talking and you grimace when he continues speaking, “you look pretty,”
you give him a look, “i look bad in that picture,”
your boyfriend frowns, setting his phone to the side, putting your focus back on his face rather than his phone. he narrows his eyes at you, playfully glaring, “i don’t think so, you look good in every picture,”
“no,” you scoff, “you’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend,”
“no,” he mocks you, sticking his tongue out at you. you laugh at his immaturity, moving to push his shoulder but he stops you, hand gripping onto your wrist. you pause, biting your lip to keep from laughing when you notice he’s still glaring at you, “it’s because you are pretty. so pretty that i go crazy every time i see you,”
“you’re overselling it,” you look away, feeling your face heat up at his compliments. you still aren’t used to him being so… nice. not that he was ever mean, but the constant barrage of compliments the boy gives you on a daily basis is enough to make anyone nervous.
“am not,” he gives you an offended look, letting out a huff of air, “i’m just telling the truth, lovely.”
NISHIMURA RIKI you glance to your side, stifling a giggle when riki lets out a loud groan, his feet dragging against the floor as you walk into yet another store.
you’ve been shopping for the past three hours, having gone into most of the businesses at the mall. riki, despite you telling him he didn’t have to come, tagged along but he started complaining almost immediately after you exited the third store.
“you definitely don’t have enough money to buy anything else—can we go?” he squeezes your hand, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles. the act almost makes you comply with his request.
“i told you that you didn’t have to come,”
you always tell him that he doesn’t have to go with you, whether it be to the mall or something else. every single time he insists, telling you that he’ll go with you so you don’t ‘feel lonely’, only for him to start complaining within five minutes of whatever it is that you’re doing. you know that it’s lighthearted, but you can’t help but (lovingly) roll your eyes at him every time he does this.
“i didn’t think we’d be here for five days,”
you scoff, bumping him with your shoulder while you card through a rack of t-shirts with your free hand, “you’re dramatic,”
“no, i’m not. my feet just hurt,”
humming, you pull out a shirt, scrutinizing it for a few moments before ultimately deciding to buy it, “go sit in the car then, babe,”
“uh, no,” he gives you a dirty look, grabbing the shirt from your hand so that he could hold it instead, “i came ‘cos i wanted to spend time with you, not the car.”
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note. PHEWWWW whyd this take me a week to write bye sunoo was making me go crazy. anyways yay guess their love languages!!!! i think it's obvious but if it isn't oops + layout inspired by my fav bywons <3
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phefics · 1 year ago
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veritaserum
ship: fred weasley x reader x george weasley summary: fred and george dose the reader with a truth serum, which leads to her admitting a sexual fantasy including both brothers. warnings: dubious consent (truth potion is used to make the reader admit her sexual fantasies which then play out), pseudo-inc3st (the twins don't do anything sexual to each other but are both involved in the same sexual scenario), gender-neutral!reader (reader has a vagina but no pronouns are used) word count: 1.9k
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Being friends with the Weasley twins was a constant rollercoaster.
There was never a dull moment, always an adventure to go on, a prank to pull, or witty banter bouncing between you and the brothers. Sometimes, you were helping Fred and George pull off their next big joke, but other times, you were their target. Sure, it could be frustrating, but it was also fun for you, and you always found ways to get them back.
You had been friends with the twins since your first year at Hogwarts, and that friendship had continued past Hogwarts and followed you into early-adulthood. You visited them at the flat over their shop in Diagon Alley often, where they showed you prototypes for new products and made you laugh until you cried with their antics.
It was a cold evening when you appeared in their fireplace, a bit dusty from the ashes, and were greeted with excited shouts from Fred and George before being pulled into a group hug.
As you looked up at their grinning faces, you couldn’t believe that there were people who still got the twins confused.
Fred had more freckles on his face, while George’s shoulders and arms had an abundance of them. When Fred laughed, he threw his head back, cackling loudly, while George usually gave more reserved chuckles, laughing down at his lap. And, well, George was fully missing an ear now, and Fred had a large scar on his temple from the Battle, where a piece of castle wall had crashed down on top of him.
“Finally,” Fred said, man-handling you onto the couch. “We’ve been waiting ages!”
“I’m only a few minutes late,” you replied, glancing at their clock, which wasn’t even working—it read 3:15, but it was well past 7:00 judging by the darkness outside.
“And are our few minutes not important to you?” George asked, sitting by your side. “We could have been using that time to come up with more brilliant inventions.”
“Or planned a clever scheme to spill a bucket of water on your head when you arrived,” Fred added.
You rolled your eyes. “I’m terribly sorry to have wasted your precious time,” you said, tone thick with sarcasm.
It was nice catching up with them. They updated you on each member of the Weasley family, such as Fleur’s pregnancy with her and Bill’s first child, or Percy’s upcoming wedding. You updated them on your own life as well, and it wasn’t long until they had pushed a glass of Firewhiskey into your hands.
“So, Y/N,” Fred said, leaning against the back of the couch. You immediately recognized the glint of mischief in his brown eyes, and braced yourself for whatever ridiculous question he was about to pose.
“Which of us do you think is the better looking twin?”
You opened your mouth, intending to say something like ‘neither of you’ or ‘you’re identical—what kind of stupid question is that?’ but the sentence that spilled from your lips instead was, “Well, you look pretty much the same, so I’d say you guys are equally attractive. I think the scar makes you look pretty hot, Fred, but George can really pull off the whole missing ear thing.”
You clapped a hand over your mouth, face burning.
The twins both erupted into giggles.
“Oh, you’re too kind!” George said. “I’m glad you find my lack of an ear sexy.”
“And my scar is flattered,” Fred added.
“What did you two do?” you asked, scowling.
“We might have stumbled upon a vial of Veritaserum…” George said, trying and failing to look guilty. “And put it in your drink. Just a drop, though! It’ll wear off soon.”
You wanted to insult them, yell at them, call them every insult and curse under the sun, but no words would leave your tongue. It was like the truth serum wouldn’t even let you pretend to be pissed off. Sure, this was an invasion of your privacy and totally sketchy, but you had known Fred and George for so long, you were sort of used to their antics by now. You should have been way angrier than you were, but it was just so typical of them, you couldn’t muster much more than annoyance.
What you did manage to say was, “Why?”
Both twins shrugged.
“For fun,” Fred said.
“And because we were curious about something,” George replied.
“About what?”
“About which of us you like better.”
You blinked at them. “Are you serious? We aren’t eleven anymore. Is it really a contest between you two to be the better twin?”
“Not really, no,” Fred said. “Even though we all know that it's me.”
George reached over you to playfully shove his brother’s shoulder. “It’s not about proving anything. We’re just curious. So, Y/N, who do you like better: me or Freddie?”
“I like you equally,” you said. “You are both hilarious, intelligent, and my best friends. I find it easier to connect with George on serious things, but Fred always knows the right thing to say when I need cheering up.”
Your face was flushing deeper, embarrassed at the cheesy, sentimental words that left your mouth. Fred and George had grown up in an incredibly loving, affectionate family and had never shied away from making their love known, but it was awkward to voice your own feelings out loud like that.
Both twins seemed rather touched, though
“Wow, I was expecting you to have to pick,” Fred said. “But that’s oddly sweet.”
You groaned. “Okay, okay, yes, I love you both, can we knock this off now?”
“No, we have more questions!”
“Such as…?”
“Would you fuck either of us?” George asked.
Fred was normally the more vulgar of the two, and the question coming from George’s lips instead took you even more off guard.
“Yes,” you said, unable to stop yourself. “Either of you. Or both of you.”
“At the same time?”
“Yes.”
Fred and George also showed their emotions differently. Fred was better at keeping his feelings to himself, but when he was flustered, his ears would turn pink. His ears had flushed slightly, and his eyes were wide as he licked his lips, clearly intrigued by your answer. George was also flushed, but the color went to his face, and he brushed his thumbs repeatedly over his thighs, a nervous tick he’d always had.
“Have you thought about this a lot?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Tell us how you’d want it.”
You couldn’t help but answer. “I would let you strip off my clothes, groping me. One of you is behind me, kissing my neck as you take off my shirt. The other is at my feet, pulling my pants down. Neither of you shut up the whole time, talking about me like I’m not even there. Commenting to each other about how pretty I am, how wet my pussy is for you. Whoever is between my legs starts to go down on me, while the other holds my body still so I can’t move away from how good it feels. I cum on your tongue, and the other wants a turn, too…”
The twins were both clearly aroused as you spoke.
“Do you want that? Now?” Fred asked, his voice low.
“Yes,” you breathed. 
They waste no time switching their positions on the couch, George pulling your back against his chest while Fred positions himself between your legs, his hands eagerly moving to the waistband of your pants, tugging at it.
George took his time, hands sliding up your shirt, touching softly as he felt you up, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, lips teasing the skin there.
You couldn’t help but whine under their touches, loving every moment of it. You had truly dreamt of this for years, always too afraid to ruin the friendship. Sure, you had kissed both twins for dares back at school, but this was real and intimate and beautiful.
Fred made quick work of getting your bottom half undressed, and he kissed his ways along your thighs, cupping your ass with one hand, squeezing hard.
“So fuckin’ hot,” George breathed.
“I know, right?” Fred replied. “So good for us, too. Are we making your fantasy come true, love?”
You nodded, whimpering softly.
“So needy, too. You want to cum for us?”
You nodded again. “Yes, yes please.”
George chuckled, nipping at your ear as Fred’s mouth finally reached your pussy, his tongue licking tentatively at you before he found your clit, which he immediately focused his attention on.
Your noises only grew louder, more desperate.
“Already? You’re not very good at this whole build-up thing, Freddie,” George said.
“I think we’ve waited long enough for this,” Fred replied before returning to his task.
“You don’t want to be patient, do you, darling?” George asked, hugging you tightly from behind. “You’ve wanted this for so long, you just want to be good for us, take everything we’ve got?”
“Fuck yes,” you moan.
Fred was clearly just as eager as you are, apparently trying to make you cum as quickly as possible, like he was placing bets in his head.
“You like that, hm? Is he good at it? Making you feel good?” George said.
“Feels so fucking good.”
“Good. You gonna cum for him?”
“Yes, yes, I’m—”
It didn’t take long at all. Fred’s tongue was good for more than just witty comments, and your legs trembled as he sat up, lips shining with your slick and a smug smile on his face.
“I think this is the part where we switch jobs, Georgie.”
Your pussy was already so wet, so sensitive, you knew that George would be able to make you cum fast, too. It was almost embarrassing how easy you were, how turned on they made you.
The twins switched positions, and Fred wrapped his arms around your middle sweetly, dragging his fingers over your waist and making goosebumps spread over your abdomen, squirming in his grasp.
“Don’t try and get away, sweet thing,” Fred said. “Otherwise George won’t be able to have his turn. Just be good for us, okay? Be a good little slut.”
You whined, face hot as George’s lips found your inner thighs and kissed the skin there, slowly, teasingly. He was the more patient, more methodical of the two. He wasn’t going to go straight for your clit, he was going to keep you wanting. Maybe until you begged.
Fred began sucking a hickey into your throat, leaving you a moaning mess as the twins both worshiped your body like it was something sacred.
Finally, George’s tongue found your pussy, teasing your hole and folds before even bothering to touch your clit.
“Should he put his fingers inside you?” Fred asked.
You nodded fervently, thrusting your hips.
George complied immediately, sliding one finger inside which was quickly followed by a second, pumping slowly before curling into that special spot, which he had found surprisingly easily.
Your second orgasm came just as quickly as the first, your hands balling into fists and your toes curling. Once your body was able to relax, you looked up through teary eyes to see George licking your taste off of his fingers.
“Was that everything you dreamed?” Fred asked.
You opened your mouth, expecting the answer to roll off your tongue, but it didn’t. You realized that the potion had worn off, and smirked.
“It could have been better,” you said, thrilled with your ability to lie again.
Obviously, Fred and George had to remedy that immediately.
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lnfours · 5 months ago
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i could imagine how soft lando is after a fight and maybe you could write something about lando and reader had a lowkey big fight, and lando decided to join her to the shower (GWSJZHHAHZ) and apologize under the shower before finally creating a steamy scene with the reader
ooooh my god. oh my god.
smut (18+ please!)
send in your lando thoughts
the argument was something stupid. a result of exhaustion and frustration on his end. he hasn’t meant to upset you, or yell at you for that matter, but he had. and he felt guilty when you turned on your heels, walking away and leaving him in the kitchen.
you two hadn’t seen much of each other the past week and a half. between his traveling, his training schedule and your own calendar, it felt like you were always just missing each other. it felt like you didn’t get to spend so much time with the other recently, which was a big deal to you beings he’s hardly home to begin with.
you knew he hadn’t really meant to go off, maybe you had caught him at the wrong time. you knew he was tired, wanting nothing more than a simple break. but you couldn’t help it. you missed your boyfriend. plain and simple.
he walked into the bedroom, hoping to find you, but instead heard the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. he cracked open the door, stripping off his shirt.
“lando?”
“hmm?”
“what’re you doing?” you asked, but you knew what he was doing. he wasn’t being very subtle about it.
the shower door opened and he step foot inside with you, curls sticking to his forehead as the water fell onto the two of you, “joining you, is that alright?”
you nodded, letting his hands find your hips.
“i’m sorry,” he mumbled, letting your back hit his chest, lips brushing against the skin of your shoulder, “for yelling and getting short with you. i shouldn’t have yelled.”
you hummed softly, “‘s okay,”
“let me make it up to you.”
his words lost into the skin of your neck and the sound of the shower water pouring down around you. his hands rested on your tummy, holding you against him as you felt his teeth gently nibble at the skin where your neck meets your collarbone.
“how do you plan on making it up to me?”
his hands moved down, fingers dipping between your folds as he teased you. you gasped, head falling back against his shoulder as he smiled down at you, “‘ve got a few ideas.”
“lando,” his name on your tongue sounded heavenly to him.
“yeah, baby,” he said, “tell me what you want. i’m yours.”
you moaned, his teeth gently pulling at your earlobe.
“fuck,” you swallowed, grasping at his forearm. wet from the warm water and his muscles and veins peeking through his perfectly tan skin, “i need you. please,”
he was quick to move his hands to your hips, the two of you finding yourselves situated with your hands on the glass, his one hand on your hip as the other teased himself up and down your slit.
“this what you want, pretty girl? want me to fuck you up against this shower wall?”
“please,” you said. and he would’ve been lying if he said he could deny you like this. spread out and vulnerable, waiting for him to take care of the aching between your thighs that was simply his fault.
“c’mere,” he mumbled, hand wrapping around the base of your throat to pull your head back, your mouth opening in a gasp as he pushed in. no matter how many times he’d have you like this, the stretch and feeling of tightening around him was never not delicious.
“fuck,” he mumbled, slowly moving his hips once you had fully adjusted, “missed you.”
“i missed you too.” you managed to choke out. his hand was still around your throat and as he picked up his movements, the pressure against the points in your neck became greater and greater. your eyes rolled back as he moaned into your ear.
“i love you,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to the skin below your ear, “so much.”
“i love you too,” you could barely speak, too drunk off of the way his dick was slamming in and out of you. how good it felt to let him have his way with you.
“so good for me,” his free hand traveled, finding your clit with ease as he began running tight circles against it, “come for me, baby. you deserve it.”
you moaned his name, making him pick up the pace just a little more as his hips met yours in a consistent pace. the pace that drove you crazy.
soon the coil in your lower belly was threatening to snap, “‘m so close, lan.”
“me too, baby,” he said, “gonna come for me? come all over my dick, hmm?”
nothing could compete with his dirty talk and he knew it. watching the way your body convulsed against him, your moans and the way you tightened around him sending him over the edge.
he came with you, moaning into your ear as you tried catching your breath. chest rising and falling as he pulled you back from the shower wall. he carefully slipped out of you, letting you turn around before he placed a kiss on your lips.
between kisses he mumbled against your lips, “how about we get cleaned up and take this to the bed, hm?”
you nodded, hands finding his curls, “please.”
1K notes · View notes
ncroissant · 8 months ago
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switch! doppelgänger francis mosses x dom! gn! reader x sub! francis mosses
summary: double-teaming the real francis with doppel! francis
wc: 1.4k
content warning: nsfw, cock can be viewed as a strap, nipple play (personal fave), throat-fucking, blow jobs, hand jobs, dirty talk, doppel francis is referred to as doppel, wrist burns, tied up francis
author’s note: hellooooo my lovelies !! here is the long awaited fanfic that will hopefully satiate everyone’s preferences from the francis mosses poll yesterday (so i'm a pathalogical liar bc the way this was just sub! francis...) i plan to write many, many more sub! francis content because i cannot imagine him any other way. hope you guys enjoy this :) not proofread, minors please dni !!
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“hhGHK-”
“can’t hear you that well down there, francie. speak up f’me?” you smile devlishly, tilting your head to look down at your crotch. francis knelt there with brusied knees, sucking your cock, stroking what he couldn’t fit with two hands.
another francis emerged from behind you, chuckling at his dupilcate’s pitiful state. “is that what the francis of this world is really like? a milk delivery man during the day, then a pathetic little whore who chokes on cocks back at home?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“c’mon, use me too. i would never whine like this while suckin’ on that…” his fingers trailed down your v-line to the base of your cock. “i’m different from this loser…” he pouted, placing his chin on your shoulder, giving you a pleading look.
“m-mmnMPFH, g-GHK!” francis moaned, the vibrations shooting through your cock. he was whiny, but that’s what turned you on the most about your desperate little boyfriend.
you chuckled, gripping at his hair to make him look up at you. “don’t forget to look at me while i fuck your throat, francy,” you instructed as he nodded as best as he could with tears pricking his eyes. the look he gave you was so priceless, his mouth stuff full with your fat cock and drool dripping down his chin.
“yeah, but my dirty boy takes my cock the best,” you praised, making doppel frown. you thrusted your cock deep into francis’ throat, hitting the back of his throat every time you made even the slightest movement.
his eyes rolled back at the thickness and length of your cock, as he exhaled through his nose heavily. he felt his hands drifting down to his bulge, humping the carpet underneath.
you noticed, finally knowing what to do with doppel. “actually, i need you to take care of my needy little boy down there…” you shot francis a glare, shaking your head in disappointment. he whimpered at the action, his eyes widening with tears immediately streaming down his cheeks.
you pulled him off your cock, his saliva connecting to the tip. “haagnh…” he mewled out, his tongue still stuck out, waiting for a sweet treat. “c-cum on my tongue, please…” he begged, placing the tip of your cock on his tongue.
“such a needy boy. always wanting more than what you’re given, huh?” you tutted, grabbing your middle of your cock to tap it roughly on his tongue. he could only moan, feeling his hips shake in anticipating.
“that’s why i have him. to help me discipline you,” you pulled at doppel’s bow to tug him closer, untying it in the process. “c’mere francie. up on my lap,” you patted your lap, holding a hand out for him to get up.
he followed suit, stumbling over his feet a bit, but ultimately sitting on your lap with his back pressed against your chest. his cock was aching in his stupidly tight pants, begging to be let free. his face flushed at the sight of a very different, yet similar version of himself in front of him.
“doppel, c’mere sit on francie’s thigh,” you motioned him over, straightface. you, on the otherhand, begun to tie francis’ wrists above his head with the tie you had previously acquired. doppel obediently followed your instructions, sitting on one of francis’ spread thighs.
“w-what’re we doing?” francis stuttered, feeling exposed despite being fully clothed.
your arms looped around his body, rubbing his nipples through the fabric of his shirt. he jolted. “just punishing you,” you smiled, giving doppel a look. he quickly caught on, unzipping francis’ pants, palming him through his underwear.
your pointer finger tickled at his sensitive nub, while the other hand pinched at his already hardened nipple. francis’ weak spot was his nipples. the way he reacted when you even grazed his nipples made you want to bend him over a bucket and squeeze them until milk came out.
“o-oooH! hnnghh…w-why through my s-shirt?” he whimpered, jutting out his wet lower lip.
you gave him no response, flicking at his buds with your nails, making his arch his back. “gHK! y-you’re too, mnGHHK, rough!” he exclaimed, his brows furrowing. you loved to twist and tug at his nipples.
it was his fault for wearing such a tight uniform shirt. he was just asking to have you toy with his neglected buds that always poked out from the slightly nudge from the shirt fabric. your hands grope his chest, fingers rubbing over them quickly.
doppel wasn’t neglecting francis’ cock either. he was playing lazily with the wet spot on francis’ underwear that leaked pre-cum. it stuck to his pointer finger when he dragged it away, making doppel chuckle at his copy’s sensitivity.
“feel good, francie? squirmin’ so much, hm?” you placed your chin on his shoulder, watching the way his lips shaped into an “o”, mewling at the way you played with his perky nipples. you’d tug on one, flicking the other one quickly.
“g-good, HNGH, o-oghhh...s-so gnhh…” he could barely get a word out, lewd noises just falling out of his lips. you stopped teasing his nipples before slowly unbuttoning his uniform shirt.
doppel wasn’t taking francis seriously, stroking at a pace he thought was slow, but inhumanely too quick for francis. “human dicks are so small. you pleasing anyone with this tiny little guy, huh?” he teased, making eye contact with francis. “oh look, more pre-cum spilled out!”
francis felt how wet his cock was getting, covered in dopel’s spit and his own pre-cum. when he thought he only had to focus on doppel, your hands came back to grope at his chest. you could now visibly see the pink plushness of his nipples.
“looks like something might come out if i squeeze hard enough, right francie?” you whispered in his ear, rolling your fingers around the bud.
“same thing on my end,” doppel chimed in, rubbing his thumb over francis’ slit.
francis shivered at the thought, feeling his high come at lightning speed. the way the tips of your fingers would flick at his nipples combined with doppel’s inhumane strokes made the poor boy explode.
“ooonghhh, ‘m c-cumming soon, mmngh! HGK! c-cumming!” he bursted into doppel’s palm, collapsing into your arms. your movement slowed slightly, but you continued to flick at the tips of his nipples.
doppel took note of this, playing with the slit of his dick, playing with the foreskin. “human stamina is so pathetic. surely you’re not done now?” doppel leaned down, lapping francis’ cum with his monstrous cum.
“UGHK? i-i jus’, hic, came…hnnn…” he cried, tears streaming down his cheeks, feeling his aching tip burn. regardless of his pleads, he still rutting his cock into doppel’s mouth for additional friction.
“show me what your pretty chest looks like now, francie,” you ordered, as he puffed out his chest for you to see properly over his chest. you hummed deciding to untie him so he could give you a real show.
his wrists were red from shaking against the restraints so you pressed chaste kisses against the burns. “that’s not how you show me, is it?” he shook his head, shaking from the way doppel was sucking his dick.
francis’ fingers stretched the skin around his nipples, properly showing you the puffiness of his teased buds. he looked up at you with his fingers strewn across his chest with a teary-eyed expression.
“such a perfect boy f’me,” you praised, ruffling his locks. “so good that you can take another hour of teasing before taking my cock, right?” you grinned, your hands finding their rightful spot on his chest.
‘e-EUGH! yesyesyes…i can take it, hngh!” he nodded furiously, his hips shaking like a dog in heat.
“good boy,” you nodded, sticking your fingers into his already open mouth. you and doppel had a long night ahead of you.
taglist: @lordragamuffin
2K notes · View notes
onlyswan · 4 months ago
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dreamboat | jjk (1)
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summary: aboard the dreamboat, jungkook finds himself drawn to a beautiful stranger who appears to be drowning in melancholy. weeks later, he sees her face on the other side of the aquarium at his apartment building’s lobby. he soon learns that it’s not fate’s grand romantic plans that brought you back to his life. / (alt.) / a shipwreck and a dreamboat form an unusual bond in an aquarium.
non!idoljk x f!reader (jk is a business major who works at the amusement park ; oc works at the call center) / strangers to lovers / fluff, angst, suggestive / chapter wc: 14.9k / total fic wc: 30.8k
warnings/content (for full fic): is it an onlyswan fic if nobody cries? ; smoking ; making out ; mention of nude art ; mention of flashing ; panic attack ; a ghost cameo lol ; s*x scandal ; abuse of authority ; harrassment ; jk throws a punch once ; oc drives a motorbike without a helmet once ; vminjin + yeontan cameos :3 ; tae and jk are the same age tho
-> part two (wc: 15.9k) | spotify playlist (open to song recs <3)
note: my not so little summer project <3 i thought i wouldn’t have the opportunity to dedicate this much time to writing again in the near future so here we are! finishing this story alone felt fulfilling but even more so that i get to share it with you. pls treat it with gentle care 🫂 reblogs and feedback r very much appreciated i love talking to you guys🥺 special thanks to my lovely rio for proofreading and being the sweetest friend :") ilyily
࿐ for those who yearn <3
“wait! wait for me! don’t close it yet!”
jungkook’s whole life has led up to this moment. 
from running away from his neighbor’s large snobby dogs during childhood— to participating in run for charity marathons mostly, only mostly, to appease his ex-girlfriend by being interested in her interests.
he successfully escaped from his uneventful class today by faking dizziness. half an hour later, he is racing towards one of the few places in this city where he feels something. 
his best friend’s face is still blurry given the distance, but jungkook doesn’t need to clearly see taehyung’s face to know that he is looking at him unimpressed. 
“why are you here? do you even have a ticket?!” taehyung interrogates him once he reaches the gate.
“do i have a ticket? really?” jungkook smirks, tossing his backpack to the ground. 
he crosses over to the other side, and with ease, sneaks his hand in between the bars to push the lock into place. 
“what do you think i work here for?” 
taehyung sighs and mumbles to himself. “fine, my bad. thought we worked to pay for our bills.”
he picks up the backpack and swings it over his shoulder, heading to the control booth. on the other hand, jungkook climbs on the ship the amusement park owner lovingly named the dreamboat. he places his grip on one of the many vines curiously large butterflies are attached to, fully ignoring the existence of the steps. he hoists himself up onto the wooden floor with ease. 
unhappy faces with blank stares. 
he smiles at them cheerfully.
“i apologize for the hold-up. i’m your captain!” 
“jungkook! sit!” 
“wouldn’t he be the captain?” a high school boy at the very front quips, eyes pointing downwards at taehyung. 
“eh, more like the wind behind our sails.” he ruffles the boy’s head in passing as he trudges over to his desired seat. 
“what?”
his spot, a more suitable better term. the farthest row which most first timers do not dare to sit at; the part of the ship closest to the sky when it swings back and forth, higher and higher, until it feels like he’s going to fall off— but he doesn’t. for short bursts of moments, he’s flying. 
the passengers are erupting in ear-splitting screams, curses, and laughter. the wide smile plastered on his face could probably be described as sadistic as he observes their reactions. most would find this ride as a nauseating, life-threatening ordeal and its name ridiculously ironic. however, to jungkook, this is what it means to be alive.
he imagined he would be alone here again today.
but as he is brought higher into the air, he discovers one person strapped to the last row of the other side of the ship. 
the earth begins to move in slow motion. 
they have their face buried in their palms, body shaking with what he can only guess is intense sobbing. 
gone is the smile on his face. 
jungkook has witnessed a few criers, sure, but not to this degree. a wave of sadness washes over him. he feels guilty and he doesn’t know why. why the hell would he be? he doesn’t even know who you are. 
are you that scared? if you’re scared, why would you volunteer to go here alone? if not, then why is your heart breaking? 
for a few seconds, the noises cease and his focus on you becomes amplified. 
and why is his breaking too? 
your sobs and gasps for air are once more drowned out by the fear and adrenaline of the majority. nevertheless, the ache they caused in his chest stays. 
what could it be? the reason you’re crying like this at an amusement park? wouldn’t it be because you got stood up by your date?
lost in thought, he’s been unblinking. the wind blows as the speed of the boat picks up and he groans when dirt gets into his eye. he harshly rubs and rubs and he stops to check if it’s gone… he knows it’s gone because now he can see clearly— one of the most beautiful people he has laid his eyes upon.
the wind blows into your hair and it finally grants him a good view of your face. red, swollen eyes and mascara running. you wipe your tears away, distant eyes falling on your lap, and you take a sharp inhale. you’re a tragedy and so gorgeous still that the aching of his heart doubles due to its intensified pounding. 
there’s no way… he debunks his theory. there’s no way a man could ever waste the opportunity of going on a date with you. only a fool. 
slow motion comes to a full stop.
shit, shit, shit. 
why can’t he look away? 
you’ve made eye-contact and you’re not breaking it. 
he nervously swallows the lump in his throat.
“huh?”
the ringing of the bell snaps him out of… whatever that experience was. he looks around and it is revealed to him that the ship has returned to its neutral position. passengers are already hopping off, including you.
wait, including you… 
when did you get a cap?!
“fuck!” he curses, kicking his feet in annoyance.
he then proceeds to break the promise he swore to himself: never run after a girl again. 
“yah, jungkook! where are you going?! you need to clock in!”
taehyung releases yet another sigh as he loses his best friend among the crowd. nearly at the same time, he hears a thud that originates from the control booth. he blankly stares at the backpack that mysteriously fell off the chair. 
“does he have snacks in here at least?”
blue tube top and black baseball cap worn backwards. blue top and black cap. blue top and black cap. jungkook chants in his head like a maniac as he navigates the grounds, trying his best not to lose sight of your back. sweat has started to form as beads on his forehead. he squeezes one eye shut, wary of the sting, before wiping them away with the back of his hand. 
he ran with all his might, but now that you’re almost within reach, he’s suddenly nervous.
“miss- miss! you dropped this!” 
you turn around abruptly so his fingers end up only grazing your arm. the first thing he notices is your knitted eyebrows. he doesn’t know whether it mostly indicates annoyance or confusion. 
you merely glance at the handkerchief on his open palm. “it’s not mine.” 
you walk away from him and you are a magnet he is curiously drawn to. 
he stands in front of you, sweaty and stuttering like a student introducing himself to a class for the very first time. 
“but are you okay? i-i couldn’t help but to notice that you were cry- uh, uhm… you-you seem to  have troubles.” 
he clears his throat, turning his cheek for a second as to avoid melting under your intense gaze. he marvels at your beauty but he can’t pull himself together to admire it from a close distance. 
“sorry, i don’t mean to pry. i’m just concerned.” 
seconds pass and he doesn’t receive any sort of answer. no affirmative nod; not even a roll of the eyes. you stare at his face blankly as your feet become rooted into the ground. strands of your hair dance with gusts of the wind. it could be a haunting sight. your glossy eyes are reminiscent of deep, turbulent waters. there was a twinge of doubt on the accuracy of his words before, however, it now seems to ring true. 
could it really be because of a boy?
a bicycle enters his line of vision. 
a little too close not to cause an accident. 
“move!” he yells out the warning, but he still takes matters into his own hands by pushing you over to the side and using his own body as a shield. 
the bicycle speeds past and the rider screams something unintelligible. 
jungkook’s nostrils flare. “kid, that’s not allowed in here! where did you come from?!” 
the security guard running after the rule-breaker moves past him, but not before hitting his back with the baton. 
“jungkook! why didn’t you stop him?!”
“yah! what was that for?!” 
he scoffs, glaring towards the direction of the intruder and his co-staff, who has an entirely different job from him. why didn’t he stop him?! 
while he was distracted by the commotion, he was also unaware that you managed to swipe the handkerchief loosely hanging from his grip around your arm. 
his angry expression softens. 
you wipe away your tears that are freely flowing against your will. earlier, you were sobbing. right now, your face is devoid of any expression. he can’t decide which is more heartbreaking.
“are you okay?” he carries on to ask again despite the both of you knowing the answer, but he just doesn’t know what else to do. 
“i’m okay,” you say. “thanks for finding my handkerchief… and for saving me from the- the, yeah…” 
you’re about to walk out of his life until his mouth blurts out- “wait! take this!” 
he wishes the ground would swallow him whole. you blink at the small packet of sour gummies on his open palm and he wishes the ground would swallow him whole. 
even he thinks this is ridiculous. he had a handkerchief in the left pocket of his jacket and now it’s yours. he had gummy worms in the right and for some reason he also wants you to have it.
“why?”
he has the same question.
“just because…”
no, that won’t do it.
“maybe it could make you feel better.”
oh my god.
“if you decide to ride the spinning top… it helps when you’re nauseated.”
still with the unreadable expression, you probe no further and accept his edible remedy. 
“thank you.” you politely bow before taking your leave.
he doesn’t run after you this time. after all, his pockets are empty. 
meeting you— this is probably the first and last time. 
he exhales through his mouth. disappointed. he turns around and tries to look for you again. 
blue top and black cap… 
there you are. 
leaving- 
wait. 
the spark of hope quickly fizzles out. you pull your hand out of your pocket, tossing something into one of the trash bins. he’s too far away to identify the item, but it couldn’t be… right?
he huffs in sheer disbelief.
“huh, she’s pretty and rude.” 
if he’s being honest, jungkook doesn’t like this job much. graphic design is there, and it’s been a pretty sweet gig especially when he’s desperate for extra cash. anyway, taehyung got this job first, which took away time from their regular hangouts, so he would often visit his best friend during his free periods at the university. long story short, one of the managers scolded them both for playing around throughout taehyung’s shift, and as a punishment, she employed jungkook.  
she is the reason why he is spending his sunday morning putting on strangers’ seatbelts and lap bars so they won’t fall off the rollercoaster and die. he was trained to double-check everything, but he is a bit more paranoid about lawsuits than the management, so despite the extra waiting time some passengers aren’t happy about, he makes that triple. 
as fast as he can, while maintaining meticulousness, he does his final round of checking. so far, everyone is safely strapped to their seats. until he reaches the last row and finds the only person there with their lap bar unlocked. how did he miss that? 
“ma’am, your lap bar isn’t secured. do you mind if i-”
the woman shakes her head without a word. as he gets to work, his eyes can’t help but to stray. most of her face is hidden by a face mask and sunglasses. it’s kind of funny because it’s actually been a gloomy day. 
“ah, there you go. safe and sound!” 
“thanks,”
he flashes her a bright smile. the last and apparently most important employee rule.  
“you’re welcome!” 
 
“why aren’t you eating?” taehyung asks with a mouthful of corndog. 
jungkook lifts his head up from the table, sends him a glare, then drops it again. he didn’t get much sleep last night studying for their upcoming tests. he’d much rather spend his whole lunch break with his eyes closed. he’d go as far as saying that moving his jaw to chew food sounds like exerting too much energy and he couldn’t be bothered.
“change shifts with me. i fucking hate sundays.” 
“depends…” taehyung pretends to be in deep thought. “will you buy me a meal everyday until our shifts rotate again?”
“do you want to die?” 
“no, but it looks like you will before me.” 
jungkook yawns, sleepy tears flowing down his temple. “you might be right…”
“were you up all night thinking of that girl?” 
“huh? no.”
“you’re lying.”
“shut up,” he groans, adjusting himself into a more comfortable position. 
so a beautiful stranger has been plaguing his mind. big deal! happens to the best of us. 
taehyung cackles at his demise, thoroughly amused. “why? didn’t she throw away your gift?” 
“it wasn’t a gift.” he argues. “and i know, she’s exactly my type.” 
“bro, you’re fucking hopeless.”
“i know that too,” he calmly replies. “i kind of miss her.” 
“at least it’s not your ex anymore, i guess.” taehyung mutters before obnoxiously sipping on his strawberry lemonade. “want to sneak into the security camera room? i’m curious. i want to see her.”
“can’t you just let me sleep?!” 
“wow, you’re so grumpy today.” 
took him long enough to deduce.
“then should we go after your nap?” 
“i need to work!” jungkook snaps. he straightens his back, rubbing his face in frustration. “go- go do whatever you want!”
taehyung’s chewing slows down, appearing almost scared at his best friend’s outburst, but everything is a game with the two of them. “but i don’t know what she looks like.” 
jungkook sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. 
“okay, fine!” 
in a state of exaggerated panic, taehyung gathers his things in one clean sweep, cradling them in his arms. 
“i’m leaving!” he dashes out of the break room as if he’s running for his life. 
jungkook huffs out a laugh at the comedic scene. as soon as his smile drops, so does his head. 
 
it’s past midnight, which means it’s already friday. jungkook has been glued to the computer for the past three hours, working on a brochure he was commissioned to make. this task would go along smoothly if only his client didn’t have such a long list of demands, but alas, he is desperate for a good review after his past client’s four paragraph-long criticism. a boomer’s opinions hardly matter to him, but he knows how a single bad review alone can negatively affect reputation. 
one thing’s for sure, everyone’s making it hard for him to fucking quit energy drinks. 
he tosses the empty can into the trash bin beside his desk. away with his anti-radiation glasses, too. it lands in an awkward position over his keyboard. he couldn’t care less. everything hurts. 
he keeps his eyes closed as he stretches his fingers, neck, and back with strained moans and grunts. the sweet relief causes him to slump lazily on his chair. at that moment, an internal battle starts. should he do the responsible thing and continue working? or should he just say fuck it and go to bed? 
“no but seriously! why would she throw them away?!” 
completely unrelated. 
a thousand miles away from the topic at hand. 
“jungkook!” taehyung growls from the bed, furiously pressing at the buttons of the controller. “it’s been two weeks! when are you going to move on?” 
jungkook spins the chair to face him with a deadpan expression. the ps5 hogger is too focused on the television screen to even notice. 
“you wouldn’t expect it but those aren’t cheap.”
“then maybe you shouldn’t have given it away to a stranger.” taehyung shrugs. “but that’s just me.” 
“that was out of my control.” jungkook defends. “you should’ve seen her.” 
“well, you wouldn’t let me.” taehyung mumbles, but he obviously wanted him to hear. “no thanks. crying at the amusement park? she’s got to have some real issues.” 
“so what? we all got issues.” 
“not me,” he sends jungkook a smirk. “if i don’t acknowledge them, they’re not there.” 
“and that, my friend…” jungkook has decided to retire from his work area tonight. he pats taehyung’s shoulder as a display of faux sympathy. “is your biggest issue.” 
wearing a childish grin, he grabs the other controller from the floor.
“now, shall we rank up?” 
 
it’s been a few days since summer vacation started. he normally comes home to busan during the school breaks for a temporary taste of childhood bliss. he spends the entire day watching television, eating home-cooked meals, and not thinking about requirements at all.
too bad his vacation is suspended due to his adult responsibilities. 
at least that’s the excuse he used. 
his family has been staying with relatives for the past month because their home is currently under renovation. and well, jungkook’s dorm is suffocating enough on his own. staying under one roof with nine other people? hard. pass.
he may or may not be regretting that decision now, however. all of a sudden, coming home from work with a bag full of ramyeon and beer feels too depressing. even more so that he has no one to share them with. all of his friends have gone home. taehyung, too. he found someone who could temporarily fill in his place and did not think twice about leaving jungkook behind. he can’t blame him.
jungkook enters the apartment building. as always, quiet and dim. he gets that the owner is trying to save money, but isn’t it a bit too early to start turning off the lights? he rolls his eyes despite the lack of a witness. 
they are very lucky that he has grown somewhat fond of this place.
jungkook allows himself to be roped in by the only source of warm light in the lobby. he finds himself incredibly silly for being entertained by goldfishes swimming around in an aquarium, but after a hectic day, this is where his brain cools down. 
“hello everyone,” he coos at them.
do fishes even react to baby talk? he wouldn’t know. the only pet that lasted him years and is still alive is their family dog, gureum. 
“how was your day? i hope it was better than mine.” 
 
on the other side of the aquarium stands you, watching a boy talk to the fishes while he is blissfully unaware of your presence. an endeared smile graces your face unbeknownst to you. 
eventually, there arrives a moment when most of the fishes favor a certain side and they clear out before his eyes. 
that is when he finally notices you. 
your heart begins to race, but he appears to be more shocked than you are. you stand up straight nearly at the same time. 
despite the dark, they’re impossible to miss. his breathtaking eyes— which were filled with pure wonder and adoration only seconds ago— growing in size as soon as they saw yours. 
“i know you…” 
a bucket of ice cold water is dumped over your head. 
“the girl who cried at the dreamboat!”
and while you do not appreciate the rather ungentlemanly pointing of finger, you’re glad to be able to breathe out a sigh of relief. 
well, and there’s also the crippling shame.
you didn’t want your first impression on anyone to be the most pitiful version of yourself. 
it’s been over a month for fuck’s sake. how does he remember your face so well?
“wow,” he gapes. “you changed your hair.”
you touch your hair, feeling a little conscious. 
is that a good thing or a bad thing? 
it’s your first time changing your hair color; plus, the last time you had bangs was in middle school. it’s been weeks since you had the big transformation, but you’re not quite sure how you feel about it yet. 
“yeah, light pink…” 
“it suits you well.” 
“thanks,” is all you manage to respond with. 
a gust of awkward silence passes by. there’s the instinct to run away— knocking at your brain, pulling at your limbs. but you can’t think of an excuse. your feet won’t move… eventually you stop minding that. the goldfishes are too beautiful to look away from. they work as the perfect distraction from the other soul standing across. 
“so, um- i’ve never seen you around here.”
“i moved in today.”
“oh, i see… that makes sense.” 
you hum to fill the quietness that follows, thinking of what else you could say, but he beats you to it.
“i live at the 13th floor.“ 
what did he say? do you live on the same floor? that’s impossible.
“how about you?” 
“hm, 10!” 
you blurt out the first number that pops into your mind. you quickly pretend like you’re not freaking out inside by shifting the topic.
“do they-” you gesture to the aquarium. “do they have names?”
“names?” 
the random question seems to catch him off guard.
“none that i’m aware of.” he shakes his head. “i don’t think so- no.”
“oh…” your shoulders sag in disappointment. “that’s sad.”
but then again, you should’ve lowered your expectations and reminded yourself where you are. they were not bought as pets. they were bought for display. 
 
the last time jungkook saw you was over a month ago. maybe your face is a tad different because you’re not crying. the new color of your hair compliments you in a way unlike before’s yet just as beautiful. the bangs make much of the difference too. he doesn’t know how old you are, but you look younger somehow. from his point-of-view, he could say that much has changed. but not the melancholia. 
he watches you gaze into the aquarium in fascination; the lights reflect on your eyes as little twinkling stars. you’re not crying, but why can he still feel your sadness? 
he once told taehyung that if you meet again, he’d give you hell for throwing his sour gummies away. 
funny enough, that plan went out the window the second he laid his eyes on you again. 
“do you want to feed them?” he offers. 
“i already did.”
“you did?”
“i did,” you look up at him innocently, nodding. “i asked the guard.”
“aish, he didn’t tell me.” he throws his arms up with a groan. “i almost overfed them.”
you perk up with interest. “do you always feed them?” 
“when i come home from work.”
“that’s nice…” 
the soft smile you give him makes his heart skip a beat, but he doesn’t know it yet. 
“sorry, um-” you begin smoothing out your clothes, also tucking your hair behind your ears. “i need to get to work. it was nice meeting you.”
“work?” he exclaims. “at this time?”
“graveyard shift,” you simply answer. 
pictures of the dark alleyways immediately flash in his mind. 
“but it’s dangerous to be roaming around here at this time.” 
his radar doesn’t detect crimes being reported around the neighborhood, but with the majority of the building’s occupants being young adults, the streets are often littered with drunkards who have many things to be angry about.
“oh, i don’t walk. i’ve got a bike.”
he hasn’t known you long, but this is the most enthusiastic he has seen you. your face lit up as soon as you mentioned your mode of transportation.
however, he is a tiny bit confused.
it shows on his face, apparently.
“the motor kind,” you clarify. 
“ah, the motor kind-” he claps once as soon as the realization dawns on him. he chuckles to himself. “of course!” 
it was important for you to clarify, jungkook concludes from your tone. the fact that you own a bike is sexy, but you look adorable right now and it is so amusing to him. 
“anyway, i need to go. it was nice to meet you!” 
your heels click against the floor as you head towards the same door he walked in from.
“see you around!” he yells, still wearing a wide grin. 
he remains standing there even though you’re already gone from sight. 
hit with a useless yet concerning epiphany, he blinks.
“she rides the motorbike wearing heels?”
 
jungkook’s misery has been pushed to the back of his mind, replaced by an overwhelming giddiness that causes him to drop everything on the floor and jump on his bed. he buries his head into the pillow, but it does nothing to erase the happy grin that’s threatening to make his cheeks sore.
what a small world, huh? 
what is this if not fate?
he flips over and stares at the ceiling as if it’s the starry night sky.
this might just become the best summer of his life. 
jungkook comes out fresh from the shower clad only in a pair of black boxer shorts. he hangs the towel he was drying his hair with over his nape, heading to the kitchen to prepare his dinner. he rips the lid of the cup ramyeon halfway, and as he pours hot water into it from the electric kettle, your face appears on his mind again. 
wait, there’s something wrong…
he tilts his head to the side, eyebrows knitting together as he tries to figure out what it is he forgot.
“ah, i’m so stupid!”
he totally forgot to ask your name! 
“shit!” he shouts in higher volume when he realizes that the water has overflowed and is now dripping to the floor. 
he puts the kettle down, taking a few steps back from the mess he made. praise heavens the water wasn’t hot enough for his toes to suffer anything more than a first-degree burn. 
he starts to look around for anything he can wipe the floor with, his tongue poking his inner cheek. 
“still having a bad day.” 
but a bad day isn’t enough to break down jungkook’s spirit. he knows there will always come a tomorrow, so he seizes that tomorrow and comes home from work as fast as he can. there’s a big chance that you leave for work around the same time, right? 
so he sits down on the sofa facing the aquarium, and he waits. 
his head turns to the elevator each time it dings.
he taps his foot on the floor.
he checks tomorrow’s weather forecast on the app. clear skies. no chance of rain. high humidity levels.
he goes through the magazines laid out on the coffee table. he learns five ways to get over heartbreak. according to the quiz, he has a sweet and passionate personality based on the flavor of his lip balm. he thinks it’s pretty accurate. strawberry, he strokes his non-existent beard. could never go wrong with it.
next thing he knows, the clock strikes twelve. 
he can no longer control his excessive yawning but his stomach is just screaming for the pack of jjajangmyeon in his cupboard. 
he presses the elevator button with a tight-lipped smile. he’s disappointed that he didn’t see you at all today, but he was raised to have a positive outlook in life. you live in the same building. you have to run into each other again one of these days. 
what does jungkook hate more than normal sundays? sundays when he didn’t get enough sleep. 
for some reason, he’s still tragically stuck with working on the worst day of the week despite his repeated objections. the only upside to this particular sunday is that he is assigned to the ferris wheel. in exchange for thrice the amount of his daily wage in discreet tips, what happens in some of those cabins are none of his business. 
if he ends up getting reassigned, he would be pretty fucking pissed off. 
he’s restless as the elevator descends to the ground floor. he’s munching on a protein bar, jogging in place as to warm up his body for a race to the bus stop. 
he can’t be the one manning the bump cars. bump cars are the worst. those kids hit you on purpose, he swears. 
the elevator dings and he runs.
until an eye-catching color forces him to pull the brakes. his sneakers squeak against the tiled floor. 
your back may be facing him, but he can recognize you from that cotton candy hair even from a mile away. you’re right where he was hoping you’d be last night, conversing with one of the janitors. this really isn’t the best time for your paths to cross again, given the reasons he was just grouching about, but his feet refuse to move. 
you go on your tiptoes to sprinkle fish feed into the aquarium. you’re so adorable in your pajamas; you’re almost drowning in the black and white checkered cloth. are those yours in the first place?
“everything you need to know is written here… how much- how often you should feed them depending on the seasons, depending on how big they’ve gotten… jungkook worked really hard in researching. impressive, don’t you think?”
“i see…” he is finally granted his wish to hear your soft voice. “but why don’t they have names?”
the janitor scratches his head at your question. “they look too alike to have names.” 
“hello! i heard my name!” jungkook pops in without a warning, causing mister park to flinch and slap a hand over his chest in shock. 
“jungkook! i’m 71 years old! you could’ve killed me!” 
“oh, that’s right-” he gasps. “grandpa, i’m sorry!”
jungkook attacks him with a bear hug, playfully rocking their bodies back and forth hoping that would calm down his vulnerable heart. for a brief moment, he feels like a child again. 
“this is jungkook.” 
the introduction was already made for him. that’s one less thing he has to overthink. 
“____ here wants to feed the fishes every morning from now on. i told her it’s perfectly alright with me.” the janitor laughs. “with my age, you know how forgetful i’ve become.” 
“really?” he breaks away, surprised by what he just learned. “that’s so nice!” 
“it’s nothing. i’m happy to do it.” you smile and make eye-contact with him, but you soon break it, opting to glance at the aquarium. 
you must like fishes a lot. he only felt bad for them because the janitor on night shift doesn’t give a single fuck about them; that’s why he did all that research hoping it would help with committing to the responsibility, which jungkook ended up shouldering in the end anyway. but you… you’ve been here for what? two? three days? 
“tell you what…” he brings out the pen he keeps in the side pocket of his backpack. “this- this is my phone number. if you need anything, or incase you need someone else to feed them, contact me!” 
he scribbles down his phone number on the notepad grandpa was showing you before his rude interruption. 
“by the way, my unit is 1311. you can also just-” he knocks on the thin air, clicking his tongue to mimic the sound. “knock on my door.” 
jungkook’s watch beeps twice everyday, once at 8:50am and then at 11pm sharp. the sun is burning bright and his shift starts at 9am. yes, he is nervous infront of a girl who is drop-dead gorgeous, but he should also be very much nervous about the (unfair) deduction from his measly salary. 
“okay, i need to run to work! goodbye!” 
so, his name is jungkook…
you crane your head to watch him rush out of the building. the uncomfortable sound of his sneakers squeaking against the floor makes you grimace. 
the page he wrote his number on is ripped off from the notepad and handed to you. 
“he’s a good kid.”
you force yourself to smile, and it slowly fades as you tilt down your chin and stare at the string of numbers in blue ink.
long after the janitor has left to fulfill his long list of tasks, you remain standing by the aquarium. 
“you do have someone taking good care of you.” you whisper to the clueless fishes, caressing the glass. a genuine smile appears when two of them swim towards you, beady eyes trying to make sense of the stranger loitering around their homey cage. “you can breathe well and you’re warm in the winter. that’s a relief.” 
after feeding them, next on the agenda is to cook your own breakfast. you head for the elevator, tossing the crumpled up paper into the trash bin before pressing the arrow pointing towards north. 
“hyung…”
“why?” 
jungkook sighs. “can you text me?” 
“text you what?” seokjin’s forehead creases in confusion. 
“anything. i just need to make sure my phone still works.” 
thursday has been a slow day at the amusement park despite the school vacation and no one has tried to win a teddy bear since the place opened. seokjin is more than happy to spend his free time playing games on his phone in his own little corner at the amusement park. 
well, that was before jungkook got bored at the ping pong toss booth and decided to hang out at the other side of the wall. 
he shrugs and texts his younger friend the word ‘anything’ just to get him off his back. he goes back to playing his game, not curious enough to interrogate him with additional questions. 
jungkook’s text tone rings at max volume. 
“it does work!” he yells in exasperation, flopping down at his seat. “why hasn’t she texted me?”
“you were whining about the same thing the other day.” seokjin muses as his car crosses the finish line. second place. “you fool, just text her first.”
“i don’t have her number.”
“what do you mean you don’t have her number?”
“i gave her mine.” jungkook says quietly. “we live in the same building and i told her to contact me if she needs anything.”
“then i guess it’s safe to say that she doesn’t need anything from you.” 
“seriously, why can’t i have friends that are nice to me?!” 
seokjin bursts out laughing, definitely not a stranger to jungkook and taehyung’s bickering at the break room. 
“you did this one to yourself! jungkook, flirt better!” 
“easier said than done,” jungkook pouts. 
you make him nervous. his brain goes blank when you’re around. in addition to that, he doesn’t know what you’re going through and he’s scared that you’d end up pushing him away if he oversteps. 
“i gave her candy when we first met and she threw them away.” 
“oh, that’s right,” seokjin loads a new game, snorting. “taehyung told me about that.” 
jungkook’s jaw drops. “is he backstabbing me?”
jungkook enters the break room with yet another item from the lost-and-found. it’s been over two weeks since he found this orange beanie on the ground. must’ve fallen from the rollercoaster, that’s his best guess. 
since no one has claimed it— “finders keepers,” he grins as he stuffs it into his backpack. 
“thief,” seokjin jokingly accuses him from the other side of the table. “that’s how you were raised?”
“says the one who took the sony headphones yesterday.” 
“i won it fair and square!” 
he’d argue with the older man again, but his phone vibrating has stolen his full attention. he is hit with disappointment at the same moment that he snatches it from the table. it’s his mom, again, asking him when he’s coming home. 
“you need to stop doing that. it’s getting sad.”
he sighs, hugging his backpack to hide his pitiful face. “i am sad.” 
his walks home from the bus stop have always been a period for reflection and pondering. the streets of seoul are scattered with his indecision, worries, and anger. since his mother has been asking him for months, should he just go home and endure their living situation? maybe it’s better to be annoyed with the presence of people instead of being blue with a lack thereof. 
so much for being independent. he spent most of high school anticipating the day he gets to move out, now he wants nothing but to go home. he can’t help but to think that life is but a vicious cycle of wanting and losing. 
too lost in thought, he fails to realize right away that he has entered his apartment building’s vicinity. it’s the smell of cigarette smoke that brings him back to reality. the alley is dark, but he can make out the silhouette of a figure crouched down on the ground. assuming that it’s one of the guards hiding to smoke, he soundlessly enters the confined space with mischief up his sleeve. 
when he gets close enough, the first thing he sees is the tip of the cigarette still burning red as the smoker takes a puff.
a car with blinding headlights zooms past.
it becomes unmistakable then— the identity of the person ten feet away from him. 
there’s no one around here with same hair color. 
none that he knows of anyway. 
he is motionless; clueless as to what he should do. he should probably turn his back and leave. pretend this never happened. he never saw anything. 
he can’t even be hung up on the fact that you smoke. if he thinks back on his past experiences with dating, this would’ve been a turn-off, but he loses the ability to care. the smoke in his lungs is negligible when your wounded sobs are breaking his heart. it’s ridiculous that the urge to also cry is spreading fast in his system, but he had a long day and he feels really fucking shitty. 
you were going to notice his presence eventually. 
he doesn’t know what he was expecting. 
you lift your head, and eye-contact is made. none of you chooses to speak a word. 
you’re as beautiful as the day he first met you.
you stand on your feet and you step on the cigarette, on the emotional connection he swore you had, crushing it under the weight of your boot. 
he blinks away the tears threatening to escape his eyes. he should say something; offer an apology for intruding on a vulnerable moment, but you walk past him before he could form the words, shoulder harshly bumping against him. 
could have it been on purpose? 
“____!” he says your name for the first time, for what sounds like a plea. he follows you home like a lost puppy. “i’m sorry, i-i wasn’t… i thought you were another person… are you okay?”
“what do you think?” you spit out. the delicate voice he knows isn’t there, gone harsh and hoarse. 
“is there anything i can do?”
no response. 
he tries again. “anything at all?” 
“oh my god, can’t you take a hint? leave me alone!” 
your sudden outburst sends him stumbling backwards, the sensation of your hands on his chest still lingering despite the distance that was forcefully created between the two of you. 
“i don’t know you! stay away from me!” 
your infuriated voice echoes throughout the lobby. he is shocked. dumbfounded. his eyes, out of focus, seek your face, and he finds you heaving with tearful eyes. 
he makes an attempt to speak, something to defend himself with, but in the end, he still says, “i’m sorry.” 
a woman walks out of the elevator, and you immediately enter without looking back. jungkook remains standing where he is, with strangers’ eyes on him as if he has committed a grave crime.
you slam the door shut, hand still covering your mouth shut despite no one being around to hear your cries. you don’t bother turning on the lights. your shoulder bag falls somewhere on the floor and you collapse on the bed, still in your jeans and your heels hanging off your feet. 
nothing matters anymore.
you’re suffering the punishment of somebody else’s crime. you’ve been casted out, stripped away of your dreams and your dignity. your life is over and you’ve accepted that, but maybe you haven’t. all is unfair. you’re so fucking angry but you’re too tired to feel it. and you’re alone. so alone. no one is on your side and it’s not fair. 
you try to scream out, anything to release your pent-up rage, but it doesn’t happen. apparently, that’s what happens when enough people tell you to bite your tongue raw. 
they say we curl up into the fetal position as a natural response to stress and anxiety because it mimics the sense of security we had when we were in our mother’s womb. the way you see it, your body will always be yours and it is the only one that you need.
so you curl up and you put your arms around yourself. you pat your own back until your wrist falls limp from exhaustion, and you keep your eyes closed until you fall into a deep sleep.  
you pray to god that you never wake up.
you fail to achieve peace even in your dreams. in what is supposedly an imaginary land, you were being chased by faceless agitators with torches and pitchforks. you were crying and screaming, running on bare and bloody feet, tripping on branches and the stones they were throwing. 
you open your eyes to darkness.
just as you predicted; nobody listens. 
you feel nothing anymore and you hope it stays that way. if you can’t escape it, then perhaps, you can be desensitized to its horrors. 
you force yourself to sit up on the bed, spending an unknown length of time staring into the void. 
the first coherent thought formed in your head… no, not a thought… a person. 
your bare feet brave the cold floor. the switch of the desk lamp is flicked as you sit at your desk. you grab a pen to write something on the free space of your opened journal pages. 
under those numbers, you note down the name of the owner in cursive.
after the shitshow that transpired earlier, sleep became impossible for jungkook. 
he doesn’t quite understand how he feels about you. however, it’s currently clear that there’s a part of him that’s pissed off. you made yourself very clear. he should maintain distance from now on. that’s the sensible, respectable thing to do. at this point, attempts at initiating any form of relationship with you appear to be futile. you’re a stranger to him, as you emphasized. this shouldn’t be as complicated as it is in his head… but fuck, the memories of your tear-stained face is corrupting his ability to rationalize.
it’s 2:33am. he’s been playing the guitar infront of the camera for an hour and a half already. the comment section is flooded by sleep-deprived people like him, sending song requests and questions about his personal life. 
yes, he’s about to be in third year college. 
no, he doesn’t have a girlfriend. 
no, he can’t mention where he lives… but sure, he can sing ‘beautiful’ by crush. 
“what do you mean? i just finished playing it ten seconds ago!” he squints as he scrolls through the new wave of comments. “sorry, art commissions are still closed. i’m behind on my workload… no, i’m not sleepy! don’t send me to bed yet… knees by iu? i love that song. should i play that next?”
his phone vibrates with a new text message, nearly causing it to fall from the stack of books he set it up on. 
“oh- what was tha- what do i do? wait, everyone. i need to check on something!”
the live is temporarily put on pause. 
“who is this?”
his eyebrows knit in confusion when he is greeted by an unregistered phone number.
  2:45am
hi, jungkook. this is ____. i wanted to apologize for my behavior at the lobby earlier. i understand you were only concerned. i’m so sorry. i’d love to buy you coffee some time to make it up to you, if that’s ok. 
this is real, right? he’s awake. he’s not hallucinating. the text message indicates your name and it says that you’d love to buy him coffee some time. 
a gasp leaves his mouth, his hand flying up to seal his lips. 
you texted him. you finally texted him.
he was starting to get convinced that you also threw away his number, but you didn’t! 
he weakly sets down the phone, brain still processing the message you sent. does this make sense?
“i shouldn’t reply right away… maybe in the morning…” he nods to affirm myself. “that’s right.” 
he begins chuckling out of nowhere. soon enough, those chuckles become chortles. he must be going insane. he picks up the phone and reads the message again. 
“she sounds pretty even in chat. how is that possible?” he spins on his chair, so carefree. “but honestly, is one coffee enough for what she did?” 
he shakes his head with a click his tongue. 
“i don’t think so…”
hold on…
it feels like he’s forgetting something…
“ah, the live!” he jumps on his seat in panic. 
he swipes out of the text message to go back to the app where he abandoned his thousand viewers.
“sorry, i made money.” he mumbles to himself. “i should end it now.” 
his mood has done a 180. his routine consists of feeding the fishes dinner, and then himself, but he decided to skip the second part earlier for reasons that he has forgotten by now. 
his stomach growls at his selfish decision. 
given the time, he considered food delivery, but the fee made him exit the app immediately. he hasn’t gone to the grocery store as of recent either. the fridge has been wasting electricity, but his pride won’t let him turn it off. 
how did people live without convenience stores before? that is what jungkook marvels about as he crosses the long hallway to reach the elevator. 
a door ahead opens, and he would ignore it if not for one of the two people who comes out from the other side of it. 
there is a man in his late 20’s, and then there is… you. 
you are the deer and jungkook is the blinding headlights. 
the coffee you originally offered jungkook has turned into a full meal. when you arrived at the convenience store, he knew what he wanted right away. he grabbed the biggest cup of ramyeon and tteokbokki, an egg, sausage, and cheese. he refused to let you pay for them at first, but there was nothing left to do after you handed the cashier the money. 
the action was done out of obligation rather than will, but seeing how much he’s enjoying the food, you’re a little less displeased with the circumstances. 
“is that all you’re eating? we can share mine.” 
“it’s okay. i’m not that hungry.” 
with the money you had left, you were able to afford a roll of gimbap. maybe it’s not enough to make you full, but it’s enough to satiate your hunger. you slowly chew the food in your mouth, an effort to hide your smile as you discretely observe jungkook devour his rabokki. 
“the man from earlier, is he your brother?”
your chewing is put on pause. “how did you know?” 
“how? it’s easy!” 
he cheekily points at his nose using his chopsticks. 
“you have the exact same nose.” 
“ugh,” you grimace. “i’m tired of hearing that.” 
your list of similarities ends there. he’s the golden child and you’re the black sheep. if your parents find out that he comes to visit you and he sends you money, they’d only see you in worse light.
“i know,” jungkook scrunches his nose. “i have an older brother too.” 
cute. 
“so… why did you lie?”
he’s seriously asking you like this? so casually?
you awkwardly set down your food on the table and you take your time sipping at your coffee to buy yourself some time.
“i was embarrassed with what happened before… me crying at the boat and everything…”
you’re having a hard time looking at jungkook in the eye. sensing your discomfort, he wants to punch himself for being so careless with his tone. until moments before, he felt too offended to consider the fact that you never owed him an explanation. 
“you don’t have to be. it’s okay.” he reassures you. “we all have bad days.”
it doesn’t work the way that he thought it would. when you start laughing, he is lost. 
“did i say something funny?” he chuckles along nervously. 
“that quote, ‘it’s just a bad day, not a bad life.’” 
“yeah?” 
“it’s the opposite for me. it’s not just a bad day; it’s a bad life.”  
you speak with such endearing humor and it works like a charm in making the atmosphere lighter. he’d pass it off as a self-deprecating joke, but based on your few yet impactful encounters so far, he doesn’t think you’re stretching the truth far. if he’s being honest, if your first meeting happened differently, he’d assume that you’re living a perfectly comfortable life based on your appearance alone.
“even now, i’m too embarrassed to show my face to you. but we’re neighbors, so i’ll try to get over it.”
“tell you what, let’s start with a clean slate.” he eagerly makes a proposal. “you can erase all the embarrassing memories of you from my brain.”
“h-how do i do that?” 
“flick my forehead!”
you blink, eyes darting around as you try to make sense of what he said. “i was expecting some sort of stupid hypnosis.”
“or that,” he switches up, slapping the table as if you just came up with something revolutionary. 
why did he say flick his forehead anyway? he knows you gotta have an overwhelming amount of pent-up emotions. you could go deku on him and blow his head off. 
“let’s do that!”
“no, i like it.” you almost interrupt him. “i’ll flick your forehead.” 
but he did suggest it… and you act so gentle and sophisticated. he doubts that you would make it hurt. 
“here i go!”
he gets his bangs out of the way. “okay!”
he squeezes his eyes shut, bracing himself for impact. “please have mercy.” 
son of a bitch. that hurt. 
“ow!” he rubs the affected area, face twisting in pain. his eyes flicker to you in disbelief. “you didn’t hold back, huh?!” 
you smile at him sweetly. “did it work?”
  —
“you fed them, right?”
“of course i did. you?”
“yes, this morning.”
“okay, that’s good.”
you and jungkook sit in silence after that, eyes twinkling with wonder as they follow the stunning movements of the goldfishes. 
deep inside, he’s feeling restless. you make him nervous, and he’s also nervous about you noticing that he’s nervous. it’s been a tireless cycle. 
he sneaks a glance at you.
perhaps he’s overthinking again. it seems like you don’t even care that he’s less than an arm’s length from you. 
he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed. 
he sighs without a sound, comfortably leaning all of his weight on the couch. 
“it’s called the dreamboat.”
“what is?” 
the boat you cried in— can’t say that. you might flick his forehead again. 
“at the amusement park.” 
“oh…”
it falls silent. 
jungkook is thankful when you have a follow-up question because he hasn’t thought of a new topic yet. 
“i wonder why they called it that.”
“oh, because the owner’s daughter loves boats!” he shares one of the few fun facts he learned over the past year. “that’s why it was designed like it came from a fairy tale too.” 
a mirthful smile forms on your face “my guess was too far off.” 
“what was it?” 
“mhmm,” you hum, folding your arms over your chest. “dreamboat is a word used to describe a handsome man, right?”
jungkook nods his head like he knew that all along. no, he didn’t. 
“so i imagined the owner met their handsome partner on a boat- no, or a ship,” the epiphany hits you in the middle of your sentence. “they have to be rich since they built an amusement park.”
a romantic. you imagined a love story based on a word alone. jungkook’s teeth dig into his lower lip as he tries to tame his wide grin. 
“that does sound like a good theory.” he casually bends over, resting his elbows over his spread thighs. “i think i like it better than the truth.”
“how did you know that though? the truth?”
he shrugs. “i work there.”
“you work there?” your voice goes up a pitch. “i didn’t know…”
“you? do you study or work?”
“call center,” you answer to get it over with. to his surprise, your body language shifts and you’re now facing him. “what’s it like working there? is it fun?” 
apparently, a job at the amusement park is now joining his very short list of your interests: after motorbikes, smoking, and fishes.
“it has good days and bad days…” he trails off. he hasn’t truly given this much thought, so he’s also learning about himself. “but i didn’t expect it to be as fun as it is. sometimes it’s boring, but when it’s fun, it’s really fun.”
you scoot closer. “do you get to ride for free?”
ah, yes, the deciding factor when he was offered the job. 
“there’s an employee discount, actually! but i do it for free anyway…” he shyly scratches his head. “don’t tell anyone i said that.” 
“i don’t have anyone to tell.” 
his heart skips a beat when he hears your laugh genuinely for the first time. quiet and delicate and airy— you grace this blue summer night like a spring breeze that takes away with it everything that burdens your mind and heart. 
once again, the aquarium becomes the most interesting collection of atoms in the building. as for him, he is still unable to keep his eyes off you. 
“did you have a pet fish growing up? you really like them a lot.”
“no,” you reply. “i didn’t care about them until now.”
“really?” his eyes grow wide. “wow, i seriously thought you were a marine life enthusiast, or something like that.” 
you give him a look. “i thought you were a marine life enthusiast.”
“we were both wrong.” he shrugs. “but what made you care about them so much now?”
“i don’t know. i just thought of something when i was looking at them.” 
he feels your hesitance to continue. your eyes connect briefly and he communicates that he’s listening with an open mind.
“they’re different from other pets, you know, like cats and dogs. they can’t make a sound when they’re in pain.” 
in the dark room, he sees the melancholy seeping from the cracked edges of you. although you act relaxed, your spoken thoughts paint the picture of a person whose sensitivity and sympathy touch upon everything. 
“there should at least be somebody who cares enough to check up on them and make sure that they’re alive and well.” 
“��and you wanted to be that somebody for them.” he concludes with a hushed voice, more to himself than you. 
“but it turns out they have you already.”
“it’s not just me now.”
he mirrors your soft smile. it’s nice to see your frown turned upside down for a change. what was weighing down on him has become lighter, and he hopes it’s the same for you.
“the sun is about to rise.” you announce after a peek at the grandfather clock. “we should go home.”
jungkook isn’t a big fan of comfortable silence, but he can get used to it. he maintains a respectable distance from you in the elevator, engaging himself with the ascending number of floors on the screen. when the door opens, you’re the first to step out and he follows suit. 
your destination isn’t far. you pause in front of unit 1303.
“uhm, this is me.” 
yup, the same door he saw you come out of. 
“i’m not far, just at the end of the hall. 1311, if you ever need anything.”
your eyes trace the direction of where he’s pointing before you nod in understanding. with a hand gripping the door handle, you offer him one final smile.
“goodnight, jungkook.”
if others cheese over good morning texts first thing after opening their eyes, then jungkook’s case is one of a kind. 
he rolls over to his side, puffy eyes from sleep forming thinner crescent moons as he zooms in on your reflection on the glass. 
  10:08am
[attached image]
they’re happy and fed :)
10:10am
[attached image]
babies are getting bigger
this is how his mornings have been going for the past two weeks. he wakes up and he checks his phone for fish breakfast updates from you. in return, he sends fish dinner updates to you at night. he was the first one to send you a picture following the night you awkwardly bumped into each other. he didn’t want to wait around anymore.
were his palms sweaty? did he throw his phone on the bed after? 
no longer relevant. 
he now knows that your favorite color is blue and you have wednesdays and fridays off for the next month. that’s pretty cool. 
another thing he’s taken notice of is that you don’t use emojis or emoticons aside from the smiley face. 
although, there was once a miracle.
he scrolls up until he reaches your conversation from four days ago.
  11:59pm
LOL i’m actually allergic to seafood ㅜㅜ
😭😭😭
“ah, i’m annoyed!” he kicks his feet; half of the blanket falls to the floor. “she’s so cute!” 
things are indeed going great, greater than he imagined, but if he has to complain, he wishes he could see you in person more. he’s at work when you’re home and vice versa, so you don’t cross paths despite living on the same apartment floor. that 3am encounter was a rare phenomenon, it turns out. he chanced upon you a few times while running to work and you were feeding the fishes breakfast, but those conversations were barely conversations. 
‘i just thought of something when i was looking at them… they can’t make a sound when they’re in pain.’
he hasn’t stopped thinking about that. 
“when are you asking her out on a date?”
taehyung is on a mission to tease him for life even from daegu. he’s only thankful that his best friend isn’t video calling him from the toilet again because he’s currently having his lunch. 
“i don’t know.” he grouches. “it doesn’t feel like the right time. i don’t want to scare her off.” 
“when’s that ‘right time’?” 
“i’ll figure it out…” he sighs, setting down the half-eaten sandwich on the table. “how do i say it…? i feel like- hm, she’s no- she’s not in the best emotional state right now.” 
“so you admit it,” taehyung raises an eyebrow, smirking. “she has issues.”
that didn’t sit right with jungkook at all. he feels obligated to defend your honor. 
“hey, stop being rude. you haven’t even met her yet.” 
“come on, bro! i’m only looking out for you.” 
the atmosphere shifts into a more serious tone.
“i don’t want you to get hurt trying to fix another person again. it was hard to watch.”
he moved on and learned his lesson— he wants to spit out as a rebuttal, but his best friend gave him much to think about. would it make sense to say that he’s moved on but he hasn’t healed? 
“i know,” is what he ends up saying absentmindedly, distracted by thoughts that he isn’t keen on sharing. 
and as if he’s been slapped back into reality, he fixes his posture and picks up his sandwich. “so, what’s up? have you even slept yet?”
“no,” taehyung responds nonchalantly. between the two of them, he absolutely has the more fucked up sleeping schedule. “i’ve been awake since 12am.”
“didn’t you say you’d spend the entire vacation sleeping?”
“this vacation was a trap.”
the camera darts to the abandoned mop on the floor.
“my mom makes me do all the chores everyday. this is worse than my actual job!” 
a devilish grin is drawn on jungkook’s face. ah, the grass is always greener on the other side.
  
“mondays stay to be a pain in the ass.”
does it look like he’s exhausted and dirty from chasing around children all day? jungkook is stressed as he checks himself out on his front camera. he’s walking home from the bus stop after clocking out of work. 
the street is mostly quiet, until a roaring engine approaches and he cringes at the raucous sound assaulting his eardrums. he’s already at the sidewalk for his safety and in accordance with the law, but he feels compelled to stay further back and wait for the vehicle to pass by. 
seconds later, a black harley races past.
jungkook is dumbfounded as he tries to piece the puzzle together. 
the lights are bright, and your pink hair blowing with the wind is even brighter. 
“w-was that…?”
he was going to bring it up over text last night, but he decided to reserve it for physical conversation because he wants to see your face light up again. 
you’re so fucking cool. 
he’s both amazed and envious. 
also, he’s pretty damn sure that you’re rich. he doesn’t understand why you’re living in this place and enduring the graveyard shift at the call center. 
a foolish smile is permanently plastered on his face as he sketches a commissioned digital portrait. he really should focus, or else he might end up drawing you instead of his client. 
he spins on his chair, pushing the wheels towards the bed, where he comfortably extends his feet over. almost missed it. the power has been out for an hour and he doesn’t expect it to come back until dawn. he was pissed about this being a normal occurrence during the first year of his stay here, but he’s gotten quite used to it. invested in a powerbank that almost looks like it can charge a car’s battery and he’s all set. 
the aggressive pounding at the door drowns out the pop ballad he’s listening to.
“what? who could it be at this hour?” 
he pauses the song, turning up the brightness of his ipad to use it as a makeshift flashlight. 
the last person he expected to appear at his door says the last thing he expected them to say. 
“jungkook, i think there’s a ghost in my apartment.”
jungkook sets down a hot cup of tea infront of you. in his mind, he thanks himself for keeping everything his mom sends him, even the things he do not like. 
“thanks,” you mumble, picking it up by the handle. 
he patiently sits on the other side of the table for two, giving you the time to calm yourself down from the horror that you witnessed. he has his emergency light propped up on the kitchen counter. he was saving it for when he finds himself in a grave situation, like a total blackout or an apocalypse. he didn’t imagine he’d end up using it for an unusual night like this. 
“are you feeling better?” he asks worriedly.
you nod. “yeah, i just don’t want to be alone right now.” 
“i’m here. you can stay until whenever you want.”
“thank you.”
you sigh with your eyes closed. you look like life has been drained out of you. 
“i’m really scared, jungkook.”
“are you sure about what you saw? i mean, it’s dark. your mind could’ve been playing tricks on you.”
“i saw him. i really him saw him!” you frantically defend yourself. “i was washing my hands then i turned around and i saw him, sitting at the edge of my bed! he looked at me!” 
his heart drops to his stomach when your chin begins to wobble and he sees your eyes glistening with unshed tears. 
“and his skin was burnt off, jungkook.” you enunciate the words to emphasize the severity of what you experienced. “it’s so horrifying, i had to run.” 
“hey hey hey- it’s okay. i believe you.” he squeezes your cold, trembling hands. “you’re safe now. it’s only us here. no spirits- i promise.” 
he’s losing his mind a little bit. he’s holding the hands of the girl he likes and her pinky is wrapped around his. you’ve been putting him through a rollercoaster that, for once, he is terrified of. he wants to bask in this moment… but the specific detail you revealed is bothering him.
“and you said… he was burnt?” 
“yeah, why?”
he presses his lips in a thin line, shaking his head. “no, it’s nothing.”
“there’s something.” you stop crying. “i see it on your face.”
“i swear, it's nothing!”
“you’re lying!” you accuse him. “what is it?”
“forget it, ____.”
“jungkook,” you say his name sternly. “tell me.”
shit, he’s done for. you can’t do this to him when he’s trying to protect you.
he swallows nervously. “but i don’t want to scare you.” 
“i saw a ghost. what else can scare me?”
“the truth is…” he pauses, still weighed down by hesitance. but he realizes he has reached the point of no return. also, you’re squeezing his hands a little too tight. “this building had to be restored. it burned down a decade ago. people suspect there was foul play, but the firemen said it was faulty wiring.” 
he’s the one telling the story, but he also feels chills run down his spine. 
“oh… so you’re saying…”
“i… believe so?” he winces with a mix of guilt and fear. “but it’s the first time i’m hearing of a ghost story here. i haven’t had any encounter either.” 
“i need to move.” you declare, not an ounce of humor in your voice. 
“don’t!” he protests. 
perhaps a little too passionately. could he be any more obvious? 
“what do you mean? you need to leave too!”
“i can’t,” he fakes a pained expression. “who’s going to take care of the fishes?” 
that works like a charm. 
you untangle your hands and lean against the chair, transforming into a pensive state. 
if he wasn’t going to convince you to stay, the fishes would. 
“fuck,” you curse in a low whisper, sipping on your tea. 
“i’m not the spoiled brat you think i am.” you frown, dangling your feet from the bed. “i sleep on the floor too.” 
“i’d be rude if i let you do that.” jungkook insists as he fluffs his pillow. “i’m comfortable right here. i’m used to it.” 
he was relieved that you weren’t stubborn enough to go back to your place and force yourself to sleep there. after seeing how terrified you were, it would’ve been impossible for him to close his eyes and shut down his brain from worrying. he hasn’t seen a ghost, but they have to be real. he likes to believe that we do not cease to exist and we have some place to go when we die. however, that does co-exist with being alarmed by a ghost of a burnt body sitting on your bed. he isn’t going to let you go back in there tonight. no way.
“you should get some rest. just tell me if you need anything, okay?”
“thank you, jungkook.” 
“it’s no problem!”
his name sounds so sweet when it comes from your lips. he can’t help but to feel giddy every time he hears it. 
you lie down on the bed, facing the portable fan strategically set up on jungkook’s gaming chair. on the other hand, the emergency light is at the nightstand, acting as a night lamp. 
he checks the time on his ipad: 1:48am. his battery percentage: 55%. he’s not yet sleepy, so he decides to continue working until he gets the low battery warning for 20%. 
sitting down without back support becomes too uncomfortable after a while, especially when drawing. he doesn’t realize it when he changes positions, too focused on drawing the intricate floral patterns on the client’s blouse. 
“is that your girlfriend?” 
jungkook turns his head towards the voice and your face is only inches away from his. the word stops for a moment.
“is she okay with me sleeping here?” 
he scoots a little further away to grant his racing heart some mercy. “u-uhmm, no.”
“no…?” you repeat slowly, sounding concerned.
“no, as in she’s not my girlfriend!” he further elaborates in distress. “i don’t have a girlfriend.”
“okay, cool. you scared me.” you huff out a chuckle. “i don’t like being the girl who causes problems.” 
“no, you’re safe.” he manages to also laugh. “no one’s coming to pull your hair.”
“then who is she?” you point at the screen with your pouted lips, particularly the reference photo that’s been burnt to his memory. 
“a client. people pay me to draw them.”
“oh, so she’s one of your french girls?” you crack a humorous remark.
the reference catches him off guard, even though he should’ve totally seen it coming.
he squints. “mhmmm, i guess? kind of like that… except they’re not, you know, naked.”
“i see,” you hum in interest. “you don’t like doing nude drawings?” 
“honestly? i don’t know. i’ve never done it before.” 
“no one’s asked you?”
he shakes his head. “no one,”
“would you do mine if i ask you to?” 
he secretly pinches his thigh to prove that he’s not dreaming. 
what the fuck?
did he hear you right? 
it sounded like such a genuine and casual question in the name of art, but the worst thing he could do while his crush is sleeping over is to imagine her naked. he feels the warmth spread across his cheeks, possibly reaching his ears. 
“hey, breathe!” you giggle with a push of his shoulder. “you don’t have to answer that. sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”
“sorry, i was just surprised.” 
he forces himself to laugh and act like the question isn’t putting him through a crisis in so many levels. 
“i’ll let you finish your work.” you smile at him, pulling up the blanket. 
please do and stop shaking up my heart. 
“goodnight.” 
“goodnight, ____.” 
jungkook is still flustered by the conversation. since you opened up the topic, he did give it some serious thought. he thinks he wouldn’t mind if someone asked him to do it. he makes all of his negotiations and transactions online so everyone so far have been a stranger. as for the people he personally know, unless it’s his significant other, wouldn’t it be awkward? 
anyway, the chances of it happening are low. stressing over it is pointless.
he needs to finish this commission and move on to the next, or else he’d be encumbered by the pile of deadlines. he’s making the most out of this vacation so he can save more money and work won’t have to interfere so often with his studies. 
sometimes he doesn’t understand why he works so hard either. his family isn’t struggling financially. in fact, he’s studying to take over their businesses. his parents have been nothing but kind and supportive, but he is never compelled to ask them for money. he feels this strong and all-consuming need to prove himself as capable and independent. nothing compares to the gratification of buying his wants and needs with the money he sacrificed his blood, sweat, and tears for. he can’t stop himself.
“i can’t sleep…” a quiet murmur reaches his ears. “may i watch you draw?” 
oh, he thought you’ve fallen asleep twenty minutes ago. 
“of course,” 
he is more than happy to move closer to give you a good view of his progress. 
if there’s one thing he isn’t ashamed to boast about— it’s this. 
it’s silent except for your breathing and the taps of his pen on the screen. he’s a tad self-conscious with the presence of engrossed eyes, but he would describe the atmosphere as peaceful. 
“you’re such a great artist.” you whisper in awe. 
jungkook can’t recall the last time he felt this simple yet profound type of joy. 
true to your words, you did move as morning came. 
jungkook wakes up to an empty bed and a commotion outside. 
“____?” 
he knocks on the bathroom door, not expecting it to swing open from the action. he takes his chances and peeks inside with another call of your name, but you’re still nowhere to be seen. 
did you really leave without saying goodbye? 
he sighs in disappointment. he was planning on buying you breakfast, too. he knew it. he should’ve made the invitation last night. 
a series of loud thumps prompts him to scratch his head in irritation. he’s tired and sleep-deprived and he didn’t see his crush’s face first thing in the morning. the day has barely started and it’s already a bad one.
he opens the door with a considerable force, mouth running before his eyes could perceive his surroundings. 
“could you guys turn it down? people are still slee-”
“jungkook! you’re awake.” 
you jog over to him with a more cheery expression than last night’s. there’s no windows but the sun is shining over his face.
“sorry about the noise. i’m moving to a new unit.”
he can see that, but his brain remains in a muddled state. how did you make the arrangements overnight? he gapes at the men hauling your things to your new apartment.
“1309?” he exclaims.
“yeah,” you shyly reply. “it’s the only vacant one left.” 
almost but not quite. does he have the right to complain? you’d be one door away. 
he’s fucking ecstatic. 
if he just sets aside the fact that it took a ghastly ghost encounter for the stars to align. 
the wrinkles on his forehead disappear and become crinkles by his eyes, accompanied by an excited beam. 
“should we feed them together then grab breakfast after?” 
time passes by too fast for jungkook’s liking. summer vacation ended a month ago and he’s back to busting his ass off at the university. he misses the days and nights when the only thing he was going insane about is you. 
what’s taking you so long to reply? did he say something stupid? does he look nice? smell nice? are you crying again? that ghost isn’t bothering you again, is he? 
now that he needs to focus on something less interesting, say studying taxation and business law for subsequent long quizzes tomorrow, he’s back to crushing cans of energy drinks. 
fuck, he misses you. 
your purple hair tie is still wrapped around the knob of his bathroom sink faucet and he keeps forgetting to give it back to you. you make him nervous but he forgets he ever felt that way after five minutes with you. he craves to be connected with you on a more intimate level. he wants to be more than just a neighbor you make small talk with, over text. he wants to be more than a friend you sometimes eat with, on your days off. but he likes you so much that he can be content with the way things are, so long as it means you won’t go further away. 
he’s absolutely pumped to hear his friends berate him for being stupid enough to enjoy the bare minimum from a woman. 
an email notification interrupts his intense cramming session with his ipad and his illegally downloaded ebooks.
No Name
Subject: IMPORTANT! READ ME! 
snack break at the aquarium? 
he already has a strong inkling on who the sender could be; he clicks the email address and unsurprisingly, it says that it’s you. 
did you seriously go out of your way to email him because he told you that he was going to keep his phone turned off while studying? 
ridiculous. 
so cute and ridiculous. 
“i brought your favorite.” you meekly present your gift to jungkook. “uh, actually i’m not sure if it’s your favorite. but it’s become mine since you gave it to me.”
jungkook gapes at the bag of his favorite gummies sitting on his lap. just for comparison, the packet he gave you that day you first met came from his pocket. this one is almost as wide as his thighs slightly spread apart. 
but most importantly, what did you just say?
“y-you didn’t throw it away?”
“what are you saying?” you pout, a little hurt by the question. “why would i throw it away?”
“you should’ve. you can’t just accept food from strangers!” 
he was being pretty before. he humbly admits that. he just wanted an excuse to bring you up so he whined about it for weeks, but he was never genuinely upset. not specifically about that, anyway.
“why are you so upset?” you match the rise of his voice. “i’m fine and we ended up being friends. now say ‘thank you’ and open it!”
“ah, sure-” he panics, fumbling with the zigzag edges of the packaging. you were kind of hot for that. “thank you! this was seriously so thoughtful of you.” 
you nod in satisfaction, stealing a gummy worm the second that the plastic is torn open. “you’re welcome!”
  “i should stop eating.” jungkook mumbles to himself, chewing the other half of his nth gummy worm of the night. 
“yeah,” you agree, pulling your hand away from the bag with an impressive show of restraint. “we should.”
the two of you probably look bizarre in the eyes of strangers, particularly those who have seen you one too many nights admire the golden creatures like you’re being hypnotized and nothing else in the world matters. jungkook never knows what’s running in your head, but to him, these moments are all about being beside you. the loud beating of his heart could be attributed to the caffeine, or the bare skin of your knees touching and no one daring to move. 
“the tank feels…” there is a delay as you search for the appropriate word. “dull. can’t there be more variety of plants?” 
“i tried,” he laughs at the funny memory you evoked. “when i came back the next day, two of them already ate everything.”  
you gasp. “everything? is that normal?” 
he opens his mouth to speak, but you unknowingly interrupt him with a raise of your hand.
“okay, i’m searching on naver.” 
jungkook behaves for the fifteen minutes that follow, sneaking a peek at your phone screen every now and then with squinted eyes. you read fast, and your knees shake when you have to think hard. they’re small things. they don’t matter that much. but they’re still parts of your entirety which he is to be well-aquainted with. 
“according to this person, we can try giving them marimo moss balls to play with… and hmmm-” you hum, lips puckering into a pout. “then for plants, anubias and java ferns?” 
“i still know the address of the place i bought the plants from before. we can go when you’re free.” he offers, jumping on the opportunity to spend time with you outside of this building. 
“you free sunday?” 
“is the afternoon alright? i have to go to uni in the morning.” 
please say yes.
“sure, that works.”
he breaks into a triumphant smile. 
yes! 
jungkook has been looking forward to this day all week. he breezed through work and college, motivated to finish all his tasks so he could enjoy his time with you without any worries. he knows it’s not a date, but anyone can be excited to meet up with a friend.
“you look pretty.” he smiles, breaking the silence in the elevator. 
“you can barely see my face.” 
“i see it!”
your nonchalance slowly fades, seemingly replaced by unease, which confuses jungkook. you put on a white face mask from the pocket of your hoodie before facing him. 
“now you don’t!” you banter with him playfully. 
“too late,” he sticks his tongue out. “i can draw it from memory.” 
this is your usual day outfit, a basic classic. a hoodie paired with shorts and sneakers. the face mask is part of it too. in a crowd, you could be anyone, even him, if only your hair doesn’t stand out among the neutrals. he likes it. he likes how you match outfits without trying to. you get more dressed up at night, which makes sense since you go to work. 
“so you can draw me even if i flash you just once?” 
scandalized, he almost chokes on his own spit. “____!”
“i’m joking!” you giggle.
“no, please do it.” he encourages you in jest.
that earns him a slap on the face. he touches the affected area. it didn’t hurt at all, you did it with a light hand, but he gapes at you dumbstruck. 
“you can joke about it but i can’t?!” 
you only laugh at his reaction. he also imagines that he looks funny. not long after, the elevator opens and you drag him out by his hand.
the cashier pushes back your extended hand. “sorry, we don’t accept card payments.” 
while you pout sadly at the rejection, jungkook rushes to grab the wallet that you made him hide because this was your ‘idea.’ 
“here,” he puts down the paper bills on the counter.
“i’ll pay you back.” 
“no, it’s fine. my treat for the fishes since they’d probably eat them anyway.” he jokes to comfort you.
“yeah, okay,” you respond listlessly. “then i’ll buy our dinner. samgyupsal?”
“call!” 
jungkook guesses you have come to know him well too. 
“okay, let’s go.”
he invites you to leave after the cashier gives him the paper bag. as you walk out together, your shoulders brush, and for a brief moment, he assumes that you would cling to him. he doesn’t know why he keeps doing that. you never do. he continues walking and he doesn’t even notice that he has left you behind.
the door is half-open and he’s stood in place, eyes scanning the store like he just lost a child at the mall. 
of course, he finds you hunched over infront of an aquarium inhabited by a betta fish. 
“do you want to get it?” he whispers, mindful of scaring away the little creature. “i don’t think i’ve seen a purple fish before.”
not even in art or television. it’s strange. 
he feels your eyes glued to him. persuaded by curiosity, he turns his cheek. 
his breathing stops when he sees your face so close. 
he doesn’t know you removed your mask. you’re staring at him so intensely with those beautiful  eyes, sparkling with the reflections of light. you’re dazzling, and intimidating, and it’s doing dangerous things to his heart.
a little nudge and he’d give you an eskimo kiss. 
if there’s a perfect romantic moment to kiss your lips, he’d say it’s right now. 
“it’s not the fish i want.” 
he doesn’t hear you. 
do you see how entranced he is by your lips? 
“the shipwreck, it’s beautiful.”
his eyes chase the sight of them when you return your gaze to the aquarium. 
“like you,” the words slip out without thought.
a soft smile tugs at the corner of your lips. you blink away the tears and you stomach the heavy in your chest. you know jungkook is still staring at you with those bedroom eyes and there was no deep thought behind his compliment. will he still find you beautiful when he sees who you are beyond the surface? 
“like me…”
— 
after dinner, you and jungkook planted the plants and installed the shipwreck you wanted. it was not cheap, but it was worth it, if it meant seeing your priceless joy. he carries around more cash than necessary when he goes out with you. he’s praying that you didn’t see his sigh of relief when the waiter said the restaurant accepts card. he doesn’t know much about your circumstances, why you stopped going to school and why you opted to work instead, but he knows you lead a lifestyle different from his. he’s not ignorant. he estimates your bag is five times more expensive than his ipad. but with how you’re soundly sleeping on his shoulder, he can say that it’s justified. 
he learns that you’ve been working straight for fifteen days, with 10-20 hours of overtime per week. you practically live there. he can feel the weight of your shoulders on him, which is why he doesn’t have the heart to wake you up despite his bladder’s need of the bathroom. this is probably the closest he will ever be to you. he can’t be the one to walk away in this memory. 
the humming noise of the aquarium’s filter fills the silence.
it always feels like he’s dreaming when he’s with you.
“after all that money we spent, we should really name them now.” 
you release the yawn you were holding back while speaking, head dropping on his shoulder. jungkook stiffens at the suddenness of the physical contact, but then relaxes thanks to the tranquilizing scent of your shampoo— it has to be coconut, with some sort of flowers that perfectly compliment it.  
“have any ideas?”
“yes,” he hears the smile in your voice. “you know those two who have similar hues?”
he hums, body vibrating underneath your soft cheek.
“tangerine, and then clementine for the smaller one.” 
“those are cute names.”
“you like them?”
“yes, they really sound like siblings!”
“okay, i won.” you shrug your shoulders as far as they can go, as if you’re so pleased you could burst. “that’s settled. your turn!”
“hmmm…” 
he unconsciously bounces his knee as he racks his brain, which you swat with a disapproving noise, mumbling “making me dizzy!”
“sorry,” he winces.
your giggles are infectious, bringing tickles somewhere deep inside of him, butterflies in his stomach coming alive like spring only arrived. 
“shouldn’t we at least have one named after a flower?” he suggests. “hold on, i’ll search for good ones.”
“let’s give the flower name to the yellow one. she stands out, like a flower.”
you blink wearily, a soft smile amidst the haze, sent to the yellow fish who swam closer as if it heard itself being called. 
he reads the list of yellow flower names out loud.  
“sunflower, daisy, azalea… for-forthysia? lily, cosmos, dahlia-”
“dahlia-” you quietly repeat the name in awe, clinging to his arm to steal his attention.
“dahlia it is!” 
“i wish dahlia would live forever.” you sigh, haunted by the inevitable. 
“dahlia will outlive us.” he chuckles. 
“i’ll protect her from the afterlife.”
he squeezes your hand tenderly. “i’ll be right there with you.” 
and with unspoken mutual understanding, your fingers intertwine. neither one of you wants to let go, he feels it strongly and he is sure of it. his cheeks may very well begin to ache with how elated he is. 
“that’s three… you know, i saw someone on youtube who named their fish coral. i thought it was a very pretty name. how about that?”
“i like it,” you chirp. “i kind of wish it was my name.” 
“should i just give it to you?”
you lift your head a little, sleepy eyes connecting with his. “do you know someone who has the same name as me?”
“no,” he slowly shakes his head. “you’re the only one.” 
“let’s give it to the one with the longest tail.” 
your head drops on his shoulder, as if it’s where it belongs. 
“i like being the only one.”
you fell asleep seconds after that.
he found entertainment in watching as much as the goldfishes playing around with the shipwreck. it’s a wooden ship split in two, with cracks and holes big enough for them to swim in and out of. even the sails have holes. the drawings on them are unrecognizable beyond his imagination. 
it’s quite charming, but he doesn’t understand what’s special about it the way you do. 
a teardrop drips from the tip of your nose and crashes on his arm, but he doesn’t feel it. 
eventually, it dries, and is erased from history. 
974 notes · View notes
gloomwitchwrites · 19 days ago
Text
Through the Corn
Scare Actor John Price x Female Reader
Content & Warnings: rough oral sex (male receiving), established relationship, primal kink, mask kink, unprotected piv, creampie
Word Count: 1.6k
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A/N: Requested by @tintamm for 3.5k Spooky Bingo (Chased Through a Corn Maze)
You visit the corn maze John is temporarily working at as a scare actor. A bit of silly fun turns into a steamy chase in the dark.
ao3 // main masterlist // 3.5k spooky bingo masterlist
This is the event you've been waiting for all year. There isn't anything like it for miles. You've mostly come in support of your boyfriend, John Price, and to experience a good scare.
Black Hallow Interactive Corn Maze, the sign reads at the entrance.
By entering into the Black Hallow Interactive Corn Maze you automatically OPT-IN to our interactive experience.
During October, John enjoys earning extra money by working as a scare actor at different attractions. This is his first year working for a local business and not some large amusement park.
You may be touched, carried, restrained, pushed, pulled, separated, fed, played with, and asked to participate in various activities.
This is the adult corn maze. Something special only on certain nights. John wanted you to come specifically to this event, mostly to see all their hard work, but to also have a bit of fun. You already know what he'll be dressed as, but John is the protective type. He doesn't want anyone else touching you.
At any time if you want to OPT-OUT you can say "BOO" and our actors will stop their interactive experience with you.
Welcome to Black Hallow.
"You're John's woman." The security guard at the front entrance gives you a kind smile.
"I am."
"Said you were coming." He waves you in and then gives you a little salute. "Have fun."
The entrance to the corn maze is narrow, allowing for two people to stand shoulder-to-shoulder but nothing more. As you approach a T-interaction, a scare actor in torn jeans, a plaid button-up, and a stringy blond wig roams the area. Their shoulders and legs jerk about like a roaming zombie, and when you approach, they block the path to the right, forcing you off to the left.
Either John has planned this or you're simply following a direction. He said he would find you. That he'd chase you down.
Out in the country, there isn't any light other than the moon overhead and that which the maze provides. Most of the lights are red and dampened, giving the space a blood-tinged feel. As you walk, the cornstalks sway and move. You hear others in the maze cry out or giggle. A few times, you come across other visitors. One woman is cornered before being lifted up and over a scare actor's shoulder, snatched and separated from her group.
Will John find you like this? Will he corner you? Take you away and do with you what he likes?
As you take a turn, you find a wall of darkness. You cannot see the other end of the corn. No light reaches it. Adrenaline spikes in your gut, creeping up to your chest. For most of the walk, you've been enjoying yourself, but this stirs up a sense of dread.
There is nothing dangerous. Nothing sinister. You are fully aware of this and yet your body's physical response is the exact opposite of what your brain is telling you.
You're swallowed up by the dark. There are no stars, and the moon is currently covered by clouds. Every step forward only increases the creeping anxiety. Your heart thunders in your chest, drowning out all noise.
Something brushes against your right side. You jerk away from the sensation, knocking into corn stalks on your left.
Have you strayed that far over?
You reach out, attempting to find your bearings and a sense of direction. Moving left puts you into the corn. Moving right is open air and—
A large, muscled arm wraps around your waist. A scream claws up your throat, but before it emerges, a hand clamps over your mouth, stifling your cry. Something long and slightly hooked brushes against the side of your face, the tip catching on the front of your jacket. Instinct drives you. Reaching up to touch it, you find no blade or any sharpened weapon.
It's a mask. A plague doctor's mask.
John.
The hand over your mouth slowly descends, resting against the front of your throat. The grip is firm but not painful. It’s a show of dominance and a command for submission. You're drawn against a warm body and hardness.
"That you, John?"
There is a brief stretch of silence before his familiar husky voice answers. "Ready to run, love?"
You nod and John releases you. "Go," he whispers, and you take off.
As you charge forward, you're not sure if John is following. The darkness is almost absolute and you crash headlong into the corn before stumbling backward and righting yourself.
Turning left, you move ahead, only to emerge into a red-lit area with stacked hay. They create natural barriers, and the perfect place for anyone to hide behind. But John is behind you. Your path is clear.
As you navigate around the stacks, a figure steps out from behind the final row. John's silhouette is unmistakable. The plague doctor mask is only confirmation.
You come to halt, nearly slipping as your shoe catches on some flattened corn. Walking backward and away from John's casual stroll, you bump into a stack of hay. It's sturdy, and doesn't topple forward, but it startles you all the same.
You glance away from John for a moment—a single second. When you return your attention to him, you find the space completely empty. Spinning in a circle, you realize you're alone, at least to the naked eye.
John could still be watching somewhere in the dark. Tentatively, you make your way forward and into another stretch of empty corn. This area lacks light, but the clouds move at the perfect moment, revealing a dark figure at the other end before another turn.
John's masked head tilts to the side. There are shrieks and screams from somewhere behind you. Going forward is the only option.
You start slowly, creeping forward. John remains perfectly still until the last possible second. He lunges, and you step to the side, shrieking, running for all your worth. John follows, easily keeping pace. You are no match for his endurance even as you truly attempt to outpace him. The thrill pumping through your blood is thunderous. You're no longer scared, just excited.
You want John to catch you.
A few more turns in the corn and a fist grabs the back of your jacket. You're yanked to a stop, crashing into John as he hauls you against him. The plague mask is pushed up, at least enough for him to bend you backwards a bit and claim your mouth with a possessive kiss. Heat shoots right through you, swirling downwards toward your pussy.
You groan against his mouth, and John answers with one of his own. Your lips part and his tongue slides inside. You suck on it, giving it a light nip. John's grip on you tightens, and then you're being forced to your knees.
With one hand on the back of your head and the other undoing the front of his pants, you watch with eagerness as he reveals his hardness to you. Eagerly, you open your mouth, surrendering to his control, and the way he fucks your throat. Your mouth is full of him, and your eyes water from the intrusion. The two of you might be in the dark but you're out in the open. The thrill of potentially getting caught is its own addiction.
Placing one hand against his thigh, you anchor yourself, even as John controls the movement of your head. The knees of your jeans will surely be stained, but it's worth it. It's worth watching John's head tip back in pleasure as he forces your mouth to take all of him.
Relaxing your throat, you urge him on with soft sighs of pleasure. His fingers tighten, and then he's holding you in place, your lips nearly touching his pelvis as he finishes down your throat.
You swallow every drop, and when he withdraws, you keep your mouth open.
"Tongue out,” he growls.
You do so and John hums with approval. With his hand on the back of your neck, John draws you back to standing. A hint of moonlight illuminates his eyes. They are soft as his thumb brushes over your bottom lip.
"Run," he murmurs, readjusting the mask.
You languidly back away and John shakes his head as he starts after you.
You don't make it far. A few corners and then John is dragging you into the corn itself. He undoes and shoves your jeans down to your knees before guiding you down on all fours.
Amongst the dirt and corn, John breeds you. Each thrust is rough and intense, skin slapping against skin in the dark. You bury your face in the crook of your elbow, stifling your moans as best you can. People rush by, yelling and screeching as actors chase them through the flattened corn.
None of them notice you.
John's grunts are muted behind the mask, but his hands are harsh, fingers digging into your skin, holding on like you'll disappear. You'll be filthy when he's through with you. Not only messy between your legs but covered dirt-strained and sweaty.
His steady thrusting becomes erratic, a sign of his end. Your pussy flutters and clenches, squeezing around him, pleasure surging upward in a wave of bliss. Your orgasm is intense and you have to bite down on your own arm to stifle the moan.
John holds you tightly against him, his release exploding, flooding your pussy. The two of you linger like this before he slips out. John presses two fingers to your sex. They slide through the mess.
He drags you up, flattening your back against his front. Those two cum-coated fingers drag over your lips, forcing them open. You suck them clean, satiated.
When they pop wetly from your mouth, you twist to look at him, and you're greeted with his lips on yours. These kisses are languid. Sweet.
"Up for one more chase?"
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