#I feel like I’m making a conspiracy but I don’t know why it’s like this
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parkitrighthere · 2 days ago
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The Black Orchid Project
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Pairing: billionaire CEO!Jeon Jungkook x Secretory!Reader Genre: Dark Romance, Mystery, Thriller Word Count: 19k Trigger warning: This chapter contains morally grey characters, toxic characters, dark romance, trauma, violence, mentions of murder, death, and conspiracy. Reader discretion is advised. Summary: Jungkook is the enigmatic CEO of a major conglomerate with a haunting secret—he can hear everyone’s thoughts. But when Y/N becomes his new personal secretary, she’s the only person whose thoughts remain silent to him. Intrigued and unsettled, Jungkook is drawn to the mystery she presents, not realizing that their connection will unravel secrets neither of them are prepared to face. a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @kookiewithluv. The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support. a/n: So, I finally posted. Yeah, I know, shock of the century, right? You were probably out here cursing my name like, 'Where the heck have you been?' Well, I guess I just decided not to post this time. Don’t ask me why, I don’t even know. But hey, I’m sorry for that. I know, I say sorry a lot, it’s like my default setting at this point. But I swear, I’m really going to try and post more. I promise. Maybe. Also, a super huge shoutout and a massive thank you to my absolute favorite person @closer-to-jungkook. She beta-read this mess for me, and gave me so many amazing insights, but guess what? I didn’t do a single thing with them because, you know, I’m a failure like that. So, yeah, basically I let her down as my beta reader. Sorry, girl. But next time, I swear, I’ll actually listen and make you proud... unless I forget, again, in which case... whoops. Anyway, love you guys, and I’ll try not to disappear again... maybe.
PROLOGUE MASTERLIST 02
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CHAPTER TITLE: Work, Words, and Wrecks
You shifted uncomfortably in your chair, your hands gripping the edges of the table, knuckles white as you tried to appear composed. But your patience was wearing thin. He was overreacting, making a mountain out of nothing. Sure, you’d made a mistake—who hadn’t?—but this? This was ridiculous. What was his deal with the room’s capacity? Why on earth was he so bothered about having more than four people in a room? Seriously, what kind of control freak rule was that? You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Was he scared of crowds or something? Honestly, with his attitude, he should be. If he kept ticking people off like this, one day, someone might snap—and if there were enough people, they’d form a mob. The thought almost made you snort, but you swallowed it down, biting your cheek. It was a silly theory, but it was better than trying to untangle the nonsense of his rules.
The meeting dragged on. Time seemed to crawl as if the clock itself was protesting against the sheer monotony of the discussion. It hadn’t been long since it started, but to you, it already felt like you’d been trapped in this room for days. You lost count of the times his gaze—no, his glare—scorched into you. Each glance filled with condescension that felt like a slap across the face.
He glared at you again. His soft, doe-like eyes narrowed, dark and piercing, with a keenness that made you shrink back slightly. His jaw tightened, the muscle jumping under his skin as he ground his teeth. You flinched instinctively, your body betraying you with a subtle jerk, as if bracing for impact, suddenly aware of how small you felt under his scrutiny. Your hands clenched in your lap, fingers feeling like they might snap, as you tried to focus anywhere else.
You quickly averted your gaze, your eyes darting around the room, desperate for an escape.  Your eyes landed on Taehyung. He leaned back casually in his chair, one arm draped casually over the backrest, his long fingers drumming against the table in a slow, lazy rhythm. As soon as he felt your gaze, his lips curled into a subtle smirk. He raised his brows and blinked at you—once, deliberately.
You felt your face heat, and not from embarrassment, but frustration. God, all these men are insane. You clenched your fists tighter, nails digging into your palms to calm yourself.  You swore they all had some kind of mental dysfunction. Jungkook with his silent rage, Taehyung with his infuriating charm—maybe Jimin was the only sane one in this room besides you.
You sighed, shifting in your seat again, your foot tapping nervously against the floor. Mental health courses exist for a reason, you thought bitterly, your gaze flickering between Jungkook’s scowl and Taehyung’s irritating grin. Maybe they should sign up for all of them.
 As your thoughts spiralled, you dared a glance at him�� again. Only to catch the faintest twitch of his brow—precise, calculated. It wasn’t just anger in his expression; it was something darker, something… personal? And it scared you, even if you’d never admit it.
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The moment you had been dreading finally came. The meeting was over.
Chairs screeched against the floor as everyone pushed back from the table. The sound grated on your nerves, but you rose from your seat anyway, hands trembling, legs wobbling as though they might give out beneath you.
 Your breath hitched, shallow and fast, a knot tightening in the pit of your stomach. Your heart pounded against your ribs, a viscous thud that made your chest ache.  Was this fear? Anxiety? You couldn’t tell anymore, but it clawed at you, gnawing at your insides like a predator circling its prey. You clenched your fists at your sides, trying to calm yourself, but the uneasy tremor in your chest refused to fade.
You risked another glance at him, keeping your gaze low, peeking through your lashes, a fleeting, nervous look that you immediately regretted.  His gaze locked onto you, soft yet paradoxically so sharp and firm, as if he could see right through you. The weight of his stare felt like a physical force pressing against your temple. You quickly looked away but it was too late.
 Your throat tightening as your heart slammed against your ribs. But it didn’t matter—his eyes stayed on you, burning holes into the side of your head like he could feel every breath you took.
There was something in the way he looked at you—a mix of curiosity and disdain that made your skin crawl, like you were an unsolved puzzle he hated having to deal with. It was as though he were studying you, dissecting you piece by piece. He looked at you like he couldn’t stand the thought of breathing the same air as you, as if being in the same room as you was a personal insult he couldn’t forgive. The corner of his mouth twitched, but not in kindness. A cold, predatory smirk curled his lips, one that made your blood run cold.
His soft brown boba eyes never left you.
And then he smiled. Cold, shrill, and entirely without warmth. A smile that dripped with obnoxiousness and delight, as though he was basking in your unease, feeding off it like it gave him some twisted satisfaction.
 You weren’t sure what scared you more—the venom in his gaze or the fact that you couldn’t look away, no matter how much you wanted to.
"Jungkook," Seokjin’s voice cut through the fragile silence like a gentle breeze, calm and soothing.
Jungkook’s head snapped toward Seokjin, and in an instant, everything about him changed.
 His shoulders, tense and rigid moments ago, relaxed, and his piercing glare melted away, replaced by something soft—gentle, even. His lips curved into a smile, one so sweet and genuine it left you completely dumfounded. You blinked, your mouth falling open in shock.
What the hell?
Your eyes widened,  as you stared at him, disbelief etched across your face.  How... how is this possible? This was the same man who had spent the entire meeting glaring daggers at you, exuding nothing but cold enmity. How could someone so rude, heartless, and obnoxiously infuriating smile like that? It didn’t make sense. It felt like a trick, some cruel joke the universe was playing on you. But there it was—his smile, warm and dazzling, as if he hadn’t spent the past hour glaring at you like you were dirt beneath his shoe.  And now? Now he looked like a painting come to life—a vision of warmth and beauty that shouldn’t belong to someone so cruel.
Your heart skipped a beat as you noticed the faint crinkle at the corners of his eyes, the way his smile softened his entire face. For a brief, fleeting moment, you found yourself mesmerized. A small, traitorous voice whispered in the back of your mind, He’s stunning. Beautiful. Perfect. And he was. That smile made him look like something out of a dream, his dark orbs soft and almost shy under the fluorescent light. He was cute too, you realized, in that infuriating way that made you want to scream. And hot? God, no one could dare bring up the concept of hotness without mentioning him.
How can someone so horrible look this… beautiful? The whisper in the back of your mind grew louder. This man is the definition of beauty.
Your cheeks flushed at the thought, and you shook your head quickly, breaking free from whatever spell he’d cast. No. Absolutely not. Don’t go there. You shook your head slightly, muttering a quiet mantra in your head. No, no, no. He’s an idiot. A rude, wicked bastard. Stop it. This is the same guy who’s made your day a living hell. Remember that. But it was hard to ignore the way your heart raced, or the strange flutter in your chest.
Jungkook didn’t respond to Jin right away. Instead, he moved. His long strides carried him around the table, each step smooth and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. He stopped beside Jin, his posture instantly relaxed as Seokjin patted his shoulder in a way that felt natural, familiar.
Jin began to speak again, his lips parting as if to offer some kind of reassurance, but Jungkook cut him off before he could finish.
“Hyung! Let’s go to my office,” Jungkook said, his voice low and soft, almost tender. “We’ll talk there?” His voice was softer than you’d heard it, polite and calm. It was so different from the cold, harsh tone he had threw your way.
You blinked, staring at the two of them as your jaw threatened to hit the floor again. This can’t be real. Him? Soft? It was like watching a lion purr—a sight so contradictory it didn’t feel real. His tone was polite, his demeanour respectful—words you would never have associated with the man five minutes ago
Your eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, struggling to make sense of what you were seeing. Jungkook, the same man who had made your day a living hell, now stood before Seokjin like an obedient younger brother. It was unsettling, to say the least.
He wasn’t just polite—he was soft. Gentle, even.
You couldn’t stop staring. The way he tilted his head slightly when he spoke to Jin, the way his hands relaxed at his sides, no longer tense or clenched. It was so different from the version of him you knew, it almost felt like you were looking at a completely different person.
Your fingers twitched at your side, itching to pinch yourself. Maybe you were dreaming. Or hallucinating. Because the Jungkook you knew? He didn’t do soft. And yet, here he was, proving you wrong with every breath. The man who had made it his mission to make you feel two inches tall was suddenly soft and sweet with Seokjin? It didn’t make sense.
But the warmth in his expression lingered, and for reasons you couldn’t explain, it made your chest tighten. He was more than what you’d seen so far… wasn’t he?
Jin’s face lit up with a bright smile as he nodded at Jungkook. Turning away, he gave Namjoon and Taehyung a light nudge to follow him.
Namjoon responded with a quick nod, a broad grin spreading across his face as he moved to join them.
Taehyung, however, didn’t move. Instead, he slumped further into his chair, crossing his arms loosely and leaning back with a loud, exaggerated sigh. His lips pressed into a pout as he stared at the ceiling like the very idea of moving was a personal offense. It was no secret that Jeon Enterprises and Kim Enterprises were very close; both companies worked hand in hand. Even Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung went to the same school and college together. Their entire childhood and teenage years were spent together, and they were still together. All three of them were always in the news, and always together too. Jungkook knew Taehyung like the back of his hand along with his antics.
Namjoon glanced over, eyebrows furrowing in that “here we go again” way of his as he caught sight of Taehyung’s antics. “Seriously?” he asked, his tone half amused, half exasperated. His hands found their way to his hips, as he watched Taehyung flap his arms against the chair’s armrests.
Taehyung raised his hand in the air, palm out, as if announcing something grand. “No!”  he exclaimed, dragging the word out as he slowly pushed himself up from his seat, slowly, deliberately, making it as dramatic as possible before turning to Seokjin. “I won’t, hyung. I refuse.”
Seokjin didn’t react right away. He merely tilted his head, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, making it clear he wasn’t impressed. His lips pressed into a thin line as he let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head. The slight twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested he was trying very hard not to roll his eyes. His gaze shifted to Namjoon, wordlessly asking, Is this brat for real?
Namjoon only shrugged, an almost conspiratorial grin spreading across his face, as if he found the whole thing more entertaining than annoying. . They both turned their attention back to Taehyung, who didn’t care—if anything, their reactions only fueled his theatrics.  "NO," Taehyung declared, his voice firm, though his lips twitched with the hint of a smile.
“What now?” Seokjin asked finally, his voice calm, dangerously calm, but the words that tumbled out were tight. It wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be—it was the kind of calm that warned you not to push your luck. His piercing eyes bored into Taehyung, sharp and calculating, a reminder that behind the soft features was a mind you didn’t want to cross.  The sharp edge to it made you flinch, even though the question wasn’t directed at you.
The tension in the room shifted as even Taehyung hesitated for a second, his hand dropping to his side as he shifted under Jin’s obdurate stare. But within minutes he was back to his usual self.
You stood in the corner, half-forgotten, watching the scene unfold as if you were invisible. For a moment, it felt like you were intruding on a private family argument. They were so lost in their little world that none of them seemed to notice you lingering.  The ridiculousness of the scene was almost enough to make you forget the tension lingering in the air. Almost.
Seokjin’s calm demeanour held stable as he waited for Taehyung’s next move, the silence stretching just long enough to make even you hold your breath.
But Taehyung, being Taehyung, jabbed his finger in Jungkook's direction without even sparing him a glance. “He didn’t invite me! Just you, hyung. Just you,” he said, voice laced with mock hurt. Namjoon sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair as he shook his head, but a soft smile tugged at his lips. How could he stay mad? Taehyung was his little brother, and no matter how ridiculous the stunt, even when they bordered on absurd, he couldn’t help but find it endearing.
Taehyung’s arms crossed over his chest, his pout deepening as he stuck his bottom lip out, eyes narrowing as he watched Seokjin expectantly.
“An invitation? Really? You want an invitation?” Seokjin asked, his voice flat and deadpan, like he couldn’t believe he was even entertaining this ridiculous request. “What is this, a wedding? You want calligraphy and wax seals?”
Taehyung’s pout deepened, his gaze shifting dramatically to the side as he huffed. "Please would do," His voice a mix of childish demand and mock offense, his eyes flicking to Seokjin for any sign of approval.
 “A proper invite,” he huffed. “With manners. A simple please.”
Jimin couldn’t hold back his laugh, it came out bright and loud, like he’d just heard the funniest joke. "What?!" he snorted, stepping forward with an amused glint in his eyes.
 His laughter only grew as he straightened, wiping a fake tear from his eye before stepping toward Taehyung. “From Jungkook? Oh, Tae, you’re delusional.” he said, his voice a mockingly sweet coo.
Taehyung’s brow twitched, and he shoved Jimin away, glaring at him. ���Don’t call me delusional,” he snapped. “And stop laughing. It’s not that funny.”
Jimin, still laughing, straightened up and threw an arm around Taehyung’s shoulders. “Oh, but it is, Tae-Tae,” he teased, dragging out the nickname with enough sugar to cause cavities.
Taehyung immediately shoved him off. “Don’t call me that!” he barked, though his glare wavered when Jimin stumbled backward, his laughter echoing in the room.
“Let’s be real,” Jimin said, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “Jungkook saying please? You’ve got better odds of him baking us cupcakes with love letters on top.”
Seokjin watched the entire scene unfold with a quiet sigh, his arms falling to his sides as he shook his head. “Bloody idiots,” he muttered under his breath, though his eyes betrayed the fondness he felt for them all.
Jungkook, who had been leaning against the wall with the air of someone far too cool to care, quirked an eyebrow. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. The faint smirk on his lips said it all: “Not happening.”
“See?” Jimin said, gesturing toward Jungkook with a wide grin, as if the smirk was proof enough of what he’d been saying.
Taehyung huffed, rolling his eyes as he glared at Jungkook. "He’s insufferable." he muttered, his voice flat but dripping with monotony. He threw the words out with the kind of disinterest that only Taehyung could manage, as though even arguing was beneath him.
“Always has been,” Jimin agreed cheerfully, giving Taehyung a playful pat on the shoulder.
“You want an invite?” Seokjin deadpanned, cutting through the noise like a knife. “Fine. Jungkook, invite him.”
Jungkook didn’t even look up. “No.”
The room fell silent for a beat before Jimin broke into another fit of laughter. “I told you!” he howled, practically doubling over again. “That guy would rather eat his shoe than say the p-word.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Taehyung muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched.
Jimin grinned, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “What’s the matter, Tae? Expecting something special from him? Maybe a song, a serenade, flowers—”
“Shut up,” Taehyung snapped, his face turning red as he swatted at Jimin His glare faltering just enough to reveal a flicker of amusement behind his annoyed facade.
Namjoon, trying to keep it together, clamped a hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking slightly with suppressed laughter. Seokjin did the same, clearing his throat to hide the grin threatening to break free. You couldn’t hold back either, a soft laugh slipping from your lips. The sound of it made everyone snap their heads in your direction, and you immediately went still.
“Oh, for the love of—” Taehyung groaned, standing up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly as he shoved it back. “This is ridiculous. Forget it. I’m not playing this game.”
“You’re still mad, aren’t you?” Jimin pressed, a laugh already escaping as he took a step back, clearly enjoying pushing Taehyung’s buttons.
“Like I care!” Taehyung shot back, his hands gesturing wildly before he turned on his heel. He glared at Jungkook one last time. “Who’d want to spend time with a jerk like him anyway?”
You couldn’t help but agree, nodding your head. It was truly, genuinely, sincerely, honestly the most truthful statement you'd heard all day. Even Jungkook chuckled at Taehyung's behaviour, and your gaze snapped back to Jungkook. You stared at him in disbelief; you never thought you'd see this man smiling. Yet here he was, standing in all his glory, proving you wrong.  Jungkook? Laughing? Relaxed? It was like spotting a unicorn in the wild. For the first time, he didn’t look like the insufferable boss you were growing to despise. He looked...earth-shatteringly handsome. You cursed under your breath, clenching your fists to keep from staring too long.
It made you feel like your brain was short-circuiting. Here was this asshole of a man, acting like he was above it all, and yet… he was smiling. It made him look almost… normal.
Why was he so ridiculously handsome? He was a jerk, a complete ass, yet... there was something about him. He was perfect boyfriend material, especially with those tattoos. You'd seen them in magazines, but you wouldn't mind seeing them in real life.
He was a jerk, but otherwise, he was perfect boyfriend material, especially with those tattoos. You'd seen them in magazines, but you wouldn't mind seeing them in real life.
You shook your head abruptly, as if physically trying to dislodge the thought. Nope. Absolutely not. Stop it.
Why were you thinking all this nonsense?
Because no matter how annoyingly perfect he looked in that moment—relaxed, smirking, and effortlessly magnetic—you knew better. He wasn’t your type. Not even close. You were way too smart to fall for someone as much of a piece of shit as he was.
As soon as your eyes met Jungkook’s, your heart dropped into your stomach.  Your legs wobbled, the ground beneath you suddenly felt unstable. You felt like the world had stopped.  The only thing keeping you upright was the edge of the table you leaned against, gripping it so tightly your knuckles turned white. It was like he had forgotten you were even there, but now that he remembered... you were in trouble.
Your thoughts were a mess, a rush of panic flooding your veins. Please, don't fire me. Please don't fire me, you repeated over and over in your mind. His stare made you feel like a sheep waiting to be devoured by a wolf—helpless and small.
Jungkook opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Jimin’s voice cut through, loud but tensed. "Why are you still standing here?" he asked, his eyes darting nervously between you and Jungkook. "I'm sure you have work to do."
You nodded quickly, too quickly, your head bobbing furiously in agreement.
“What work, Jimin?” Jungkook snapped, his voice low and brimming with frustration. “She’s fired,” he declared, sending a shiver down your spine. His words felt like a physical blow, the weight of them crushing your chest. You could barely hear the rest of his sentence as panic drowned out everything else—I've had enough of her…
What to do now?
Cry, a voice whispered in the back of your head.
Jimin, however, wasn’t having any of it. “Enough, Jungkook!” he shot back, his voice hard and commanding. The sharpness in Jimin’s words was like a shield between you and Jungkook’s anger. You could see the way Jungkook’s expression shifted—he was still seething, but Jimin left no room for argument.
“She isn’t fired, and it’s final,” Jimin said. You could see the muscles in his jaw twitching as he tried to control his temper.
Jungkook opened his mouth to retort, but Jimin cut him off with a simple wave of his hand, motioning for you to leave. You didn’t need to be told twice. You bolted from the conference room, not even daring to look back. You weren’t sure whether to be more terrified of Jungkook or grateful to Jimin. You knew you’d messed up—it was your fault—but Jimin had chosen to take your side, and you couldn’t understand why.
You sprinted down the hall toward the elevator. Your hands trembled as you jabbed—no, banged—the elevator button for the 26th floor. The wait felt agonizingly long.
When the elevator finally dinged open, you stumbled out, half-running to your desk. Collapsing into your chair, you let out a shaky breath and buried your face in your arms on the desk. Your head fell onto your desk with a loud thud.
What had just happened?
God, your first day almost became your last.
You took a deep, steadying breath and pushed yourself upright, gripping the edge of your desk to ground yourself. This isn’t the time to wallow, you thought, brushing your hair back from your face with trembling fingers. You couldn’t afford to crumble now.
You can’t mess up again, you reminded yourself, wiping a hand over your face. Jimin might’ve saved you today, but luck won’t always be there neither… he. Luck was fleeting. It wasn’t something you trusted. Not with your history. You let out a dry laugh under your breath—luck and you were like oil and water. You were the ultimate symbol of bad luck, and that delightfully beautiful director of Jeon Enterprises had simply taken pity on you. Yes, it wasn’t luck. It was Jimin’s mercy, and you couldn’t count on it happening twice. Especially not when your boss—the arrogant bastard himself—was likely already sharpening his knives for round two.
The thought of Jungkook—his dark, piercing gaze—still lingered in your mind, but you forced yourself to focus. He was a devil, no doubt, and you... you were just the unlucky fool who happened to cross his path.
You couldn't afford to mess up again. Play it safe, you told yourself. Do your job right and keep your head down. You couldn’t give him another reason to unleash his wrath.
Your eyes fell to the stack of files in front of you, and a sinking feeling hit you hard in the stomach. The pile seemed to grow taller with each breath you took. The next meeting was only thirty minutes away
You glanced at the files scattered across your desk. Focus, you reminded yourself, slapping your cheeks lightly to snap out of it. The next meeting was in thirty minutes, and you didn’t have the luxury of time to curse your misfortune or that insufferable man.
Your eyes darted over the papers, frustration bubbling up as you began sifting through them. The previous secretary—whoever they were—had left behind a tangled mess. A spectacularly awful mess.
 How was this even possible?
You could almost feel your blood pressure rise as you examined the glaring errors.  The deadlines were completely out of sync with the client’s expectations, the budget allocations were so far off it was laughable, and one section even referenced an entirely different project altogether. If this wasn’t fixed in time for the meeting, it would be a complete disaster, and you were the one who’d have to face the consequences.
“This is a joke,” you muttered. You grabbed a pen, tapping it furiously against the table as your brain raced to come up with a plan.
Half an hour. That’s all you had to fix this disaster before you had to present it to a room full of people, including him.
"Fuck you! Whoever you are." you muttered under your breath, pushing your sleeves up, ignoring the beads of sweat forming on your forehead. Get it together, you scolded yourself. “This isn’t rocket science.” Your voice cracked slightly as you muttered the words aloud, as if hearing them would calm the storm raging inside you.
You grabbed the laptop, pulling up emails and client notes to cross-check the project details. The keyboard clacked furiously under your hands. Your brows furrowed in concentration, your lips pressed into a tight line. You clicked open the soft copy of the file, eyes scanning the screen quickly.
You stole a glance at the clock, and your heart nearly stopped. Twenty minutes left. Fuck.
The dull throb behind your temples was growing each passing minute, but you didn’t have the luxury to slow down. Tears? Not an option. You didn’t have time for that. Not when your whole career was teetering on the edge of disaster.
Get through the day without Jungkook turning you into his next verbal target.
 The mistakes were too obvious to miss, too dangerous to ignore. If the client saw these errors, it wasn’t just your job on the line—it was Jeon Enterprises' reputation. And that would mean your boss, Jungkook, would tear you apart, slowly and painfully.
 what have you done to deserve this.
Your fingers slammed against the keyboard as you raced through the sections. The section referencing the wrong project? Gone, replaced with the right one. The mismatched deadlines? Adjusted. The budget allocations that didn’t even make sense? Rewritten, recalculated, and double-checked.
You needed to print the corrected version. Your hands trembled as you stared at the screen, unsure of where to even begin this process. This wasn’t just a small mistake anymore—it felt like the whole day was falling apart in real time. You stared at the screen with mounting dread. Print. Where?
You slapped the print button, watching as the computer confirmed that it was printing, but your brain was far from settled. Printer? Where’s the damn printer? Your heart pounded as you stood, snatching up your blazer and dashing out of your office.
The hallway felt endless as you looked down the corridor. You felt a wave of frustration, the kind you’d never experienced before. You could have screamed, a sound that would shake the walls, but you couldn’t. Instead, you forced a deep breath through your nose and tried to calm yourself.
Finally, you spotted the printer at the end of the hall—right by the breakroom, its small glowing light blinking. It should have been a simple solution, but when you saw the machine, all you felt was pure, hot rage. Why is it always this difficult?
Why did it feel like everything was against you today?
Because of course, it jammed halfway through. Your fingers gripped the edge of the counter as you leaned down, yanking at the paper slot with all your might. The printer groaned, then jammed, and you let out an angry sound that came out as a strangled groan.
“Come on, you stupid thing—work!” you hissed, muttering curses that seemed to make you feel worse. Stupid thing!
You slammed the print button again, your fingers stabbing at the machine. Finally, the printer whirred, clicked, and then began its slow, steady rhythm. You let out a shaky breath, pressing your hand against your forehead to steady the dizziness threatening the edges of your focus.
Finally, the documents started coming out. You grabbed them. You ran your hands over the pages, smoothing them down compulsively as though that would make them more trustworthy. You clutched it like it was your lifeline. Not perfect, but it'll have to do. Once back in your cabin, you shoved the papers into a folder, your chest still tight.
The clock on the wall caught your attention.
Ten minutes left.
 You could barely breathe as you walked out of your office, your feet moving almost on autopilot. In no time, you found yourself standing in front of Jungkook’s office.
You knocked. Once. Twice. And then… you waited.
 You closed your eyes briefly, took a steadying breath. You bit your lip, and raised your hand to knock thrice.
"Come in!" Jungkook’s voice rang out, gruff and loud, cutting through the air. You hesitated for a second before pushing the door open, and every head in the room snapped toward you. You stepped inside, your heart racing as you greeted them with a polite but fake smile, trying your best to keep it together. Only Jimin smiled back. The others... they just stared, like you were some strange creature. Jin and Namjoon looked shocked—why? What was going on? And then there was Taehyung, his eyes wide with what could only be described as disbelief.
Jimin spoke first, his voice light and effortless, and you couldn't help but thank your lucky stars—or maybe it was just Jimin being Jimin. “You need something?”
You gave a short nod and turned to face Jungkook. His eyes narrowed, his arms crossing over his chest, his whole posture screaming annoyance.  His jaw was clenched so tight it seemed like he might snap any second. You swallowed hard, trying not to show how much his stare rattled you.
"Yeah. I was merely here to remind Mr. Jeon that the meeting starts in… like ten—no, seven minutes now," you managed to say, your voice wavering just a little as you spoke. Your hands were clenched at your sides, and you forced yourself not to fidget.
You stole a quick glance around the room. Jin and Namjoon had gone back to their own conversations, but Taehyung was still staring at you, mouth slightly open like he couldn't believe you were standing there. Jungkook still hadn’t said anything, his eyes still boring into you.
"Thank you," Jimin said, his smile soft and genuine. "He’ll be there."
You nodded once, trying not to let your relief show too much. You gave a quick, polite bow of your head, then turned, making your way to the door, your steps hurried but controlled. As you left the room, you couldn’t help but think—Jimin was an angel, working for a devil. You weren’t sure what you would’ve done without him today.
As you walked out of his cabin, you caught the faintest sound of Taehyung’s voice drifting behind you.
“Damn, dude! She’s something. She must be… to get you this worked up. Wow! I loved it.”
You didn’t linger to hear the rest, though. It was like your feet were moving faster than your brain, the urgency propelling you back to your cabin. You sprinted to your desk, your hands shaking as you skimmed through the pages one final time. You stapled them together. You had to present this with confidence, one mistake and Jungkook would tear you apart.
Five minutes left.
“You’ve got this. Just fake it. Fake it all the way.”
Your heels clicked sharply against the marble floors as you made your way to the conference room. Your grip on the file tightened, your knuckles white. When you reached the door. With a firm push, you stepped inside.
Walking to the table, you laid down the stack of updated project files, replacing the older copies. Once every seat had the corrected file, you finally slid into your chair. The leather seat creaked softly as you sank into it, and you folded your hands tightly in your lap to steady them. You darted a glance at the door, waiting for everyone's but specially Jungkook’s inevitable arrival. You flipped through the files for what felt like the hundredth time. The numbers blurred slightly before your eyes, but you forced yourself to focus.
The sharp sound of the door opening made your head snap up. Jungkook walked in with the same air of authority that always seemed to announce his presence before he even spoke. His eyes locked onto you, narrowing instantly, and his jaw clenched so tight you swore you heard his teeth grind.
You stifled a sigh, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your face neutral. What now? You wondered bitterly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. Jungkook didn’t just dislike you—he hated you—like, deep, unrelenting hatred. For what reason? Who knew. And frankly, you didn’t care.  If you could, you would’ve told him to take his reasons, his anger, and his goddamn temper tantrums and shove them up his perfectly tailored ass, but you knew that wouldn’t help you keep your job.
He moved around the room with precision, as he made his way to his seat. His attention was fixed on you, like you were some annoying fly he wanted to swat. You straightened in your chair. He dropped into his chair with an air of casual authority and grace of someone far too confident for their own good.
For a moment, your traitorous thoughts drifted. He was handsome—annoyingly so. Sharp jawline, paradoxically piercing boba eyes, and a frame that looked like it was carved by a sculptor. But his attitude? That was enough to ruin the whole package. If only his personality matched his looks. If only he wasn’t such a pompous, insufferable jerk. Instead of charm, he had an ego the size of the goddamn building. If he had even an ounce of kindness or respect to him, he would’ve been perfect. But no, instead he walked with the kind of arrogance that could suffocate a room, his back rigid and his posture as stiff as the stick lodged firmly up his ass.
You shook the thought from your head. He wasn’t worth your time.
The door opened again, and this time it was the clients. Jungkook stood, but just barely.
He simply stood halfway and gave a curt nod that was so half-hearted you wondered if it hurt his pride to be polite. God forbid Mr. Perfect lower himself to basic manners. His expression didn’t change—stoic and unbothered—while yours shifted into a polite mask. Maybe you were expecting too much. Maybe you were the problem. You slid your chair closer to the table and sat down next to him. You offered the clients a small smile, hoping to compensate for Jungkook’s complete lack of warmth.
But his eyes. God, his eyes. They didn’t stray far from you.
You placed the documents in front of him. You kept your gaze fixed on the table, careful not to meet his boba eyes. “Here! Mr. Jeon,” you whispered, your voice as even and professional as you could manage. The last thing you wanted was to give him even an inch to criticize you.
Before you could pull your hand back, his fingers closed around the file. His hand was warm—too warm—and for just a moment, your cold, dainty fingers brushed against his. The warmth of his hand lingered on yours, and you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. Your body felt paralyzed, shocked, maybe even mesmerized by the sensation.  You couldn’t pull away—not because you didn’t want to, but because you physically couldn’t.
Jungkook’s hand retreated first, leaving your fingers tingling. You leaned back in your chair, clearing your throat as heat crept up your neck. You turned your attention to the clients, offering a polite smile. They exchanged a few glances, their expressions unreadable.
Why are they looking at me like that?
Before you could figure it out, Jungkook’s voice cut through the silence, quiet and low. "Why are you making that face?"
You turned toward him, startled. “Huh?”
He didn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on the papers in front of him as he leaned back in his seat. His voice was soft, like a whisper, but it hit you like a punch to the gut.
“You look like you’re constipating,” he said, his tone casual, smooth, utterly calm—and utterly cruel and casual, as though commenting on the weather.
Your face fell. What did he just say? Your mouth fell open slightly in horror, heat rushing to your face. He did not just say that. You glared at the side of his face, imagining all the ways you could strangle him with the tie he wore so smugly. Murder was illegal, but maybe, just maybe, you could make an exception.
 Ignore him. He’s not worth it or… should you just strangle him? Oh, you wanted to strangle him. No, you needed to strangle him. Who even says that? You huffed, straightening in your seat and glaring at the file in front of you.
Jungkook flipped open the folder, his sharp eyes scanning the documents.
And then it happened—a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, so subtle you almost missed it. “Let’s begin,” he said smoothly, finally turning his attention to the clients. But just before he did, his gaze flicked to you, brief but searing.
The meeting began.
The meeting dragged on. Your hand ached from jotting down notes, your fingers stiff as they moved across the page. All you could think about was how Jungkook managed to handle these clients—their demands were endless, their standards sky-high. Jungkook, somehow, handled their lofty standards with an ease that almost infuriated you. How could someone so insufferable be so damn good at this? You, however, were drained. Mentally, physically, emotionally. All you wanted was to go home, curl up, and forget this entire ordeal. But the clients showed no signs of slowing, so neither could you. You scribbled furiously, keeping up with the endless stream of requests and comments, your hand cramping around the pen. Every now and then, you stole glances at the clock, silently begging for it all to end.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the meeting came to an end.
 The clients rose, shaking Jungkook’s hand with smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Jeon,” one of them said, their tone oozing professionalism. Then their gaze flicked to you, offering a curt nod—no words, no acknowledgment of your work. You swallowed the frustration bubbling up in your chest and nodded back, forcing a tight-lipped smile. Typical. You bit the inside of your cheek, swallowing the bitter taste of resentment as they exited the room. Well, women in corporate field.
The door clicked shut, leaving you alone with Jungkook. Your mind was hyper-aware of his presence.
He was leaning back, the picture of ease, his chair swinging slightly from left to right. His left leg rested over his right, one arm draped casually across the armrest. He didn’t speak, didn’t make a sound, but the intensity of his stare was enough. You didn’t dare look up. Not after what had happened earlier. Not after what he said earlier.
You stole a glance, his tie had loosened slightly, the top button of his shirt undone. When he did that? He looked like he owned the entire world, and the infuriating thing was—he probably did.
You remembered what you thought while applying for this job: How hard could it be to work for him?
You’d found out the hard way, within mere hours.
Jeon Jungkook wasn’t just hard to work for—he was impossible. A devil in designer suits. A man who had no mercy and no patience, especially not for someone like you. Your first day had made that abundantly clear in the worst way possible.
Jeon Jungkook wasn’t someone to take lightly. He was a storm you hadn’t prepared for, and it was already threatening to swallow you whole.
You pushed the glass door open, ready to step out, but then you heard it—his voice, loud and clear.
"Pebble!"
You froze. Slowly, you turned around, almost colliding with the door in the process. His eyes locked onto yours, and a subtle smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t the friendly kind—it was something else. Something that made you feel both irritated and, disturbingly, giddy.
"What?" you muttered, your voice low and unsure. You weren't able to understand why you gripped it ever so tightly.
He stood from his chair, rising with an ease that felt effortless, his hands casually buried in his pockets. His movements were smooth, deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world to examine you. He was far too good-looking for your sanity, far too composed, far too everything.
 Fuck him, and fuck your good sense.
What was this? Why were you feeling so fragile in front of him? You didn’t have time to figure it out because, in three long strides, he was standing in front of you, so close that the scent of his cologne wrapped around you.  His eyes were still on you, as if he were studying you—no, devouring you with just a glance. You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. And that, right there, made you even more furious.
Is this guy stupid? you wondered. What was the point of staring like that? It felt intrusive, unnerving, yet somehow, you couldn’t tear your own gaze away.
 Staring, in your book, was the hallmark of cheap behaviour, reserved for people with no manners or boundaries. But he somehow pulled it off, with that smirk and those features and that way he seemed to have everything in the world under control. As if his ridiculous good looks gave him a free pass.
"Coffee. In my office."
"Huh?" was all you could manage, your voice barely above a whisper, still unsure of what was happening.
He tsked, shaking his head like you were hopeless. “You heard me. Black. No sugar. Ms…” he trailed off, his brow furrowing slightly.
Your eyes widened in realization. He didn’t know your name. Or worse—he hadn’t even tried to know it until now. Your throat tightened, and you opened your mouth, about to respond, but before a single word could leave your lips, he finished with,
"Pebble."
Your mouth hung open, as you watched him leave.
Pebble.
He had just called you Pebble.
You stood there, staring, stunned, unable to believe what just happened.
He was the most disrespectful, irritating, unbearable person you had ever met.
The anger built up in you until you couldn’t stand still anymore. You stomped your foot hard against the ground.
You would make him regret this.
Oh, you absolutely would.
With a resigned sigh, you turned toward the elevator, dragging your feet. At least you now knew where the coffee machine was—down at the far end of the floor. Great. More walking. You hadn’t even done this much cardio in the past year, let alone in a single day. No wonder all the women here looked so fit—they practically lived on their feet.
When you reached the elevator, you noticed him—Jungkook—already stepping into it. Your pace slowed instinctively. No way were you getting in that elevator with him, even for a single second. He wouldn’t stop the elevator for you anyway—he was too much of a jerk to care.
But when had life ever gone according to your plans?
Before you could change direction, you heard the sound of the doors closing and sliding back open.
Oh, hell no. Your body tensed. You didn't want to step in there with him, but you didn’t have a choice. You dragged your feet reluctantly. The annoyance in his eyes deepened, and a muscle in his jaw twitched, like he was already regretting his decision to wait for you.
Finally, you reached the door.
“Get fucking in, woman.”
You didn’t need to be told twice. You stepped inside, muttering curses in your head, and the doors slid shut with a soft ding.
 You didn’t dare move, didn’t dare look at him, but you could feel his gaze lingering on you, like he was trying to figure you out or, worse, punish you for existing.
Maybe he was pissed.
And you? You couldn’t decide if you hated him more in this moment or if you just wanted to get out of this damn elevator as quickly as possible.
“I thought you had work here,” he said, his tone casual.
“Huh?” you managed, surprised.
He shook his head, as if you were already the most frustrating thing he’d encountered that day.
“Do you know anything else besides ‘huh?’”
You opened your mouth to retort, but he didn’t wait. “I said, I thought you had work here.”
“What work?” you snapped. His eyes flared. But the bastard smirked, like he’d been expecting this reaction.
“What meeting do we have next, Pebble?” His voice was smooth, almost playful.
Your stomach dropped. Pebble. He had just said it again. But. You froze. His words lingered in your mind like a bad omen, but all that filled your head was white noise. The name of the company… where was it? Shit.
He chuckled, the sound low and smooth, just to make sure you knew how badly you’d messed up. “You need to collect some files from marketing and sales team. You forgot.”
The damn files. I forgot? You swallowed hard, glancing around the elevator as if the walls could give you an answer.
“What are you trying to do—break the glass and jump into the sales and marketing floor?” he said, his tone as bored as his expression. His words felt cruel, but you knew there was a bite of truth to them.
You shook your head, cheeks heating as you mentally berated yourself. You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, embarrassed and annoyed. More walking. That’s all you could think about now.
The elevator doors opened, and Jungkook stepped out first. He glanced up at you, raising an eyebrow, and for a split second, you thought—just maybe—he might say something remotely decent. But no, that was far too much to hope for. His lips curled into that damn smirk as he turned away and said, “Coffee. On my desk. In five minutes.”
Before you could even respond, he turned around and walked away.
You stepped out of the elevator, its door closing behind you. You let out a frustrated exhale. . God, I hate him. You made your way to the coffee machine. You prepared the coffee just like he’d ordered, and even the smell made your stomach churn. The bitterness of it matched the bitterness radiating from him.  No wonder he was always so damn miserable. A person who drank this much bitter coffee could only have a bitter heart.
You walked down the hall to his office. The door was slightly ajar, and you knocked softly, holding the cup in your hands.
“Come in,” he barked again from inside.
You pushed the door open and stepped inside, placing the coffee on his desk. He was sitting at his desk, back straight, his sharp features focused on his laptop. The desk was neat, pristine, every paper and pen in its place, a stark contrast to the chaos on your desk.
“Here, Mr. Jeon,” you said, your voice tight with forced politeness.
He didn’t even look at you. Instead, he grabbed the cup, bringing it to his lips like it was the most important thing in the world. His eyes fluttered closed as he took the first sip, and you watched in disbelief as he sighed deeply, as though he’d just tasted heaven.
“Good,” he muttered, but it wasn’t directed at you—it was all about the coffee. Your stomach turned at the absurdity of it. He didn’t even acknowledge the fact that you’d stood there, prepared it, and handed it to him.
“Send Jimin in my office. Now, leave,” he demanded, his voice flat, as if he were speaking to a wall, not a person.
 Every inch of you wanted to pull his hair out, to throw something across his perfectly organized desk. Instead, you nodded stiffly.
“Sure, Mr. Jeon,” you said, forcing the words past your clenched teeth before turning on your heel and leaving.
Once outside, the first thing you did was head straight for Jimin, who was at his desk, buried in papers. His workspace was cluttered with post-its, notes, and scribbles. His eyes lifted when you approached, and though his face showed signs of being busy, his greeting was polite as ever.
“What brings you here, Ms. …,” he began, with a soft smile.
“Mr. Jeon wants you in his office,” you replied, keeping it brief. You didn't have the energy to engage in any more small talk.
"Why?" Jimin asked, as he stood up, closing the file in his hands and sliding his blazer on with a sharp tug. You just shrugged. Jimin gave a small nod.
“Alright,” he said, adjusting his blazer. His tone indicated he didn’t mind being interrupted. “I’ll head in there.” You watched as he walked toward the hallway.
You followed your own path toward the marketing department first. You handed over the files, your hands sore from too much writing, before heading toward the sales department. The constant movement was starting to wear you down, but you couldn’t let it show. You did the same at the sales department, before finally making your way back to your office, your feet aching more than ever. This is going to be a long day, you thought, pressing a hand to your lower back as you settled into your chair.
Before you could catch a break, the clock ticked, signaling that it was time for the next meeting. You picked yourself up again, shoulders sore and heavy, and made your way back toward Jungkook’s office.
You knocked on the door before stepping in, your hand pressing into the wood with slightly trembling fingers. This time Jimin was in there with him, seated on the couch. He looked agitated—hands running through his hair as he exchanged words with Jungkook.
You hesitated at the threshold. You didn’t want to intrude on their conversation. You quickly turned on your heel, shaking your head as you backed out. These guys were insane.
You closed the door behind you with a gentle push and let out a shaky exhale. Your hands gripped your notebook tightly as you walked back toward the hallway.
The next meetings were a blur. For reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you found yourself relieved when Jungkook skipped every other meeting for the day. He didn't show up, and Jimin took over. The clients didn’t seem to mind the change, and in fact, it made things easier. Jimin’s presence was soothing.  His voice was soft, his smile was kind. He spoke in careful sentences, his calm composure like a reassuring presence. Working with him was smoother, quieter—lovelier, even. He made the chaos of the day seem more manageable, and you found yourself wishing you found yourself wishing you could work for Jimin, just him.
But you quickly shut that thought down. That wasn’t possible, not when you were stuck in this job, tied to Jungkook. No matter how much you hated it, you had to stick around. It was unviable to leave, even though every part of you screamed for the chance to escape. You have to stick around him.
As the last meeting came to an end, you gathered the files and followed Jimin out of the conference room. He took the files from your hands. You were thankful for his help, but the lingering feeling of being under the spotlight didn’t fade. You hated the attention, and of course, everyone would stare. Having the director of the company himself helping you with your work was far too big of a deal. The eyes of all the female employees had burned into you as you walked out. You couldn’t shake the sense of discomfort, and it only worsened as you stepped into the elevator with Jimin.
"Mr. Park, you really don’t have to do this," you said, offering a shy smile as the elevator doors slid shut behind you.
Jimin, however, seemed unfazed. He gave a lazy smile, his voice light as he answered. "Oh, I’m not doing it for you." Jimin leaned casually against the wall, eyes scanning the floor numbers as they lit up.
You blinked, confused, your brows knitting together. "What’s that supposed to mean?"
He turned his head, flashing you a mischievous grin. "It’s more for me, really."
Your frown deepened. "For you?" You couldn’t hide your confusion, but Jimin just chuckled, clearly entertained by your reaction.
"You see," he began, shifting slightly to face you fully. His eyes sparkled with a playful yet sincere gleam. "I come from old money. I just can't stand the idea of a woman doing something like that when I’m around. Makes me feel like I’m failing somewhere. I’ve got this fragile ego, you know?" His voice was light, teasing, but his smile softened as he continued. "It just feels better to help out. Plus, it’s... good manners."
"Yeah?" You asked, tilting your head slightly, your eyebrows furrowing as you tried to make sense of his words. The slight smirk tugging at his lips told you he knew you were lost but didn’t care enough to explain. Instead, he only shrugged nonchalantly, his expression  so casual it almost felt dismissive.
Before you could respond further, the elevator dinged softly, and the doors slid open. Jimin stepped out first. You followed behind as you adjusted your grip on the files. He led the way to your cabin, his presence drawing a few curious glances from colleagues. You felt those stares prickling at your back again, but Jimin seemed entirely unbothered. He walked you to your cabin, while you struggled to keep up with his pace. When he finally reached your desk, he placed the stack of five thick files down with practiced ease, brushing invisible dust off his hands like it was no big deal.
"All set. Anything else you need before I head out?" he asked, his voice light as he straightened his blazer.
Thanks again, Mr. Park," you said, shaking your head.
Jimin gave a small nod in return, stepping back. Just as he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder. "Take care, pretty," he said, his tone casual, yet the words felt deliberate.
Your hands froze mid-motion as your head snapped up, eyes widening in surprise. Heat rushed to your face, and you felt the unmistakable blush spreading across your cheeks like wildfire. You stared at the empty doorway where Jimin had disappeared, his words echoing in your mind.
"What the hell," you muttered under your breath. Forcing yourself to focus, you picked up the files, flipping through the pages with renewed determination. It was time to finish up for the day, but not before ensuring everything was in order for tomorrow. Your fingers worked quickly, your eyes scanning schedules and notes, the lingering warmth on your cheeks refusing to fade completely.
When you finally finished your work, you grabbed the file Jungkook had instructed you to complete and headed to his office. As you approached, you noticed the door slightly ajar. Through the small gap, you could see Jimin sitting in one of the chairs in front of Jungkook’s desk. Jungkook, on the other hand, sat with his brows furrowed in a way that seemed permanently etched into his face. It was a wonder Jimin didn’t crack under the weight of his perpetual grimace. If he wasn’t so ridiculously good-looking, you were certain his demeanour would’ve been a massive letdown.
"Are you even human?" Jimin's voice rose, his tone laced with disbelief as he leaned forward, his palms slapping against the desk with a dull thud. His lips pressed tightly together. His words seemed to hit like a quiet plea, but Jungkook didn’t seem to care. His eyes stayed glued to his file as he flipped the pages.
"I am dying over here. I am that tired and you are one of the reasons behind it. Don’t you dare ignore me, Jeon Jungkook!" Jimin continued, his voice a mixture of disbelief and frustration. His words grew louder as he leaned back in his chair, throwing his hands up in the air, as if trying to physically puncture Jungkook’s indifference.
"Huh?" Jungkook’s voice was flat, almost absent, as he gave Jimin just a single glance, his eyes flickering for a mere millisecond before he turned back to the file in his hands. He gave a distracted nod, not sparing Jimin much more attention.
Jimin’s jaw dropped slightly, his annoyance reaching a boiling point. "Seriously!" he exclaimed. His fingers curled into loose fists as he leaned back, pacing a step before planting his hands on his hips. "You made me handle all your meetings and deal with my own workload. I’ve been running around like a headless chicken while you sit here, all cozy with your stupid papers! Do you not have any regard—"
"You're right," Jungkook said, his voice steady and matter-of-fact, cutting off Jimin’s rambling mid-sentence. He slowly closed the file in front of him and placed it neatly to the side. This time, he leaned back in his chair, his posture loosening slightly as he crossed his arms over his chest. His dark, boba eyes locked on Jimin’s. "I am sorry, hyung. You're always picking up the slack for me. I don't say it enough, but… I’m really grateful. I couldn’t do this without you."
Jimin froze for a moment, his brow furrowing as he eyed Jungkook suspiciously. His eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head, studying Jungkook as if he had just grown a second head. "Oh? What’s wrong with you?" he asked, dragging the words out slowly. He leaned forward in his chair, elbows digging into the edge of Jungkook's desk. "Show me your head. You punk, I’m sure you hit it somewhere."
Jimin shot up from his seat and lunged across the desk with inflated urgency, his hand reaching for Jungkook's head like a concerned but overly dramatic mother.
"Jimin-shi!" Jungkook exclaimed, his voice rising in protest as he swatted at Jimin’s hands. He grabbed Jimin’s wrists, prying them away from his head. His brows knitted together as he leaned back further in his chair, out of reach, glaring at Jimin. "I swear, I’ll kill you."
"There you are," Jimin said, a grin spreading across his face as he let out a sigh. He flopped back into his chair, dramatically wiping his brow as if the ordeal had been exhausting. "I was worried for nothing. Glad to see the real  grumpy, homicidal self's still here."
Before they could exchange any more words, you finally stepped forward, your knuckles rapping lightly on the doorframe.
Knock, knock.
The sound broke through, causing both their heads to snap in your direction.
For a moment, you felt rooted to the spot, like a deer caught in headlights. You tightened your grip on the file in your hands, suddenly hyper-aware of how out of place you felt. Clearing your throat, you finally stepped inside. "Sorry to interrupt," you said.
Jimin’s lips curved into a faint smile, and he tilted his head, gesturing toward the file. "It’s fine. Come in. Looks like someone’s got work to do, unlike us," he teased, his tone light.
You tried your best to force a smile onto your face—a polite, controlled, and friendly expression—but as your eyes met his. Your throat felt like it had closed up, your voice thin and wobbly. Why did he make you so nervous? Yes, he was intimidating. Yes, you’d dealt with difficult bosses before. But there was something about him—something that felt wrong, a shrill, intense warning in the back of your mind, like a distant alarm telling you danger was near.
Your heels clicked softly against the floor as you passed Jimin’s chair. He was sitting casually, his hands clasped behind his head, completely at ease as he looked over at you. You stopped beside Jungkook's desk, just behind where Jimin was sitting. "Mr. Jeon, I just finished the tasks you assigned." Your voice was soft but steady as you extended the file toward him. You forced yourself to meet his gaze, though it felt like staring into the eye of the devil. "Here’s the file. I’m leaving now, so I was wondering if there’s anything else you need before I go?"
Jungkook didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, slowly and precisely. His sharp gaze scanned your face, lingering on your forced smile before sliding down to the file you’d placed on his desk. A smirk curled at the corners of his lips, and his eyes—soft and doe-like at first glance—betrayed a sharp, predatory glint. "Actually," he drawled, his voice carried an edge that made your pulse quicken. He gestured lazily toward the towering stack of files on the far corner of his desk. "I do need something."
Your eyes widened as they darted to the stack, a silent gasp catching in your throat. The files seemed endless. You swallowed hard, glancing back at him, but his expression was unreadable. You couldn’t decide if you were more nervous or outright afraid of what was coming next. "See those files?" he continued, tilting his head slightly, his tone casual as if he were commenting on the weather. "I need them reviewed and sorted by tomorrow."
And you just stood there for a moment, trying to figure out whether you had a choice, or if you were already drowning. Tomorrow? That was impossible. You turned back to Jungkook, hoping to find some hint that he was joking, but his expression was calm and unyielding, like carved stone.
"I…" you began, but your voice faltered.
"Something wrong?" Jungkook asked, tilting his head slightly as if daring you to argue.
It was your first day, and you couldn’t understand what went wrong. You’d always thought Jungkook was handsome, admired him from the glossy pages of magazines and the distant buzz of news. You'd been excited, so excited to work for the most wanted bachelor in the continent. But now? Now, it wasn’t going as planned.
Too much work. Too much. How could anyone be expected to handle this much work? You thought you could handle challenges, but this? This felt impossible. This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. You’d probably have to sell your soul to some demon and even then, it still wouldn’t feel enough. You couldn’t do this. You shouldn’t have to do this. But the thought of giving up? That wasn’t even an option. You wanted to scream. No. You didn't want to scream you wanted to kick him where the sun doesn't shine.
"To-tomorrow," you stammered, barely able to believe the words coming out of your mouth. You were close to snapping, but something in his gaze made you hesitate.
"Impossible?" Jungkook interrupted, his voice a low, smooth. His eyes locked on yours, the warmth in them replaced with ice. "I’m not interested in hearing any excuses. You need to understand where and for who you’re working. Workload is a usual thing here. You either do it or resign. It’s up to you. Nobody’s begging you to stay."
The words were harsh. There was no softness to them, no room for debate, no compromise. He wanted you to know that you had no power here. His small, smug smile confirmed it—a clear taunt, a game to him, and you could feel it deep in your bones. He wasn’t just being cold. No, he enjoyed this. He was tormenting you, and you knew it. He was such a sadistic being.
"Understood," you said, the words coming out of your mouth with a firmness that surprised even you.
You turned your back to him and grabbed the stack of files from where they were carelessly left. The moment you lifted them, you knew this was going to be hell. It was heavy—too heavy—far heavier than you’d expected. Your arms shook as you struggled to balance them. You almost stumbled under the sheer force of it, but you steadied yourself.
You bit your lip, fighting back the urge to ask Jimin for help. You glanced toward him, only to find that he and Jungkook were locked in a silent staring match, their gazes locked like two wolves sizing each other up.  Jimin looked like he was about to explode. You couldn’t drag him into this. He already looked like he was walking a thin line, and you didn’t want to add to the fire. Besides, Jimin looked angry enough already.
So, you started walking.
You struggled your way out of his office. Your legs wobbled under the weight, and you nearly stumbled into the doorframe as you tried to maintain your balance. You wanted to scream. You hated him. You hated everything about this. Him. His smug smile. His icy tone. His ridiculous expectations. In truth, you’d never felt this much resentment toward anyone. Not even your previous bosses had managed to push you this far. But Jungkook? He was something else entirely. A walking nightmare wrapped in a handsome package, and you were stuck in it.
The moment you stepped into your office, you slammed the door behind you. You were done. You were going home. You couldn’t wait to get out of here. You grabbed your bag and purse. You cursed under your breath, knowing you couldn’t leave without grabbing those files too. There was no way you were going to spend another minute in that sterile, over-designed office. You adjusted the files again, and with a final shake of your head, you stepped out of your office. Your feet moved on autopilot as you walked toward the elevators. You didn’t look back. There wasn’t any point.
You knew you’d have to come back.
You knew you’d have to face him again.
But for now, you needed to get out.
The first day had been hell, all thanks to your devilish boss.
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Jungkook and Jimin stepped out of Jungkook’s office. Jimin shot a sharp glare at Jungkook, his brow furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. Jungkook, on the other hand, wore a smug, teasing smile that danced at the corners of his mouth. He could feel Jimin’s annoyance and found it far too satisfying to ignore.
"Jiminshi," Jungkook said casually, but Jimin didn’t even give him a second glance, his jaw clenched as he exhaled sharply.
“Shut up,” Jimin snapped back without hesitation, the heat in his voice enough to make Jungkook pause for a second. It almost made him laugh, but he quickly held it back, the corners of his mouth twitching.
"Come on, Jimin. We’re already late. And Jin hyung will be mad if we get even more late," Jungkook added, his tone light but carrying an edge of urgency. His smile was easy and easygoing, the kind that always got under Jimin’s skin, and this time, it did the trick. Jimin let out a slow, exasperated breath, his shoulders slumping slightly as he let his irritation simmer down. He nodded once, fingers gripping his phone a little too tightly. His hand flexed as he tucked it back into his pocket, his gaze fixed forward as they walked towards the elevator side by side.
Jungkook pushed the button to call the elevator, and Jimin stood next to him, arms crossed, still giving off that frustrated vibe. But Jungkook could see the edges of his irritation slowly dulling. Even if Jimin was pissed, he wouldn’t stay mad for long. Jimin was always the wise one, and he knew that getting upset over Jungkook's antics wouldn’t help anything. Jin had invited them for dinner tonight, and they both knew this wasn’t just another casual evening. Jimin had told Jin about you—how Jungkook couldn’t hear your thoughts, which still felt weird and foreign to him. It was strange, unsettling in a way, and Jin had wanted to discuss it. He’d called them both over, saying he needed to talk. Jungkook was curious about what Jin had in mind. It wasn’t every day that Jin invited them over, especially not without a reason.
The elevator doors opened, and Jungkook gestured for Jimin to enter first. Jimin grumbled under his breath but didn’t argue. Jungkook stepped in behind him, and the two of them stood in silence. He was looking forward to the evening, not only to talk things out but also to meet Jin's wife. She was a kind and sweet woman. If it wasn't for Taehyung, they would have never met her. Jin had been married for years, but he rarely invited anyone over, keeping his personal life guarded. Jungkook and Jimin always looked forward to her company. Jin, on the other hand, was borderline obsessed with her. It was impossible not to notice the way he adored her. They all had to be on their best behavior when she was around, though—Jin’s protective streak was well known.
The elevator doors closed with a quiet swoosh. They descended in silence, the air feeling heavier as their thoughts swirled. Both knew this night would give them more answers, but they weren’t sure what kind of questions would arise afterward.
Jungkook and Jimin soon stepped into the reception area. The receptionist was seated at her desk, typing quickly, and her head lifted the moment she saw them. She offered a polite smile as they approached.
"Good evening, Mr. Jeon, Mr. Park," she greeted warmly. Jungkook didn’t even spare her a glance. His eyes stayed ahead as he strode past her. He could hear her thoughts—granted, not every single word, but enough. Disgusting. Intrusive. He had no shame in admitting it. He didn’t feel the need to entertain it, so he ignored her completely.
Jimin, however, was different. His easy smile came naturally as he gave her a small, polite nod. His body language was relaxed, his movements smooth as he walked beside Jungkook toward the parking lot. His gaze was neutral, a simple act of kindness that contrasted sharply with Jungkook's indifference.
They reached the parking lot, and Jimin climbed into his car, his fingers gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than usual. He had originally planned on making Jungkook drive, but the irritation bubbling in him from earlier—the way Jungkook had acted with you—made him rethink. He was annoyed, not just because of what happened, but because Jungkook’s behavior had crossed a line. It wasn’t professionalism; it was just unnecessary rudeness. Pure and simple. Jimin had half a mind to lecture him, but instead, he started the engine, the sound of it roaring to life filling the air.
But Jungkook didn’t get in his own car. His eyes weren’t on Jimin, nor were they on the road. They were locked on something—or rather, someone.
You.
You were standing by your car, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, your head bowed slightly. Your shoulders looked tense, rigid, the way they always did when you were tired. You were clearly trying to calm yourself, but your lips were moving. You were speaking to yourself, or maybe the wind, but Jungkook could see it—your face contorted into something that looked like frustration, like rage.
He observed you. His body was suddenly heavy, his thoughts distracted. You looked like you wanted to set the entire parking lot on fire. From the way your hands tightened into fists by your sides, Jungkook could tell you were seething, clearly ready to explode. He couldn’t hear your thoughts, couldn’t read your mind like he could with everyone else, but it didn’t matter. Your expression was enough. You were cursing him out, he was sure of it.
It felt wrong to stare, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was like an itch buried beneath his skin. His entire body ached to know what you were saying, but you were like a closed book—impossible to read. It irritated him. That feeling of helplessness, the itch he couldn’t scratch. He hated not knowing exactly what you were thinking, hated that he couldn’t tap into the storm swirling behind those eyes. You looked like you wanted to strangle him, and the idea actually made him chuckle darkly to himself.
As much as he hated to admit it, there was something oddly magnetic about you. You looked so exhausted, so ready to shatter, your emotions playing across your face like an open book he couldn’t read. And that drove him insane. He wanted to know all of you. Every thought. Every word. Every secret. But he couldn’t. And it pissed him off.
His chest tightened as he studied you, his mind working in circles. Even though you looked like you were about to explode with frustration, there was a strange sense of calm that settled over him. Paradoxically, your anger—your confusion—was like a balm to his restless thoughts. His hands twitched at his sides.
And you, completely unaware of his gaze, kept muttering, your words too quiet for him to catch. The cold wind swayed your hair, and Jungkook wondered if you had any idea what you were doing to him. He hated that he cared. And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to know.
He shifted his weight, a part of him wanting to walk away, but another part of him... couldn’t. He hated how curious he was about you. You were a puzzle he couldn’t solve, and that was something Jungkook couldn’t stand.
You suddenly turned your head, catching Jungkook’s eyes locked on you. Jungkook’s breath hitched. The shock of being caught sent a wave of heat through his chest. His eyes widened in alarm. Shit.
He knew. He knew you caught him. His face twisted into a mix of panic and frustration, and before he could overthink it, he whipped his head around, his heart pounding. He didn’t wait. He didn’t hesitate. He bolted into his car, yanked the door open, and slammed it shut behind him. Without looking back, the engine roared to life as he slammed his foot on the accelerator, his knuckles white around the steering wheel. He sped out of the parking lot, his focus darting between the road and his rearview mirror, where you were barely visible in the distance.
But before he could even breathe a sigh of relief, the heavens opened up. Rain poured down in sheets, soaking everything in an instant.
And then—he cursed.
He hated the rain. It always made him feel fragile, exposed, as though the world was pressing in on him in a way he couldn’t control. The sound of it pounding on the roof, the windshield, and the pavement—it was overwhelming, and it irritated him that he couldn’t understand why. It was stupid.
He glanced at the road, but Jimin’s car was nowhere to be seen. Of course, Jimin was probably already halfway there, and here he was, alone and soaked in this awful weather. His head was a mess, and his frustration felt tenfold. Great. He groaned, slamming his palm against the steering wheel. Perfect. The rain made it harder to see, the windshield wipers swishing furiously, but still, everything was blurry. Most people would’ve slowed down, maybe even pulled over. But Jungkook wasn’t like most people. So, he didn’t. His foot pressed harder against the gas, not caring about the storm that made the road slippery and hard to see.
Then, Jungkook’s eyes caught sight of Jimin’s car parked outside a convenience store, headlights flickering through the rain. He let out a soft, amused chuckle, shaking his head.
Typical Jimin.
Jimin was probably picking up some random snacks or an odd gift for Jin and his wife. The thought made him grin—what could you possibly find at a convenience store that would be good enough for dinner with Jin and his wife? Not much, he figured. But Jimin would always find a way to make things interesting. There was no way Jimin would have time to get something nice, and even if he did, Jin wouldn’t care. Namjoon wouldn’t even be there; he was off with his girlfriend. It was the kind of casual thing Jimin would do, and Jungkook was sure Taehyung along with Eunji (Namjoon's girlfriend's daughter) would tease him mercilessly about whatever he picked up. He could already imagine the scene: Jimin sulking, pretending to be annoyed, but secretly enjoying the attention. He spotted Jimin emerging from the door, an awkward bag in his hands, and he wondered what he had found.
But it wasn’t enough to make him stop. He didn’t want to be stuck in the rain any longer, so he pressed on, the road slick with water. The roads were empty. His headlights swept through the downpour, and the sound of his engine roared louder, mixing with the patter of the rain. The world felt gray and cold, and for a moment, he wondered if anyone else was even out here. His eyes darted, blinked twice, then three times in quick succession. A sharp flash of light broke through the downpour—streetlights, or headlights—too fast, too sudden. He squinted, trying to make sense of it, but his vision was useless against the storm.
Something’s coming.
Before he could react, he felt it. A sharp, sudden jolt as his car lost control. His hand gripped the wheel harder, his muscles tensed. He tried desperately to turn the steering wheel, left, right—anything to steady the car—but it felt as though the wheels had no grip at all. His breathing came out in short, sharp bursts.
And then it hit.
The sound was deafening—metal groaning, glass shattering. Jungkook’s body was thrown against the seat as the car twirled. He barely registered the impact before the airbag exploded in his face with a loud whoosh, his head slamming into it with force. His vision blurred, and the pain came, biting and sudden. His chest felt tight, his breaths shallow. The car spun—once, twice, thrice. His hands trembled against the steering wheel, and his head throbbed painfully. His heart felt as though it would pound out of his chest.
For a moment, everything went silent. He could feel his body shaking. His head swam, dizziness clouding his vision. His pulse raced as the rush of adrenaline hit, but then, fear—a feeling he rarely ever felt—took over. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to feel like this. Not after Mr. Park took him in. Not after Jimin became his family. He wasn’t supposed to feel this vulnerable. But now, the sensation was loud and personal, crawling up to his heart, through his arms, and into his bones.
Jungkook's world spun around him, the blur of the rain and the crash fading into nothingness. Suddenly, time seemed to stop. The sound of the storm, the screeching tires, everything disappeared. He wasn’t in his car anymore. He wasn’t even on the road. No, he was somewhere else entirely. Somewhere warm.
He was seven again.
The leather seats were soft, comforting, and the scent of his mother’s perfume lingered in the air. The only sound was the soft hum of the engine, a calm contrast to the chaos he had just left behind. He glanced around. His father was driving, hands steady on the wheel, wearing his familiar cheeky smile. His mother sat beside him, head against the window, her gaze distant but peaceful. Jungkook shifted uncomfortably in the back seat, squeezed between the seatbelt and the door. His arms were crossed tightly, shoulders hunched in frustration, as he kept his head down to avoid their attention.
“Hun, how long until we get there?” his mother’s voice broke the calm, soft and uncertain, reaching his father’s ears. She turned her head toward him with a small smile, her face lit faintly by the dashboard glow.
Mr. Jeon turned toward her, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. He shot her a cheery look, his eyes soft with affection as he answered. “Quite,” was all he said, but there was a warmth in his voice that made her smile.
But then Mr. Jeon's eyes found him.
Jungkook was sitting in the backseat, his little arms crossed tightly over his chest, his puffy cheeks flushed red. His head was turned toward the window, a frown tugging at his lips.
"What happened, Jung?" His father asked gently, voice full of care.
Jungkook’s gaze flickered up to meet his father's eyes, but he didn’t speak. Jungkook just huffed, his lip curling slightly, trying to hold back more tears. His arms tightened around himself, his small body so tense it seemed like he was trying to disappear into the seat. His eyes welled up again, and he sniffled, looking away.
“He don’t want to go.” Mrs. Jeon whispered softly, her voice light but firm, as though she’d been trying to ease the situation for some time. She shifted in her seat, her hands lightly brushing her white Chanel dress.
"I know that," Mr. Jeon said with a soft chuckle, his eyes flicking back to Jungkook. "But why?" he asked, genuinely curious.
Mrs. Jeon shrugged her shoulders, turning toward her husband with a helpless smile, her eyes glinting faintly with understanding. “You know how shy he is,” she whispered to him, just loud enough for him to hear but not Jungkook. Her voice was soft and wrapped in familiarity, like a gentle assurance.
Mr. Jeon chuckled softly, nodding in understanding. He then turned his attention back to Jungkook, his smile wide and encouraging. “But Taehyung will be there, too. Don’t you want to play with your hyung?” he teased, wiggling his brows playfully as he spoke.
Jungkook’s expression twisted with irritation. He pouted even more, his arms folding tighter across his chest. “No,” he snapped, his voice a little louder than before. “No, Taehyungie.” He refused to even look at his father, turning his head toward the window. His little hands balled into fists at his sides as he sat there.
Mr. Jeon froze for a moment at Jungkook’s sudden outburst. His eyes widened briefly as he glanced back at his son in the rearview mirror, but he let it go. He wasn’t angry—he never was with his son—but the outburst was unexpected. Jungkook wasn’t one to open up easily, and Mr. Jeon understood that. It wasn’t that Jungkook disliked Taehyung; he just couldn’t handle him. Taehyung was too much—too loud, too dramatic, too confident for Jungkook’s liking. His endless antics and unshakable charm always rubbed Jungkook the wrong way. It was easier for Jungkook to retreat into his shell than to deal with someone like Taehyung. Jungkook preferred the quiet, the safety of his own thoughts, while Taehyung was none of those things.
“Park uncle and his son are coming too. You wanted to meet Park uncle’s son?” Mr. Jeon tried again, his voice light and filled with gentle encouragement. He glanced back briefly, his brow furrowed slightly. He wanted Jungkook to at least be excited.
They were heading toward the Kim mansion for a grand party. A formal event with a lot of people, glittering dresses, and chatter. The kind of place where smiles felt like currency and charm was the language. It was important because their families shared good relationships with the Kim's. It was a social obligation.
But Jungkook didn’t bite. His gaze fixed on the rain streaking down the window. He pressed his cheek harder against the cold glass, the coolness against his skin doing little to ease the rising frustration in his chest. He wasn’t interested. His father’s words barely registered in his mind. The whole idea of going to a big event, the crowded space, the noise—it all just felt overwhelming.
“No,” Jungkook muttered, his voice tight, almost as if he were trying to seal off any further conversation. He could feel his father’s eyes on him, but he didn’t care. He didn't want to go. Not to meet Park Uncle’s son. Not to that party. Not anywhere. He wanted to stay home. He hated people. All of them. Parties. Crowds. They made his skin crawl. Even though Park uncle was always kind and brought him chocolate, even though he was gentle and easy to talk to, it didn’t matter. Meeting his son was a thought that felt like a chore.
Mr. Jeon’s face softened with a small, exasperated sigh. He turned his head, catching his wife’s eye for a brief moment. Mrs. Jeon gently tapped his arm, urging him to stop pushing Jungkook. But Mr. Jeon didn’t listen. He could see his son’s discomfort and it worried him. He wasn’t going to let it slide this time.
“Son, listen,” he began, trying again with more patience, his voice firm but not unkind. “You should—”
But his words were cut short by the sudden screech of tires and a blinding flash of headlights, too bright, too fast. Then—boom. Something slammed into their car, a deafening crash that shook everything around him. The impact tore through them, sending the car off the road. The world spun wildly, glass shattered, metal twisted, and screams filled the air. His head smacked against the seatbelt, his shoulders pulled hard by the force as the car twisted and turned like a broken toy. His arms flailed, his hands gripping at anything they could find, but there was nothing.
Finally, the car came to a violent stop and everything felt eerily quiet. The sound of the engine sputtering, the hiss of rain, and the faint, dull ringing in his ears filled his senses. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision, but his head spun. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood. His chest was tight, his breath shallow. Through his blurred vision, he saw it—them. Blood streaked his vision, dark and warm as it trickled into his eyes from a gash on his forehead. His breath came in short, broken pants. He couldn’t see clearly—everything felt distorted, red, and wrong.  His mother was there. Her body was twisted, crumpled, unnatural, and there was so much blood. Everywhere but specially beneath her.
“Mom…” he whispered, his voice broken, a thin, desperate sound. His lips trembled, his head shaking as though he could will it away, but the horror wouldn’t leave. His small hands gripped at his seatbelt again, his fingers sticky, his face soaked with rain and fear. All he knew was that his mother was hurt, she was bleeding and wasn't moving.  No, no, no… His chest ached, a desperate pain that he couldn’t understand.
His eyes shifted to his father, still breathing, but barely. His father’s chest rose weakly, blood dripping from a gash on his forehead, and Jungkook’s heart twisted in his chest. “Dada…” His voice cracked, the sound barely more than a whimper as he reached out for his father, his small hands pressing against the seat. The fear was suffocating, but the pain of seeing his father so helpless, so close to slipping away, was worse. His body shook uncontrollably, his tiny frame trying to fight the overwhelming terror that threatened to swallow him whole.
The silence felt unbearable. Everything around him felt like a blur, yet every detail was all real and painstrikingly cruel. His hands trembled, his body shaking, his chest aching as he waited—desperately—for some kind of answer. But before his father could respond, figures emerged from the darkness dressed in black uniforms that glistened faintly under the rain. Their presence felt wrong, but the night itself was nothing if wasn't sinful. Jungkook’s head spun, his ears ringing painfully. The sound was distorted, every word like a distant, broken whisper. But the fragments came through, jagged and broken.
“And, it’s done... Wasn't much. Let him suffer.”
Jungkook visibly flinched at their words, his heart hammering against his ribcage. His ears rang painfully, making it hard to hear, but the fragments reached him like poison.
“He denied boss, after all.”
"Hmm, all he needed was that file. Black orchid project's file."
 "Yeah, stupid motherfucker." They turned to leave, but then one of them paused, looking back at Mr. Jeon’s bloody form, a sinister smile creeping across his face. “You know, since you’re dying anyways, let me tell you something… we found her. We got the first kid from the Black Orchid project. And with her, we’ll get them all. And with you dead, who will stop us.”
Their laughter was cruel and hollow, echoing in the stillness like nails scraping across the floor. Jungkook’s chest tightened, and his stomach churned, bile rising in his throat as they disappeared into the rain. The words haunted him, swirling in his mind, but before he could process them, another sound broke through—the sound of his father’s breath.
Mr. Jeon’s body shifted, his chest rising and falling in labored, shallow breaths. His tear-streaked face twisted with pain as his eyes met Jungkook’s, the weight of everything crashing down in those last, fleeting moments. “Jungkook…” His voice was raw, barely a whisper, but it carried so much guilt that it felt like it could suffocate him. “I’m so sorry, my boy… this… this is all because of me.”
“Dada…” His voice was cracked, shaky, the fear rising in his chest like a storm. His hand reached out instinctively, trembling, but it fell short, his small fingers grazing the air instead of his father’s skin.
Just as Jungkook’s vision began to blur, another sound broke through the haze—the screech of tires and the distant sound of shoes splashing through the rain. Relief flickered faintly in his chest. Someone was coming. But his blurry gaze couldn’t make out who it was.
A pair of feet appeared before him, followed by the frantic sound of someone running, slipping in the rain as they skidded to a halt next to the wreckage.
 It was Mr. Park, panting, his face pale with shock as he took in the horror before him.
Mr. Park dropped to his knees beside the wreckage, his hands trembling as they hovered over the twisted metal, unable to focus on anything but the devastation before him. His breath hitched in his chest as his gaze fell on Mrs. Jeon’s crumpled, lifeless form, and the tears welled up instantly, blurring his vision. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. All he could manage was a broken, “Oh, my... How… what?” His gaze settled on Jungkook’s mother, crumpled and lifeless in the front seat, and his breath hitched. His hands gripped the cold, wet metal of the car, his entire body shaking as he fought the overwhelming wave of fear and sorrow threatening to drown him.
“Hang on! I’ll get you both out, I promise!” His voice cracked as he spoke, his hands fumbling against the seatbelt, desperate to pull them free.
But Mr. Jeon, with great effort, shook his head. His face was pale, slick with sweat, and blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. His voice came out hoarse, barely more than a whisper, but the words cut through the chaos. “No... no... listen to me.” He coughed, his body convulsing from the effort, and blood spattered onto his chest. “I... I won’t be able to make it out of here. Take Jungkook... get him out... and raise him. There’s no one else I trust more than you, Park. You’re like a brother to me. Please... take care of him... like he’s your own.”
Mr. Park’s eyes filled with tears, and he squeezed them shut for a moment, trying to push back the wave of grief threatening to drown him. His chest tightened, and his voice cracked as he fought to keep it steady. “I will. I promise. But don’t say that, we can still—”
“No…” Mr. Jeon’s voice was barely a whisper now, weak and distant, almost drowned out by the rain. The faintest of smiles tugged at the corner of his lips, but it quickly disappeared as he coughed, blood staining his mouth. “It’s too late for me… just save him. Please.”
Mr. Park’s hand trembled as it hovered over Mr. Jeon’s, and he nodded, his lips trembling. He wasn’t ready to accept this, but he knew there was no choice. “I’ll take him,” he whispered. “I’ll take him, I promise.”
With trembling hands, Mr. Park unbuckled Jungkook, his heart breaking at the sight of the boy’s tear-streaked face, pale and bloodied. The tiny body was limp in his arms, and he fought to hold back his own tears, knowing it wouldn’t help. Jungkook’s head lolled against his shoulder, eyes barely open, blinking with confusion and fear, but he couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.
“I’ve got you,” Mr. Park whispered, his voice rough with emotion, his arms tightening around Jungkook as he lifted him from the wreckage. The boy’s head rested against his chest, the faintest stir of breath against his skin. “It’s going to be okay,” he said, though he knew nothing about this could ever be okay. If anything, he himself didn't trusted his words. They felt hollow.
“I’ll be back to get you. And I’ll get you out too, just hang there,” he said, his voice final, desperate, and certain. His hands trembled as he cradled Jungkook against his chest, his gaze flickering back toward Mr. Jeon, whose eyes were barely open. Mr. Park wasn't sure if he was even capable enough to fulfil that promise but at moment it was all he could offer, it was all he had left.
Mr. Jeon’s eyes fluttered, a faint nod the only response he could manage. His body had grown so still, but the tear streaked face, the way his lips trembled, said everything. He knew it was a promise that wouldn’t be kept—but he nodded anyway, and the last bit of hope faded in the silence of the wreckage. With one final glance, Mr. Park turned, his arms cradling Jungkook against him, as he ran toward safety, the boy’s limp body a stark contrast to the life and pain surrounding them. The rain continued to pour, and with each step, it felt like the world was slipping further away.
Jungkook’s eyes fluttered weakly as he was carried to Mr. Park’s car. His small body felt light and cold against the older man’s chest. Inside the vehicle, Jimin sat in the backseat, his wide eyes staring at the scene before him. His small hands gripped the edge of his seat tightly, his knuckles pale in the dim glow of the headlights. When Mr. Park placed Jungkook beside him, Jimin’s shock melted into an visible concern. His little face was a mix of worry and gentleness as he shifted closer, his small body trembling slightly. Without hesitation, he wrapped his tiny arms around Jungkook, pulling him into a hug. The warmth of Jimin’s embrace was so soft, so comforting, but it felt like it wasn’t enough.
“Don’t cry… it’s okay, don’t cry,” Jimin whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he pulled Jungkook closer. Jungkook’s eyes burned, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. His throat was tight, his chest hollow with loss. The last thing he felt before the world around him went black was Jimin’s arms, holding him tight, and the warmth of a friendship that now felt fragile, like a thread ready to snap.
Meanwhile, Mr. Park’s hands were shaking, his desperation choking his every movement as he turned back to the wreck. His heart pounded in his chest as he sprinted toward the flames, but he didn’t make it. Before he could even reach the wreckage, the explosion erupted in a violent wave, the flames licking at the sky as they consumed the car. The explosion rocked the ground beneath him, the heat so intense it scorched his skin, and the rain didn’t do a thing to stop the inferno. The sound of the blast echoed in his chest, and for a moment, Mr. Park stood frozen, his body trembling from the shock, the image of his closest friend burning into his mind.  His breath caught in his throat, his heart twisted painfully, but he couldn’t move. He watched as the fire consumed everything—everything he had hoped to save. The rain poured harder, but it was useless against the inferno.
And just like that, Jungkook lost everything in one brutal, cruel instant. His mind hung on that moment, the crackling fire and the unyielding rain swallowing it all. The sound of the explosion still rang in his ears as he was pulled from the memory. Another sharp, blinding flash of light cut through his closed eyelids, yanking him out of his haze. His head throbbed painfully, the beat of his pulse a steady rhythm that seemed to match the aching in his skull.
A car screeched to a halt in front of him, the sound cutting through the fog in his mind like a blade. For a moment, he thought it was Jimin. But that couldn’t be right—Jimin was way behind him, far away from this mess, in a safe place. How could he have gotten ahead so fast? Jungkook’s thoughts came fast and fragmented. His breaths came quicker, his hands trembling harder as his body tensed with uncertainty.
What was happening? Was it Jimin? Was it someone else? His mind felt fractured, his body unable to respond. His body felt paralysed, useless.
The driver stepped out into the downpour, his black uniform drenched in seconds, but he moved forward with an unsettling calm. The sight of the uniform—it was like a switch had been flipped inside Jungkook. But his thoughts were too scattered, too foggy, to make sense of it. The closer the man got, the louder the buzz in Jungkook’s head grew, like lightening sissling through his skull. It was unbearable. His hands flew to his temples, fingers digging in desperately, but the pain only intensified. A low, broken groan escaped his throat.
Without warning, a loud, brutal crash shattered the silence. The man had smashed the car window. The sound tore through his body like a physical blow, breaking his fragile focus. His eyes flew open just as he felt the sting of broken glass. The shards flying like tiny stars of pain that bit into his skin. Before Jungkook could even flinch, a rough hand wrapped around his collar and yanked him from the seat. He was dragged out into the downpour, the cold, icy rain slamming into his face, washing away the blood. The cold slapped against his skin like a thousand tiny knives, but he was too weak to react. His limbs were heavy, his body numb, as if it wasn’t even his own. He couldn’t fight back. The man dragged him across the slick road like he weighed nothing, and with a brutal toss, he was slammed onto the wet pavement. His body hit the ground with a sickening thud, and the cold, muddy water instantly soaked through his clothes, seeping into his bones.
He forced himself to push up or at least he tired. His hands trembled, weak and brittle, but he couldn’t hold himself. His body gave out, and he collapsed back into the mud with a helpless, wet sound. His face turned upward, the rain blurring his vision, every droplet a sharp needle that dug into his skin. His chest heaved, his breaths coming in shallow bursts, but the pain in his skull, his limbs, and his chest refused to go away. Jungkook tried again, his body shaking harder this time. His head swayed from side to side as he struggled, but the rain felt endless, each droplet pounding into him, each one deeper, colder, meaner. His heartbeat was an erratic drumbeat in his chest, thudding against his ribs like it might give out at any moment. His vision remained a hazy blur—everything was grey, wet, and cold, and the pounding in his skull grew stronger with every heartbeat.
Jungkook’s eyes fought to stay open, his vision blurring more with each passing second, but the shape of the man in front of him became clearer. The man in the black uniform loomed over him, a dark, shifting figure that blurred in the rain. His face was a shadow, but the smirk on his lips was cruel and clear.
The man’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched Jungkook struggle beneath him, barely able to lift himself up on one elbow. His hand gripped the gun with a steady, deadly calm, and as he crouched down, water splashed from his chin, droplets falling onto Jungkook’s face. “Look at you,” he sneered, voice dripping with mockery, “pathetic. No high and mighty prince now, huh? Where’s your guard dog to save you?”
Jungkook’s chest heaved in ragged breaths, his heart hammering in his ribcage. He could feel the weight of his body dragging him further into the puddle, the cold seeping into his bones, but his muscles were too weak to fight back. His hand twitched, desperately trying to reach for something—anything—to push himself up, but it shook violently, unable to get any purchase. He gritted his teeth, eyes clouded with pain and dizziness, unable to respond, unable to do anything but lie there and take it.
“today was my lucky day, I guess,”  he laughed.
“You’ve been a thorn in our side for too long,” the man continued, his voice dropping lower as he straightened, standing taller. His form was solid and imposing, his boots kicking mud as he took a step back. The gun rose, glinting under the pale light of the streetlamps. The barrel was cold, steady, and pointed directly at Jungkook’s chest.
“Time to put you out of your misery, kid. Join mommy and daddy. I wager... You’ve been dying to.” A cold sweat broke out across Jungkook’s skin even in shrill rain, and for a brief moment, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened, flicking between the gun and the man’s mocking face, terror clawing at him from the inside. His chest tightened, his body frozen as the world spun around him, and he tried once more to move, to escape, but his legs were useless, as if the earth beneath him was swallowing him whole. All that remained was the sharp, unrelenting noise of the rain and the sickening sound of the man’s finger inching toward the trigger.
Jungkook’s body went rigid as the man’s words echoed in his mind. His heart thundered in his chest as the memories of his parents flooded him—their lifeless eyes, the blood staining the night, the terror that gripped him then and now. His hands, slick with cold rain, shook uncontrollably as he stared at the barrel of the gun. His throat constricted, but no words came out—only a choked sob that was lost in the downpour.
The man’s grin widened, cruel and savage, as he inched his finger toward the trigger. Jungkook could see the gleam in his eyes, the satisfaction of finally having the power to take everything from him. The laughter in his voice was sharp, like glass scraping against his skin, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he squeezed the trigger.
"Goodbye, Jeon Jungkook."
The gunshot shattered the night—louder than the storm, louder than the pounding in Jungkook's ears. For a brief, agonizing moment, the world seemed to stop. The rain paused in midair, hanging like frozen tears, the wind silenced as if holding its breath. Jungkook felt the world tilt beneath him, and his body instinctively braced for the impact that was supposed to come.
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a/n: So, how’d you guys like it? Hate it? Loved it? I need the feedback, break me, but like... gently, okay? I’m fragile and I’ll cry, like, on the spot. But honestly, there might be some grammatical disasters in there. Why? Because I got sick and just didn’t have the energy to do much editing work on it. So yeah, don’t judge me too hard, I’m basically a walking disaster right now. Also, I really hope you still love Jungkook after reading this. Please don’t hate him. Show him some love. And, like, show me some too, because my ego is starving. Tell me how amazing it was (or, like, pretend it was) and boost my fragile little ego, okay? I need it. Love ya, guys!
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tempestmothstorm · 4 months ago
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Ok but why is Natsuki the only character to get one pair of casual clothes. Like her Sayori and Yuri get their weekend outfits but those two also get another outfit in extra artwork (the overalls and the black dress) and while Monika gets nothing in game her twitter gives her both her white dress and sweater outfits. So everyone gets like an indoor and outdoor outfit but Natsuki apparently owns nothing else and just wears a shirt skirt combo forever. She is the universe’s least favourite child just give her something please
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salemlunaa · 5 months ago
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VOID STATE EXPLAINED: HOW TO GET THE LIFE YOU DREAM OF ᥫ᭡
A TELL-ALL GUIDE TO THE METHOD EVERYONE IS TALKING ABOUT
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so in my asks i have alot of people going “sai, you always go on and on and on and on about the void and different problems people may have, but you never explain what it is and how to get there”And to be honest with you, most of my posts were meant to be that way because i knew of other blogs explaining the void and my blog was just meant to be follow up posts for those who already knew about the void. Although, now i feel more confident and equipped to explain the void in its entirety.
so strap in for this long ass post because this is a gonna be THE guide (if you can’t tell i’m very excited for this post)
i just wanna say that this post is an inspiration and a remix of all those that have inspired me
1. What is the void?
so as you can see yourself and life right now is you in the physical plane (the notorious 3D) you are experiencing the world as *your name* *your lastname*, and your experience is confined by the way that you initially came into the world, being y/n y/ln . The void, originally known as the “I AM” state is when you leave that experience behind, you leave the physical world behind and become nothing and everything at the exact same time. And doing so you can create and destroy absolutely anything in your experience = your reality which is why people call their destination after the void their “dr”=“desired reality”.
2. Why the void?
This method is seen as very effective and efficient once you know how to do it right because it’s a “method” in which your subconscious mind is in full control, which means you can do absolutely anything and that’s not some conspiracy or belief, it is a fact that when entering this subconscious-based meditation state that you can do absolutely anything, which is why i said that you have the power to create and destroy anything in the physical plane, altering your experience. You can change your genetics, your family and friends, your wealth, gender, where you live and much more. You can also redesign things, like a country for you to live in, your age, your s/o’s age, your memories and just your life in general. Just one trip to the void and all that you dream of is yours.
The void doesn’t have to be pitch black you can design it anyway you like, i see alot of people in my dms and asks, saying that the pitch black scares them, but your void can look anyway you want.
personally i’m not scared but i just wanted my void to look cute so i added pink stars to the pitch black
3. How do i get to the void?
There are many ways to get into the void, you can follow a guided many meditation, you can listen to subliminals or waves, you can simply affirm, you can visualise, or you can simply do none of these and go into the void with just the intent, KNOWING that it’s apart of you. You don’t need any method to tap into the void, all you need is yourself and the intent, knowing it’s apart of you and not some magical fairyland. You can enter at anytime of day, because you’re a god and don’t need to be confined to “time”. “Time” is a malleable concept and i’ll be dammed if you guys waste your days because you only believe that you can tap in at night.
4. Problems people have with the void
3 things: wavering, laziness and putting the void on a damn pedestal
a lot of you guys fail to enter the void simply because you try to enter. all the things i have said about the void make it almost impossible to believe, a golden ticket to your dream life with one trip to the void. And because of the fact that we have been conditioned to believe that we have to work for everything we have, this just seems to good to be true. and you see the void as some magical place when it’s YOU, the void is YOU, why do you think you affirm “I Am”? well it’s because the void is literally the state of you being everything but nothing, it is not a place it is a state, hence the void STATE, the “I Am” STATE. it’s a meditative state and that’s it.
When you enter the "I AM" state, why do you affirm phrases like "I am, I am pure consciousness, I am the void, I am unattached to any reality, I am faceless and formless"? It's because these affirmations align you with your divine essence, your true God Self. However, this practice is often short-lived. You enter this state briefly, and when you don't experience any immediate changes or wake up in the same shitty reality, you begin to doubt. You think, "Why hasn't it worked? I must be doing something wrong. I'll try again tonight." This is what wavering looks like. You declare yourself to be in the "I AM" state, but when it doesn’t immediately manifest, you believe it hasn't worked and attempt to re-enter it repeatedly. This endless cycle of trying can confuse your subconscious mind. Instead of truly embodying the state, you're constantly oscillating, creating inconsistency and doubt.
STOP TRYING AND START BEING, OR YOU WILL GET NOWHERE
the void is the easiest thing ever and it is owed to you, because it is you
you can literally enter right now and have every single thing you’ve ever wanted, with just a meditation state, the void isn’t the one with the power it’s you. The void is inside of you and it is lifeless, the only time it gains any power is when YOU step into the equation. As i once said, the void is your bitch not the other way around.
5. Unhealthy relationships
Although the void is one of the best methods i know, i would hate for anyone to accumulate an unhealthy, toxic relationship with the void. The void is as easy as breathing, i know, but it can be alot for some of us to wrap our heads around due to the way we have been conditioned to think (which hurts my heart more than you know). I see people spend months and years trying to get into the void going through an emotionally taxing experience with it. Although i tell people it doesn’t matter how much time you’ve “wasted” and not to let that discourage you because you could really enter now if you put your mind to it (no pun intended) , if you know that it has been eating you up trying for the void going around a constant cycle, please take a break or use other methods.
now with that i say go, go and redesign yourself, deconstruct yourself and create the new you, start from scratch and make your dream self, go to the void and get your dream life.
don’t try, just be 🌊💋
i really hope you loved this as much as i do, now go get your dream life -salem ᥫ᭡
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fillinforlater · 8 months ago
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On her jeans (Part 3 of 3)
Male Reader x Kim Minji, Hanni Pham, Danielle Marsh
Length: 4606 words
Tags: Daddy kink, anal galore, blowjob, face fuck, blindfolded, 4some, pearly gates, spitting, spanking, cursing, humiliation, missionary anal, analpie, ass eating, rimming
TW: kinda rough, pure, stupid smut, ass eating, eating cum out of ass
-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 3-
(A/N: the most likely final part of the On her series. This fic is very mindless lmao. Important announcement at the end.)
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“Yes, Daddy, that feels so good!”
Hanni’s enthusiasm is almost limitless. No matter how often you’ve ordered her to your office or your apartment or some secluded bed and breakfast, she never let you down. No, the only thing ‘down’ is the momentum of her hips whenever she rides you on the couch, her beautiful ass turned towards you. She loves to make it wiggle when your cock fills her cunt.
You take delight in such a sight and give her the good-girl-spanks she deserves. Hanni craves them as much as she craves your eyes, seeing nothing but love in hers. There is nothing stopping her from leaving, you never demanded the same things from her then you did from Minji. But where Minji lacks endless love and desire for you, Hanni fills these gaps and then some. 
“Oh my God, Daddy, you-you’re gonna make me cum again!” Hanni’s throat is sore from her moans and screams (and the rough face fuck you gave her earlier). “I-I can’t hold it!”
“Why would you hold it?” you ask her and pull her back against your bare chest. “Ruin yourself all over me, you slut.”
You give her thrusts, quick, not too strong and that is all she needs. Her effort was remarkable but in the end she wants you to fuck her over the edge. Hanni’s pussy convulses around your cock, tries to milk it and you are about to give in when your cell phone rings. 
“Fuck,” you curse and pick it up while dropping a powerless Hanni to the carpet floor. “Who is this?”
“Yo, have you turned on the TV?” the person on the other end, some former manager of a group you were interested in, asks. “Today are the MAMA awards.”
“And? They’ve been the same for basically forever. And you know I don’t have any control over—”
“Oh no, another group has won.” You can hear the smirk on his lips. “I bet you’ve heard the song and the group—some of them are under your wings, I assume?”
For a moment you are confused, then it dawns on you brightly. “You could say that,” you respond calmly and look at one of those who are under your wings—though under your cock fits better. “Let me be honest, I did not think that they would make it this far.”
“Their success is unheard of, they must have paid you really well,” he continues knowingly. The kind of business you do is in a paradoxical state of infamously known and also a dark secret in the industry. It’s a tightly knit conspiracy where every wrong step, every wrong turn can cost you basically everything. 
“Maybe they have to offer me something new, a MAMA win does not come around very often.”
#
“Congratulations on your win. I bet this is part of every trainee's dream” Sent by you
“Thank you, Daddy~ It definitely is, but I’m certain we couldn’t have done it without you “ Sent by Hanni
You smirk and scroll through your gallery. There is a picture you’ve saved, a picture of something you want. Some people screenshot what they want from social media apps or shopping sites—you will do the same right now, though your picture does not include a product one can buy. 
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“I found this picture of you and one of your friends. She is very attractive.” Sent by you
“I know, Danielle ist so damn pretty <3” Sent by Hanni
“Her prettiness equals probably two MAMA awards…” Sent by you
That should do it. Hanni is probably stunned right now. If Danielle is next to her, she probably looks at her—your terrible influence deeply rooted in Hanni’s mind—and she will see what you see: another object for your desire, another girl you can train to make your personal fuck doll, another idol sold by her bandmate. Unlike Minji, Hanni might actually like the idea. 
You wait patiently as she ponders, typing, then deleting message after message until she settles for a simple text that makes this unhinged, lustful being inside you lose any and all control.
“Daddy deserves his reward as soon as possible. We need just 20 to 30 minutes~” Sent by Hanni
With a victorious sigh, you throw away your smartphone. It audibly cracks on the floor, but you don’t give a fuck. Phones can be bought again, but what you will get, no one can buy. These next twenty minutes will feel like hours and every second beyond that will make you lose your mind. Atleast, that is what you would have to assume if it weren’t for someone suddenly sneaking into your apartment. 
Timid, quiet steps. The person is not wearing shoes. You hear the door fall shut, gently and suddenly, she stands in your doorframe. As if your life was a script, written by a higher being which, for some reason, likes your story to be filled with as much sexual fulfillment as possible, Minji has decided to come visit you. 
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“Hello, Daddy,” she coos, catching your gaze with the way she presses her frame against the door frame. Her two piece outfit with all its white frays perfectly merges with said door frame, the warm light making it look like she could disappear in your walls. “I’m sorry for not announcing myself, but may I come in?”
“That depends,” you say, trying to act not-too-happy about her convenient timing. “It’s nice to see you barefooted and in this pretty outfit—but you need to approach the right way.”
“Of course, Daddy.”
Minji gets on her knees. She begins to crawl over your wooden floor and seeing her eager eyes has you riled up. Instead of waiting for her to unbuckle your belt, you open it on your own and let your pants drop when her face reaches your crotch. Minji moans gently and presses her face against the massive bulge in your boxers. She’s not really teasing you. It’s more of a ceremony, because Minji quickly proceeds to pull down your boxers with nothing but her teeth.
“Daddy, it’s so big and beautiful,” Minji says in all honesty, her idol persona washed away by her own horniness. “May I service you with my mouth?”
“Stick out your tongue,” you order and Minji follows. You slap your tip on the exposed wet muscle and watch her faintly smile at how excited you seem. “Looks really good, how could I say no?”
No warning and just a moment later, you are buried to the hilt in Minji’s throat. She gags violently, her head tilted backwards and her wide eyes quickly release a torrent of tears. You don’t comment on it, watch on with a cold, resting bitch face and begin to fuck her face roughly. It’s hard thrust after hard thrust; not too fast though, because you want to see the submission steadily grow in her eyes.
“Fucking good, so much better since you started taking my cock like a premium whore,” you hiss and reach for the sides of her head. She locks eyes with you and through a sea of tears, you can see that she is happy. Still happy. “But it won’t be enough. I need more, another hole, and I’m not talking about your pussy. I know that you are dripping from there, but I’m going to split you open somewhere else.”
You pull out and watch Minji try to catch her breath, shocked, weak; she gets no time to recover however. You grab her hair and slide back into her not-awaiting, but slave-like throat. She takes your pounding even as it forcefully removes her faint mascara and leaves her a drooling mess. It’s Minji’s masterclass in deepthroats—a fitting end, because you will fuck something else today.
After many harsh thrusts, too many to count, but enough to have Minji at your complete mercy, you pull out. She bends over, tries to keep her composure and breathe, but you won’t allow this. She has to look at you and understand what you desire. You slap her face and spit at it. “Don’t avoid me, look at me!” you shout and Minji is tiny. A kneeling tiny bitch who follows your commands. “I will fuck your ass, do you understand?”
“Yes, Master,” Minji cries and puts her forehead to the floor. “Tha-Thank you for the award, Ma-Master. Please, a-abuse my ass.”
Not that it tugs at your heartstrings or anything—but instead of just fucking her in this state of complete devastation, you help her up, to her feet and cup her cheek firmly… almost gently. Minji still sobs, barely able to look up at you.
“You are here to thank me with your ass? That is actually adorable and very thoughtful of you.”
“I-I thought, because Master hasn’t fucked me th-there yet, and because he probably did with Hanni already, I—”
“Oh, I understand, but Minji—” You lean down to her ear and whisper, while your hand travels down her bare midriff into the dress and finds her folds, soaked in arousal. “—we are already past the Master stage. And you underestimate my greed, my desire for more, infinitely more. Don’t worry about that though. Get on the couch and show me your cute little asshole.”
“O-okay. Thank you, Daddy.”
As Minji lays down and wiggles off the bottom part of her dress, you get a bottle of water-like lube from a drawer in the living room table. These bottles are always nearby because situations like this have occurred quite a few times in your life. More than you can count, enough to make you the biggest villain for every girl group fan.
When you pour the lube on your cock, you inspect Minji and her cute posture. She is on her back, legs spread and in the air, while her fingers keep her butt cheeks apart. Her ring twitches and it twitches more when you rub lube all over it. Minji mewls, and mewls some more when you push a finger past the first tightness to lube the inside as well.
“You are a bit stiff, you need to loosen up or else it will hurt.”
“Isn’t it supposed to hurt?” Minji asks in all honesty. “I’m okay with Daddy hurting me, as long as he feels good.”
You have to hold back or else you would’ve laughed at her innocent expression and the confused fear in her orbs. You align your cock with her ass, not to immediately force yourself inside that hot, tight hole, but to teach Minji how to take you well.
“If you relax, Minji, I promise it will feel good. Weird at first, probably too big, but the more you loosen up and let your asshole become a source for pleasure, it will feel great.”
“Hanni probably already knows this,” Minji mumbles in shame. You quickly reach for her jaw and put a chaste kiss on her lips.
“To be honest, I haven’t even fucked her ass before, so stop worrying. Take deep breaths and stay re-laxed.” With those final words, you wait for Minji to follow your instructions—breathe in; breathe out—before you push your cock into her brown hole.
“Oh Daddy, fuck,” Minji groans, right into your face and you love how her hands start to hold onto your back, your arms as you push more cock into her. “You are so, so big!”
“There is still more, but you are doing a great job, Minji,” you respond calmly, lifting up her ass a bit to penetrate her deeper. “Soon, you’ll love this more than anything.”
“Daddy!” Your cock is fully inside her and Minji seems to go crazy, her head thrown back into the couch, her mouth releasing loud moans rapidly. Her anal cavity squeezes you tightly, tries to wring you and it’s insanely impressive. She takes you fully on the first go and slowly catches herself. “I-it feels weird but soooo—”
“Good, right? I can feel you relax, so I will start to fuck you for real now. Congratulations, you’re not a butt virgin anymore!”
Minji weakly laughs and then gasps when you drag your cock mostly out of her ass just to push it back in, deep, to the fucking hilt. You watch as her eyes open wide, then narrow, then close, all in the rhythm of your pumps. Her cunt drips more juice too, she cannot deny the pleasure.
“Daddy, why, why do you feel so good?” Minji screams. “Why, your cock—you made me your butt slut!”
“You’re a natural at this, most of your kind quickly become addicted.”
“Make me addicted, Daddy! Please, use this hole and make me—”
You reach underneath her frayed top and pinch a hard nipple, while your teeth go for her lower lip. You can feel her insides combust, her ass clenching around your cock, her pussy convulsing around nothing, yet it is enough to make her cum. Minji is orgasming from just her ass, but she tries to hide it. 
“There is nothing to be embarrassed about,” you laugh and begin to fuck Minji harder, her ankles in your firm hands. “Cum with your ass and be mine forever. You cannot escape anyways, so why would you want to? Don’t run from the pleasure, because I won’t stop fucking you until—”
Suddenly, you hear a key in the lock of your front door and someone whispering. Then quiet steps. Minji grows tense but you just smile at her, reassure her that there is nothing to be scared off. “Oh, you know these two, don’t worry~” 
“Huh?”
You look up and spot the first girl, Hanni, who smirks when she sees you. She puts a finger to her luscious lips and winks. You get her idea and press your palm on Minji’s mouth to keep her quiet while you slowly thrust into her tight ass. The young girl is visibly shocked that you just continue, but her shock grows even more when she spots the second girl.
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“Unnie, this is weird. How long do I have to wear this blindfold?”
“Just a little bit longer~ We are almost there, just a few more steps.”
Hanni guides the blind Danielle, a beautiful, skinny girl dressed in what you assume is a stage or award show outfit. Either way you love how exposed her midriff and collarbone are. Danielle’s skin is flawless and her face looks even better than in pictures or videos.
The two get closer. Hanni is now behind the taller girl and guides her by holding her hips. The two seem familiar with this kind of intimacy. You quietly pull out of Minji’s butt and luckily, she stays quiet in this tense situation. 
“Dani, we have arrived,” Hanni giggles and wraps her hands around her friends’ tiny waist. “I have a present for you, but you have to get on your knees and guess what it is~”
“Unnie, if it’s your pussy again—we already did that! And if you want to fuck, you can just ask!”
You raise an eyebrow at Hanni who is clearly nervous and sweating. She got caught fucking with a second member of her group without your permission. You can’t really blame her. You can’t wait to stick your cock into that tight body and fuck Danielle’s mouth with your fingers. But for now, you let Hanni finish her game.
“This time,” she continues and kisses Danielle’s shoulder. “It’s something different. I have found the biggest, most beautiful cock because I know you would want to suck one of those someday.”
Danielle’s pale skin starts to burn with a deep red. All of her blood seems to go to her face. She starts to lose focus and whimpers a bit, especially because Hanni becomes more touchy, hands on her chest, her tummy, her ass.
“H-how did you know, Unnie?”
“You are really, really bad at hiding your dildo’s, Dani. I found like four of them. One still had your saliva around it~”
Danielle puts both hands to her face and lowers it in shame. Everyone in the room can still feel the glow of her blush through her fingers. You stroke your cock once, amused at the situation, but also tired of waiting. Hanni notices and continues her plan quickly.
“Look, Dani, I’ll show you how to do it.” Hanni lowers herself in between your legs. For the first time, you check out her outfit. Odd, you remember it from some performances a few months ago—does it really matter when she immediately goes to suck you, throat you even? “Oh my, it tastes so good! I wonder why that is?”
You point to Minji’s still exposed asshole and Hanni smirks knowingly. Poor Minji did not dare to move a single inch this entire time but now with Hanni’s loud gagging filling the room, she can stop being quiet and move her hands to cover up.
“U-unnie, are you really sucking it?” Danielle asks the obvious, still in disbelief. “Is it a real one, like, are you sucking a boy?”
Hanni pops you free from her perfect lips and makes sure to taste all of the lube and Minji’s ass from your manhood with her tongue. She cleans you passionately, from sac to tip until you finally give her a bit of precum. 
“Dani, he is a man, a Daddy. Trust me, he is very good looking and his cock is even better~” Hanni’s voice is so lewd, it feels cursed with her adorable visuals. You relish in her compliments and brush her black strands back behind her ear. “Kneel next to me and I show you.”
Danielle kneels down, her small frame taking the spot in between your legs next to Hanni. She is still confused though. “But Unnie, how can you show me if I’m not allowed to remove the blindfold?”
Hanni rolls her eyes and without warning, grabs Danielle’s face and pulls her into a kiss. The younger girl flails in surprise, finds hold on your thigh, but somehow she can’t hold onto it for long. Maybe the thought of a stranger really seeing her like this makes her lose grip on the situation—a good thing in your book.
“Ha-Hanni-unnie!” Danielle shrieks when their lips disconnect. “Why, why did that taste so good?” 
“If you want more, you need to suck and clean his cock like I did. Here, open your pretty mouth and be a good girl for Daddy~”
“You say weird stuff—ugh, hng!”
You groan softly when Hanni not-so-softly pushes Danielle’s face down your cock. A new, sensational throat engulfs you. Of course you expected violent gags and tears coming from behind the blindfold, how could you not. Hanni is literally forcing Danielle to deepthroat you for the first time. Her dildo training seems to have paid off however: Danielle is a lot more composed, measured even and makes sure to keep her teeth off of you. 
Soon, she finds her own pace and bops up and down your shaft, using her tongue from time to time without yet knowing where it actually feels good for you. It’s hard for her to learn when she can’t read your facial expression, so she just guesses and sucks and bops her head. It makes it all the more impressive how she can keep up with you and do a better job than Minji did on her first try.
“Hanni-unnie,” Danielle immediately shouts after getting her mouth off of your dick. “That was very mean of you, like, what the—”
You interrupt the young, angry girl by giving her blindfold a tug and watching it fall off of her dazzling, still flushed features. You smirk down at her as she watches up in awe, her eyes inspecting you like you did to her earlier.
“Oh, he-hello, sir,” Danielle says and tries to be formal while your cock is still on her lips. “I’m sorry we just walked into here and… about this.” She points at your hard shaft which you take in your hand and poke against her soft cheek.
“Don’t worry about it, you beautiful thing. In fact, I should be sorry about this right here.” You point next to you, where Minji tries to cover up her pussy. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“You, you had sex with Minji-unnie? Like, i-in her vagina?”
“Oh Dani,” Hanni coos and puts a hand into Danielle’s red top. “You don’t know how good a real cock feels in your pussy. Way better than a dildo.”
“Stop being so lewd, Unnie!”
“But you two are wrong,” you interrupt them and look at Minji, who valiantly fights through her embarrassment. There is nothing to be embarrassed about though; she did great taking your cock in her ass. “We had anal sex just now, and I think I speak for us both when I say that it was awesome.”
Hanni pouts at the thought of not yet having you in her ass while Danielle is both struck by horror and thrill when she cross-eyes your cock and then switches to look at Minji’s butt, which you uncover for her.
“Minji-unnie, was it really that good?” Danielle asks with wide open eyes.
“Yeah, how was it?” Hanni adds and involuntarily adds pressure for the leader to answer.
“I-it was… the best.”
A moment of silence and awkwardness for Minji until Danielle jumps up and pulls down her black skirt. Another unexpected turn, she seems to be ready to go asap. “Sir, can you—would you have sex with my butt too?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” you try to play it cool and reach for the bottle of lube. “Turn around, we need to get you ready.”
“Here, let me help you, Daddy.” Hanni gets a hold of Dani’s ass as soon as she spins around and spreads the cheeks apart. Dani gasps at first, but then giggles when she finds her Unnie to be already naked. She starts to kiss Hanni’s skin while you put the nozzle to her beautiful, clean ring and push lube inside. Danielle shudders while Hanni looks on with jealousy. It will be her turn soon enough though. 
“You have a gorgeous body, Dani,” you compliment her before grabbing her waist and pulling her onto you. “You are so light, I think I need to try a new position with you. Are you down for that?”
“Sir, I—if it’s not too crazy, I think I can do it. But remember, this is my first time.”
“You have to be relaxed, Dani,” Minji suddenly adds and stands next to her, not covering her private parts anymore. “If you are tense, it’s going to hurt—when you are loose however, Daddy can fuck you so good, it will feel like heaven.”
“O-okay then, I think I’m ready.”
You nod and lay down on the couch, Danielle on top of you. She rests her back on your strong chest and your hard cock searches for her tight asshole. Luckily, Hanni is there to help align your tip with it (not before sucking it of course). Dani takes deep breaths instinctively and with your primal instinct to fuck, your cockhead disappears in her ass.
“Oh fuck, that looks so hot!” Hanni coos.
“Stop staring, please,” Danielle whimpers and you feel her incredible texture convulse around your aroused phallus. No, she definitely gets turned on by this, so you’ll make it even better.
“Hanni, keep staring,” you order. “Oh, and make your mouth useful on my ass. See it as punishment for having sex with Dani without my permission.”
“Yes, Daddy, I’m sorry Daddy.”
“Sir, isn’t this too lewd?” Dani asks while you begin to rock her thin body up and down your cock like it’s a fleshlight. 
“Minji, how about you lick Danielle’s pussy. Make yourself familiar with it.”
“Yes, Daddy, she tastes really sweet and is quite… wet.” Minji smiles and you get what she means. Her mouth is promptly on Dani’s clit and now the two are moaning in unison. Your thrusts into Dani’s ass become harder.
“Oh dang, so much in my a-a—, I mean butt,” she whispers and you look at her face. “Sir, you are one lewd bast— person. Making young girls do this stuff. Aren’t you a bit too old for us?”
“Maybe that is why they call me Daddy,” you respond, the humor lost because your expression remains stern even through the pleasure. “Don’t hold back, curse as much as you want. This is no tv show or live stage. Get used to this cock, because I won’t stop after this one time.”
“I won’t either, you fucking bastard.”
Your lips meet in a haze, then you decide to give it your all. You fuck Dani hard, force more and more curse words out of her good-girl-mouth. Her cunt is forced against Minji’s eager lips, while you make sure Hanni is covered in your musk—though she kinda seems to enjoy serving your ass. Even after all this, she might still be the best baby girl out of this trio.
“Yes, fuck, yes, you fill my tiny ass so good! Fuck me with your big fat cock, give me that cock, open me so wide until I—”
“You horny bitch.” You yank down her top to reveal tiny tits, jiggling a little at your every thrust. Her skin is glowing, she is in complete heat. Danielle is a nymph with a tight ass and a pussy so wet, she can save someone from dehydration. You want to test your theory, if her orgasm is as explosive as you want it to be.
“My Lord, I’m so going to fucking cum, I will cum! Make me squirt, make me fucking, ahh!”
Like a fountain, Danielle’s juices paint Minji’s face, cover her hair and even Hanni below. She also doesn’t stop, not with your endless thrust into her ass. She is like an infinite source, eventually filling Minji’s mouth and marking Hanni as a dirty, rimming whore covered in girl cum.
“That was so good, Sir—”
“We are not yet done!” You squeeze Dani to your chest so she cannot escape and start to violate her ass some more, to the point your entire cock stretches her in all directions. For some reason, you feel like you could breed this hole for two eternities, but for now, one massive load has to be enough. 
With your final, deepest of thrusts, you force all of your seed into Danielle’s tight ass-pussy, fill it up and make sure she is tight enough to keep it inside for now. Pulling out is hard but rewarding, and hearing, feeling her pant on top of you is heavenly. 
“It’s so deep in me, fuck,” she moans and you bite her cheek. 
“Push it out of your slutty hole, you naughty bitch. 
“Hanni, Minji! Get ready for your daily load!”
The two girls are under our spell, not questioning anything you say and stick out their tongue underneath Danielle’s butthole. You pull back her heels to give them more space and with an blissful, erotic expression, Dani lets her ass be gaped. Your creamy white cum oozes out of her and Minji and Hanni greedily eat it all up, even getting their tongues into the completely overstimulated girl and cleaning her butthole.
“Shit, this is so lewd,” Dani whimpers and you put a hand around her throat.
“After I fuck Hanni’s ass in a rough Doggy, my heel on her face because I know she loves that, you will eat my cum out of her ass too. And don’t lie; I know you will like it.”
Danielle grins, licking her lips in excitement. “You are such a nasty bastard, Daddy.”
(A/N2: here is the very short version, I'll release a longer announcement later this week probably. I have decided to quit for a while, maybe forever but that is still in the stars. I can still write and I kinda like it, but this endless cycle of horniness and unhinged smut is killing me. I also need to focus on life/studies. More on that later this week. Love you all, peace out.)
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tanadrin · 5 days ago
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I would love to hear the rant about social media doomerism and conspiracy
I’m on my phone right now but the summary version is something like:
Humans are bad at integrating information into their worldview accurately bc of various cognitive biases
Social media incentivizes us seeking out content that excites fear or anger or irritation
Social media thus causes us to form negative impressions of the world bc it mediates so much information consumption and discourse these days
This general negative affective impression is subject to high confirmation bias and ppl in general are really bad at divorcing an affective impression of a thing from their dispassionate reasoning abt a thing
(Bc one of the functions of an affective impression is to “cache” our conclusions about a topic to save time and effort later)
(In general if you are a cynic and pessimist you can fall prey to these biases w/o social media but I think social media makes more ppl susceptible to them)
People don’t want to be dupes so they seek refuge in cynicism. We treat cynicism as wise or worldly when in fact cynicism makes you a dupe and an easy mark for grifters. Cynicism and low trust foster conspiracism, paranoia, and antisocial politics
(This is why so many congenitally contrarian folks seem to flit effortlessly between the far left and far right; it’s not horseshoe theory, they’ve just cooked their brains on this stuff)
This is a world where populist anti-social politicians like Trump and the AfD thrive, bc they will lie about how everything is terrible and people will nod along, bc it explains why their social media is full of awful stories of, like, immigrants eating pets and shit
But it doesn’t just have to be insane lies only a moron could believe. It can be any impression about a fact in the world that it is difficult to personally check and which is vulnerable to being swayed by anecdote
This is how we get a word where people think crime rates are higher than they’ve ever been when in fact crime is falling
Or child predators lurk around every corner when in fact children are safer than ever
Or the American economy is in a recession when in fact it’s doing historically well by just about every available metric (now with full employment AND low inflation!)
Because in a big world even where things are in general good and getting better you can always produce infinite individual examples of shitty things and pipe those in a steady stream into people’s eyeballs, and then point to that and leverage people’s low trust attitudes and their cynicism which tells them they are smarter than the experts and go “statistics is just a fancy way to lie! The world is secretly terrible! Every bad thing is even worse than you thought and every good thing is a lie!”
(Nevermind the whole phenomenon where anything that is complicated or that someone does not themselves understand gets treated like it’s actually secret and a conspiracy.)
And here I know I have to include some disclaimer about how this is not to discount individual cases of suffering or struggle, which are real, or that there are indeed some really awful things happening in the world right now, which there are, but you know what?
I’m tired of doing that. People with reading comprehension operating in good faith ought to be able to deduce that general statements do not obviate particular exceptions, and people who cling to their doomerism as a kind of emotional life raft do not generally argue with me in good faith.
Sometimes doomerism is a load-bearing pillar of their politics, which I think is dumb—I think you can be a leftist or a progressive without being a doomer! In fact I think doomerism is antithetical to useful politics!
Sometimes they are just depressed and treatment-resistant. Sometimes they are just angry misanthropes who want to feel justified in their misanthropy. Some doomers are themselves in bad circumstances and feeling hopeless about that—to them I am enormously sympathetic. Though a lot of doomers will admit they personally are doing OK—this does not seem to be most doomers.
But I think in general cynicism and doomerism and a worldview dominated by a general nebulous air of Everything Is Awful and by abstract nouns with threatening auras is not conducive to wisdom or understanding or useful politics or leading a happy and fulfilling life.
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narxcisse · 4 days ago
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★ — You have a WHAT— !?
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Pairing: Viktor x GN!Reader
CW: OnlyFans (don't do it irl, have some self-love. 😐), modern au, suggestive, recording with him, implied sex
English isn't my native language
You’d been living with Viktor for a few months now, and while you two had settled into a comfortable roommate dynamic, there were still plenty of boundaries. Viktor was, after all, a reserved and intensely private person. You, on the other hand, were a little more… free-spirited.
That’s probably why the revelation hit him like a freight train.
It started innocently enough. Viktor had been borrowing your laptop to work on something after his own device had overheated. You had, of course, told him to go ahead without thinking about the open tabs you’d left behind.
The moment he opened the browser, his eyes widened. Your profile stared back at him—your stage name, the carefully curated content, and the glaringly obvious subscriber count. He blinked a few times, unsure if he was hallucinating.
By the time you walked into the living room, coffee in hand, Viktor was sitting there, your laptop on his knees, looking like he’d just uncovered a conspiracy.
“Care to explain this?” he asked, tilting the screen toward you.
Your blood ran cold as your eyes darted to the laptop. The tab. Oh, no.
“Oh, shit,” you muttered, nearly spilling your coffee. “I, uh… can explain.”
Viktor arched an eyebrow, clearly amused despite the slight redness in his ears. “I certainly hope so.”
You set your coffee down, running a hand through your hair. “It’s not a big deal. It’s… a side hustle. Pays the bills. And it’s not like I’m doing anything illegal.”
He hummed, leaning back on the couch. “A side hustle, you say? Judging by your subscriber count, it’s a rather… successful one.”
You couldn’t tell if he was impressed or mortified. Maybe both. “Look, I didn’t think it was something you needed to know about. It’s just… a thing I do.”
Viktor tapped his fingers on the laptop, his gaze thoughtful. “I’m not judging,” he said finally. “I just… didn’t expect it. You’re quite bold.”
You huffed out a laugh, relieved that he wasn’t outright horrified. “Well, thank you, I guess?”
He smirked, closing the laptop and handing it back to you. “Just make sure to clear your browser history next time. And if you ever need help with… production or branding—”
“Viktor!”
He chuckled softly, standing up and grabbing his cane. “What? You know I have an eye for design. Let me know if you ever need a logo.”
You groaned, burying your face in your hands, though you couldn’t help but laugh. Leave it to Viktor to turn your most embarrassing moment into a business opportunity.
---
It started as a joke, one of those late-night conversations fueled by too much takeout and not enough sleep. Viktor had brought up your OF account in passing, teasing you lightly about your "entrepreneurial spirit." You’d laughed it off at first, but somehow, the idea of him being your co-star had slipped out.
He’d arched an eyebrow at the suggestion, his lips quirking in a smirk. “You’re serious?”
“I mean…” you trailed off, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Why not? You’re… well, you know, attractive. I think people would lose their minds.”
To your surprise, Viktor had actually considered it. He wasn’t shy, but he had a reserved, almost clinical approach to most things. “If it’s purely professional,” he’d said eventually, his tone careful but intrigued, “then I suppose I wouldn’t be opposed.”
And that’s how you found yourself here, in your shared bedroom, with the camera set up and Viktor sitting at the edge of your bed, looking almost too composed for what you were about to do.
“You’re sure about this?” you asked, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, suddenly nervous.
Viktor adjusted his position, leaning on his cane with a slight smirk. “I don’t make decisions lightly. You, on the other hand, seem rather flustered for someone who does this regularly.”
You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Yeah, well, it’s not every day I film with my roommate.”
His gaze softened slightly, and he reached out, brushing his fingers against yours. “Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “We’ll take it slow.”
The camera started rolling, and all your nerves seemed to dissipate the moment his lips met yours. Viktor’s touch was deliberate, his movements precise as though he were approaching this like one of his experiments—focused, attentive, and surprisingly passionate.
You quickly realized that Viktor’s calm, calculated demeanor translated into an intensity you hadn’t anticipated. He was all in, every touch and movement deliberate, as if he wanted to ensure that this wasn’t just convincing on camera—it was unforgettable.
When it was over, you were both breathless, tangled in the sheets as the camera’s red light blinked softly in the corner of the room. Viktor let out a soft chuckle, brushing a strand of hair from your face.
“Well,” he said, his voice teasing, “I think that went rather well.”
You laughed, still catching your breath. “You’re a natural. I might have to recruit you more often.”
He smirked, his amber eyes glinting with amusement. “Careful. I might start demanding a share of the profits.”
You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him. “We’ll see about that.”
But as you lay there, Viktor’s arm draped lazily over your waist, you couldn’t help but think that this was definitely one of your better ideas.
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— Guys, I found a dubious wifi connection, but I guess I'll use it until I have to go home lol.
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gilbertscurls · 1 month ago
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Flashing ➵ Matt Sturniolo
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summary: you're desperate to stop the argument
inspired by
You and Matt stood across from each other in the living room, the air thick with tension. What had started as a small disagreement over something trivial had escalated into a full-blown argument. Matt’s voice, usually soft and calming, was now raised in frustration.
“I don’t understand why you won’t just tell me what’s bothering you!” Matt said, running his hand through his hair in exasperation.
You crossed your arms, biting your lip to keep yourself from saying something you’d regret. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to share what was on your mind; it was just that you hated how confrontations made you feel—vulnerable, exposed. And now, standing in the middle of this argument with Matt, you felt cornered. You could see the frustration on his face, but your pride kept you from backing down.
“I already told you,” you muttered, your tone clipped. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“It clearly is a big deal,” Matt shot back, his voice rising another notch. “You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder all day, and now you’re acting like I’m overreacting?”
Your frustration bubbled over. You hated how he always tried to read you, to fix things when sometimes you just needed time to think. You knew he meant well, but right now, you were over it. And suddenly, an impulsive thought crossed your mind—a way to break the tension and maybe make Matt stop for a second.
Without thinking too much about it, you pulled your shirt up, flashing him.
Matt’s words caught in his throat, his eyes widening as his argument fizzled out mid-sentence. He blinked, clearly taken off guard, his mouth slightly open as he struggled to form words.
“What the…?” Matt finally managed, his frustration replaced by sheer confusion.
You dropped your shirt back down, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “You were being dramatic,” you said with a shrug, trying to stifle a laugh.
For a moment, Matt just stood there, his brain clearly working overtime to catch up. Then, after a beat of silence, a slow, amused grin spread across his face. The tension that had filled the room just seconds earlier seemed to evaporate as he let out a soft chuckle.
“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, shaking his head. He stepped closer, his frustration completely forgotten, his hand reaching out to pull you into his arms. “I can’t even be mad at you now.”
You laughed, the sound light and carefree as you wrapped your arms around him. “That was the point.”
Matt leaned his forehead against yours, sighing as the remnants of the argument faded away. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”
“I know,” you whispered, your smile softening as the tension between you melted into something much warmer.
Matt let out another small laugh, pulling you closer. “I guess that’s why I love you.”
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tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove
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gb-patch · 4 months ago
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GB Patch Games: Sensitivity Reader Update
Okay, well I am able to make another statement before Rose does. I can now explain much more easily why I didn’t fire Rose. There’s been new developments with the leakers. The people behind this have doxed Rose’s discord account (please don’t go looking for it) and also shared a screenshot of an email that was sent to my support address months ago. They believe that incriminates us somehow, but really all it’s done is shown in broad daylight what they were doing and why I was defending Rose so much. If I had brought up that email as a connection to this myself people understandably would’ve thought I was making a conspiracy.
However, it is out now. Here is the story- a few months ago someone who wanted to remain anonymous sent me an email with a screenshot where Rose called me a cracker. And I told them I appreciated the concern but it’s alright, was there evidence of Rose being unkind to players? They had nothing. No response.
As an aside, yes, I have been aware for a long time that Rose uses crude language when talking about me. That doesn’t mean I’ve hidden how evil they were from players. It means I’m allowed to choose what I’m comfortable with. That original “reveal” didn’t shock or upset me in any way. Our Life is a sensitive, wholesome game, but I’m a full-grown adult. I’m not innocent or pure. The game I released before OL is XOXO Blood Droplets. Something I wrote and released to the public is full of crude jokes, curse words, and violence. It’s cartoonish and comical, but edgy. Rose themselves likes to BS with bad words and I’m not accepting abuse because I think getting called a pussy is funny. I know Rose doesn’t hate me or wish me any harm. Rose also isn’t causing “discourse” for me and my games on purpose, they were joking that bringing up serious topics is “discourse” to some people. Ironically, the leakers who did this are trying to make some “discourse” on purpose.
Regardless, I initially thought that email was from someone earnestly worried for me and that they moved on when it was clear I was fine. But that’s not what happened. Them and at least one other person have been waiting for months to bring this up again. They went through almost a year’s worth of Rose’s private posts to collect as many unflattering screenshots as they could, and then they didn’t send them to me. They posted them publicly. I had a suspicion from the get go that it was the same person/people from before who couldn’t prove anything to me in private. And if true, how horrible is it that a bunch of the comments they shared were crude language towards me, something they already knew I’d brush off as nothing. They decided for me that it was wrong and they wanted the rest of the players to do the same. Or even less charitably, those extra posts were simply there to make Rose look as bad and untrustworthy as possible and they didn’t care that I was comfortable with it. I could not explain everything we were thinking/feeling at first, but behind the scenes we were discussing how this was personally motivated and not a knee-jerk act without forethought. And we do know for certain at least the main people involved now, and they do have personal issues with Rose.
Also, if you still believe that they just wanted to help the game at any length because Rose is that huge of a risk, showing that email and framing something innocuous about me (not fainting at the word “cracker” and politely being open to more proof) as serious “evidence of wrongdoing” at GB Patch Games makes me believe they want to smear Rose so bad they’ll try to turn players against me as well. Plus, the post is framed as “this email was anonymously sent to me”, but we know from account details that the people who could’ve gotten those screenshots of the discord and email are the same people who sent that email and started this situation, which is embarrassing. I’ve confirmed the screenshots shared in the email to me and the original public post came from the same private, “venting-safe” discord server. There’s very few people in there. We know it’s still you and not a separate source. I can’t prove they think I’m stupid or in their way, but I can’t see how anything they’re doing is trying to be beneficial to the creation of OL: NF. They told me in the email they’d give me more evidence if I requested it and I was ready to know, but instead they went silent for months and then did this.
I want it to be clear that this doesn’t mean players can’t wonder if Rose has enough experience to be a sensitivity reader right now, or to worry they’re so invested in the game that it’s going to effect how objective they are with their feedback, or to say that Rose is flawless and has never done anything hurtful. However, I hope you can understand why I was on Rose’s side and couldn’t just fire them over this. It felt so incredibly unfair. If another person tries to get their way by doing this in the future, I will not hail them as a hero and immediately fire at the target. And I don't tolerate any racial harassment of any kind to anyone on my team.
If those people want to continue to share Rose’s private posts in retaliation, you can fuck off. If you somehow reveal now that Rose is secretly a murderer, I’m not gonna apologize and say I was so wrong about you. If you had tons of evidence of Rose being horrible to players, you should’ve sent it all to me and with full context to begin with in the email like you offered to do. I just don’t understand.
Any players who like to see someone’s least flattering points portrayed in the worst possible way and continue flocking to the leaks as fandom drama, I don’t want you in this fandom. I don’t want you to enjoy my games.
Anyone who has been truly hurt by this and are left confused and angry, I do completely understand that. I didn’t know how to handle this, and it made a lot of people not know how to keep trusting me. I am still looking into getting a community manager to help me better communicate with players, especially when something serious happens. And I’ll always be around for you to reach out to if you have doubts about anything.
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skylarsblue · 1 year ago
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✦Incorrect C.O.D Quotes, since AO3 is down✦
Gaz: I wanna know what exactly your type is. Y/N: I'm not just gonna give you more fodder to throw at me- Gaz: I have an idea of it already, but I want details! Y/N: No! Gaz: Like- König! Would you- Y/N: Of fuckin’ course I wanna fuck König! He’s huge, he could LITERALLY snap me in half and my dad didn’t love me, of course I want him to fuck me! Soap: *does that weird inhale-choke-cough*
— (Dick mention + a woman’s experience of a dude making gross comments. It’s funny I swear-) Fem!medic!Y/N: most of the time, people are pretty nice and sometimes impressed when when I bring up I’m a medical professional. Other times…eh.. Soap: Eh? Y/N: Sometimes you get conspiracy theorists. Soap: Ohhhh… Y/N: Some evangelists, gross dudes. Gaz: Gross dudes? What’s the worst you’ve heard? Ghost, sipping a whiskey: This outta be good. Y/N: Uh, once I told this man hitting on me I was a field doctor? He said, and I quote. “Been awhile since my last check up, mind checking me for ball cancer.” And I- Gaz: WHAT Soap: YOU’RE KIDDING Y/N: I am not. I just- I walked away. Price: Fuckin’ hell. Y/N: It’s fine. He got shot in the dick next mission, ended up with a male doctor. Ghost: Karma at its best.
- Graves: Oh FUCK YOU Y/N: Tsk, oooo…you don’t have enough money for that. Soap: HAHA!
- Soap, drunk: Back Street’s back, alright! Do do do do- Gaz, drunk on Price’ shoulders: Dodooodo- Price: Simon, get your boy. Ghost: *picking Soap up by his belt, carrying him like a bag* Yes sir.
- Recruit: When you gonna stop giving me blue balls? Gaz: Whoa hey!- Y/N: Aight, I got my steel toes on. How bout we make’em black and blue? Recruit: I- Y/N: Shut the fuck up. I’ve already turned you down, get a hint. Word of advice? Rather than shoot for the stars, maybe shoot your shot in your lower bracket, yeah? Recruit: Gaz: Someone get a fire extinguisher, this dudes been burned. Soap: On it. *sprays recruit with fire extinguisher*
- Soap: Nice onesie, does it come in men’s? Gaz, in his pyjamas: I think you cum enough in men for the all of us. Soap: ACK- Ghost: *slides out of the room*
- Ghost: Have you ever considered, just once, using your brain first? Soap: Now why would I do that?
- (Insert random name I HC for Laswell’s wife) Kate, after being in a bad explosion and ending up in this hospital: My wife, she’ll get upset if she sees you rubbing me like that on my chest. Diana: I am your wife. Kate …. Diana: :) Heart rate monitor: BEEPBEEPBEEPBE- Kate Hi. Diana: Hehe, hi. Gaz, in the corner: Oh to be in love. Soap: This is disgusting, why can’t I have this? >:,( Gaz: Cause your type in men is awful. Soap: Hey!
- Y/N: *walks into common room* Hello, I am very upset. I feel a meltdown coming on and you are all buff men, so I would like to request being picked up and held like a baby for a short period of time, please. Soap: Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you? Y/N: Nope. König: ….*slowly approaches and picks Y/N up from under their arms* Y/N, clinging to him like a koala and hiding in his shoulder: Thank you, I appreciate you. König: *awkward back pat*
- König: :) Y/N: Bloopbloopbloopbloop- Horagi: Y/N! Y/N: What? Horagi: Tha-That is our colo-that is a dangerous man! Y/N: He’s not a dangerous man! Horagi: What are y- Y/N: We’re bloopin’! Bloopbloopbloop- König: -w-
- Price: Kid, I need you to- Gaz & Y/N: *dancing like they don’t have jobs to do* Gaz: Go stink! Y/N: Fuck it up! Gaz: Go stink! Y/N: Fuck it up! Gaz: Go stink! Y/N: That’s what’s up! Gaz: Go stink! Y/N: I’m in love! Price: AHEM Gaz: Oh shit- Y/N: HEEEYY captaaaaiinn, what’s uuupp ahaha… Price: *sigh*
- (Based on; Me if COD was real. Deadass. Full serious. I am not kidding) Gaz: So have you met the Captain yet? Y/N: No. Gaz: Are you nervous? Y/N: No no, I have a firm belief that they’re just people. Obviously I’ll respect him as a superior but that’s nnnnnnnnwho the hell is that? Y/N: *fucking breaking their neck* Gaz: Oh- Nope. No no, THAT is Captain. Don’t think about it. Y/N: I’m thinking about it. Gaz: That’s not allowed. Y/N: Ive done worse for less, if he asks I’m sucking it, you can’t stop me. Gaz: Jesus Bloody Christ- Y/N: Tell him to call me when he’s on leave. Gaz: Stop-
- König: *walks in* Ghost: ?? Soap: Oh, hey! Gaz: Y’a need somethi- König: *picks up Y/N under his arm while humming, leaving the room* König: I love stealing, I love taking things!~ Ghost: What the f-
- Colonel!König: I’m 42 so, I don’t- Y/N: YOU’RE 42?! Colonel!König: Yeah. Y/N: …it’s okay no one has to know babygirl~ König: NEIN! Nein, don’t call me babygirl!-
- (Based on this awful Gaz outfit I saw on Twitter) MILF!Y/N: *doing paperwork* Gaz: Would you date me? Y/N: Baby we couldn’t even get a drink together. You can’t buy me nothin. Gaz: What do you mean? :( Y/N: Look at your outfit! What are you wearing? Gaz: I think I look pretty fly. Y/N: For who, your mom? Gaz: :((
- Gaz: STOP DATING MY CAPTAIN Y/N: ….you know what, I’m gonna start dating him even harder. Gaz: What’s that supposed to mean? Y/N: You know what it means.
- MILF!Y/N: *shoving apple juice into a cart* They gon’ need nutrition. Laswell: How many kids do you have? MILF!Y/N: Eleven! Laswell: So I’m assuming your kids really like apple juice? MILF!Y/N: No but they looove orange juice but they’ve been bad this week. Laswell: What grade are your kids in? MILF!Y/N: Sixteenth grade. Laswell: PFFT Sixteenth- that’s not even a grade! So your kids graduated college? MILF!Y/N: No they, they- …where are my kids?
- (Her “kids” on the other side of the store) Price: Boys please- Gaz: I AM NOT LOSING! Soap, in a fuckin’ headlock with him: Yes you fuckin’ are!! Ghost: *slipping cookies under his mask, he did not pay for them* König: *looking for a fruity snack* Horagi: *grabbing as many packs of spicy chips as he can* Alejandro: This is a disgrace. *holding up frozen burritos* Rudy: These are worse. *motions to frozen tamales* Alex: Did you know you can use coke as rust remover? Farah: …and you want to drink it??
- Y/N: So. Kyle. Gaz, already afraid: …yes? Y/N: I found some of your old playlists… Gaz: Y/N: Gaz: Y/N: You an emo? Gaz: I was a SCENE as a teenager, get it right.
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edenianprincess · 11 months ago
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INTRO !!      ❤︎ ׄ                                               Dialogues Intros .ᐟ
Dialogues intros about characters’ relationships with a gender neutral!reader. Characters chosen are Reptile, Liu Kang, Mileena and Kung Lao. Content warning: Slight suggestive theme in Kung Lao’s and one in Mileena. Please, respond to the poll at the end!
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Syzoth ! Mirror dialogues You: There's no way I have a clone. You: I'm here to bring Reptile back to Shang Tsung.
You: So, you’re the shape shifter? You: It was difficult to accept my two forms, but Syzoth helped me.
Reptile: How can you move on from your dead family so easily? Reptile: Stop plaguing my mind! I have to fight these thoughts.
Syzoth ! At each other
You: Do you think you can beat me without using your other form? Reptile: With you? I don’t think I can contain the beast within me.
You: Why is your tail wiggling? Reptile: I don't know what are you talking about, my dear.
You: Do you need my aid to end the Zaterrans' conspiracy? Reptile: I appreciate the thought, but only I can infiltrate them.
Reptile: Is this warm bloods’ way of courting? You: No, I just want to spend time with you.
Reptile: Zaterra isn’t a place for you to visit. You: I want to visit your bullies not the place.
Reptile: If I had known I was going to fight you, I would have been more worried. You: By you hurting me or because you know I’m going to win?
Syzoth ! With other characters
General Shao: A warm blood and a Zaterran? How amusing. Reptile: Do you feel envy because nobody wants you, General?
You: I’ll gift your head to Syzoth. Shang Tsung: If it weren’t for me, he would still be with his wife.
Shang Tsung: I see that you have a new partner, if only I- Reptile: You will die before threatening me again!
You: Thank you for Syzoth’s promotion, Empress. Mileena: Now, can you stop harassing me with that?
Johnny: Imagine a movie about you and Y/n, a Beauty and the Beast type of story. Reptile: What is this story about, Johnny?
Kenshi: You kiss a guy who eats bugs? You: Never after dinner.
Kung Lao: No other’s skills will impress you more than mine. Reptile: Sorry, Kung Lao, but I do not think you can beat Y/n on that.
Kung Lao: Syzoth told me that I wouldn’t be able to beat you in a fight. You: And still you didn’t listen?
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Liu Kang ! Mirror dialogues
You: You’re not with Liu Kang in your timeline? You: His heart is only dedicated to Kitana.
You: For Liu Kang’s sake! Who are you? You: You should go ask him.
Liu Kang: We can’t both exist in a singular timeline. Liu Kang: Y/n would beg to differ.
Liu Kang ! At each other
You: I’m going to make you fall on your knees, this time. Liu Kang: I have no doubt about this, dearest.
You: You know you can’t blame yourself for every tragedy. Liu Kang: It still hurts me when they happen.
You: How am I supposed to win against you? Liu Kang: By exploiting my weaknesses, you know them very well.
Liu Kang: There's no need to push yourself beyond your limits. You: Just one more round, okay?
Liu Kang: You shall be rewarded after this fight. You: Is it what I have in mind?
Liu Kang: We need to be prepared if we interfere with another timeline again. You: No need to hide that you want to spend some time together.
Liu Kang ! With other characters
Geras: Your relationship with Y/n was unexpected. Liu Kang: Even I couldn’t help but fall for their charms.
You: C’mon Geras, you know him more than me. Geras: I do not know what Liu Kang wants for his birthday.
Kitana: I didn’t think of you wanting someone after centuries of being alone. Liu Kang: Love can change greatly one’s perspective.
Kitana: Liu Kang is a very mysterious man. You: Makes him hot, doesn’t it?
General Shao: Your love for weaklings like your champions and partner is utterly pathetic. Liu Kang: Your lack of strong bonds is why you lose every time.
Shang Tsung: How can you be so sure Liu Kang isn’t manipulating you for his own interest? You: You mean, just like what you’re doing right now?
Johnny: A demi-God? Damn, Y/n hit the jackpot. Liu Kang: I would say I am the one who did.
Kung Lao: You’re wayyyyy out of Lord Liu Kang’s league. You: Are you somehow jealous?
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Mileena ! Mirror dialogues
You: Your Mileena is a clone? You: If you mean an abomination then yes.
You: I’ll kill you slowly then I’ll replace you. You: You won’t infiltrate the court again, Shang Tsung!
Mileena: I can spoil Y/n more than you. Mileena: Spoil them with your death!
Mileena ! At each other
You: You're the strongest princess l've ever seen. Mileena: Are you implying you have met others?
You: What a killer smile you have. Mileena: All the better to kiss you with.
You: Your mother won’t let you a moment to breath. Mileena: That’s why I’m happy when I’m with you.
Mileena: Urg.. Why do we have to fight more? You: We can take this fight somewhere else if you wish.
Mileena: I don’t want to hurt you if I lose control. You: You won’t, I know you can control it.
Mileena: You will fall head over heels for me again! You: Challenge accepted.
Mileena ! With other characters
Kitana: I know you love them, but you need to think of your imperial duties first. Mileena: I can handle more things at once than you think.
Kitana: Tarkat is taking over my sister more and more. You: We will fight it together with her.
Sindel: Did you think I wouldn't know about you sneaking out with Y/n? Mileena: These treacherous guards, I'll have their heads!
You: Is this fight necessary, Empress? Sindel: To test if you're worth my daughter.
Mileena: I entrust you for the security of the royal wedding. Li Mei: As Sun Do's First Constable and a friend, I can’t feel more honored.
Li Mei: You must be ready to protect the Empress. You: Are you doubting me, Li Mei?
Baraka: Don’t let your lover be inflicted with Tarkat. Mileena: Never in my life will I let them be inflicted with this pain!
General Shao: I’ll take rightfully the throne from Mileena. You: You can steal the throne but, you can’t steal her ruling competence.
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Kung Lao ! Mirror dialogues
You: Is this a nightmare? You: No, this is Kung Lao’s dream.
You: So your Kung Lao disappeared just in a snap? You: You can say that.. yes.
Kung Lao: The man who wins gets to date Y/n. Kung Lao: Can’t we let them choose? Or are you afraid because I’m the most handsome?
Kung Lao ! At each other
You: Someone should put you in your place. Kung Lao: I wouldn’t mind, but only if you’re the one doing it.
You: You need to train harder if you want to be the champion. Kung Lao: If it means that I’ll win with you below me, then I agree.
You: Is this a date? Kung Lao: Only if you wish it to be.
Kung Lao: Don’t get too distracted by my face while fighting. You: It will be my first target.
Kung Lao: So, what should we dare? You: I’m sure you have plenty of ideas.
Kung Lao: Don’t you feel a certain tension between us? You: I would, if it weren’t for the monks watching us.
Kung Lao ! With other characters
Kung Lao: Told you, I’ll get them for a date. Raiden: I couldn’t be happier for you.
You: You got a crush on Outworld’s Princess and you didn’t tell me! Raiden: Kung Lao told my secret to everyone, didn’t he.
Raiden: The monks said you shouldn't let your dating life distract you from training. Kung Lao: Pff.. What do they know about love?
Sub-Zero: Your weak lover would have died if I didn't hold back. You: Call him weak all you want, but at least he can admit defeat without whining.
Kung Lao: Y/n is watching us, time to show them what I can do. Johnny: It’s going to be hilarious when I beat you.
You: Do you think Kung Lao will one day become champion? Liu Kang: If he continues to do well, plus with you by his side, I have no doubts.
Kenshi: I can’t believe there is someone that you love more than yourself. Kung Lao: If you were to meet them, you’d understand.
Reptile: Kung Lao wanted me to scare you off with my invisibility. You: He probably thought that I’d jump into his arms and ask for his protection.
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‘𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝓔𝐍𝐃  Please don’t copy/translate and don’t reblog if you’re a yand3r3 blog/reblog account, or you’ll be blocked. Besides that, likes/reblogs/comments are appreciated.  For those who don’t get the second mirror dialogue for Kung Lao, he died in the previous timeline by getting his neck snapped.
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sweetkpopmusings · 5 months ago
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seungmin coworker headcanons <3
a/n: and with this, i am completing the coworker!skz series !! this took way longer than i expected (like....so much longer....), but i've loved every second of it !! i hope these silly little coworker vibes bring you the comfort they have brought me :,-) pics not mine <3
content: fluff, nonidol!au | wc: 0.9k | warnings: none really! brief mentions of food/drinking | pairing: coworker!seungmin x gn!reader | requests: open
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you started at the company at the same time, so you went through orientation together
by default, you were friendly with each other, since both of you were figuring out how the office worked while trying to get to know people or avoiding getting to know people
soon the default friendliness turned into a genuine workplace camaraderie because y’all’s energies matched so well
if any coworkers ask about you two being friends though, seungmin will not hesitate to say he doesn't know you LMAO
when people ask you about seungmin and you say, “oh seungmin? yeah, he’s great! one of my favorite people here!” they give you a strange look that you truly do not understand
you share this with seungmin and he laughs for like 10 minutes but refuses to explain what’s so funny 😐
months later one of your coworkers explains the situation, including the fact that there are conspiracy theories around the office about you and seungmin’s actual relationship
you do not let seungmin live that menace behavior down
buuuuut his menace behavior is part of what makes you love him so much and he knows that so you don’t hold a grudge for too long lol
one time you catch him singing in the breakroom and you can’t believe there has been an angel ???? working in YOUR office ??? this WHOLE TIME ?????
when you ask seungmin if that was him singing he says “no <3”
you tell him you heard him and he replies, “if you were there, why did you ask me if i was the one singing?”
you roll your eyes, dropping the subject because you assume he was embarrassed since you two didn’t know each other that well yet :-( 
he was a little shy
then he walks right back out after he makes his coffee or grabs his snack like nothing ever happened
when you mention it, he acts like it’s no big deal, but he’s blushing because any compliment from you means the world to him :,-)
seungmin’s compliments are so……strange
he compliments you a LOT. like way more than you realize
rather than saying “that presentation was really good!” or something straightforward, seungmin opts for things like “that presentation was unlike anything i’ve ever seen before” and “sometimes you make me wonder if i’m in the right field”
after, you stare at him very confused but still thank him because you don’t know what else to say
once you’re more comfortable with him, you ask him what he means
and now seungmin’s looking at you like ???????
he says “i’m complimenting you!” and then flashes you his puppy smile
oh seungmin my sweet, strange boy <3
you’re relieved to know that your favorite coworker isn’t constantly dragging your work and you feel that you’ve unlocked a new level of friendship by decoding a part of his brain
seungmin also feels as though he’s unlocked a new level of friendship with you :,-) 
one afternoon, you make him a playlist called “bad bitch vibes” because of the look he has on his face whenever he walks around the office 
he scolds you for not doing your work but he plays it extra loud in his headphones the next time he walks by your desk to let you know that he appreciates it (and enjoys it…he will be throwing ass to it after-hours)
seungmin spends a long time making you a playlist :-((((( he’s so nervous to give it to you, so he won’t send it your way until every last detail is perfect
he calls it something like “time is money” or “do better” LOL
he also sends it to you with no explanation ??? he drops the link and doesn’t say anything else until a few hours later, when he asks you if you have a highlighter he can borrow
when he comes over to borrow said highlighter, seungmin glances at your computer to see if you’re listening to the playlist
after he starts to walk away, you say, “hey seungmin! i really like the playlist! thank you so much!”
he has the BIGGEST smile on his face :,,,,,,,-)
instead of saying “you’re welcome” he tells you to get back to work <3
he thoroughly enjoys your company, and any day in the office without you is a subpar day for him :-( he gets SO excited when he sees you walk back through the doors after you’ve taken time off 
one day, when everything, absolutely everything, is going wrong for you, seungmin feels like he can’t get any work done until he knows you’re okay
he sends you silly messages, leaves you little treats, and even offers to help you out with some work
while you’re super appreciative of his efforts, it still doesn’t reverse the bad day :-(
in the afternoon, seungmin walks up to your desk and just stands there like 🧍
you glance up to ask him what he needs, not fully paying attention as you’re in a huge rush to finish a dozen tasks in an hour
seungmin blurts out, “i only like working here because i get to work with you.”
immediately, you look at seungmin like :-0 because ???? that’s the most genuine thing he’s ever said to you ???? where is the punchline ???
this time, there is no punchline <3
seungmin smiles sweetly and then tells you to come get him whenever you finish your work, so you two can go get dinner/a drink/anything that will make you feel better after such a stressful day
when he walks away, you realize all the stress has dissipated because you now know for certain that seungmin will always be there for you <3
seungmin is just the silliest little guy who is a massive supporter of you and everything you do because he is eternally grateful you went from being a work acquaintance to a genuine friend :,,,,-) <333333
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tardismyrp · 8 months ago
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Conspiracy board # whatever because I do so many of these:
Ok so I don’t think Jace died in the mountains of chaos. I think he died way before all of this, and possibly before the bad kids and rat grinders were in school. Jace chose The Rat Grinders to go to the mountains of chaos because he knew of Kipperlily’s rage and knew she could be manipulated. The rest of her party was just a bonus. That does make me feel a bit bad for the Rat Grinders because they were taken advantage of by an adult they were supposed to trust. However, I don’t think it was just Jace alone.
We know at the end of freshman year/beginning of sophomore year season Ragh saw Kalina talk to Jace and Porter. These are the names Kalina couldn’t say. Thus Porter is likely involved in this plot and may have helped kill The Rat Grinders. When were they killed though? This is where my theory goes off the rails.
My personal theory, which is me over thinking past interactions, is sometime before the beginning of freshman year. In episode 3 of freshman year Jace says “ I gotta be straight with you about that. I don't know why you talk that way. I'm trying to make a bridge between you and me. We're coworkers. I'd like to get along, you know? You're not required to be my friend, but, like, a little cordiality, man. Like, spoonful of sugar. Help me out, man. I'm here trying to make something happen.” to Porter. Back then it was just hey we teach together we should at least get along. Now I’m wondering if it’s anything more than that, especially with this new information.
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antiquarianfics · 8 months ago
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Taken pt. 10
If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would go back to that morning. He would hold you a little tighter in his arms, and he would kiss you a little deeper. He would pull your daughter in between the two of you, letting her giggle as loudly as she wants whilst her parents kiss her cheeks and tickle her belly. If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would have told you not to go to the park—to go anywhere else. But Bucky Barnes can’t time travel, and his wife and daughter are gone.
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a/n: sorry for the hiatus. here’s this. it’s not proofed. yay!
warnings: swearing, blackmail, mention of murder, themes of conspiracy, canon typical violence.
note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters. Any and all characters are a work of fiction and any likeness to real persons is wholly unintentional.
You do not have permission to copy, translate, or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.
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previous part | series masterlist | next part
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“Well, my targets are gone,” you sigh, glancing down the hallway you had seen Steve run. You click your tongue and return your focus to Bucky, shaking your head slightly.
“Sorry, honey,” you say, knocking him out.
Bucky comes to with a groan, sitting up from his position on the floor, a hand holding his head. He blinks a couple of times, scanning the room for any sign of you. You’re nowhere to be found. Shaking his head, he pulls himself off the ground, and starts heading to the meetup spot he and Steve had agreed on months ago in case Becca had to be taken somewhere safe.
As Bucky travels, he replays the conversation he’d had with you. Why the hell would you bring up a Greek myth? He struggles to make any sense of it, but then his brain picks out a particular part of your story:
“Orpheus didn’t get a second chance to save Eurydice. Zeus killed Orpheus because he was afraid Orpheus would tell the humans all the secrets of the Underworld. Some versions say that the Muses kept his head, though, to sing songs forever. They managed to hear his voice even after he died.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Don’t turn around, James.”
Your warning—“Don’t turn around, James”— was certainly a code. After all, if you had struck a deal with Frost, and if you were working with HYDRA, then you were probably being watched, listened to. You couldn’t speak freely. But why Orpheus and Eurydice? Why that story?
“Don’t turn around, James.”
Orpheus turned around… Why is that important?
“Don’t turn around, James.”
“This has to be a metaphor for us,” Bucky thinks. “Does she mean I’m Orpheus, then? Eurydice was trapped in the Underworld… Y/N is trapped by HYDRA… Does she mean to stop looking for her? Or does she mean to trust she has a plan? That she knows what she’s doing?”
Zeus killed Orpheus because he was afraid he would tell all the secrets of the Underworld.
Then, it clicked. Bucky isn’t sure exactly what it is that changed how he interpreted your story, but, suddenly, everything made sense:
1. Chance one to save Y/N: Russia. I didn’t save her. I only saved Becca. She is saying I don’t get another chance to try for her.
2. Y/N is picking off people Frost is afraid will come between him and HYDRA. Right now, I’m not apart of that list. Proof: She let me go. If I attempt a second rescue, she will have no choice; they will tell her to take me out. Besides that, they will certainly threaten Becca, and we agreed when she was born that Becca always comes first.
3. The muses kept his head? They won’t kill me. She doesn’t want me to come after her because they will just capture me. She won’t give me up, but she’s more likely to slip up if it comes to me. A slip up is more likely to lead to… They’ll wipe me. She doesn’t want me to come after her because they’ll wipe me if they capture me.
Bucky sighs as he arrives at the rendezvous he and Steve had agreed on. He feels a little better now that he understands more of what you were saying, but he still feels like there is a piece of the puzzle missing.
The team goes into hiding. You had revealed a lot about the dangers of HYRDA’s plans, but they still know so little. The team knew you had targets—important targets—that you were being forced to eliminate. They discerned the targets were people HYDRA feel are threats against their mission, but they still don’t have a definite list.
“We’re sitting ducks!” Tony shouts angrily into the room.
“Stark,” Fury says gravely, “watch it.”
“I’m sorry, but we are. We have no new intel. HYDRA is AWOL. The world is looking at us to do something, and we’ve got nothing.”
“Buck,” Steve says, “did Y/N say anything else that might give us a clue as to who she’s after?”
Bucky sighs, thinking back over the whole interaction from the moment you got there to the moment you knocked him out. It was as he replayed your conversation on the roof that it clicked: the missing puzzle piece. Bucky meets Steve’s eyes.
“She told me who she’s after.”
“Well?” Tony questions impatiently. “Who?”
“When I met her on the roof,” Bucky says, “Y/N told me she was marking 3 names off her list. That means her next three targets were in the Compound.”
“FRIDAY,” Tony says, “get me a list of every person who was in the Compound at the time of the break in.” FRIDAY responds in the affirmative.
“Then,” Bucky continues, “she asked me…” Bucky trails off as he tries to remember how exactly you worded the question. “She asked me: ‘You’re not all that close to Captain America, are you?’
“I thought it was weird how she worded that. I’ve known Steve longer than anyone, and it was weird she called him ‘Captain America.’ But that was her clue. HYDRA has no problem with Steve Rogers—”
“But Captain America has been ruining their plans since the ‘40s,” Steve says, arms crossed as he puts together what Bucky is saying. Bucky nods.
“So the other two targets have to have been in the Compound at the time of the attack, and they have to be people that have significantly messed with HYDRA somehow,” Sam thinks aloud.
Bucky thought. Who else could HYDRA consider a threat to their cause? Who else has been foiling HYDRA’s plans time after time? Bucky scanned the room, eyes carefully considering each person. It could be any of the Avengers, he thought, but then you would likely have more than 3 targets. His eyes settle on Fury. Bingo.
“Fury’s a target.”
All eyes are on Bucky.
“How you figure?” Someone asks. Bucky doesn’t clock who, his mind still attempting to fit puzzle pieces together.
“Captain America is an obvious choice. It can’t be another Avenger because you’ve done equal damage to their cause. It’s not me because they don’t want me dead—I’m valuable to them. But Fury? Fury created the Avengers. Fury is the leader. He’s also the director of SHIELD: HYDRA’s number 1 obstacle. It makes sense.”
Fury hums in agreement. “Rogers and I make the most sense. We still have a third target to identify, though.”
Bucky nods in acknowledgment, but his eyes settle on Coulson beside Fury.
“Coulson.”
Coulson’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, as if he never would have expected he could be so important to Bucky. He swallows and composes himself, and when he speaks, he is calm, confident.
“I do make sense. My team and I have given HYDRA a real headache, and, like Fury, I’m the leader.”
With a list of targets that the team was agreed upon and confident in, it was time for a plan. They’d been idle too long. The plan is simply to get you back first, stop HYDRA second, but the way Bucky see is it, you are crucial to Frost’s plan. If they get you, Frost will be scrambling.
“Okay, team,” Steve says into a huddle. “Stick to the plan. The tip we sent out says I’ll be on a solo recon mission, so they’ll be waiting. Y/N will be waiting.
The goal is to get Y/N and bring her home.”
“And we’re sure she’s not just going to kill you?” Sam asks, facetiously. Bucky scowls.
“We have to hope that she really is just playing HYDRA’s game to stay alive,” Steve says solemnly.
“Any sign of her?” Natasha asks into the coms.
“No,” Clint says.
“Redwing and I got nothing,” Sam says.
The coms go silent as the team waits. Steve carefully walks through the hallways of the abandoned HYDRA facility. He’s careful—he half expects you to step out of nowhere and shoot at him.
He turns the corner into what appears to be the facility’s security room. Computer monitors line the walls, each showing different hallways or facility entrances. The room is bland and dark except for the monitors and the light emitting from them.
Steve’s eyes take in the security footage, the room, and the woman sitting in a large desk chair in front of the monitors, legs propped up on the desk the security equipment rests on.
“Y/N?” Steve asks.
“You found her?” Bucky asks quickly, heartbeat picking up. He had been ordered to stay behind in the quinnjet, but if Steve found you, he’s leaving.
“Hi, Cap,” you say pleasantly. “Been a while.”
“You tried to kill me a week ago.”
You frown. “You still mad about that?”
Steve scoffs. “Y/N, what’s going on?”
“What’s going on, Captain America,” a third voice chimes in, “is the fall of the Avengers, of SHIELD, and the rise of HYDRA.”
“Frost,” Steve says, presuming he’s meeting the “mastermind” behind the whole endeavor.
“Captain Rogers,” Frost says with an over animated grin. “A pleasure!”
Steve turns back to you, ignoring Frost’s greeting. “You missed.”
“I won’t miss this time,” you say, the corner of your mouth twitching.
“I don’t doubt it,” Steve replies. “I’ve never known you to miss. Best sniper on the team.”
“Steven,” you say, an edge to your voice that confuses Steve. He opens his mouth to answer, but the sound of a gun cocking beats him to it.
Behind Steve, and then behind Frost, stands Bucky; he has a gun to Frost’s head. It’s clear that Bucky had snuck up on him.
“Well! Isn’t it nice of you to join us, Sergeant Barnes,” Frost says. “I just love a little family reunion. Tell me, how is the Mini Asset? Hmm?”
Still holding the gun to Frost’s head with his right hand, Bucky’s left hand goes around Frost’s throat.
“Watch it.”
“Buck, we need him alive,” Steve warns. Bucky releases Frost’s neck. However, in the small amount of time that this interaction took place, Frost had, unbeknownst to the three of you, snuck something out of his pocket.
“Well, this has been fun. I’m sure we will meet again soon,” Frost’s tone is sardonic. “Just know, Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, that you may have gotten your little bitch back today, but this is far from over. HYDRA will rise again. SHIELD will fall.”
Then, Frost throws what he had pulled from his pocket to the ground and smoke quickly billows up into the room, filling your lungs and making you cough. You hear footsteps—Frost running. He must have taken Bucky by surprise, too.
When the smoke clears, you face your husband and run into his arms for the first time since being kidnapped.
After being rescued from Frost, Bucky and the team take you back to the Avengers’ makeshift headquarters. They (with profuse apologies) blindfold you on the way so that you’re not able to leak any information if you have actually turned against them, or accidentally give something away if HYDRA is watching somehow.
“I’m sorry, Doll. Y’know I trust you with my life, but we gotta be sure,” Bucky says. You rest your hand on his and squeeze.
“It’s fine. I understand.”
Upon your arrival to the HQ, you’re taken to an interrogation room where Fury and Coulson ask you about the kidnap, the torture, the deal you struck, HYDRA’s plans, and everything else up to your rescue. They hook you up to a lie detector machine, even, and ask you if you are working with HYDRA, if you had gone dirty.
“I promise I only did what I had to survive and to keep my daughter alive. I had to do what HYDRA asked. They’re everywhere. They’re within SHIELD, even. I didn’t know who could hurt her,” you swore.
When Fury and Coulson are finally finished interrogating you, they tell you they think you have a chance of being acquitted. You were a prisoner of war, and, surely, the U.S. government would see that. However, until then, you were in SHIELD’s custody and to be locked up. You agree without protest.
As you’re walking out of the interrogation room, hands cuffed in front of you, you see Bucky holding a sleeping Becca in his arms waiting for you. Your eyes widen.
“What is she doing here?” You panic.
Bucky frowns. “I thought you might want to see her. She misses you.”
“Bucky, if she sees me right now, what will she think? I’m handcuffed. The last time she…” You trail off. “I don’t want to see her. Just… put her to bed. Give her a kiss for me. Tell her I love her. Don’t bring her by my cell.”
Bucky says nothing as a couple SHIELD agents lead you away.
It takes 2 months for you to be acquitted. You stay locked up in a SHIELD cell, refusing to see your daughter, barely speaking to anyone for 2 months. When you are finally acquitted, it is because a private grand jury hears your testimony, Becca’s testimony, and the testimony of the Avengers’, security and personnel from the White House there the night you assassinated the president, and the families of the deceased. The ordeal is heart wrenching. You are sentenced to a year of probation (including not going on missions as an Avenger) and weekly court mandated therapy, but you are free.
When the judge tells you, “Mrs. Y/N L/N-Barnes, you’re a free woman,” you let out a sob and feel yourself yanked into a firm chest that you’d recognize anywhere: Bucky.
“You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re coming home.”
»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««
@just-henny @jasminocano @browneyedgirl22-blog @barnesboo1967 @matchat3a @unkasworld @qwertyb2577 @raajali3 @yoruse @iilsenewman @alysianc @fairytalegirlofurdreams @marvelxlevram @casa-boiardi @buckybraneslover111 @hhiggs @smolracoon25 @questionableratatouille00 @heytheredemonsitsyourgirl @thearieunhinged @sebastianstansource @middaystarlight @talesofadragon @killerwendigo @ozwriterchick @kandis-mom
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biblical-chronicles · 13 days ago
Text
Gifted
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where Noel's heartfelt christmas gift leads to a confession, meanwhile Liam makes sure to keep tradition alive (in his own way).
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Christmas with the Gallaghers was a symphony of chaos that played out like clockwork each year—a whirlwind of loud voices, teasing jabs, and heartfelt laughter. From the time you were old enough to form memories, their warm, bustling home had been the center of a shared tradition. Your family and theirs, bound by decades of neighboring lives, had carried the torch of this yearly celebration.
Your childhood had been shaped by their presence, from the sting of snowball fights on your cheeks to the pulsing music of teenage house parties that left you breathless. Liam was the wild card, always brimming with energy, a force of nature that barreled through life with a grin and a cheeky quip. Noel, in contrast, was quieter, sharper, his humor slicing through conversations like a knife. He was a puzzle you had never quite solved, and as the years passed, the pull toward him became something deeper, something you never dared to name.
Noel, however, wasn’t one for grand displays. If he felt anything more for you, he kept it locked away, buried under layers of sarcasm and a smirk that always seemed to hold secrets. It didn’t stop you from watching him, though, from stealing glances when you thought no one noticed—or from feeling your heart leap at the rare moments when his gaze lingered on you.
This Christmas Eve was no different. The Gallaghers’ living room glowed with the soft twinkle of fairy lights, the scent of Peggy’s roast potatoes and mulled wine filling the air. Laughter ricocheted off the walls, creating a warmth that made the chilly December night outside feel like another world entirely.
“Oi love, are you just gonna stand there like a decoration, or are you gonna help me win this bloody quiz?” Liam’s voice cut through your thoughts. He was sprawled on the couch, waving a piece of paper in the air.
You grabbed a mince pie from the table and smirked. “Winning might be easier if you stopped acting like a diva for five minutes.”
“Diva?!” Liam’s face twisted into an expression of mock offense, his arms flailing dramatically. “This is exactly why I need your help. I’m surrounded by traitors.”
From across the room, Noel chuckled, the sound low and warm. He was perched on a stool with his own paper watching the scene unfold. “She’s got a point, Liam,” he said without looking up. “Not that it matters. You could have Einstein on your team, and Mam’d still say I won.”
Liam groaned, flopping back against the couch cushions. “See what I mean? Rigged, the whole thing. I don’t even know why I bother.”
Peggy appeared in the doorway, her arms crossed as she surveyed her sons with a wry smile. “You bother because you love a good moan, that’s why,” she teased, before turning her attention to you. “And because you know she’s the only one clever enough to save you from total humiliation.”
You laughed, shaking your head as Liam muttered something about conspiracies and stupid christmas traditions.
As the evening wore on, the quiz devolved into a mess of shouted answers and debates over trivia that no one but Noel seemed to know. You found yourself seated on the arm of a chair, watching him as he leaned against the wall, arms folded, effortlessly tossing out the correct answers like it was nothing. He caught your eye once, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, and your stomach fluttered in a way that felt both thrilling and maddening.
“Yer gawkin’, love,” Liam whispered in your ear, smirking.
You jumped, nearly spilling your drink. “I am not.”
“You are. And he knows it.” Liam leaned back, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “But you know what? He’s just as bad. You two are bloody hopeless.”
Before you could argue, Peggy clapped her hands, calling everyone to gather around the Christmas tree for presents. You settled on the floor, your heart pounding when Noel slid down beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he stretched his legs out. The casual touch sent your pulse racing, and you hoped the warmth in your cheeks wasn’t as obvious as it felt.
The gift exchange was as chaotic as the rest of the evening. Liam unwrapped a book on self-improvement, immediately groaning and tossing it aside as the room erupted in laughter. Peggy grinned as she held up a pair of mismatched socks from Noel, shaking her head in mock disapproval.
“You’ve outdone yourself this year, love,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Noel shrugged, his lips quirking into a rare, unguarded smile. “You’re welcome, Mam.”
You couldn’t help but watch him, the way his expression softened in the glow of the tree lights, his usual sharp edges replaced by something almost wistful. It was a side of him you rarely saw, and it made your chest ache with a longing you couldn’t put into words.
Noel handed you the box with an air of nonchalance, but there was no hiding the subtle tension in his shoulders, the faint crease in his brow. It wasn’t wrapped in the usual shiny paper or adorned with bows like the other gifts under the tree. Instead, it was plain brown paper tied neatly with a bit of string, the kind of wrapping that made your heart beat a little faster as it was clearly done just by him.
“What’s this?” you asked, the words softer than you intended, your fingers brushing the package as you took it from him.
He leaned back slightly, his posture relaxed but his eyes carefully watching you. “Open it,” he said, and though his tone was casual, his gaze held something uncharacteristically vulnerable, almost hesitant.
You worked at the string with trembling fingers, peeling back the paper slowly as though the contents might vanish if you moved too quickly. When the wrapping finally fell away, your breath caught. Nestled inside was a book—a vintage edition, its worn leather cover whispering of age and care. The title gleamed faintly in gold lettering, and your stomach twisted as recognition struck.
It wasn’t just any book. It was the one. A story you’d fallen in love with as a child, a world you’d disappeared into during days when reality felt too heavy. You’d rambled about it once, years ago, during a conversation with Noel that you were sure he’d forgotten. You’d mentioned how your original copy had gone missing, how you’d scoured every bookstore and market for a replacement, only to come up empty.
Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes as you traced the embossed letters on the cover, your fingers trembling. “Noel... How—how did you find this?”
He shrugged, but the motion was tighter than usual, his mouth quirking into a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Didn’t think it’d be that big a deal.”
“Don’t give me that,” you said, your voice wobbling. “You’ve been looking for this?”
He exhaled, glancing at his hands as if they might betray him. “Yeah. For a while now. Nearly gave up, but... figured I’d keep at it. Didn’t think I’d ever come across it, to be honest. Lucked out in the end.”
Your vision blurred, the book suddenly feeling too heavy in your lap. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, well,” he said, his voice quieter now, “guess I wanted to. You talked about it like it was magic or summat. Like it mattered.”
“It did matter. It does.” You clutched the book to your chest, unable to stop the tears slipping free. “Noel, this means... I don’t even know how to thank you for this. ‘Thank you’ isn’t enough.”
He shifted, his knee brushing yours as he looked away, a flush creeping up his neck. “Don’t go gettin’ all soppy on me,” he muttered, though his lips twitched with a faint smile.
Liam’s voice rang out from the couch quickly. “Oi, what’s all this then? Our Noelly turnin’ into a proper romantic? About bloody time.”
“Shut it, Liam,” Noel snapped, though his tone lacked its usual bite. “Go stick your head in a cracker or summat.”
Liam ignored him entirely, leaning forward with a grin. “Look at her! Practically skrikin’. What’d he do, propose? No, wait—he’d be too awkward for that. What’s the book, then? How to Finally Say What You’re Feel—”
“Liam,” Noel interrupted, his voice low and sharp, “you’re about two seconds from me throwin’ you out the door.”
Peggy tutted from her chair, hiding a smile behind her hand. “Leave ‘em be, Liam. You’re worse than a gossip column, you are.”
The room burst into laughter, and you ducked your head, trying to hide your reddening face. But when you glanced up, Noel was still watching you, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it.
“This is... perfect,” you whispered, holding the book up slightly as though he might need proof of how much it meant. “You didn’t have to go to so much trouble.”
He tilted his head, his dark eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your chest ache. “Yeah, I did,” he said simply. “Figured you deserved it.”
The words hung between you, heavy with a meaning that neither of you dared to speak aloud. The rest of the room seemed to fade, the laughter and chatter blurring into the background as you held his gaze.
“You’ve set the bar too high now, mate,” Liam piped up, breaking the moment with a dramatic sigh. “Next year, you’ll have to get her the moon or somethin’.” But his quips were fully ignored by the two of you this time.
You smiled, clutching the book to your chest as warmth bloomed in your heart. Noel had always been a mystery to you, a puzzle you’d never quite solved. But tonight, as his knee pressed lightly against yours and his gaze lingered just a fraction longer than usual, you thought maybe—just maybe—you were starting to understand him.
And in that moment, you felt something shift, something fragile and tentative but undeniably real. For the first time, it seemed that whatever was between you and Noel Gallagher wasn’t just in your head.
It was here, wrapped in simple brown paper and tied with string, waiting to be unwrapped.
The emotions swelled in your chest, too big to contain, and before you could think better of it, you moved. The book slipped to your lap as you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around Noel in a tight, impulsive hug.
He stiffened for a moment, caught off guard, and then you felt him relax. His arms came up hesitantly at first, then more surely, one hand resting lightly against your back, the other brushing your shoulder. He smelled faintly of wood smoke and something crisp, like winter air, and the warmth of him against you was grounding in a way that steadied the storm inside you.
“Thank you,” you whispered into his shoulder, your voice muffled but earnest. “I mean it, Noel. For everything.”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and you wondered if you’d crossed some unspoken line. But then his hand moved in the barest of gestures, a small, comforting stroke against your back.
“Alright,” he murmured, his voice low and quiet, so only you could hear. “You’re makin’ a scene now.”
You laughed softly, pulling back just enough to look at him. His face was flushed, his dark eyes darting briefly to the others before settling on you again. “They’re starin’, you know.”
“Let ‘em,” you said with a grin, though your own cheeks were warm now. “It’s not every day Noel Gallagher gets hugged.”
“That’s ‘cause I’m not usually givin’ people reason to.” His voice was laced with humor, but there was an edge of something softer beneath it, something that made your heart flutter.
From the couch, Liam clapped his hands together dramatically. “Well, bloody hell! Are we witnessin’ Noel turnin’ into a proper human bein’? Touching a girl? Someone get the camera!”
“Liam, I swear—” Noel started, his voice rising in mock exasperation, but you pressed your hand lightly to his arm, cutting him off with a smile.
“Don’t mind him,” you said. “He’s just jealous he didn’t get a hug.”
“Jealous?” Liam scoffed, sitting up straighter. “I’ll have you know I’m very huggable. Probably the most huggable in this house.”
“Debatable,” Peggy interjected from her armchair, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “But I’ll give you points for tryin’, love.”
The room erupted in laughter, and you let it wash over you, the moment so warm and full that it felt almost unreal. Noel’s gaze lingered on you for a beat longer before he leaned back, his lips quirking into a small but genuine smile.
The evening had slowly wound down, the chaos of presents and laughter fading into a comfortable buzz of chatter. Peggy was still going on about some family story, and Liam was making his usual attempts at sneaking extra food, but you found yourself feeling a strange stillness in the air. You glanced around the room and noticed Noel standing by the window, his posture relaxed but his eyes fixed on the falling snow outside, watching as it coated the ground in a quiet blanket of white.
There was no sadness in him, no weight pulling him back—he just seemed... content. The night had been full of noise and joking, but now, it seemed he’d found a moment of calm amidst the madness, lost in his thoughts. You couldn’t blame him, really. It had been a hectic Christmas, but something about that moment felt like the perfect time to step closer, to close that gap between you.
You glanced over at Liam, who was looking between you and Noel with an almost knowing smirk. He wasn’t saying anything yet, but you could tell he was watching, waiting for you to make the next move. With a sigh, you stood up from your spot on the couch and made your way towards the window.
Noel didn’t notice you at first. He was too busy looking out at the snow, seemingly lost in the quiet beauty of it all. But when he did catch sight of you approaching, his eyes softened, and he gave you a small, almost shy smile.
You paused a few feet away from him. “Everything alright?” you asked, your voice quieter than usual.
Noel glanced over, and his lips curled slightly. “Yeah. Just taking it all in, y’know? Bit of peace before the madness starts again.”
You nodded. The energy in the room had shifted in the last hour, and it felt like there was a certain stillness between the two of you now—one that was full of possibility.
“I just wanted to thank you again,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. “For the book. It’s... it’s really thoughtful. I’m honestly touched. I can’t believe you tracked it down for me.”
Noel shrugged, though the slight flush on his face betrayed the fact that he didn’t quite know how to respond. “Wasn’t that hard. You talked about it like it meant the world to you, so I figured it was worth a shot.”
You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. “It means more to me than you know.”
For a moment, neither of you said anything. The quiet of the room wrapped around you like a blanket, but the tension between you felt thick, charged. It wasn’t just gratitude anymore, though. It was something else. Something you didn’t know how to name. You found yourself drawn closer to him, not out of obligation, but because it felt right.
Without a word, you took a step forward, your heart pounding in your chest as your hand found its way to his arm, gently brushing it before resting on his shoulder. You weren’t sure who made the first move, but in an instant, your lips were on his.
The kiss was slow at first, tentative, but as you felt the warmth of his lips against yours, something inside you broke free. You deepened the kiss, your hands moving to his back, pulling him closer as the world around you seemed to disappear.
It was everything you’d wanted but hadn’t dared to expect. His lips were soft, his touch firm but gentle, as if he, too, was discovering something new in the moment. There was a hunger to it, a yearning that had been quietly building up for years, and now it was all spilling out in this single, electric moment.
But just as you thought you were about to lose yourself in him completely, a loud voice broke the spell.
“Oi!” Liam’s voice cut through the air, too loud and too dramatic for the intimate moment. “You don’t have to kiss that monster, you know. There’s no bloody mistletoe over there!”
You pulled back, your breath catching in your throat as you suddenly realized how much you’d just revealed. You quickly looked at Noel, who seemed just as flustered as you, a slight grin tugging at the corners of his mouth despite his attempt at looking annoyed.
“Liam!” Noel groaned, stepping back slightly. “Seriously? You’ve got the worst timing.”
Liam, of course, was enjoying this way too much. He leaned back on the couch, arms behind his head, eyes twinkling with mischief. “What can I say? It’s me gift to you two. Someone’s gotta keep you lot in check, keep the christmas tradition alive.”
You rolled your eyes, trying to compose yourself, though your cheeks were still burning. “Are you still pissy about losing the quiz?”
Liam just smirked. “Just don’t go makin’ out with monsters without proper decor, yeah? That’s how it works at Christmas, you lot wanted to stick to our traditions so I'm just making sure you do.”
Noel shot Liam a deadpan look, though there was a chuckle in his voice. “You are indeed still pissy about the quiz.”
You turned back to Noel, still flushed, but now smiling despite yourself. The energy between the two of you had shifted—what had been tentative and uncertain moments ago was now something real, something tangible.
You smiled at him, feeling like this Christmas had, in its own way, completely changed everything between you two. It was a new beginning, wrapped up in the most unexpected of ways.
As Liam piped in one last time, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Next time,” you said to Noel, “we’ll make sure there’s mistletoe.”
Noel shook his head, but his smile was warm and genuine. “Yeah, right. As if I need it.”
Before you could say anything else, he stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on your waist as he leaned in. His lips brushed yours in a kiss that was simple but unmistakably genuine. There was no teasing, no jokes—just the quiet intensity of the moment, the kind that made the noise of the room feel miles away once again.
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another request from me dead long list is down xx
everyone thank @shes-thunderstormssss for the idea, I hope you enjoy reading it love and it's what you wanted it to be !!
I also love the christmas cards they made, just brilliant x
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justmystyles · 10 months ago
Text
Smoke and Mirrors
read my other work here!
pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader
*i say it's a plus size reader, but it is not something that i focus on explicitly in my fics, because your size should not define you. it will only come up if it comes into the story organically.*
word count: 2,554
summary: Harry asks you to move to London with him, but a new opportunity for him makes things a little more complicated than you'd both expect.
a/n: first and foremost, i want to make sure that it is clear that this not me taking a stance or making a statement on the status or legitimacy of Harry's relationship. i just got inspired by all the theories and conspiracies, and thought to myself, 'hey, what if Harry was in a real relationship while he was also doing a PR relationship', and wrote this.
tags: @abby8694 @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @likeapplejuicenpeach @lilfreakjez @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat
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You shut the refrigerator door and sigh. You weren’t even hungry, you were just bored and figured eating or cooking could kill a little bit of time. The longer things went on this way, the more you were starting to feel like a prisoner in what was supposed to be your new home. 
When Harry proposed the idea of you moving to London to live with him, you couldn’t have been more excited. You had spent the week with him when he performed four sold out nights at Wembley Stadium, it was a monumental time for him, but he seemed more excited to show you his home than to perform. You had never been to London before, and Harry did everything he could to make you feel welcomed and comfortable. Especially in his house. He had made room for you in the closet, significantly more than you would need for just a couple of days. You thought it was adorable how at home he wanted you to feel. And then, one morning, toward the end of your time there, you discovered why he had been trying so hard. 
“This is really nice.” Harry hummed as you rested your head on his chest, his fingers tracing random patterns on your arm. “Waking up to my girl, in my bed. This is what life is all about.” 
You sighed happily, soothed by the rise and fall of his chest, and the beating of his heart against your ear. 
“What would you think about doing this after tour, like all the time?” His voice suddenly got quiet and tentative. 
You looked up at him curiously. “Yeah, I’d love that baby. Anywhere I get to wake up in your arms is good with me. Where do you want to go?” 
He took a deep breath. “I was uh… thinking here. Maybe you could… I don’t know, move in with me?” 
Your eyes widen and you sit up, resting your back against the headboard. “You want me to move in with you?” 
“Yeah,” he replies nervously. “Listen, I know it’s a huge move for you. You’d be leaving everything to come halfway across the world to a country you’ve only spent a couple of days in. I totally understand if…”
“Yes,” you interrupt him.
“Yes?” He looks so confused, you’d think he’d forgotten what he asked you. 
You giggle at his reaction. “Yes, I’ll move in with you.” You smile. “When I started dating you, I knew that if we were going to be a long term thing, this would be an inevitability. I’m ready, I want to.” 
“Really?” 
“Of course,” you assure him. “But I’m going to need a tour guide, someone to help me get settled. Do you happen to know anyone?” 
He pulls you in, kissing you deeply. “You have no idea how happy this makes me, angel. I promise, I will be here to show you everything. I don’t have any work commitments once the tour is over. I’ll be all yours, I’ll show you all my favorite places, I’ll teach you everything you need to know.” 
Here you were three months later, and you were still a complete stranger in the city. You managed to find your way around the block so that you could get out and get some fresh air from time to time, but that was the extent of your exploration. And it had been done alone. 
You understood that Harry liked to keep his personal life private, that you wouldn’t be walking red carpets on his arm and he wouldn’t be professing his love for you in interviews, and you were fine with that. He told you that he knew how to fly under the radar when he was home, so that you could enjoy your time together unbothered by fans and paparazzi. 
Then, he came to you with some news you hadn’t expected, news that changed your post-tour plans. 
“I’m so sorry Har, I thought I was going to have everything done in time to be with you for all of July. I’m going to have to meet you in Lisbon and go from there.” You apologized from the other end of a FaceTime call. 
You had only just gotten home from the London shows, and were determined to get your affairs in order as quickly as possible so you could get right back on the road with him, but preparing to move internationally turned out to be a bit more complicated than you had hoped. 
“It’s alright angel, as long as you’re there for the last show, and all the nights after that, that’s what matters.” He smiles, but you notice that it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“I uh… I had a meeting yesterday, about the Loewe deal. I got it.” He says, you notice he’s not as excited as he should be.
“Baby, that’s incredible! But why do you seem so sad about it?”
He lets out a deep sigh as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “They have some stuff they need from me, I’m going to have to go out when we get back to London, be seen in their clothes, stuff like that.” 
You give him a sad smile, you know how much he was looking forward to having time off, without any work responsibilities, but you’re determined to cheer him up. “Oh you have to wear fancy designer clothes and walk around London. What a tough life.” You giggle, but you notice that his expression doesn’t lighten up. “Harry?”
“They want to pair me up with one of the other brand ambassadors, have us go around and get some candid shots out and about.” He pauses for a second before continuing. “Her name is Taylor, she’s going to be in London for a bit working on a play.”
Your face falls, understanding washing over you. “They want rumors going around that you two are together.” 
“Angel, I don’t have to. I can tell them no. I don’t want to –” 
“But you’ll lose the contract if you tell them no, right?” He nods. 
The last thing you want to do is hold Harry back, especially from something he’s so excited about. He’s been talking about this opportunity for months, you would hate to be the reason it fell through. Besides, you’re confident in your relationship, you know that this would only be for press, and that you’re the one he’d be coming home to every night. It’s no different than if he were taking a roll in a movie, he just happens to be playing himself. 
“I think you should do it.” You see him look up in disbelief. “Seriously. You’re my boyfriend, I know that and I trust you. So you’ll have to go on a couple of coffee dates, and hold hands with another girl a couple of times. You’ll just make up for it when you get home to me. In our house.” 
Adjusting to Harry’s new job was difficult, especially when Taylor joined up with him in Vienna, two weeks before you were able to get back to him, and became a part of the entourage for the remainder of the tour. You already had your own guilt about not being there in that time, that combined with the constant need to remind yourself that it wasn’t real became a lot. You were careful not to let it show when you spoke to Harry though. He had enough going on, worrying about you would just be a distraction.
You felt better once you were able to get to Lisbon. You were reunited with Harry, and you were able to meet Taylor. She was incredibly sweet, and thrilled to meet you, she said Harry had been talking about you non-stop. You didn’t need the reassurance, but it felt nice nonetheless.  
The last few days of the tour went by in an emotional blur. Before you knew it, you were relaxing in Italy with Harry’s closest friends, celebrating the end of an amazing and grueling tour. Taylor had to go straight from the last show to London to prepare for her play, which was a relief to you. 
But now you were here, in London, and Harry was spending most of his time out and about in the city, while you sayed home. Between having to be photographed out and about with Taylor, and the time he was spending reconnecting with his good friend, James Corden, now that he was also back in London, it left little time for him to spend with you. You didn’t feel you had any right to say anything about it though, you were the one that encouraged him to sign the Loewe deal, knowing that this was going to be a part of it. But you didn’t realize just how much time Harry would be spending out on the town, leaving minimal time for him to spend with you. 
Tonight, Harry is out watching Taylor’s play again. You’ve gone to bed early thinking that sleep will be the best thing to pass the time. However, sleep eludes you. As you lay staring at the ceiling, something inside of you snaps. You pick up your phone from the bedside table, and begin looking at flights. Before long, you’re out of bed, and pulling your suitcase from the closet. 
“Honey, I’m home!” Harry calls cheekily from the entryway. When you don’t respond, he assumes you’re asleep, and quietly makes his way up to the bedroom. 
He opens the door, and his soft, happy expression, the one he gets when he knows he’s coming home to you quickly turns into one of confusion and worry. 
“Y/N? Are you going somewhere?” 
You jump slightly, too focused on your packing to notice he had come into the room. You take a deep breath, knowing that this isn’t going to be a good conversation. 
“I’m going back to the states.” You reply quietly. 
He comes up behind you, placing a hand on the small of your back. “Is everything okay? How long will you be gone?”
You shake your head and take a seat on the end of the bed. “No, Harry, I’m moving back.” 
Harry’s eyes go wide and he drops to his knees in front of you. “What? Why?” He takes your hands in his and grips them tightly. 
“This isn’t working, Har. I’m sorry.” I look down at our joined hands and sigh. “I’m not mad or anything, it's just… the timing didn’t pan out as well as we thought it would.” 
“Y/N, baby, what do you mean? Please, talk to me…” The pleading tone in his voice breaks your heart, and you struggle to hold back your tears. 
You take a deep breath before continuing. “Me moving here was a great idea when you were going to have all this time, and we were actually going to get to be together, but the plan changed. I’ve been in London for a couple of months now, and the most I’ve seen is the grocery store around the corner. I spend my days home alone, trying to keep myself distracted until you get back.”
Harry moves to sit beside you on the bed, one arm goes over your shoulders. With the other, he tilts your chin so that you’re looking him in the eyes. “My love, why didn’t you say anything?” 
“Because it wouldn’t have been fair of me.” He gives you a confused look and you sigh softly before continuing. “I’m the one that pushed you to take this Loewe deal, I told you I was fine with it. I can’t just decide now that I’m not getting enough attention, because you’re making good on a deal I encouraged you to sign…” 
“Hey,” Harry interrupts you, nothing but kindness and care in his eyes. “It’s okay to change your mind about things. You didn’t fully understand how it would play out. Hell, I didn’t even expect it to be this much. But I’m not a mind reader baby, you need to tell me when something is bothering you.” 
You nod your head and look down at your lap. He immediately slips an index finger under your chin, forcing you to look at him. 
“Talk to me now, you know I’m not…”
“No no no!” You insist with wide eyes, before he can even finish his sentence. “I know you’re not cheating on me. That’s not it at all. I just… I miss you.” You say softly.
“Baby…” Harry coos and pulls you into a tight hug. “I miss you too, I’m so sorry. Please, just don’t leave, we’re going to figure out a way to make this work.”
The feeling of his arms wrapped around you, combined with his reassuring words and loving tone cause you to lose the control you had over your emotions and a soft sob escapes you, and Harry feels his heart break even more. He hates when you cry, and on the rare occasion when he is the cause, it’s absolutely devastating for him. 
You stay like that for a few moments, neither of you speaking. Harry just holds you as you cry; he knows that you’ve been keeping these feelings inside for a while, so he wants to give you all the time you need to get them out. As you cry against his chest, he rubs your back and presses soft kisses to the top of your head, making sure that you know he’s there, and that you are his priority. 
When you’ve finally gotten it out of your system, you pull back just enough to look him in the eyes. “S-sorry…” You say as you sniffle.
You start to lift your hand to wipe your cheeks, but Harry beats you to it, cupping your cheeks as he wipes your tears away with his thumbs. 
“Are we okay?” He asks softly. You nod in reply, and he breathes a sigh of relief. “And you’ll stay?”
You give him a soft smile. “I’ll stay.” 
He pulls you close, kissing you tenderly. “Good, now let’s get to bed. I’ll make a few calls in the morning to take care of everything, and then we’re going to spend the whole day together. I’m going to show you my London, I’m gonna make a proper Brit out of you.”
You giggle and shake your head. “Right-o, mate!” You reply in a bad British accent. 
Harry scrunches his nose in mock disgust. “We’d better get to sleep, we have a lot of work to do.”
You slap his chest playfully as you stand up, returning your suitcase to the closet before slipping under the covers with Harry. As soon as you’re both in bed, he pulls you close, resting your head on his chest. He kisses the top of your head. 
“Thank you.” He whispers softly against your hair. 
“For what?” You ask curiously. 
“For staying, for moving here in the first place, for loving me.” He says tenderly. 
You tilt your head up to lock eyes with him, and smile softly. “Trust me when I tell you, it’s my pleasure.” 
He presses a soft kiss to your lips, and you both drift off into a peaceful sleep with the promise of a new day, and a new start in the morning. 
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hmslusitania · 5 months ago
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Either 16 or 21 or both or neither
There was no specified ship, so it ended up being kind of pre-relationship TimKon
The party had been a questionable choice, Tim can admit that now. Nothing says “I’m so totally over a relationship, see how fine I’m doing!” like throwing a Halloween party, drinking a little too much at the sight of his ex-girlfriend making out with her new girlfriend who is, for most purposes, Tim’s sister, and then retreating to the bathroom because his more recent ex-boyfriend had actually taken him up on the invitation and brought a plus one.
Which is why he’s hiding in the bathtub in his own bathroom, not totally shielded from view by the novelty map of Faerûn shower curtain Steph had helped him pick out. At least it matches the elf ears that had seemed like a good idea six hours ago, and at least the porcelain he’s resting his face against is cooling and pleasant.
His relative peace — generally not helped by the thumping of the bass from the stereo in the party beyond his room — is interrupted an unknowable amount of time later by the bathroom door opening without a knock, and then he’s in the company of…
“What are you supposed to be?” Tim asks without lifting his head from the side of the tub.
Kon looks down at his “costume” which includes fingerless gloves, a denim jacket, and a black and red buffalo check shirt.
“Breakfast Club?” Kon prompts.
Tim blinks at him.
“Come on, we watched it for YJ movie night like last month,” Kon reminds him.
“I wasn’t there,” Tim says, miserable, and sags a little farther into the comforting embrace of the side of the tub.
“We were gonna do a whole group thing, right, except we decided you’d for sure have to be Ally Sheedy, not Emilio Estevez or Anthony Michael Hall,” Kon continues, unphased by Tim’s demeanour. “But then Cissie wanted to dress up like Wendy instead, and I’m pretty sure Cassie’s dressed up like me, which is kinda a head trip. And Bart had some whole situation where he can’t make our party because he got roped into babysitting Jai and Irey while they go trick-or-treating, because as screwy as my family might be, only when you’re a member of the West-Allen family do you really get to go babysit your, uh…”
“Second cousins,” Tim supplies.
“Huh, I definitely thought that was gonna be a weirder chain of relationship,” Kon says.
He sits on the bathmat next to Tim’s head and pokes him in the side of the face.
“Stop,” Tim says.
“So is there a particular reason you’re hiding from your own party in your bathroom?” Kon asks.
“I’m bitterly single?” Tim replies.
Kon considers him. “So, I get why you invited Steph, because she’s still for sure one of your best friends, and I’m pretty sure you’re, like, contractually obliged to invite Cass to events, and they’re a matched set. But like… your civilian ex-boyfriend who likes to conspiracy theory about the majority of the rest of your guests?”
Tim groans and shuts his eyes, only to have Kon pry one of them open and stare at him up close.
“I wanted to prove I was, like, mature and evolved and so totally over it,” Tim says, and feels stupid even saying it.
“Which is why you’re drunk in your bathtub, sure, yeah, I get that,” Kon says, and smiles when Tim rolls his eyes.
“You don’t have to be in here being nice to me, you can just like… enjoy the party,” Tim says.
“The party where my ex-girlfriend is dressed up in my clothes and making out with our other very good friend who’s dressed up like my all time fictional crush? That party?” Kon asks, and Tim snorts.
“Do you ever think about the fact you dated two girls named Cassandra and both of them turned out to be gay?” Tim asks.
“With really similar taste in women, also,” Kon adds. “And, like, yeah, every once in a while.”
Tim hums and closes his eyes again, but this time, Kon doesn’t pry his eyes open.
“I know you’re mad at me,” Tim mumbles finally. “You didn’t have to come.”
“I’m not mad at you,” Kon says, and this time the physical botherment he inflicts is tweaking the elf ear Tim had spent a stupid amount of time gluing on. “I was questioning your judgement, which is so not the same thing.”
“Judgement I definitely didn’t improve by throwing this party, right?” Tim guesses. Kon makes a noncommittal noise.
“Like I get that you have a thing for blonds with a penchant for getting into trouble, but…” Kon says.
“Not just blonds,” Tim mumbles before he can think better of it. He blinks when he realises what he’s said and finds Kon staring at him curiously. “I’m really fine, Kon, you can go enjoy the party.”
“Nah,” Kon says, and before Tim can move to stop him, he clambers over the side of the tub to squish into the narrow space between Tim and the shower wall, his combat boots which have a certain authenticity that say they might have been Pa Kent’s from the ’60s clunking against the basin. Kon wriggles his shoulders trying to get comfortable for a second, and then gives up and wraps his arm around Tim. It’s just for the better use of space, Tim’s sure, but it’s… it’s really nice. And when Kon tugs him sideways until Tim rolls over so he’s resting the side of his face on Kon’s chest rather than on the side of the tub, it’s so damn pleasant he can barely stand it. “I’d much, much rather be in here with you.”
It makes Tim’s heart flutter in his chest and he knows Kon can hear that, which is just embarrassing, and which he can only sort of blame on the alcohol.
“Yeah, okay, Bender,” he says, trying desperately to hit annoyed.
Kon gives him a full belly laugh that echoes off the bathroom tile, and squeezes him just a little closer. “I knew you’d seen the Breakfast Club before.”
Tim rolls his eyes and smacks Kon in the stomach with a light, open palm. It gets him another laugh, and maybe, just maybe, this party hadn’t been the worst idea after all.
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